Summary: A lot will be explained in this part, but there will also be more questions left to ponder. We get a glimpse of reader from the past, another Traveler shows up in Hawkinsgate, and secrets are revealed through a comic we borrow from Dustin. wc: 4.3k
Masterlist
A/N: I've been staring at this for way too long and I just need to post it🙃 This part is bitesize because I feel like there is a lot to take in. If it goes the way I've planned it, we'll have two more chapters after this, and you won't have to wait as long as you did for this one 🧡
18+ONLY, MDNI, this is a mindbender, fear of the unknown, mention of zombies, interdimensional travel, circus freak show, no smut in this chapter but I have a spicy blurb on its way to do with the version of Eddie and Reader introduced in this part.
“Cold-hearted orb that rules the night
removes the colors from our sight
Red is gray, and yellow---white
but we decide which is right
and which is an illusion.”
- Twilight Lament, The Moody Blues
---Somewhere Else---
The Crossroads is a place for various interdimensional Travelers to wait while on the way to their next location or assignment. A place to get their “passport stamps” and figure out which portal they’d need to take to get to where they needed to be. The atmosphere made it feel as if you were conducting business on one of Saturn’s rings; nothing but stars and infinite universe around you. There's a row of doors arranged in an arc, all of which seem to be floating in the air, all with numbers above them. You're waiting to take number 4.
The version of you from another dimension took a turn around, hoping to spot a place to drink at one of the vendors inside the floating establishment. This version of you has a few more visible tattoos scattered from head to foot: each a passport from a parallel universe or pocket of time you have traveled to. It was your job, like all of the other Muses, to bring back inspiration for the Storytellers. There's music playing over the speaker system as you waited; it was an instrumental version of Melt with You by Modern English. The song is interrupted by the tin of an electronic female voice announcing the departure at gate 9.
You’d been staring up at the monitors, checking the time for your portal, but you stepped back in haste, and there he was: the boy you would soon know as Eddie Munson.
You didn’t recognize him but also, you did---in a way you couldn’t explain. The sight of his face knocked over a tiny domino in your soul and the rest went tumbling.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he gave a crooked smile, putting his hands up, palms out. This version of him has strange tattoos as well; a few designs at his temples, lines above one brow, a series of numbers and letters on his throat. He wears a black leather jacket over a shirt that reads: Hellfire Club. “I should watch where I’m going.”
“No, no, it’s my fault,” you stammered. “I’m running late so I was worried---”
“Worried that you’d miss me?” He interjected.
The forwardness of it caught you off guard and you stifle a laugh, tucking your chin. “Something like that.”
You turn back to face the monitors, thinking he’d head off the way he was going—but he didn’t. He stayed close and waited as a group of human and non-human beings passed between the two of you.
“So,” he stepped up closer as the crowd passed, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “Of all the Crossroads in all the universes, you walk into mine.”
You turned and gave him a curious look, not understanding what he just said or why he was saying it to you. Your eyes flicked from his tender chocolate orbs, down to his soft lips and back again.
He leaned back, noting your confusion, and tilted his head. “Humphrey Bogart? Casablanca? Of all the gin joints in all the---” he could tell it wasn’t ringing a bell. “Wait, you’ve never watched Casablanca?”
You gave a few tight shakes of your head, a scowl creasing the skin between your eyebrows.
“Oh, sweetheart, we need to fix that,” he patted around in all of his pockets. “Do you have a pen?”
You weren’t sure where this was going, but you were fascinated by him. Muses weren’t allowed to take any form of physical identification with them through the portals—-hence the inked passport stamps that were usually invisible to most non-travelers---and the only things you had on you were gum and lip gloss.
He checked the inside pocket of his jacket and made a sound of triumph. He procured a black, felt tip marker and popped the cap off. “Mind giving me your number? For educational purposes. We can watch Casablanca, and maybe get some decent food back on the mainland. What do you think? Could you stare at this mug while you eat?”
You were reaching for the pen as he talked, and he offered his palm to you. In a line from his pinky to his thumb, you wrote your name and phone number without another word, and then capped the pen and handed it back to him. Eddie watched you; the curves of your face, the way your eyelashes fluttered, the way the tip of your tongue rested on your top lip as you concentrated. He wanted to commit you to memory.
He turned his hand to look at what you wrote, and then met your eyes over his fingers. “Have we met before? You seem so familiar to me.”
He had chunky, silver rings on his fingers, and the air surrounding you felt electric, you could almost taste the tang of the static on your tongue.
“Oh, I think I’d remember you,” you smirked, trying to mask the depth of your attraction to him.
But then a loud chime sounded and the electronic female voice sounded over the platform, letting everyone know that the portal for Gate 4 was opening.
“That’s me,” you swallowed, flushed. “Maybe I’ll see you around,” you quipped, a sudden pain shooting through your chest at the thought of never seeing him again.
Eddie felt flustered, he didn’t want you to go. “Hey, I’ll call you,” he promised, showing his palm. You gave him one last look over your shoulder before disappearing into the crowd. When you stepped over the thresh hold to your portal, you realized you didn’t even know his name.
And you really hoped he could call.
----------
You became aware of your surroundings before you were fully awake enough to open your eyes, trying to hold on to the image of the boy in your dreams as hard as you could---but then he was gone. As intense and real as the “dream” had been, it was now a pin prick of light at the end of a long, dark tunnel, and you tried to squint but then it was gone as soon as your consciousness came to the surface.
It felt so real, though. So real that you tossed in bed with tears wet in your eyes, trying to get it back, screaming into your pillow. The pillowcase that smelled strongly of bleach and a hint of age old body odor embedded deep in the pillow itself.
The dark of night lasted for the next 24 hours in Hawkinsgate, as if it were a movie set and someone forgot to turn the lights on. It was noon, and you were sitting behind the motel reception desk, staring out into the street lights of the dark town. Claudia bustled in with one of her cats in a pink carrier after taking it to the vet. There was a young boy with her who offered you a gappy grin with missing front teeth. He had a trucker hat that sat squished on his head of curls.
You’d been doodling on the inside of the phone book, about to go and put a load of sheets in the dryer, when the boy with Claudia marched right up to you. He was a teenager, but you weren’t sure of the age.
His eyes blew wide. “Is it true you’re one of the Travelers?”
“Dustin,” Claudia called to him as she came around the desk, marching toward the back room.
Nailing you with an enigmatic grin, he pulled a rolled up comic out from under his arm and slapped it on the table. His hands working to smooth out the pages before he pointed to a face on the cover.
“Isn't that you?”
Your eyes hesitated on him before following to where his finger pointed.
The likeness caught you by surprised and made you step back, but you never took your eyes off of it. You held it up, attention flicking over the details in the artwork. It wasn’t you, exactly, but, indeed a version of you: legs wide, arms crossed, exposed skin dotted in tattoos, way more than the few you had now, standing in what appeared to be a desert wasteland with two moons in the sky.
“Where did you get this?” You asked, wondering if someone was playing a trick on you. “Did Eddie put you up to this?”
“Eddie?” Dustin’s generous smile widened, cocking his head. “How do you know Eddie?”
You only handed the comic back when Dustin reached for it. “I’d let you keep it,” he shrugged. “But it’s the newest issue and I haven’t read it yet.”
“No, it’s okay,” you shook your head. “I understand. Could you maybe, tell me what happens in it?”
You could tell that the kid was emotionally mature for his age and he quickly caught on to the source of your distress and took his tone down to more of a calm reassurance. “I’ll just leave it on the desk for you when I’m done, okay?”
A part of you wondered if reading such a thing was a good idea with the fragile state of your blank brain. Dustin came around the back, following after Claudia before she shouted his name again.
“Hey,” you turned to face him now that he was behind the front counter. “Who writes that comic? Do you know?”
“Oh, no one knows,” his face was serious, and then he turned to keep walking.
“Of course no one knows,” you said under your breath. “But, where do you buy them? There must be a way to trace it back to the creator?”
He adjusted the strap of his backpack. “I’m sure there’s a way,” he looked down, thoughtfully. “These issues just show up like everything else around here, but I can ask a few people.”
You told him how much you would appreciate that, and he repeated his disbelief that you also knew his friend Eddie.
---------
That day, another Traveler wandered into the motel; the first one since your arrival. You caught sight of the bright pink hair immediately, followed by the black ink markings from her nose to her throat, and on her hands as well. You scrambled to your feet, eager to make her acquaintance. She was hesitant, her eyes shifting to take everything in, just as you had that first day when you arrived.
The second she saw you, her eyes blew wide, and her mouth dropped open.
She knew your name. “What are you doing here?” She asked, spinning in a circle. “Where are we? Where is Lorelei?”
Your heart started racing and your mouth dried up. “Where do you know me from? How do you have your memories?” You were coming around the desk, racing towards her now. “Who is Lorelei?”
She had on a ripped, threadbare, white tee with no bra and worn jeans. She pulled a knife from the hilt at her hip and held it up. “You’re not safe here anymore,” she warned, eyes darting around as if she expected a monster to come flying out of the walls.
“Not safe from what?” You begged.
The confused look on your face turned to a horrified one when an invisible door slid open behind the pink-haired girl, exposing an infinite blackness, and she turned, jumping threw it as if she knew exactly where it led to.
“No, wait---” you screamed, stretching your arm out as if you could catch her, but then the invisible door slid shut again and there was nothing but air there. You waved your hands frantically around over the space.
--------
Eddie came to meet you on the roof of the motel that night, because you asked him to, because you needed a friend. The roof was angled, but not drastically, with a perfect sitting ledge. You each had pillows behind your heads, laying side by side, knees bent, staring up at the sky.
You were feeling more and more at home in Eddie’s presence; eager when you knew you would get to see him, and fearful when you had to part ways. Even so, you didn’t want to care for him, and tried to push away the feelings at all costs. You could sense him holding back as well; reaching out to take your hand, only to pull away, and swallowing words that hovered on parted lips, left unspoken.
You told Eddie about the pink-haired traveler and he chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully.
“She knew my name,” you mumbled, replaying the short interaction over in your head for the hundredth time that day.
“I’ve seen Travelers come and go that fast,” he said. “One second they’re in front of you, and then they’re gone the next---poof.” Eddie decided not to say out loud what scared him the most, and that was the fact that, once you remembered who you were, you would disappear in the same way. He wondered how quick he’d have to be to dive into the void to go with you. “Maybe she came to give you a message?”
You hadn’t shared with him her message yet, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to. But then you felt the side of Eddie’s hand slide up against yours and you realized you didn’t want to have any secrets from him.
You swallowed back a tickle of emotion in your throat. “She said I’m not safe here anymore.”
In a heartbeat, Eddie took your hand, intertwined his fingers, and pulled it to his side, tucking your arm close. “Hey, that’s not true. You’re safe here with me.”
It was the first time you’d ever held hands, and you could tell he’d been working up the nerve for days. You were grateful for the touch and it made the sides of your mouth dance up, even under the weight of such disturbing circumstances.
Elbows planted, you looked over at your two hands locked together and the dark blue sky full of scattered stars beyond. “I do feel safe with you,” you told him. Even though whatever was happening to you felt much bigger than either one of you could fathom in that moment, and it wasn’t fair to put such a big job on Eddie, you were comforted by the thought.
You scooted closer to him, and placed your head on his shoulder. Eddie brought the back of your hand to his lips and kissed it.
“Why do the stars and the sky look so real?” You asked in a whisper, watching the way the stars flickered, and clouds hovered around the moon.
Eddie turned his head to find your profile. “You still think this is a dream?”
It didn’t feel like a dream, but maybe we all traveled in our dreams to very real places and then forgot it all once we opened our eyes. You hesitated, not sure how to answer him, working your jaw. The air was wet and cool, bright with the smell of rain on concrete and forest pine.
“Sometimes I worry that I’m going to wake up any second and forget this place,” you failed to catch the tremor in your voice. “That I’ll forget you.”
An unexpected tear ran down your cheek, and Eddie felt the wet drop hit the side of his neck.
“Hey,” he said, squeezing your hand, pulling it across his stomach. “Can I tell you what I think?”
“Please?” You urged.
He wanted to tell you about the dream he had about a group of circus people that came through a place called Hawkins, Indiana to set up a show on the outskirts of town. In the dream, Hawkins was his hometown, the place where he had grown up, and it was similar to Hawkinsgate, but also nothing like it. The dream felt so real, he could still smell the popcorn and hear the cackle of the Bearded Lady on stage, beckoning to any passerby. The circus rolled into town on old caravans and rusted cars compiled of junkyard metal. There was a Ferris wheel and various freak shows and a fire-breather and a strong man and a fortune teller. Eddie went with his buddies Gareth, and Jeff, because they wanted to see the clowns on stilts, and maybe get a glimpse of the peep show.
They peeked inside a hole in the red and white tent when they heard the sultry music, just in time to catch sight of a voluptuous blonde woman spinning tassels on her huge breasts before they were shooed away by one of the barkers. He had a fully tattooed face and a metal bar pierced through his tongue.
“Yo, sorry man,” Eddie and the boys held their hands up in a form of surrender, unable to contain their laughter, and the barker spat on the ground at their feet, sneering to show his silver teeth.
Eddie went in to see the psychic in the purple caravan on a dare. The boys teased him and said he wouldn’t, and so Eddie said, “hold my jacket” and made his way inside, through the beaded curtain in the doorway, stopping in his tracks at the sight of the older woman sitting at a round table in front of a crystal ball.
“It’s you,” the older woman said, looking up at him only briefly. She had long gray hair, and her eyes were mismatched: one was bright blue and the other was milky white with no iris or pupil. “I was starting to think you’d never show up.”
“Do I know you?” Eddie looked around the space cautiously, making sure the two were alone. The air was smoky and smelled like the floral dank of incense.
“Please, Eddie, sit,” the woman said in a young voice that did not match her elderly exterior.
Eddie stepped back. “Wait, how do you know my---”
“There’s no time for that,” she interrupted him, shuffling a deck of tarot cards in her hands. Her eyes repeated the gesture of motioning for him to sit. “There’s a lot you need to know and we only have a few minutes.”
Stiffly, Eddie took a seat in the squeaky wooden chair across from her, hoping that the boys were right outside and not back at the peep show without him. She made a clean stack with the deck of cards and set it to one side.
“So,” Eddie’s eyes flicked around after a full minute of silence. “How do we do this?”
The next thing he knew, Eddie was headed outside again, squinting, his head blurry and his eyes dry.
Gareth and Jeff had been giggling over a joke when Eddie stepped out of the caravan and stumbled, his eyes glossy. They got serious immediately and went to help him stand as his knees buckled.
“Damn, what did she do to you?” Gareth frowned, watching Eddie take long blinks and shake his head as if trying to wake up. Jeff looked around nervously, wondering if he should find help. Gareth tried to see in through the beaded curtain, but it seemed like the old woman was gone and the caravan appeared empty.
When Eddie stepped out, he felt like everything was the same, but also very different. He was still in Hawkins, but there was something...off about it. The boys asked him over and over what the old woman told him, but he couldn’t remember, he just knew he felt woozy. His stomach growled and he figured it was because he was hungry.
The next morning, after the dream---the visions of you started. The dreams, the whispers, the way he knew every inch of your body, every mole, every tattoo, even though he’d never seen you naked before; not in this reality, anyway. He stepped over a torn front page of the Hawkinsgate Gazette in the grass in his dream, and he stopped to pick it up, wondering why the name Hawkingate looked so familiar, but also so wrong.
There on the roof of the motel, Eddie wanted to tell you that he’d been thinking and dreaming about you ever since.
After that, the other Travelers started showing up in Hawkinsgate. Just like you, they were plopped there without much of a memory of where they came from, and seeing them around became normal as well. The entire town seemed to be designed around them in fact, as if Hawkinsgate was an airport from which people took off to their various destinations.
Every time he heard about a new Traveler in town, he went looking, hoping to find you. He was about a week away from losing hope when you showed up at the gas station that day in tears.
The one he had been waiting for and pining over this whole time.
Eddie wanted to tell you all of that on the roof of the motel when you started to cry.
“Do you want to know what I think?” Eddie asked and you begged him to tell you something, anything that was remotely comforting.
He slid his fingers up and down between yours before intertwining them again. “I’m not sure why or how I know this, but no matter where you go, you’ll always have me. If this is a dream and you wake up, I’ll be waking up with you.”
---------
You finally got your hands on the comic book with your likeness on the cover and hurried back to your motel room on your lunch break so you could lock the door and dissect it in peace.
The woman who looked like you in the drawings was apparently a Muse who worked for a group of people called The Storytellers. You had a gift for collecting inspiration and experiences in other dimensions and worlds and passing them on. The amount of knowledge your character had acquired through her journey was vast. She knew how to speak several languages, she knew karate, knife throwing, chess. She knew how to cook French dishes you didn’t even know how to pronounce. There was another Muse in the comic named E who looked remarkably like your Eddie. Long hair pulled back, a loose strand hanging down his cheekbone.
In the comic, your character and E had traveled through many dimensions together, and you were on the run from a group of lizard people called The Kreel. They were reptilian in nature with a human appearance, but for their lizard eyes that flicked out of their human lenses every so often. They did not emote and they did not experience compassion, and they were waging a war with the Storytellers, so that the Kreel could control all creative consumption. The Kreels wanted all of the powers of the creators for their purposes alone; to create worlds that would benefit them only.
Your character and E had jumped from dimension to dimension, from world to world, gathering inspiration for the Storytellers, while simultaneously evading The Kreel.
The final page of the comic book left you with a cliffhanger: in modern day, in a quiet dessert town off the grid in New Mexico, The Kreel found the location where you were your character resided, and were closing in. You were supposed to meet E that night, when he was back from his recent trip, but there was no time to get a note to him. The next best thing you could do was go through the portal to Hawkinsgate and wait for him there.
Hawkinsgate was the safe haven; a place undetectable to Kreels. It was created by a group of Storytellers when the war began.
You typed the location of the portal into the gps on your phone.
The last show you’d watched was The Walking Dead, and so you imagined a hoard of zombies into existence to block the The Kreel from you in their masses, while you made your escape.
You watched the home you loved disappear in a cloud of dust in your rear view mirror, as a van full of lizard Kreel soldiers went to battle with the flesh eating zombies in their haste to get to you.
The character that looked like you in the comic book wailed and sobbed, driving away as fast as they could, fearing they’d never see E again.
You frowned at the page as you finished reading, your lungs starving for air after holding your breath for so long.
At the very end, your character reminded herself in thought bubbles that she’d lose her memory once she breached the Hawkinsgate portal. The Kreel could pinpoint brainwaves when a creative’s thoughts were particularly active, so everything had to be wiped clean for their safety. The girl in the story cried again, thinking about how she wouldn’t remember E, and how she hoped he’d show up there too, just like they had planned.
But, they wouldn’t know each other.
“Meet me in Hawkinsgate,” alone in your motel room you felt the warm breath against your ear, heard the words as clear as day. It was Eddie’s voice, and it sounded like he was right there next to you. “Meet me in Hawkinsgate….”
You jumped up off the bed and threw the magazine, making it land against the wall with a smack before it fluttered to the floor, landing face down. You were panting, trying to find your breath, a whimper escaping the back of your throat. You could feel the emotions building hot behind your eyes.
Cannot get the idea out of my mind of frotting Eddie and Steve as their legs lay overlapping each other. Both of their hard, veiny, wet cocks in between your hand as you stroke them up and down. You rub the tip of Steve’s cock against Eddie’s as his precum sticks and leaves a line still linking them together. “Fuck, that feels so good.” Eddie groans as he lifts his head to look at the way his and Steve’s cock rub together between your dainty hands. You lean down fitting both of them in your mouth and trying to deep throat as best you can, it’s no easy task as you begin to gag while spit falls down to where their balls are touching, when you come back up for air you grab the spit bubble from your chin mixed with the spit on their cocks to stroke them even faster. “Holy shit, baby… I’m gonna-” Steve whimpers before he’s spurting white ropes of warm cum all over Eddie’s tip. The feeling of your hands gliding up and down in tandem with the feeling of Steve’s throbbing cock and the warmth of his cum do Eddie in as his cums shoots all over Steve’s tip. Of course you’d have to put your tongue to good use, cleaning up every last drop.
summary: Part 1--Eddie "accidentally" sends a tasteful pic to his best friend.
warnings: mutual pining, pet names (sweetheart), strong language, description of naked Eddie
word count: 3.4k
a/n: went a little crazy at 3am the other night and wrote this. Part two will be up later this week!! Luv y'all <3
*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******
Eddie is your best friend of many years, the two of you being inseparable from the moment you met. So when you got a text from him tonight you don’t think much of it, figuring it was just a dumb meme he saw or a random thing from today.
What you didn’t expect to see was a picture of Eddie standing in his bathroom, towel slung over his shoulders with a prominent boner happening.
His hair is wet as if he just got out of the shower and hadn’t bothered to dry it yet. The long dark brown locks stick to his neck and chest in a way that can only be described as godly. The tattoos on his skin are glistening but covered by the towel around his neck and as you move your eyes downward the path of hair that leads to his dick is delicious.
And talking about his dick it is, mag-fucking-nificent! The way that it hangs there, the tip swollen and red, leaking the smallest bit of precum. It has your mouth watering.
You nearly choked on your own spit when you saw it. Never in a million years did you think that Eddie would be sending you of all people nudes. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wonder what he was packing but you never really indulged in those thoughts, until now. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen, memorizing every little detail in the photo.
Eddie sends another text but you’re too distracted to see what it is. Then a stream of texts start flooding in from him.
‘SHIT!’
‘I DID NOT NMEAN TO SNED YIU THAT!’
‘IGNORE THE PICTUREA’
‘HOW THE HELL DO I DELETE THE PIC?!?!?!’
‘GOD I AM SOSOSOSOSOSOSSOO SOORRY!!’
You giggle at his frantic typing, noting all the typos. Curiosity gets the better of you and you scroll up a little to see what he had said after he sent the picture. You’re eyes go wide at the words displayed on your screen.
‘Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. Jerked off twice while in the shower and I’m still hard. Wish you were here with me right now ;)’
You had no clue who this was really meant for but if it was meant for you you would 100 percent be on your way to him right now. The bottom half of the picture stares back at you as your eyes acan over the text again and again. You can’t deny the small hint of wetness that you feel on your underwear while looking at the two.
Twice? He came twice and is still hard. Whoever he thought about must be really hot if he can go 3 rounds without breaking a sweat. Could he go more?
Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone receiving a call, from none other than Eddie himself. You sit up in bed and pull your knees towards you as you answer his call.
“Sweetheart I am so so so sorry I sent you that. It was clearly meant for someone else. If I had known it was your contact that I was on I would have never sent that at all. I want you to know that I don’t go around sending nudes to everyone or anything, I’m not a slut I was just-”
“Eddie it’s fine. No need to apologize. I figured it wasn’t meant for me anyways.” It pains you a little at the thought that someone else was supposed to receive that message from your best friend.
“I’m still sorry. Is there any way I can make it up to you?” His voice sounds smooth like spreading butter onto fresh pancakes.
“Hmm,” You fake thinking about what you want even though you know exactly what it is you want, “You’ve gotta tell me who that text was really meant for.”
Silence. For a whole minute there is just silence on Eddie’s end, you’d think he was dead if it weren’t for the fast pace of his breathing.
“Sweetheart,” The nickname is not helping the situation you have going on right now, “You don’t mean that. Can’t I just take you to breakfast or buy you a new outfit?”
“Nope.” You respond popping the ‘p’ as you say it. “Either tell me who it was meant for or I send it to the groupchat.” You were bluffing. You couldn’t let the others see him like that, that was for your eyes only. Not that anyone needed to know that.
“You wouldn’t dare,” His voice turned deep and threatening.
“Try. Me.” You challenge back.
Eddie groans, “Fine. You win,” A smile spreads across your face, “It was meant for Callie. This girl in my chem class, we’ve been talking for a little bit.”
You’re a mix of emotions right now; happy that Eddie found someone he’s interested in and took his shot, confused because he never told you about it, sad because you thought he trusted you with things like that, and slightly jealous because you want to be the one Eddie sent nudes to, purposefully.
“Sweetheart? You still there?” You completely forget that you’re still on the phone with Eddie until he says something.
“Uh yeah yeah I’m here. I’m um happy for you Ed. Glad you found someone. Look I gotta go to sleep, big test tomorrow, talk later. Bye.” You hang up before he can say anything else.
Why did you feel this way about all this? You shouldn’t be thinking of Eddie in this way, he was your best friend. Best friends don’t think about going down on each other, or the way it would feel to have his cock inside you, or the moans he would release when he finally cums in you.
You shake it off and lay back down, setting your phone on your nightstand to charge. You try for half an hour to fall asleep but your mind can’t stop thinking about that damn picture. So you unlock your phone and go back to your messages with Eddie, looking to see if he deleted the picture or not. And to your luck it was the latter, the picture and text below still there for your viewing pleasure.
You’re still horny from the initial thought of him so it doesn’t take long for your hand to wander under your shorts and underwear to your clit. The thought that your fingers were his and the way he would whisper in your ear egging you on to finish.
The images of him jerking himself off in the shower flood you, his hand on the cold tiles, water hitting his back as he fists his cock, rubbing it slowly at first but becoming impatient and going faster until he cums all over the wall and his hand.
The image of his face when he does and the moans that would leave his mouth is what throws you over the edge yourself. Wishing it were him between your legs pulling it from you not your own fingers. Finally your body is tired enough to let you go to sleep, dreaming of Eddie once more.
---
You’re sitting with Eddie and the rest of Hellfire at lunch a week later. Neither of you have talked about what happened that night, both too embarrassed to say anything.
Things were normal though, Eddie would pick you up and drop you off to and from school. You’d talk on the phone every night about whatever happened that day that the other wasn’t there for. You liked the thought that the text didn’t hinder your friendship but you can’t help but be a little jealous about Eddie fucking someone else. It’s not like you were expecting him to confess his hidden undying love for you the next day but the realization that Eddie really did send you that accidentally; hurt.
The freshman are talking about some video game coming out when Eddie lean over to you.
“Whatcha’ thinking about?” There’s a smile on his face, one that you always loved seeing.
“Nothing,” You go back to eating your fruit.
“Alrighty then. Hey I was wondering what time you wanted to come over tonight?”
Your eyes grow wide, mind going back to the text, “Why?”
“Um it’s Wednesday. Horror movie marathon night, remember?” His head cocks to the side a little, his hair falling into his face. It reminds you of a dog questioning what it’s owner has in their hand.
“Oh right yeah. Um I don’t know if I can make it tonight.” That was a lie, you had nothing going on. But being in the trailer alone with Eddie after knowing what he looks like naked is not what you need right now.
“Awe come on! I rented Scream, Saw, and Halloween for tonight. You can’t make me watch them all alone,” He lowers his voice and leans closer, “What if I need protection from the bad guys?” His big doe eyes large and pleading with you.
You roll your eyes and push his face away from you, “Ugh fine. I’ll be there, how’s 8?”
“Perfect! I’ll order the pizzas, do you think you could make those amazing cookies for us?”
“You mean for you?”
“No. I mean for us, I would never eat all the cookies myself.”
“You did like 3 weeks ago! There were 30 cookies there and I had none of them.” You stare at him as he thinks back to then.
“Nope don’t remember which means it didn’t happen. So will you?” There are those puppy dog eyes again.
“Whatever but I swear if you eat all of them again I’ll castrate you.”
Eddie’s hands fly to his groin, protecting it from your threat. “Ouch, sweetheart. Didn’t know you hated my dick that much.”
I don’t. Just hate that it’s not mine. You thought, but you just rolled your eyes and continued on eating lunch until the bell rang.
---
Eddie rushed around his room looking for his favorite shirt when you showed up for movie night. You let yourself in, per usual and set the cookies down on the coffee table before heading to Eddie’s room. He was squating in front of his closet when you come in, you don’t announce yourself just stand there staring at his back.
He got a few new tattoos since last summer, two of which on his back. A skull and crossbones along with a knife wrapped in barbed wire. You haven’t seen them in person yet, it still being too cold to sit out in the sun. But looking at them now was a pleasure, the detail popping out as his muscles flex.
Eddie huffs and stands, defeated about not finding the shirt he wanted. He turns around and finds you standing in his doorway.
“Jesus! Why didn’t you say you were here?” His hand is over his heart as he catches his breath from the unintentional jump scare.
“I texted you like 20 minutes ago that I was on my way. Figured you knew I’d be here soon,” You say as you enter his room fully to sit on his bed.
“I did not see the text, I was in the shower,” The mention of this brought back memories of the photo, and what you did whilst looking at it, “Anyways pizza should be here soon and I’ve got beers and soda in the fridge.”
Eddie walks around you to his dresser, grabbing a random shirt and throwing it on. You’re sad at the loss of his bare skin but quickly shake the thought away. You get up from his bed and head to his living room, Eddie following in toe.
“So what are we watching first? I’ve seen Scream a few times but the other two I haven’t seen,” Eddie remarks as he grabs two beers from the fridge, opening them before handing you one.
You mumble a thanks before taking a sip, the bitter liquid coating your tastebuds. “I’ve seen Scream and Saw but not Halloween. Heard good things about it though, at least that’s what Robin said, Steve had other opinions.”
“Lemme guess pretty boy hated it and wished he never saw it?” Eddie laughs as he sets up Halloween on the tv.
“Yeah pretty much,” You laugh along. The thought of your friend sitting there watching the movie curled up in a blanket next to Robin bringing a smile to your face.
Eddie finishes setting up the movie and walks back the kitchen. He grabs a bag of chips and some dip before returning to your side on the couch. He opens the chips and pops one in his mouth, crunching it loudly.
You smile at the normalcy of everything right now, it’s as if nothing ever happened between the two of you. Which if we’re being honest nothing really did happen, Eddie just sent you a nude on accident. It’s not like you kissed or anything. Not that you’d hate it if you did.
You snack on the chips and dip with him while waiting for the pizza to show up, never starting the movie without it. The two of you talk about nothing in particular while you sit there. Eddie tells you about the upcoming DnD campaign he’s been working on.
His eyes lighting up and hands flying around erratically as he explains what he planned, the animation in his character brings an even bigger smile to your face.
Just as Eddie concludes his explanation, inviting you to come sit in and watch it at the end, the doorbell rings notifying the both of you that the pizza was here and it was now time for movie night to begin.
Eddie pays the guy and happily walks over to the couch and sets the food on the table in front of the two of you, he can’t even wait til the movie starts playing to begin eating. You laugh at him as he opens and closes his mouth quickly trying to cool the hot pizza in his mouth, you just hit play and start watching the movie.
The pizza is gone, same with half the bag of chips and the cookies. Eddie actually let you eat a few of them before he scarfed down the others. You’re nearing the end of Scream, the third and final movie of the night when you look at your phone for the time. 12:25 stares back at you, you groan knowing that your parents are going to kill you for coming home so late on a school night.
Eddie hears you and turns to see why you made that noise. You just wave him off and go back to watching the movie, watching as Skeet Ulrich gets shot for the final time in the head. A few minutes later the credits roll and Eddie turns off the tv, letting the trailer fade into silence.
“Wanna tell me what that groaning was about?” Eddie asks turning to face you completely.
“Nothing, just didn’t realize that it had gotten so late. Parents are gonna kill me if I go home at this hour.”
“So just stay here,” He says with no hesitation, “You still have a few clothes here after last movie night. They’re just siting in my drawer.”
You think about it for a minute. You and Eddie have had sleepovers in the past, nothing special about them, just two people sharing a bed, occasionally cuddling because of the small size of it. But now the thought of it made you nervous, having him so close to you, so near yet not being able to touch him. It killed you, but it’s better than going back home right now and having your mom and dad rip you a new one.
“Alright, I’m gonna need to shower though. Coach had us run the mile today at practice and I still feel disgusting.”
“Yeah no problem, you go ahead and shower, I’ll clean up here.” He stands and starts clearing the trash from the table. You get up too and head into his bathroom, but no matter how hot the water is or how long you stand under it you can't get the thought of the picture and the words under it out of your mind.
He was right here, jerking off to the thought of someone. You scold yourself for thinking about him like that, again. But you couldn’t help it.
Recently you’ve thought about him more and more; his smile, the dimples that show when he’s really happy, how animatedly he talks, the way his hair is always unkempt but still looks so damn soft. You thought about him in ways you never did before seeing that picture; his arms, his muscles, his hands, his rings. Everything about him turned you on and you needed it to go away.
Eddie finished up cleaning and sat down on his bed, beer in hand while he took out his metal lunchbox for a joint. You walk into his room, towel wrapped around yourself, hair dripping wet from the shower. He stops his actions to just stare at you, the same way you did earlier that night.
“Uh could I borrow some clothes? I don’t have anything to sleep in,” You say wrapping your arms under your boobs, pushing them up ever so slightly.
Eddie clears his throat, “Yeah, sure.” He gets up and walks over to his dresser, rummaging through it to look for something you can wear tonight. He pulls out a pair on your underwear that you “left” there a while back and one of his Hellfire shirts. You denied his offer of some pants, saying they would be way to big on you and you’d rather just sleep in the shirt.
Eddie’s mind went straight to the gutter at that thought, you sleeping next to him, in just his Hellfire shirt and a pair of underwear he stole from you. His dick was growing hard just thinking about it. He quickly got back to looking for his joint and lighting it upon it’s appearance. He took a few hits while you changed in the bathroom, his mind slowly fogging over.
You return, hair still slightly wet with the towel in your hand. You toss it into his hamper before laying on his bed, grabbing his beer and taking a sip. You lay back and close your eyes, letting the serenity of this moment wash over you. Eddie offers you a hit but you decline, being that you don’t ever mix weed and booze together.
He finishes the joint while you finish his beer. The two of you just sitting there with the light sound of whatever record Eddie has playing. Your thoughts are quiet for the most part, just soaking in the time with your best friend, until you think of something. A question you’ve been meaning to ask for a little bit.
“Eddie?”
“Hmm?” He responds head leaning back onto the wall where a headboard should be.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, hit me.” You reach your hand out and hit him in the thigh.
“Ouch! Not literally, I meant with the question, sweetheart.”
“I know,” You giggle.
“Brat,” He mumbles back.
“Anyways, I was gonna ask -and you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to it’s just something I’ve been thinking about- but did you really not know it was me you were sending that picture to?” The words lay heavy on your tongue as you say them aloud. You’ve been thinking about this for a while, it’s hard not to.
How did he not know it was you he was texting, your name was right there at the top of the screen. And if he was sending it to someone else how could he not double-check to make sure he wasn’t sending it to someone like Wayne or Robin.
He’s quiet for a moment, thinking about the best way to tell you that, yes he did know it was you he was sending it to. And yes he knew it was stupid but he wanted to try something to see if you felt the same way about him that he does you. Eddie’s loved you for about a year and a half now, never saying anything to anyone in fear of running your friendship.
But that night he was watching a show and one of the characters did this thing where they pretended to send a text to someone “they didn’t mean to”, to see how they’d respond. He thought that maybe this was an easy way of figuring out how you felt about him. But when you didn’t respond to his photo or texts he got scared and called you. Needing to clarify what he sent, and why.
Summary: You like to watch your older, tatted shirtless neighbor now his lawn. He likes to watch you laying by your parents’ pool in those swimsuits that make his mouth water. Eventually, the inevitable happens when he invites you across the street for a drink.
Word Count: 8.2K
Tags: 🔥SMUT, modern au, age gap (Eddie 40s, Reader 20s), daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, slight breeding kink, spitting, light dom/sub, unprotected sex (reader has an iud), oral sex, p in v sex, shower sex, masturbation in a hot tub
(A/N: This is some of the filthiest shit I think I've ever written. You're welcome. Also I was very quick with the proofread, so if you see any spelling or grammar mistakes, no you don't.)
💜💜💜
Everyone in the posh gated community of Forest Hills knew about 1405 Peach Tree Lane.
The house was beautiful, as were all the houses in the upper-crust neighborhood- but the house wasn’t what people paid attention to.
Every housewife in the neighborhood knew that if they were lucky and timed their morning jog just right, they’d catch a glimpse of the toned, inked-up adonis who lived there while he shirtlessly mowed his lush green lawn.
You might not have done much speaking with the housewives in your parents’ neighborhood, but you knew about 1405 Peach Tree Lane- you had a perfect view of its front lawn from your lounge chair by the pool in your parents’ backyard. Luckily for you, all that separated your backyard from 1405 was a short wrought iron fence and a narrow stretch of road.
You didn’t mind living with your parents during the summers you spent home from college; they gave you plenty of freedom and while they were at work during the day, you got to spend the afternoon lounging by the pool, reading a book and soaking up the sun.
As well as soaking up the view of the way that same sunlight glinted off Mr. 1405’s sweaty, ink-riddled skin.
You didn’t speak to him- what would you even say? “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, my favorite part of the day is guessing what your tattoos mean.”? Or maybe, “Hey there neighbor, mind if I count the freckles on your shoulders? It’s for science.”
Eventually, the inevitable happened- he caught you staring.
He didn’t make it awkward, though. In fact, from the way he simply smiled and waved at you, you wondered if he thought your eyes meeting him had just been a coincidence, and you hadn’t been ogling him for the past thirty minutes and some change. You’d smiled back, thankful for your huge sunglasses that hid the way your eyes had widened under his attention, and waved in return.
An even bigger surprise had been that he spoke to you this time.
“That book any good?”
His voice, heavy with labored breathing under the exhaustion from finishing up his lawn work, had caught you completely off guard. You’d laughed nervously, sticking your bookmark between the pages and pushing yourself up from your face-down position on the flattened lounge chair.
“Oh! Ah-ha, uhm, yeah!” you shifted your weight back until you were sitting on spread knees and looking up at the source of the voice. On the other side of your parents’ fence stood Mr. 1405 Peach Tree Lane, sweaty and slightly sunburned on the tops of his shoulders. His curly brown hair had been piled into a messy knot atop his head, and you took note of the details that you hadn’t noticed from far away- a smattering of silver studs that decorated his ears, along with one on his nose. Five o’clock shadow that dusted his jawline. A more detailed view of his tattoos, some of which looked older than others but all of which looked very, very sexy on this man who had so much sex appeal already.
The crinkling of his plastic water bottle as he squeezed about half of it into his mouth filled the silence between you. After a loud gulp he piped up again.
“What’s it about?”
Your brow wrinkled confusedly before you remembered that he had just asked you about your book. “Oh!” you replied dumbly, looking down at the book as if you had completely forgotten that books even existed- looking at him had taken up your entire mental capacity, apparently. “It’s, uh, it’s a memoir! It’s this cool old lady’s life story, she does not hold back, so the narration is pretty hilarious a lot of the time.”
The inked-up Greek god smiled and nodded, eyebrows raising in interest. “That does sound good.” he mused, and his voice took on a slyer tone when he added, “What’s your definition of old, like thirty-five?” He chuckled as if he’d just told a funny joke, but your smile had all but fallen from your face.
“That’s not old,” you replied, not taking the joke, “This author was in her late seventies when she published this book, but even with that being said, this book is just told through such a youthful spirit- it’s easy to forget how old the author is when looking at her words.” You gripped the paperback a little tighter in your sweaty hands. “Plus, old people definitely don’t have the energy to mow their own lawns, and I have a feeling you’re not thirty-five.”
That seemed to catch him off-guard. A surprised laugh escaped him, exploding from his lips before they formed an intrigued grin and his arms crossed over his tattooed chest.
“Oh yeah? How old do I look, then?”
You grinned back, making a show of removing your sunglasses so that you could peer at him with greater focus. “Hmmmmmm…thirty-six?”
Another laugh, this one heartier than the last. “You flatter me, sweetheart.”
God, his voice is like brown sugar.
You tried again. “Forty, then.”
“Older.”
“No way.”
His grin became a smirk. “Are you patronizing me right now?”
You threw up a girl scout salute. “Scout’s honor, I would never.”
He chuckled. “Well, girl scout, I’ll be forty-five next month.”
“I’ll be sure to warn my parents about the rager you’ll be throwing.”
He peered up at your house behind you, like he just now noticed its- and your parents’- existence. “Nah,” he said, “No ragers for me, that ship sailed when I was your age.”
You smiled sweetly, placing your sunglasses atop your head. “At least let me bake you a cake, then, wouldn’t be neighborly to let you have a boring birthday.”
“You’d bake a cake for ‘lil old me, sweetheart?” His tattooed hand splayed over his heart, sweaty and shining in the blaring afternoon sun.
You giggled. You could get used to Mr. 1405 calling you ‘sweetheart’.
“Sure thing, just tell me what name to write in between ‘happy birthday’ and ‘forever young’.”
A flash of dazzling white teeth replied, “Eddie. Eddie Munson.”
That was when you rose a step above the housewives of Forest Hills- to them, he was still Mr. 1405, but to you? He was Eddie Munson.
You entertained yourselves with little conversations here and there whenever Eddie worked out on his lawn. You, always in a swimsuit and him, never wearing a shirt. You would ask him about his tattoos- what they symbolized, which ones he’d drawn himself before they were replicated on his flesh. He would ask you about what you were reading- it was always changing. Sometimes nonfiction, sometimes romance, fantasy, lit fic… he seemed impressed by your insatiable reading habits.
One day, however, he’d been particularly interested in a book whose cover bore a bare-chested gentleman and particularly busty woman in a corset.
“What’s today’s read, girl scout?” Eddie had greeted you with a nod toward the obviously risque reading material and a knowing smirk as he let his arms dangle over the black bars of your fence.
You looked up, glowing from the sweat that’s gathered on your dewy summer skin and smiled tightly. “Oh, just a period romance. Ball gowns, forbidden love, the scandalous touching of hands without gloves on- things like that.”
“From the looks of that cover, I don’t think their hands are the only naked body parts touching in that story.”
You laughed, glancing at the cover as Eddie waggled his eyebrows. “You’re probably right, but who knows? I’m only on the second chapter. I’ll keep you posted though.” you punctuated that last part with a wink.
“Oh please do, princess,” Eddie said with a wolfish grin. “I love a good smutty romance novel.”
You gawked. “No way you read this shit, you’re bluffing.”
Eddie raised a hand as if swearing on a bible. “Scout’s honor.” he said, mimicking your swear from the day you’d met.
You shook your head, smiling ear to ear. “You must be the first man I’ve met who openly admits to reading smut, and I respect that.”
Eddie shrugged. “Easiest way to know what women want- they’re literally writing me an instruction manual. It’d be stupid not to read them.”
You bit your bottom lip before you could stop yourself, making a mental note of that little tidbit of information. “And you enjoy them?”
“It’s porn, sweetheart,” he said, gazing at you incredulously. “Who wouldn’t enjoy it?”
“It’s porn with a plot.”
“I’m a sucker for a good plot, especially if the plot involves sucking.”
You barked out a laugh. “And one could also argue that it’s more emotional porn than physical.”
“Are you insinuating that I don’t have a heart? Because I’ve got one, princess, and it bleeds, it yearns-”
Eddie pantomimed grasping at his own heart in his chest, putting on a fucking one-man show as he hung onto the fence for dear life as if his heart were truly bleeding out. You laughed- that was something that seemed to happen more when Eddie was around- you laughed more than usual, so much that you found your cheeks aching whenever he walked away.
This time, something else ached as you watched him return to his lawn. As you continued to read, you were acutely aware of the heat between your thighs, the wetness that accumulated as you pictured corseted girls and muscled viscounts making eyes at each other across a sea of dancing courtiers. You imagined yourself, cornered in a rich rose garden bathed in moonlight, struggling to stifle your moans as a man in a tailcoat left a mark on your neck. You felt his hand hiking up your layers of petticoats until it reached your thigh, the only thing separating skin from skin being the white fabric of his gloves. You pictured his eyes, brown and bottomless as he moaned at the feeling of your hands tangled and tugging on his soft brown curls-
Uh oh.
You took a deep breath, bookmarked your page, and slipped into the cold water of the pool. You sincerely hoped that Eddie hadn’t been serious about an update on the smut in your novel; you didn’t exactly want to let slip that at some point, you’d stopped picturing the viscount and started picturing him.
But would he mind? Would he be upset to know that you’d pictured his hands on you, his lips on your pulse, your fingers in his hair?
You weren’t sure he would.
In fact, you had a feeling he might actually picture you in situations that weren’t too different. After all, you weren’t blind- you’d noticed the way his eyes would flit down from your face when the two of you were talking. He didn’t seem to put much effort into hiding his once-overs, his raking gaze that seemed more than pleased by the way your swimsuits hugged your curves, pulled your cleavage together, cut higher on your hip than your shorts ever would. Whenever you pulled yourself up from lying on your stomach, you’d seen how his eyes followed your ass hungrily as it left his line of sight.
That was the moment that you realized- Eddie Munson, more than likely, wanted to fuck you.
And you definitely wanted to fuck him.
So the next time he came over to see you after mowing his lawn, you offered him a beer.
“I’m already halfway through mine,” you said, leaning back to give him a full view of the way the sweat on your breasts shone in the hot sun. “don’t make me day drink alone.”
A salacious grin curled on his plush pink lips. “I could be tempted,” Eddie peered at the cooler beside you. “What are you drinking, sweetheart?”
You opened the cooler so that he could see the six pack of light lagers in shiny green bottles. Eddie wrinkled his nose distastefully. “Alright, young padawan,” he sighed, unlatching the gate to your backyard. “It’s time you learned your first lesson from Master Munson.” He didn’t enter the backyard, simply opened the gate and waited for you to join him outside your parents’ property.
You quirked an eyebrow; this was new territory. That wrought iron fence had always served as a sort of barrier between the two of you, never occupying the same space and keeping each other at arm’s length- flirty banter, but with boundaries.
Now, you smiled shrewdly as you slipped on your flip flops and crossed the threshold into Eddie’s space, following him across the narrow street to his driveway.
“Oh so I’m your student now, Master?” you quipped, launching him into a dark chuckle and a shake of his curls.
“Christ,” he cursed under his breath low enough that he probably thought you hadn’t heard- but you did. “Well, your college friends are obviously shitty teachers if your drink of choice is a basic ass bottle you can grab at the goddamn gas station.”
You scoffed, “Oh, what- are you trying to say you’re one of those pretentious beer snobs who only drinks micro-brewed IPA’s named after bad puns?”
Eddie laughed out loud, smiling ear to ear at you over his shoulder. “Oh that’s exactly what I am, princess!” The harsh sunlight finally relented as the two of you crossed into Eddie’s garage, and you followed him in a beeline to the old refrigerator in the corner opposite from his impressive-looking toolbench.
You nearly moaned with relief when the cool air from the fridge hit you as Eddie opened the door and grabbed a couple of unmarked silver cans from the middle shelf. You eyed them cautiously, which Eddie saw and snorted at when he saw your expression. “Not poisoning you, sweetheart, no need to worry.” He opened a door beside the fridge that you guessed- judging by what you could see past the doorway- led to his kitchen. “A friend of mine is a home-brewer, he gives these to me and the guys for free. Way better than any cookie-cutter shit you’ll find at a college party.” He held the door open for you, nodding his head toward the doorway. “You coming inside? It’s hot as hell out here.”
You hadn’t expected him to invite you into his home; it occurred to you suddenly that you were still only wearing your swimsuit. Smiling shyly, you stepped through the doorway, the chill of the air conditioning rolling goosebumps over your damp skin. Eddie stepped into the kitchen and immediately began opening the cans, handing one to you.
You eyed the can cautiously, raising an eyebrow at him. “Do I want to know what I’m about to drink?’
He smiled mischievously, inclining his head toward you as he held his can aloft. “First lesson, padawan- trust your master.” He tilted the can in your direction, to which you sighed and tapped your can to his.
Your eyes widened in surprise when the cold, bubbly liquid hit your lips. It wasn’t anything like you were expecting- instead of the tepid wheaty taste that you were used to. At first the drink was tart, but after a second it faded into a fruity dryness that reminded you of white wine. Its flavor was so light that you couldn’t even tell you were drinking beer.
“This is beer?”
Eddie chuckled. “Technically it’s a sour, but yes- it’s a type of beer. Dustin said it was a champagne sour, so if you like wine then hopefully this’d be up your alley.”
You smiled as you took your second sip. “I do like wine.” you murmured, testing the flavors on your tongue. “Like this, too. Your friend ever think about selling what he brews?”
“Dustin?” Eddie asked, laughing as if the question were something funny. “Oh I have no doubt he’ll try to sell it one day, but he’s not going to even think about it until he knows he’s perfected his recipe.”
As you took another sip of the cold drink, you felt another wave of goosebumps run through you. Coincidentally, this was the moment that Eddie fell perfectly silent. You peered over your can- his eyes were fixed on your chest. You became acutely aware that the goosebumps had resulted in your nipples growing so hard, you thought if something-anything- were to accidentally brush against them, you might moan from the sensitivity.
Stifling a smirk, you shivered and hugged your upper arms. “Brrrrr it’s cold in here!” you said coyly, “I guess my body temperature got a little too used to the heat.”
Eddie’s chest heaved slightly at the way your tits bounced and squeezed together when you shivered. He cleared his throat, looking down at the beer can in his hand for a moment. “I’ve got a hot tub, you know,” He spoke up, peering at you to gauge your reaction. “Downstairs. You’re welcome to it.”
You took another sip. “Only if you join me.”
His dark eyes snapped up to yours, lips curling up at one corner. “Yes ma’am.” he said, his voice lowered an octave and a bit huskier than before. You held his eye contact, mirroring his lopsided grin with a charged, heavy-lidded gaze.
Eddie led you to a staircase down the hall and said he’d be right back with a towel for you after he changed into swim trunks.
“Aw, no speedo?” you smirked. Eddie appeared unphased. “Mental note,” he murmured to himself, “the princess is eager to see my thighs.”
You giggled, “There might be more tattoos there I haven’t seen yet,” you countered, “How am I supposed to keep figuring you out if I don’t know the meaning of each and every one?”
Eddie placed his forearm above your head on the wall, leaning into it until he was close enough for you to feel his breath on your hairline. “You know, you seem to spend a lot of time staring at my body, kid-” You bristled at his blatant omission of the nicknames you liked. “-I’m starting to feel objectified.”
You forced the smile from your face, looking up at him defiantly. “I could say the same thing about you, Mr. Munson,” you replied, “-and I’m not a ‘kid’.”
His position didn’t change as his eyes raked over your nearly naked body, drifting from your eyes to your lips and catching on your cleavage. “Don’t I know it, sweetheart.” he whispered, before pushing off the wall. “Hot tub’s already heated, just push off the cover and hit the green button. I’ll be down in a sec.”
And then he was walking down the hall to what you could only assume was his bedroom. For a moment, you thought about following him… but if you were honest with yourself, you were actually pretty curious about this hot tub. So down the stairs you went, carrying a silver can of sour in each hand.
Eddie’s basement was cozy, but he had utilized the space to its full potential. The majority had been filled with workout equipment to create a home gym, the walls lined with floor to ceiling mirrors that created the illusion of a larger space than it actually was. Sitting on stylish wooden slats was the hot tub, topped with a brown leather cover. To the right of the hot tub was a door with a small window that was just at your eye level. Upon closer inspection… yep, that was a sauna. Eddie had a sauna.
Shaking your head in disbelief, you made a mental note to ask Eddie what he did for a living- as far as you could tell, he was the only one who lived here. How did a single guy in his forties have so much money to burn?
Placing yours and Eddie’s drinks down on a nearby surface, you removed the cover from the hot tub and pressed the green button as Eddie had instructed, and settled into the hot, bubbling water. God, it was relaxing. Just then, you heard footsteps descending the stairs.
Eddie appeared, his hair let down from his normal messy bun so that it fell in dark chocolate curls that cascaded over his shoulders. His swim trunks, simple and black with little white skulls lining the cuffs above his knees, hugged his thighs in a way that made you salivate. Tattoos you'd become all too familiar with danced across his skin, and you suddenly felt the need to taste them.
Eddie smirked when he saw you getting an eyeful without even trying to hide it. “How’s the water?”
You hummed, relaxing further into jets against your back. “Sooooooo nice.” You sighed.
Eddie climbed into the hot tub to join you, making you squeal as he practically fell into the water, splashing you as he submerged his head just enough to wet his hair and shake it out like a golden retriever.
You giggled, doing your best to ensure that your hair wasn’t wet enough to make you look like a wet rat. “I’m starting to think you’re a teenage boy trapped in the body of a middle-aged man.”
Eddie narrowed his eyes at you, tattooed arms stretching out over the edges of the tub as he relaxed into the seat across from you. “Hey now,” he said, voice laced with warning. “Careful with the term middle-aged there, kiddo.”
You matched his gaze, challenging. “Kiddo?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Eddie’s gaze was heavy, cocky as he looked down his nose at you. “Practically a baby.”
You grinned. “That one, I don’t mind.”
Eddie’s smile grew in tandem. “Oh, she likes to be ‘baby’, but not ‘kiddo’, huh?”
You leaned back into the water, looking up at the ceiling with a smug smile on your lips. “That’s right, grandpa.”
Suddenly, you felt a tug on your ankle and you were underwater. You emerged, spitting chlorine out of your mouth, struggling to force it from your nose as Eddie’s cackling rang in your ears. You gasped, sputtering in shock as you tried to catch your breath.
“You are a child!” you squealed as he tugged your ankle again- you hadn’t noticed his hold still grasping tightly- not forceful enough to bring you back under the surface but enough to remind you that he could.
“So not a grandpa, then?” Eddie teased, stroking the curve of your ankle with his thumb.
You gritted your teeth together, strategizing. “No, that would be too kind. You’ve got the maturity of a teenager. Luckily for me-”
Using Eddie’s grip on your ankle as leverage, you forcefully pulled yourself forward by your leg and launched yourself right into his lap, bending your knees so that a second later, you were straddling him.
You watched triumphantly as Eddie’s eyes widened, looking up at you with breath that hitched in his throat as you finished your sentence.
“-I know how boys like you think.”
The humor between the two of you dissipated in that instant, Eddie’s eyes blown wide and dark as he watched the way the water in your hair dripped down your neck and between your breasts, which were now inches from his face. If he leaned forward, he could catch that bead of water with his tongue. If he reached up, he could hold your tits in his hands, test their weight. Press them up, squish them together, squeeze…
You felt him growing hard beneath you, and smirked triumphantly. “See?” You said smugly, grinding against him teasingly. “Right on schedule.”
Eddie chuckled, his breathing strained as he shook his head exasperatedly. “Got me all figured out, do you princess?”
You nodded, finding your rhythm as you continued to grind against his hardening cock through his swim trunks. “I think I’m starting to.”
You shivered despite the warmth as Eddie trailed his hand from your ankle up your leg, your hip, your waist…finally resting at the apex of your sternum to splay across your neck. You hadn’t been expecting that- you faltered, breath hitching as he tested out a gentle squeeze and hummed to himself.
“Mmmmm…” He looked you over with passive attention, taking account of the way your eyes widened and your pulse quickened under his thumb. “...you know, I’m starting to figure you out too.” His other hand cupped your hip, pulling you to sit directly on his erection and holding you in place so you couldn’t grind. “You’re used to getting away with shit you know you shouldn’t do, isn’t that right, baby?” You sighed softly in response, pinned into place by his lust-blown eyes. You balanced on a precipice- on one side, obedience, which you knew would satisfy him. On the other, eventual obedience with a little bit more fight; more of a gamble, but you were willing to bet that he would enjoy that best.
“You really thought you could eye-fuck me every damn afternoon,” Eddie said, his hand on your neck moving lower to fondle one of your breasts over your swimsuit. “-and there wouldn’t be consequences?”
You breathed heavily, chest rising and falling under his hand. “I mean…” you drawled, still smiling smugly despite his authoritative tone of voice. “...I was kinda hoping for consequences.” you brought both hands out of the water, gesturing vaguely to the room around you. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
A second passed before Eddie’s hands suddenly grabbed both of your wrists, forcing them behind your back. You gasped, cheeks hot from the water and the position you were in, straddling his lap with both shoulders shoved back to force your breasts front and center. He saw the look in your eyes and leaned forward, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“I can get rough sometimes, baby.” he said, voice low and husky. “Tell me it’s too much at any point and I’ll stop, okay?” You nodded, a shy little mm-hm escaping your bitten lips. Eddie crossed your wrists over each other, holding them behind your back with one hand as his newly free one reached up to caress your cheek.
“Fucking Christ, you’re cute.” he mumbled. “Cute little baby, all alone in her parents’ big house all day, so bored she had to go and be a slut for the neighbor. That right, baby?”
Your eyes were wide and wet, mouth opened in a slight pout as you ground your freed hips on his hard cock once again, whimpering needily. You nodded your head up and down, eager to hear more filthy words tumble from his lips.
Eddie wasn’t satisfied with that. A hand came up to grasp your hair at the base of your neck, tugging on it firmly but not painfully to force your head to nod up and down emphatically. “Use your words, baby, say ‘yes, daddy, I was a slut.’”
You gasped, surprised. You’d never called anyone daddy besides your actual father, and you’d certainly never called anyone that in the bedroom- or a hot tub, for that matter. However, his brazen demand that you call him that while you straddled him like this sent rolling waves of pleasure straight to the apex of your thighs.
“Y-yes… daddy…” You struggled against your instinct to be embarrassed, arching your back against your restrained hands and looking down shyly at your cleavage. “...I was a slut.”
“Look at me.”
Your eyes flicked up to his, wide and obedient. He was smiling at you, beaming with pride and adoration. His hand slid from your hair to the back of your neck, pulling your face to his. “Good girl, baby.” he praised, “I’m gonna kiss you, is that okay?”
You nodded eagerly. “Yes, please!”
That earned you a chuckle. “So polite, baby girl, good job.”
Eddie’s lips felt like the most comforting thing that a person could feel on their skin. His kiss felt like fresh sheets still warm from the dryer. His tongue was like a strawberry that was perfectly ripe, sweet and wet and a rush of relief. He explored you, he learned you, his lips devoured all they could reach and whenever they couldn’t reach, his tongue took over to fill in the blanks.
As you whimpered and squirmed in his lap, Eddie cooed, “What’s the matter, baby, something wrong with your legs?”
You shook your head, moaning into his mouth. “I need something on my clit, Eddie.”
“Something? You’ll just take anything on that clit baby? Is that what you're saying?”
You panted, straining against his rock hard dick for some kind of friction. He was right, you would take anything. “Yes, please touch me, Eddie.”
He made no move to do so, only looking at you pointedly with his eyebrows raised. When you realized your mistake, you corrected, “Please touch me, daddy.”
He smiled smugly, a cat watching a mouse. “Good girl,” he praised, “but I’m not sure you’ve earned that.”
Your face fell, eyes going wide as your lips formed a full-on pout. “But-” you began to stutter, but Eddie wasn’t finished.
He let go of you, pushing you gently off you and guiding you under the water to one of the seats in the corner of the tub. The jets coming off it were strong, nearly too much on your back as you turned to sit, but Eddie stopped you before you could settle into the seat.
“Princess, I want you to keep your knees open and ride your pussy on that jet stream until you cum.”
Your jaw dropped open. Whipping your chin over your shoulder to look at him in his seat opposite you, you stared and waited for him to specify or maybe apologize for misspeaking- there’s no way you heard him right. But then he repeated himself, and you realized that yes, you had.
“Press your pussy up against that jet stream under the water, and make yourself cum. Don’t use your hands. Don’t rush. I want you to fall apart in my hot tub, and I’m going to stroke my dick while I watch you do it. That okay, sweetheart?”
You were learning a lot of new information about your neighbor today.
You smiled devilishly over your shoulder at him, taking in the sight of him lounging in the opposite corner of the tub as he took in the sight of you. “You’re a kinky motherfucker, aren’t you?”
Eddie reached across the tub and wound an arm around your waist, pulling you in for a quick but heated kiss. “Yeah, I am.” he murmured into your lips before pushing you back toward the jets. “Now make yourself cum, I want you tight.”
He laughed at the pathetic little whimper that you let slip involuntarily as you situated yourself against the jet stream. You balanced your weight on your knees, spreading your legs enough to open your pussy further inside your swimsuit. Once the pulsing stream of water made contact with your clit, your automatic impulse was to flinch away; the stream was strong, almost too strong. However, with a little shifting and repositioning, you eventually found an angle that pulled a moan from your mouth that sounded almost pornographic.
“That’s it, baby girl,” you heard Eddie’s rough voice behind you, and you couldn’t help but sneak a peak over your shoulder at him. Eddie sat with legs spread open and one arm slung over the lip of the tub, his other hand palming the erection you knew was only growing harder over his swim trunks. This told you he was a patient man, a man who liked to be teased a little before taking what he wanted. A man who liked to play with his food before he ate it.
You could play, too.
You pulled your eyebrows together, pouting your lips the way you’d seen him react to earlier. “Am I doing it right for you, daddy?” You moved your hips up and down against the jet, putting on a little show for him.
Eddie raised a brow, amused. “I don’t think I can answer that question for you, sweetheart.” he said, sighing heavily with pleasure as he tilted his head this way and that to take you in from every angle. “Don’t worry about me, baby, just make yourself feel good.”
You smiled shyly, nodding in response and turning your attention back to the jets. You maneuvered your hips against them, grinding on the strong jetstream as it hit your clit at angles that you didn’t even know existed. You lost yourself in the sensation, letting your eyes fall closed and humming little sounds to yourself as your heart rate picked up, that familiar pleasure bubbling up in your lower belly as your movements grew faster and more desperate.
Eager to see if Eddie was enjoying himself as much as you were, you glanced over your shoulder to look at him. What you saw was breathtaking- Eddie, his wet curls clinging to his dewy skin, muscles flexing under his tattoos as he fisted his cock underwater. You couldn’t see it clearly due to the raging bubbles, but the flesh-colored underwater blur was enough for you to know exactly what he was doing. You had known he would jack off to you- he’d outright told you he planned to- but seeing it was enough to turn you on so much that it became the thing that pushed you over the edge.
“Daddy, I’m cumming!”
You moaned, mouth hanging open as you rode out your orgasm against the harsh stream of the jets, overwhelmed and overstimulated by the physical feeling and the intense eye contact that you held with Eddie the entire time as your body gyrated and spasmed. He watched you with hungry eyes, lapping up the scene in its entirety and committing every second to memory.
“Good girl, good fucking girl, keep fucking that jet, baby.”
You whimpered, hips jerking away from the stream as it hit your clit at an angle that was a little too intense, and your limp, still-needy body floated over to Eddie. He chuckled, still stroking his cock lightly in the warm water. “Aw, I’m sorry baby, was that too much?”
You shook your head, still eager for him- he’d barely even touched you, and yet you were so desperate for this man. “No, I can take more.”
His eyes had a darkness to them that made your breath hitch. “How much can you take, sweetheart?”
You moved to straddle your knees on either side of one of his thighs, not close enough to grind against his cock, but certainly in a perfect position to rub your pussy along his leg, teasing him. “I’ll take whatever you wanna give me, daddy.”
A low groan sounded from deep in Eddie’s chest. “You might regret saying that one, babe.”
You couldn’t resist matching his warning with a challenge. “Bring it on.” you said sweetly, and it incited a little chuckle in him. He reached back and pressed a button on the hot tub, causing all of the bubbles to stop.
“Get out, dry off.” he said, nodding to the neatly folded towels he’d placed beside the hot tub. “You look like you could use a shower.”
You stayed put, confused. “You… but…”
He cut you off, cupping his wet hands against your face. You could feel the pads of his fingers on your cheeks, wrinkled from prolonged time under the water’s surface. “Sorry, sweetheart, I forgot you don’t like following instructions unless you know you’re getting something out of it.” You scoffed at his condescending tone, but all he did was smile. “What I meant to say was- get out. Dry off. I’m going to fuck you in my shower. Mmkay?”
Your eyes widened, excited by his words and elated by a strange submissive, post-orgasmic euphoria. “Okay.” you replied, but when you saw his testy look in response you quickly amended, “Okay daddy.”
“Good girl.”
The two of you dried off before heading back upstairs. Eddie let you down the hall to his bedroom, which you were sure was filled with so many interesting mementos on the walls that you were sure it would take you hours to study all of it. The first thing to catch your eye was the golden record, framed and mounted beside his dresser. When Eddie saw you looking at it, he supplied an answer without waiting for you to ask.
“Ever heard of a band called Corroded Coffin?”
You searched your brain but came up empty. “No, I don’t think I have.”
Eddie chuckled to himself, like you’d just participated in a joke you weren’t in on. “Most people haven’t. But I bet you’ve heard the song Upside Down on the radio, yeah?” He hummed a couple bars of the chorus, which you recognized instantly.
“Oh yeah! I love that song!”
Eddie grinned. “‘Preciate it, babe.”
Shocked, you glanced up at the record and back to him. “Wait, you wrote that song?”
He shrugged as if to brush it off, but you could tell he was proud. “It was a group effort, my band and I wrote and recorded it together. After that, though, when the offers for record deals and tours and shit started pouring in, it became clear to most of the band members that this wasn’t what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives- band broke up on good terms, we just had some differences when it came to future plans.” He reached up and stroked the frame affectionately with his thumb. “But one-hit-wonder money was still enough to get my name out there, make some smart investments. I’m a music producer now.”
So that’s how he made all this money. The big empty house made sense now. “That’s pretty cool, actually.” you said, smiling at Eddie. You relished the sensation of his hands as they slid around your waist.
“You wanna see something even cooler?”
Before you could answer, Eddie was scooping you up into his arms and tossing you over his shoulder. You squealed, laughing as his palm hit your ass cheek with a loud smack! He carried you into his bathroom, placing you on his vanity counter before kissing the laughing smile right off your face. You felt his hands as they worked your bathing suit off you, freeing your breasts from the confines of the damp fabric. Eddie wasted no time, pulling one of your tits into his hand and encircling your nipple with his mouth, sucking sensually. You moaned, hands fisting into his hair. He only left your skin to turn around and turn on the shower, giving the water a chance to heat up.
Once the bathroom had sufficiently filled with steam, Eddie picked you up from the counter, pulling your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. You kissed him greedily, wetly, and hungrily as he walked the two of you into his spacious tiled shower, which was larger than your dorm room closet back at school.
You relaxed your legs around him in a silent ask for Eddie to put you down, which he obliged. The moment your feet hit the wet tiled floor, you began to sink to your knees until…
You snorted.
“Why do you still have your swim trunks on?”
Eddie had taken the time to take off your bathing suit, but you hadn’t even realized that even after carrying you into the shower, he hadn’t even taken a second to undress himself.
He looked down, noticing this for the first time, same as you. “I, uh… I don’t know. I was-” he flashed you a smirk that was equal parts embarrassed and sexy. “-preoccupied, I guess.”
You couldn’t help but laugh as you knelt before him, now eye-level with the drawstring of his swim trunks. “Well let me fix that, then.” you said softly, working your delicate fingers into the waistband and pulling his trunks down until they hit the floor.
God. He was a sight to behold. And you were right, he did have thigh tattoos. They were large, twisting images of hellish creatures, undoubtedly older but still in good shape since- judging by the paleness of the skin they decorated- they probably never saw the light of day.
You reached up, lightly tracing them as you turned your gaze to his cock. It was at full mast, eager and waiting for your mouth to encircle it and, hopefully, make Eddie moan your name.
Which he did.
The way your lips covered the head of his cock, the way your tongue generously licked the shaft under, over, around, the way your hands were warm and welcoming as they lightly played with his balls- all of it made him moan, gasp, groan your name. He called you baby, called you princess, moaned and pulled your hair as he fucked your mouth, and you just about burst into flames when he shoved his cock so far down your throat that you swallowed on it accidentally, pulling a growled “Goddamnit, sweetheart, fuck-” from his lips.
When he pulled you off his dick by your hair, his eyes were humorless and hungry. He crouched down, leveling your eyes under the hot water from the showerhead.
“Are you on birth control, sweet girl?” he asked.
You nodded, “I have an IUD.”
He kissed your forehead firmly, one hand still fisted in your hair. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Now I can grab a condom, they’re right over there in the cabinet under my sink.” he continued, nodding vaguely in the sink’s direction. “But baby, I have been fantasizing about the way your pussy’s gonna feel for a long ass time and I hate to ask you this, and you’re allowed to say no, but-”
“Fuck me raw Eddie.” You wanted it. You needed it. You needed him. “I fantasize about it too. I think about it every day, I touch myself to you before going to sleep and wake up wishing your cock was the thing waking me up. When I’m lying by the pool reading those stupid smutty novels and some lord is fucking a lady in waiting up against a wall, I can’t focus on it! I can’t because I want it to be you and I want to feel your cock inside me, and I want it to be your cum that drips down my thighs and your lips on my-”
He cut you off there, splaying his free hand on your neck and kissing you until you were laid horizontally on the hot, wet floor. He climbed on top of you, and in a moment your mouth fell open at the sensation of his hard cock splitting you open from the inside. He didn’t spend a moment waiting for you to adjust to his size or murmuring praises into your ear- he knew you wanted all of him, and you knew he wanted all of you, and that was all you needed. You moaned, you practically screamed, and above all you clutched him for dear life.
“Dirty girl,” Eddie growled into your ear, thrusting into you deep and hard. “Dirty books, dirty mind-”
He leaned back so that his face was directly above yours and grabbed your cheeks, squeezing to force your mouth open. Your lips parted, and Eddie spat harshly into your mouth before shoving your mouth closed around it. His eyes were feral, wild with lust and dominance. “Swallow.” he commanded, you obeyed in an instant. He felt your throat moving against his hand and smiled deviously. “Dirty mouth, too.”
He picked up his pace, spearing into you at a pace so relentless that you couldn’t even keep track of the noises coming out of your mouth- an incoherent stream of sounds and swear that would have made a sailor blush. He matched your dirty noises with his own, all the while dicking you down into his shower floor as your brain went haywire at the lewd noises of skin slapping against skin that echoed through the bathroom.
“God, this pussy is so fucking tight,” Eddie groaned, “good girl, cumming so hard for daddy back there. You gonna cum on my cock this time?”
You moaned, “Need something on my clit, daddy.”
Eddie pecked your lips with his own, and the way it made your heart skip a beat was like a reward. “Good girl, always tell me what you need, okay?”
You nodded, smiling giddily from the sudden subby euphoria. “Okay, daddy.” You made a mental note that kissing Eddie Munson while his cock was inside you gave you your new favorite kind of high.
Eddie reached down and began drawing small, soft circles with his fingertip on your clit. The richly gentle sensation was decadent, pulling deeper, louder moans from you as Eddie continued to fuck you. “Oh I feel you getting tighter, baby girl, that feel good?”
“Yes!” you practically yelled it.
“Yes what?” He taunted.
“Yes daddy!” you cried, arching your back against the tile. He was fucking you ruthlessly, ravaging you mentally, and the way his dirty words melted into you made your brain go so hazy that you weren’t sure if your vision was clouding or if it was just the steam in the air.
Your release was growing closer, that heat in your core coiling tighter and tighter, ready to burst with pleasure. “I’m gonna cum soon, daddy.” you whined.
Eddie’s dick hit you in that perfect spot inside over and over, and you leaned your face against his hand as he cupped your cheek affectionately. “Yeah? You gonna make a mess all over daddy’s dick?” You pouted, nodding ‘yes’ in response. Eddie smiled at the way you could be so cute and so filthy at the same time- he fucking loved it. “That’s probably gonna make me cum, sweetheart, you want that? That pussy’s gonna grip my cock so tight that it fills you with cum, huh?”
You were whimpering and pouting and letting the sluttiest little sobs fall from you now. “Yes, daddy, fill me with cum, please!”
“You want me to fill you with cum? Fuck all that cum inside you?”
“Yes!”
“Yes what, sweetheart, gotta tell me whose dick you’re cumming on-”
“Daddy!” you cried, “Daddy’s dick, I’m cumming on daddy’s dick!”
“Fuuuck, yes, cum on daddy’s dick you little slut-”
Eddie’s filthy words tumbled from his lips as your pussy pulsed around him, fluttering walls squeezing him tight from the aching pleasure that shot through you. His cum filled you, and the size of his load reflected just how long it had been since he’d cum into anything that wasn’t his own hand. When he finally pulled out, a stream of both your releases oozed out of your hole and onto the floor. Eddie stared at it, fascinated, and he silently used his finger to catch the milky liquid and push it back into your hole. You whimpered, overly sensitive and puffy, your pussy lips inflamed and screaming, but Eddie was gentle as he sheathed his finger completely inside you, ensuring that his seed stayed exactly where he’d put it in the first place.
He pulled you up to a sitting position, smiling gently. “Hi.” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on your temple.
“Hi.” you giggled, a giant smile stretching out across your face, blissed-out and more than satisfied.
Eddie stroked your wet hair out of your face, gazing down at you adoringly. “I’m sorry if that was a little… much,” he winced. “I may have gotten carried away, usually I would talk to you to see if that kind of stuff would be okay, but I was just so fired up-”
“Eddie,” you interrupted softly. “I loved it.”
He grinned, grateful and relieved. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Eddie pulled you against him, your body fitting itself nicely against his naked chest as water poured over the two of you from above while you sat holding each other on the floor of his shower. He sighed, completely and utterly content. “Yeah.”
***
The rest of the summer days in your parents’ neighborhood went like this:
Wake up imagining what you and Eddie would do today. Touch yourself when necessary.
Do whatever chores needed doing around the house, sometimes making batches of lemonade for Eddie when you knew he would be working on his lawn that day.
Lounge by your pool and read a book- this part hadn’t changed.
Spend the rest of the afternoon at Eddie’s. These afternoons usually consisted of activities like discussing the whatever book you were reading, drinking whatever strange new beer Dustin had come up with, and fucking each other’s brains out.
The next month, Eddie celebrated his birthday. He didn’t throw a rager (true to his word) but he did have a little get-together. To your surprise, he invited you.
You got to meet his friends, their kids, their dogs- and see the way Eddie smiled for hours without reprieve when they were around. This whole summer, you’d been figuring this man out bit by bit, but it wasn’t until that night that you truly felt like you knew him.
You baked him a cake, as promised. Three layers of funfetti sponge, vanilla frosting and decorated with oreo crumbs and rainbow letters that spelled out “Happy birthday, Eddie, forever young”.
He wasn’t this way with the rest of the neighbors. To them, he would always be Mr. 1405 Peach Tree Lane, but with these people? With his friends? He was Eddie Munson. Now, you were included in that group of people who were allowed to know him, and how wonderful he really was.
You felt so incredibly lucky that you were a part of that.
twenty four hours (modern eddie munson x fem!reader)
HOUR TWENTY ONE
in which you try everything you can to make eddie feel better after his encounter with chrissy - to make him forget, to make him feel cherished, to make him feel worthy.
→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn
→ warnings: strong language, a single use of Y/N, smut (p in v), oral (m receiving), voyeurism, edging, good old fashioned ball worship if you squint, maybe some sub!eddie if you squint even harder, upside down does not exist, minors dni
→ wc: 7.3k+
→ a/n: shout out to @hellfire--cult for the balcony idea. i knew i'd get them there at some point, little freaks. and everyone say thank you to @icallhimjoey for the early post 😏
masterlist.
spotify playlist.
◁ previous part, next part▷
20:00 ─────────────ㅇ── 24:00
HOUR TWENTY ONE - 12:00 PM
STEVE-O: why do you guys suck so much at providing photographic proof of being alive? seriously
You’ve been staring at Steve’s text ever since the two of you arrived back at the apartment. You’d reply soon enough, but for now, the message was a distraction.
Eddie wasn’t speaking to you.
Not in a brooding sense, but in a way that let you know he was too far gone in his own head right now for you to reach him. When you’d said those words to him, when you’d admitted that you found him worth it, you saw his eyes glaze over slowly. You’d watched in real time as he slipped away from you. It might be that he doesn’t believe you, it might be guilt that continues to gnaw at him for a past that can’t be changed — whatever it is, you hate it.
The easy solution would be to send Steve the photos from the cafe, but you’d already tried that. Your thumb had hovered over that photo of Eddie with a mouthful of croissant, still bright and brilliant before all his waves of self-hatred had gotten ahold of him, and you just couldn’t. It was selfish, it was ridiculous, but you couldn’t share that piece of him with others. Some small, childish, hopeless bit of you needed to cling to the man in that photo and keep him safely inside your chest. It wasn’t a new version to your friends, they’ve always tried to defend Eddie and convince you he wasn’t all bad, but it was new to you. It was all so unexpected and unforeseen, the look behind his golden eyes as he seemingly looked right past the camera and right into you.
No, you couldn’t send that photo. It was for your eyes only. A souvenir you had greedily stolen.
Eddie had excused himself to the bathroom when you two arrived at the apartment, and this time, there was no dirty intentions behind it. You left well enough alone — he needed a moment to be by himself and that was fine. You could entertain yourself until he was ready to come back to you, back down to Earth. Right now, you were currently picking apart an almond croissant as if it were the most interesting thing you’d ever laid eyes on.
Croissant dissection — see? You absolutely could distract yourself in order to give him space. Absolutely no sarcasm there.
You finally sigh when you see a message bubble pop up with three little dots, signifying Steve is typing again. You don’t give him the time to properly finish out his message before you click on your camera icon, snap a shot of the picked apart croissant in front of you, and send a message with the image attached.
YOU: we were eating breakfast, eddie’s been in the bathroom. happy, mom?
STEVE-O: he’s been in the bathroom for an entire hour?
YOU: oh, you know how you men get with toilet time.
Despite the playful tone of your texts, your face is completely flat, chest still heavy as you think about Eddie behind the wooden door. Should you be giving Eddie this amount of space? What if it’s doing more damage than good?
You’re about to stand from the stool you’ve occupied for nearly ten minutes now and go try your hand at knocking, try and remind Eddie that you’re still here, when Steve’s next text comes through.
STEVE-O: stop bullshitting me. what happened?
You swear you taste metallic blood from how hard you bite down on your bottom lip, staring at the mocking message. You can’t even begin to explain to Steve what has transpired, not just this last hour, but the entirety of the time. The parking garage, the joking marriage, Chrissy showing up, Eddie’s painful vulnerability – you can’t find the words to tell him about any of it. The same as you can’t find it in you to send the photo of Eddie in Betty’s.
YOU: nothing happened. do you need any more proof than that?
He only reacts to your message with a thumbs up. You assume that means you’re in the clear, for now.
When you exit your thread of messages with Steve, a new thread that has been started catches your eye. It’s a new number, no contact on it. The only message sent is from you – the photo of you with your coffee, head thrown back and eyes shut with a wide smile boosting your cheeks.
Eddie’s phone number.
You look at the photo of yourself for a while, trying to not cringe at your appearance. To you, you just looked ridiculous. You don’t understand why Eddie wanted this photo preserved so badly. Your smile is too wide, your eyes are mere slits from the way your cheeks were squishing up with joy, most of your makeup you’d started the night with has long since faded due to a multitude of activities. You don’t feel like anything special in this photo.
But Eddie had wanted it. He had deemed this moment in time of you as picture-worthy, had gone so far as to send it to himself so that he’d have this memory even if you deleted it from your phone.
Before you think too hard on it, you tap on that line of numbers and add a proper contact profile to it.
EDDIE. You keep the contact name simple, eager to get it out of the way as you move onto the next step. A contact photo. You don’t even have to ponder on it – in a flash, you’ve selected the picture of him with the croissant.
You’re back on the thread of messages – or, at least, the singular message – and don’t stop yourself as your thumbs begin to fly over your keyboard.
YOU: why were the almond croissants almost sold out?
To be fair, you didn’t even know if Eddie had his phone on him. That green message stares back at you for a few moments before you get your answer.
EDDIE: Excuse me?
He has his phone. You lift your head, looking at the closed door of the bathroom before glancing back down at your phone.
YOU: because everyone went NUTS over them.
You perk your ears and listen for any sign of life from down the hall. Anything. A scoff, a pitiful laugh, him calling you stupid aloud. You’ll take whatever he offers.
It takes a moment, and you truly have to strain to hear it, but you can hear the laugh that would better pass as a sigh.
EDDIE: Is that supposed to be a joke?
YOU: ‘supposed to be’. excuse me, it was definitely a joke. and a very good one, at that.
EDDIE: Debatable.
You find yourself smiling down at the phone. Your neck aches from the way you keep glancing up suddenly at the door, silently pleading for him to come back out. To come out and fight with you, come out and bicker with you, come out and ignore you. Anything, for him to leave the bathroom and do anything but keep that door shut between you two.
He doesn’t, so you send another bad joke.
YOU: what did the customer say when they looked at the croissant?
This time, he plays along.
EDDIE: I don't know, what?
YOU: what a BREADtaking sight.
This time, you hear a more proper scoff come from within the bathroom.
YOU: i heard that. don’t even try to tell me it wasn’t funny.
EDDIE: I’m not laughing because they’re funny. I’m laughing because they’re BAD.
YOU: bet you wouldn’t say that to my face.
Immediately, you discard the phone, facedown on the counter as you look up to the door with unbridled hope. He could always ignore the comment, choose to not respond and continue to sulk away from you. It’s entirely possible – but you pray to every star in the sky that that isn’t what he’s going to do.
Please come back out. Please, even if just to sit in silence with me.
Your prayers are answered.
Slowly, painfully slowly, you hear shuffling on the other side of the door and await for the click of the door unlocking. It never comes, though – the door was never locked in the first place. He opens it, and you realize that the entire time, you could have stormed into the small room with him and demanded that he not hide away.
But you didn’t. You gave him space, gave him patience, and it’s clear he knows this as he comes out.
His eyes are red. As if he’s been crying.
“Hi,” you meekly say, taking in his face past those red-rimmed eyes. The tip of his nose is a fading shade of pink, as if he’s been rubbing it incessantly, and he sniffs for good measure as he turns the bathroom light off and walks to where you are.
“Hi,” his voice is rough around the edges as he greets you back. He won’t look you in the eye once he’s within reach – his gaze remains downcast, and you catch him fiddling with a few of his rings.
You hadn’t considered what you would do if you got this far. In every carefully considered scenario, you’d assumed he’d shut you out. You never expected him to come straight to you, as if seeking out comfort from you, without you having to beg it of him.
His eyes catch the croissants on the counter, torn apart and lazily picked at. He’s about to open his mouth and say something about it, probably questioning what you had done to the poor pastry, but you don’t give him a chance. You’re quick to snatch up one of the pieces you’d been picking apart to snack on for yourself and hold it out to him. An olive branch, an offering – a reason for him to sit and stay for a while with you.
He takes it tentatively, finally looking you in your eye again as he takes a small bite. It’s nothing compared to the bite he had taken when you’d snapped the photo of him, mere crumbs compared to that mouthful.
“Did you just… massacre our croissants?” he questions, squinting his eyes down at the crime scene.
You shift your body jokingly, failing at blocking him from seeing the mess you made, “Absolutely not. I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
He almost cracks a grin, “Right. Of course. I must be imagining things.”
“Wanna hear another pun?” you blurt out, suddenly nervous as he continues to stand before you. You hate the incessant need inside of your chest that calls for you to comfort him, to make this all better for him.
“I feel like you’ll tell me one even if I say no,” he raises an eyebrow at you, “So, sure.”
“Why did the croissant go to the doctor?”
He hums, trying to peer over your shoulder again at the croissants you were badly hiding, “Let me guess. Is it because you tore it apart mercilessly?”
“No,” you scoff, reaching behind you to grab another piece to offer to him as well as one of your own, “It was because he was feeling crummy, dumb ass.”
A crack of a smile. It’s miniscule but there. It makes that terrible pun worth it, just to see him not looking quite as defeated is worth all the stars in the sky at this point for you.
You’d certainly been the reason for his unhappiness in the past, and you surely would be again at some point. It all feels so inevitable; just as he believes that he can only bring you misery, you can’t imagine yourself bringing him joy. A belief that strikes something in your chest, something albeit more painful than you’d care to admit, but it’s true. You’ve crossed a line, you’ve changed everything, but the past still remains.
You aren’t perfect. Neither is Eddie.
Heartbreak is imminent, but for this brief moment, you can make him smile. You don’t need to worry about the next time you’ll piss him off or upset him, you just need to focus on making that twitch on his lips more permanent.
“I meant what I said earlier, by the way,” you decide to rip off the bandaid as he moves as if to sit beside you. Quickly, your words make him freeze. A bad sign, but you push through, because he needs to hear these things, “You deserve good things, Eddie. Good people, good things- you just… you deserve those things in your life.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
He’s turning away from you. Turning and heading to the living room, walking away from you.
You don’t let him. In an instant, you get onto your feet and follow him, continuing despite him acting as if he’s finished with the conversation. You’re not.
“You’re a good person, Eddie,” you insist, reaching out for him before he makes it to the couch, “Don’t walk away from me.”
He spins easily in your grip. “Just because you say something, doesn’t make it true, sweetheart.”
He’s back to saying it like a curse. Like it’s a harmful title. As if it’s not a privilege to you and all your metaphors to hear that nickname fall from his lips.
Right before your eyes, his defenses are on the rise. Brick by brick, he’s slowly reforming those walls to separate the two of you. Instead of defeat, instead of acceptance, it just makes you angry.
“Stop doing that,” you say quietly, carefully, firmly.
“Stop doing what?”
“That. Pushing me away. Locking me out,” you tighten your hand on his bicep and watch the way his nostrils flare, “I fucking hate it.”
“Despite what you believe,” he takes a step closer to you, “Not everything I do is meant to piss you off.”
“That’s not what I’m saying, and we both know it,” you can feel his muscles tense beneath your touch.
This time, his smile that emerges is cold. But you can still see the rubbage left by his tears — pink water lines and a new puffiness around his eyes. His words and his sudden cool demeanor can’t hurt you when you see it for what it is.
“Clearly we both don’t know it,” he chastised you, “We are very rarely on the same page. This isn’t a damn exception. You don’t have to prove your point, it doesn’t matter.”
He’s a wounded animal, striking out. He’s letting Chrissy’s words get to him.
“You’re worth i-“
“Don’t,” One of his hands shoot out to grip your waist, “Don’t fucking say that. Please. Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”
He didn’t believe you.
“I meant it,” you whisper, anger shaking out of your grasp inch by inch as you realize that your words can’t break through to him, “I mean it. You’re worth it, to me, to St-“
“This isn’t about Steve,” he cuts you off, “It’s not about Steve, or Nancy, or Robin, or fucking Argyle. No need to play dumb anymore.”
It’s about you.
You both know it. For once, contradictory to what he’d just claimed, you’re both on the same page. And like he said, no need to play dumb.
“You’re worth it to me,” you say it with more confidence this time, “You’re a good person to me.”
“How can you say that?” he laughs out, void of amusement, “How can you say shit like that after everything we’ve been through?”
How can you not?
You only squeeze his bicep tighter, and he returns the action by gripping your hip harsher. “Because I mean it. I believe it. Whether you do or not.”
For a moment, the cracks in his armor expose themselves.
“You shouldn’t,” his voice should waver, “You shouldn’t believe those things, Y/N. You should hate me.”
“But I don’t,” And I never did.
“But you don’t,” he echoes.
You’ve done the opposite of what you had wanted. His smile is gone, that sadness creeping back up. You hate that. You don’t hate him — you hate that world of mourning behind his eyes, that defeat that brings his shoulders down and makes his grip on you falter. So you do the only thing you can think of to distract him. Make him forget.
“Make me hate you.”
His eyes widen briefly, “Excuse me?”
“Make me hate you,” you practically beg of him, “Show me why you’re such a bad person and I’ll let this go. I’ll drop the conversation, we can- Fuck, we can forget this entire morning happened. Make me hate you, Eddie, and I’ll stop reminding you that I don’t.”
His fingers curl back into you, slowly and gently, as his brows furrow. He’s considering what you’ve just said — more than that, you can see him trying to untangle all the hidden meanings behind it.
“And how do you suggest I do that?” his voice is low and calculated.
You shrug, stepping forward, letting your lips get even closer to his, “Not my problem. Just make me.”
The fingers are no longer gentle as he pulls you into him, finally catching onto the emphasis you place on those two little words.
Make me.
When his lips meet yours, they’re rough and brutal, taking greedily what they want from you. The only thing on your mind is making him forget. Make him forget, carry the load for him — they’re both more important than making him smile for now. Both these driving needs burn brighter in your chest because it’s clear that’s what he needs.
You’re willing to give him whatever he needs right now.
“You want me to make you hate me, baby?” he mumbled against your lip, practically drinking in the way you gasp as he starts to pull back, “Is that really what you want?”
It’s what you want. “Yes.”
And maybe you do too, when he leans back in to bite your lip. There will be another time for you to convince him with words that you find him to be worth it. Both hands from wrap around you and rough start to guide you back towards that fucking couch.
“Not the couch,” you suddenly protest, digging your heels into the carpet at the center of his living room, “Anywhere but the couch.”
And oh, the way he’s looking at you in that moment might be your new favorite thing. Your new favorite color is his eyes as they sparkle with a bit of life that had been missing since the coffee shops encounter. Your new favorite sound is the silence that encases the little breath he lets out. Your new favorite movie is watching him move in slow motion as his eyes dart behind you, towards the door to his balcony, before his lips finally curl up with a hint of the genuine warmth that had been hidden behind his walls.
“Anywhere?” he teases, beginning to walk you backwards.
You nod, grinning right back at him.
“I think I have an idea.”
If you had known twenty one hours ago that Eddie Munson, your sworn enemy, would have you out on his public balcony and on your knees for him in only a matter of time, past you would have….
Well, you don’t really care what past you would have done or thought anymore. You’re making him forget, yes, all while making yourself forget. You don’t care what you, twenty one hours ago, would or wouldn’t do as you let the past slip through your fingers so eagerly. All you can focus on is the dig of concrete against your knees, the way Eddie’s hands grip the railing as he leans against it, and the way the early afternoon sun forms a halo around him as you look up through fluttering lashes.
You just want to make him feel good. Every action is intentional, doing everything in your power to erase whatever storming thoughts had been haunting him so cruelly since Chrissy had so carelessly said what she had. You want to make him feel worthy. You want to make him feel loved.
Loved. You certainly didn’t love him — you couldn’t possibly, could you? He wouldn’t let you. You wouldn’t let yourself. But for now, you could play pretend; you could worship his body, drag his shirt out of the way and place playful kisses across his hips, and you could pretend that only this moment exists.
“You wanna know what makes me such a bad person?” he sighs out as you let your teeth graze his skin, shoulders rolling to shake off that shiver you elicit from him, “This. The fact that this is all I can fucking think about.”
“Hm,” you can only hum in response, nails taking over the denim of the jeans he currently wore. You walk your fingers up his thighs, moving closer and closer to his zipper. Your mouth is nearly watering at the prospect of worshiping him.
And the fact that any neighbor could walk out at any given moment and catch the two of you. You should probably insist on it being fast, on him being quiet, but the thought sends a thrill through the pit of your stomach. Your thighs clench and your cunt aches at the thought of being caught.
You want to do more than make him bite back mere moans of your name. You want to make him scream.
Suddenly, a hand tangles into the roots of your hair, pulling back and making you focus on him again.
“Eyes on me,” he instructs. Once you focus on him and only him, he continues, loosening his grip and letting those fingertips rub at your scalp soothingly, “You know why you should hate me? For all the nights I pictured this.”
“Yeah?” you smile innocently, playing along. He can talk all he wants, you know once you get your mouth on him, he’ll be lucky to remember his own name. “How many nights, hm? Tell me all about them, pretty boy.”
You catch the wobble in his knees, the way his breathing picks up, the brilliant shade of ivory his knuckles stretch to. You lean back on your haunches, and the hand in your hair slips as he glowers down at you.
“What are you-”
“Take off your shirt,” you calmly command.
“Excuse me?”
“Your shirt. I want it off.”
His hand that was once tangled against your scalp now comes down to your face, movement slow but not hesitant as he pinches your chin. His thumb tugs on your bottom lip, and you let out, even making a show of letting your tongue peek out to tap at it. “And who said you were calling the shots?”
“I did,” you put it simply, completely removing your hands from him now, “Take off the shirt, or I’ll leave you out here with blue balls.”
You close your lips around the end of his thumb and his knuckles dig in deeper to the skin below your chin as you suck subtly. He chuckles, but you can hear just how breathless he goes at the small action, even as he keeps up the act with a hard press of his thumb on your lower lip. Your mouth hangs open for him, waiting patiently for his next move.
A game of chess, an exchange of power, a fight for dominance. All the lines of who is and isn’t in control are blurred.
“Have you always been so mean, baby?” he taunts, trailing what spit you’d left behind on his thumb along your lip.
His movement stops when your lips spread into a provocative smile, “I learned from the best, didn’t I?”
The retort had potential to backfire. You wait for smoke and glory, for him to pull away from you further. He’d slam down a brick right in front of your face, lay the mortar to leave you high and dry. He’d push you away, and you’d have to retreat, tail tucked between your legs in the shame of trying when it came to him.
No smoke, no glory. He secedes, but makes no move to add to his walls, only removing his hand from your face and taking off the shirt. Just as you had told him to.
“Better?” he asks as he makes a show of tossing the shirt to the other side of the balcony. It could have even flown over the railing, for all you paid attention to the scrap of clothing. Maybe some innocent bystander is on the streets below, confused to all Hell as to why it’s raining obscure band t-shirts.
You’re just a bit too distracted to consider that right now.
With Eddie’s torso revealed, all words seem to evade you. You catch the sweat beginning to gather across his sternum, watching the way he’s flushing beneath your gaze, reveling in the pink chest exposed to you as the blush crawls wider. Instantly, your original purpose is forgotten, the primal urge to pepper kisses and bites alike across his skin almost lifting you up off your sore knees. You want to leave bruises – you want to make him scream, you want to mark him up, you want to make him feel worthy.
You stay on your knees, but compromise with all your wants as you lift up and stretch a bit. Your lips start their trail a bit lower than you (or Eddie) would have liked, taking their time to get familiar with the spanse of his rib cage first. You don’t nip with teeth, not yet. Just chaste kisses, lining each bone you can hardly feel residing beneath the skin, feeling his lungs expanding against your affection. Your tongue swipes alongside one of his side tattoos, a large and detailed dragon you hadn’t paid much mind to before. Every time you’d seen him shirtless, you’d been a bit distracted.
Not now. Now, you’re focused, determined to learn every curve and dip there is to explore on Eddie. You want to know him better than the back of your hands, memorize him more intricately than your own palms. After all, in order to worship a deity, you must know them.
You return back to the center line of his abdomen, kisses chasing after one another, even taking the time to suck his skin between your teeth but never bite down. You pause once your lips rest right beneath his navel, the tip of your nose brushing that rough patch of hair that leads down to your end destination. Your hands reach for his belt, toying with the buckle.
Through heavy lashes, you look up at him, staring down at you in awe, “You know, you’re not doing a very good job at making me hate you, pretty boy. Think I might just have to worship you instead.”
A deity of your own making. A deity for your own taking.
With skill, your hands undo the buckle effortlessly. You unbutton and unzip his jeans as if you’ve done this part a million times, as if you’d spent every single Sunday of the last year right here and doing exactly this. On your knees, worshiping him. This balcony, for all its exposure, certainly knows how to serve as a holy place.
He opens his mouth to respond, but you’re impatient. You still haven’t left him speechless, meaning you still hadn’t made your point, clearly.
His jeans hang loosely as they creep down his thighs, abandoned for a moment as you occupy your mouth against his hips. The hips you once thought would look so pretty properly decorated. You decide you were wrong – they don’t need ink burying into the skin, they need your teeth digging in.
You cover that skin with mirroring images of bursts of purple and pink, flowering bruises that you take your time to mark onto him. With each suck and bite, Eddie rolls his hips into you, head leaned back and throat straining with each moan he swallows down.
With the last hickey finished, you finally lean back, proud of your masterpiece as Eddie whimpers above you. Blooms in the shape of your lips mingle with faint and quickly fading teeth marks.
“Fuck,” he gasps out when your fingertip stops trailing over your markings and comes down to apply the softest pressure over the straining bulge in his boxers.
“What was it that you said earlier?” your finger traces over where you know a vein is – you know it because you’ve felt it, been driven insane by it – before circling around the wet patch now forming. He’s desperate, hips bucking again and a moan finally escaping. You think he’s bitten his lips hard enough in an attempt at self-restraint that they might be bleeding, “You said I’m not calling the shots, right?”
“You’re not,” he pathetically grits out, hands forming tighter fists on metal railing, as if the moment he lets go of it they’ll find their way home to you.
You lean forward, breath washing over his crotch before you place a feathery kiss to his clothed tip, “I’m not?”
You are. You both know you are. A constant battle of control, an ever-growing fight for dominance.
He lets out something crossed between a sigh of relief and a whine of protest when you remove your lips and hand from him completely, only to let out a sharp yelp when your finger curls into the waistband of his boxers and pulls back the elastic, letting it snap back into place sharply.
“Say I am,” you barter, “Say I’m in control right now, and I’ll put my money where my mouth is.”
You don’t expect him to break so easily. You’ve underestimated just how tightly you’ve caught him beneath your thumb.
“You’re in control,” he gasps out, head hanging low to meet your gaze fully, “You’re in complete and utter fucking control of me. You’re calling all the shots, baby. You always are.”
He didn’t have to sweeten it up with baby, but it spurs you on.
You shove his boxers down, watching his cock spring out for the taking. And you do as you promised; you put your money where your mouth is.
You start softly, taking your time as you gingerly suck on his pretty pink tip as you had his thumb. Hardly hollowing your cheeks, letting your tongue circle his slit to gather up the precum. You let the taste of him completely cover your tongue, even hum in satisfaction when he lets out a loud groan. It motivates you, feeds your fervor as you let his tip fall from your mouth and trail the tip of your tongue down the underside of his cock. That vein you’d traced with your fingertip, yours for the taking, covered in a faint line of saliva as you let it rest on your forehead and graze your lips against his ballsack.
He can’t hide his shiver, even as his fist flies to his mouth to bite down on.
“Have I ever told you how cute you are?” you say low enough for just him. You can hear the sounds of traffic, a dog barking, birds singing — all reminders of the outside world and the looming threat of being caught. Warmth floods you again at the reminder of that threat, thighs clenching closer together in a desperate search of friction, “Just falling apart for me, acting so tough for so long until I got you alone.”
He whimpers your name. It’s the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.
You wrap your lips around the sensitive skin, sucking and pecking away on one side before moving to the next. His reaction throttles your movements. When his hand loses the fight of resistance, coming down to the back of your head, you laugh breathlessly against the now wet skin.
“Let me make you feel just how worthy you are to me,” you praise, pulling back finally, letting your nose brush against his sack as you do so. The hand that was once merely resting now tangles up in your hair — a warning.
You let the velvet skin of his cock drag down your cheek as each movement is deliberate, taking your time and in no rush. You want to savor him like this. Imprint him to memory.
You want to make him forget while making yourself remember.
You want to remember the way his hand flexes at the base of your skull when you finally kiss his tip once more, remember the way his abdomen tenses as you sink him further into your mouth. You want to remember every little sound that escapes him as he hits the back of your throat, as you constrict around him, as you moan around his base and the vibrations have him slipping out of control.
Your nails dig into his thighs to balance yourself, eyes watering as you look up at him. One subtle nod. He doesn’t need more than that.
Your jaw goes slack, trying to steady your breathing through your nose as you let him take control. His hips thrust at their own pace, gentle enough that he only grazes the back of your throat rather than bruise it. The issue is you want him to bruise it. You want him to mark you from the inside out. Until there’s no part of you left untouched by him.
You gag again, and he slows. Your fingers that grip his thighs immediately tap against him, and he mistakes it as a signal to pull back completely before you chase after him, pressing him onto your tongue until your lips are snug around his cock a mere inch from the base. Your nose is grazing those pubes in the dead center of all your love marks. Shapes of semi-permanent scars that whisper, you’re worth it to me. I want this. I want you.
The last thing on his mind was Chrissy Cunningham and her words alluding to him not being worth it.
You make sure of it when you finally release him from your mouth and begin to pump with an eager fist, ducking down and returning to pay attention to his balls once more. You nuzzle the soft skin, let the tips of your canines graze them before you suck them onto your tongue as you’d done his cock. He’s no longer containing his moans – they flow freely along with curse words, chants of your name, sounds you’d love to capture and play on repeat until the end of your days.
“Oh my God,” he groans out particularly loudly, “Fuck, baby. J-Just like that, please- Fuck. You’re doing so good for me. Such a good girl, just for me.”
Your hand is still wrapped around him, slowly coming up to squeeze hard around the tip as you whisper up to him, “Only for you.”
“Yeah? Only for me?”
You don’t know how to explain to him that it’s true: you’re only ever that mean for him, you’re only ever this eager for him, you’re only ever this desperate for him.
You don’t answer him with words. There are none. Instead, you take him back in your mouth, and you solely focus on bringing your deity to climax. The man you were worshiping, the man who was worth the ache in your knees that surely told you they would be left bruised, if not skinned.
“Is it just like you imagined?” you question as you break your lips off him. He’s close, leaking precum excessively and entire body taut, “Was it worth it? To picture this, to want this so badly?”
He almost can’t answer you, but somehow manages between pants, “It was. It is. You’re- fuck, you’re worth it.”
“Good,” you drop your hand from him, leaving him right on the edge as you rest both sticky palms on the tops of your thighs. You look up at him with relinquished control – the perfect image of submission, for him. “Then you get it. When I say you’re worth it, you get it.”
He’s clearly still reeling from you bringing him so close only to leave him hanging, teetering on a cliff as he stares you down.
His chest heaves as he questions, “What was it you wanted me to do earlier?” A deceiving hand comes down, tucking any baby hairs behind your ear and cradling the side of your face. One moment, his thumb is stroking a soft arch beneath your eye, the next that hand is pulling you up, “Make you?”
You know that if you hadn’t been so eager to follow his touch, you’d still be on your knees. Even as you watch him take the reins, you know you will always call the shots – just like he had said.
“You really think you can make me hate you?” you whisper once you’re standing tall in front of him, leaning your cheek into his touch.
“I shouldn’t have to make you hate me,” he corrects, the thumb back to gentle strokes, loosening the touch to be more tender once again, “You should already hate me.”
“Why?”
He flips positions immediately, your lower back now curving into the railing as he presses himself up against you, his achingly hard cock between your bodies, “Because of this. Because I always want you on your knees for me. Because of all the fucking filth I want to do to you. I want to bend you over, right here, and take you where anyone could see. I want to have you screaming my name loud enough that every single person on the streets of this city hears you.”
With each word, a knot ties inside of you, desperate for release.
“Because you’re fucking right,” he leans down, lips going straight for your neck, not looking you in the eyes, “All it fucking took was for you to get me alone for one night, and now? I’ll never get enough of you, I’ll never get clean of you,” he takes a deep breath, and suddenly, his lips latch onto you, sucking the skin between his teeth and biting hard. You can’t stop your fingers from latching onto his curls, tugging hard, body rolling into his. It hurts, it stings, you need more, “Everything changes. And that includes me.”
His face finally leaves the crook of your neck, pulling back to look you in your eyes. Doe brown eyes search yours, wide and honest and pleading. You let everything else melt away; for a moment, it’s only him and only you. The tension, the last twenty one hours, the last year — you let it disintegrate and focus on him.
It never mattered if everything changed.
It only matters that he’s changed, irreversibly, and so are you.
“How can I hate you for those things?” you press into him again, this time less desperate and more consciously, “Do it.”
“Do what?”
“All of it,” you trail a hand up his chest, “Every single thing you just said. Fucking- Do them. Bend me over, make me scream, change me,” your voice breaks, shaking with anticipation and need.
It’s all the encouragement he needs.
Every single thing he wanted, he craved, he does. A flurry of him properly discarding his jeans as he unbuttons yours to shove them down, spinning you and shoving you hard enough into the railing that it digs into your abdomen and leaves you breathless. You’re hardly aware of the way you step out of your pants and kick them to the side, looking out to the city skyline but not seeing it. It’s all a blur as you focus on the way your shirt rides up and he grabs your hips, bruising you finally as you have desperately needed.
You wanted to be left haunted by the end of these last few hours. You wanted to see him every time you looked in the mirror for the next week, to remember the map of where his body molded to yours. You want to dream of the way he stretches you as your underwear is ripped to the side. You want to be followed by the sounds of his skin slapping against yours as he snaps forward with intention.
Changing you. He has no idea that he’s already ripped you open from the inside out, has already rewired your entire chest and set flames to your brain.
Everything changes, and sometimes, everything is only two people. Just you. Just him. New versions that would have never met had it not been for this stupid fucking bet.
“Eddie,” you nearly sob, nearly choke on, his name burning in your throat like kindling embers.
His hand walks up your spine, trailing wildfire even with a layer of cotton between you two. Burning and singing away all you’d assumed for far too long. When he reaches the nape of your neck, he takes care in wrapping your hair around his wrist, tugging back hard and forcing you to stand from where the railing had been bending you in two.
“Say it again,” his lips brush you ear with every gasping breathing, timing with the way his cock is sliding in and out of your warmth, “Say it louder.”
“Fu-“ you start to moan, cut off by him pulling even harder on your hair, making his point so that you cry out, “Eddie!”
He thrusts harder. You swear you could feel him in your throat.
“Scream for me, baby,” an arm wraps around your torso, firm and solid for you to cling to rather than the warming metal of the railing, “Tell them who’s making you feel so good. Let them know. Be a good girl.”
Even when he claims to have control, it’s your actions, your reactions, that call the shots.
It’s the echo of your voice that spurs him on as you chant his name over and over, as if he were your only God. Primal worship dripping from every syllable. It’s the tremble in your thighs that has him pressing deeper into you, chest glued to your back as if he could never get you close enough. It’s the clench of your cunt around him, a vice that sucks him in as you drag him closer to the high he’s been dizzily chasing since you first dropped to your knees in front of him.
It’s you. You’ve changed him, as he’s changed you.
He pulls your hair until you rest the back of your head against his shoulder, back arching and feet still spread as he only maintains his quick and brutal pace, leaning down to whisper in your ear one last time.
“You know the real reason why you should hate me?” he grits out between to particularly forceful thrusts, “It’s not just because I don’t deserve you. It’s because I’ve wanted you for so long,” you’re right on the edge, fluttering around his cock as his movements stutter. A tell tale sign. “I- fuck, fuck. It’s- God, I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll never be fucking worthy.”
You shatter around him in waves. Your entire body tenses as the words dig claws into you, piercing through vines and blooms. His body stills, warmth flooding you deep within as you continue to see stars. You can’t make a single sound, fingerprints surely left behind on where you clasp onto his forearm.
I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll never be fucking worthy.
When the waves recede, when the high has passed its peak, you both freeze. Your body tensed in his hold, struggling to process what he’d just said.
Loved you.
He’s frozen in place, scrambling to figure out how to undo the damage just done.
I’ve loved you for so long.
He slips out of you, his spent dripping down your thighs. His forearm drops from you. Your hands don’t even try to stop him.
I’ll never be fucking worthy.
You should be worried of neighbors coming out to see the two of you on his balcony. If not worried, you should be embarrassed, or aching at the thought once again. Anything. You should feel something.
You turn slowly to him, entirely numb as you catch his rueful expression.
Loved you. He loved you.
His regret turns to pain as you whisper, “What did you just say?”
summary: while looking at crime scene pictures on your phone, aaron swipes too far left and discovers some … sexy photos.
word count: 1.4k (short one)
warnings: nudes, masturbation, aaron jizzing in his pants like a teen, pervy aaron
This particular case had the whole team restless. Other than one lead that turned out to be useless as the suspect had an airtight alibi, there was nothing else that pointed where the unsub was. Thankfully, it seemed like his time in between kills was increasing, though that did very little to ease the team.
The precinct was almost empty, save for the few officers working the night shift and the team spread out around the conference room. Rossi was nursing a coffee, wishing it was whiskey. Emily sprawled out on the floor, the case file resting on her stomach. JJ sat sleeping in her chair, a blanket laid over her. Spencer was going over the details of the case while Derek stared at his file, unmoving.
You were positive he had fallen asleep with his eyes open.
Aaron sat next to you, a cup of coffee in his hand while he reviewed the case. You had given up trying to focus, taking a break as you played Tetris on your phone. Every few minutes, Aaron would glance at you before smiling and focusing back on his file.
After losing another game, you placed your phone on the table, leaning back in exhaustion. Looking around you, you were certain everyone except Rossi, Spencer, and Aaron were clocked out for the night. Derek was about ten minutes away from smacking his head on the table when his head slips from his hands.
Aaron flips through his file, brows furrowing. He looks around the messy table, searching for something in particular as you watched him with curiosity. “Where are the crime scene pictures from this morning’s victim?”
“Sheriff said their printer broke so they couldn’t print them out. I took a few pictures on my phone if you want to see them.” You motioned to your phone, yawning. Looking over at JJ, you resisted the urge to snatch the blanket from her.
He picks up your phone, swiping. “What’s your password?”
“Twelve thirty-four.”
Aaron paused, his lips twitching as he turned to look at you. “One, two, three, four?”
“It’s not like I have anything to hide,” you grumbled, ignoring his soft chuckle.
He put in the passcode, bringing him to the unclosed game of Tetris you were previously playing. Aaron couldn’t help but be amused at the high score before closing out and opening your photos. In your recents were the crime scene pictures he was looking for.
Aaron had swiped through the photos, trying to find a deviation from the killer’s MO but it looked the same as his previous victims. Maybe you had taken too many pictures of the body because he kept swiping left, looking at all the angles you had taken. The crime scene pictures had to end eventually but he was too sleep deprived to realize he’d eventually come across one of your other photos.
So he wasn’t prepared when he swiped to the left and instead of being met with another photo of the victim, it was one of you in skimpy clothing. Thankfully, he hadn’t been drinking his coffee as he saw it since he still managed to choke on his own saliva. Aaron’s eyes widened at the risque picture, sitting up, suddenly alert.
During him looking at the crime scene pictures, you had gotten up and walked to the vending machines. From where he sat, he could see you kick the machine in hopes of free food. The only one to witness his change of behavior was Rossi as Spencer was too engrossed in his reading, who had raised an eyebrow at his reaction.
In the photo, you were in a lacy black bra with a matching thong, bent over your bed. You had taken the picture facing the mirror, your back arched and ass up–on your knees and your clothing barely covering your essentials. Aaron swore he could see your nipples through the laced bra.
Curious, and driven by his hardening cock, Aaron swiped more. His breath hitched at the site of you topless, with just a pair of boxers on. A pair of his boxers. He remembered you shamelessly asking him for some shorts out of his go bag as you had forgotten to repack your sleep clothes and he had given you his boxers, blushing all the while.
As he stared at your breasts, he grew hard. He knew he should stop and close out, respecting your privacy and all, but he couldn’t. He physically couldn’t bring himself to look away let alone put the phone down.
He swiped again, this time you covered your bare breasts with one hand. You lay on your bed, naked yet what Aaron desperately wanted to see was covered by a discarded shirt that laid between your legs. The sun hit your body right, sunbeams illuminating your hair and despite the sensual position, he couldn’t help but think of how beautiful you are.
Looking up, he saw you were still bullying the vending machine and he couldn’t help but sigh in relief. He didn’t want you to see him being … perverted was the only word that came to him that described the situation perfectly.
Aaron couldn’t meet Rossi’s eyes as he took a sip of his coffee, careful to swallow it right. He pushed the chair into the table, concealing his rock-hard cock. His polyester suit pants rubbed against his cock, and he hissed quietly at the friction, wanting to head to the bathroom with your phone in hand to fix his situation.
He remained seated, pulling up your phone again in the hopes that he looked like he was going through the crime scene pictures, the reason you granted him permission to look through your phone.
He’s thinking about stopping, his finger shaking, urging him to swipe one more time while a small part of him screams to stop. Aaron swipes anyways.
His exhale is ragged as he sees your pussy for the first time. The video plays on mute and he almost combusts right then and there as you slowly finger yourself. You’re in a hotel room, your shirt bunched around your tits, a hand playing with a nipple. Aaron watches your index finger enter your dripping cunt, the wetness visible on camera. He has to bite his fist as you slowly slid it in and out, biting your lip at the feeling.
As you take your finger out, he watches your hand pinched your nipples, eyes narrowing at the shirt you had on. As you inserted a second finger into your sopping pussy, Aaron realized it was his shirt. A small, barely audible groan escaped his lips at the revelation. Video you had arched your back, mouth opening as you fucked yourself with two fingers. He could barely keep it together at the thought of you wearing his shirt as you fingered yourself.
He can’t take his eyes off your show, unknowingly palming himself with his free hand. Aaron watches in awe as you pump your fingers faster, unable to decide whether to watch the ecstasy on your face or your pussy swallowing your fingers in greed. The video is a minute from ending and he’s mesmerized at the screen.
So mesmerized he hadn’t noticed you come back into the room with a bunch of snacks in your arms. He jumped slightly as you dropped the snacks onto the table, quickly closing out your photos and placing your phone on the table.
You smiled at him, noticing the redness in his cheeks and ears. “I come back from battle with a feast.”
He nods, subtly fixing his pants under the table. Aaron doesn’t dare speak a word, knowing well enough that his mouth was dry.
Picking up a bag of goldfish, you threw it at Spencer’s face, breaking him out of his own world before getting a bag of Chex Mix and handing it out to your boss. “Here, Hotch.”
Your hand touches his as you give him the snack. From the video, a small touch and you saying his name, he cums in his pants. His hands wrap tightly around the bag, Chex Mix flying to the floor as the bag pops. His climax hits him hard, spurts of his cum wetting his pants and euphoria washing through him in powerful waves.
When he comes down from his high, he sees the whole team wake up, staring at the snack littering the floor and table. You glanced at him, confused, grimacing at the mess.
Aaron cleared his throat, slowly putting the bag on the table. “I don’t like Chex Mix.”
Really Drives Me Mad | Bfs Dad!Eddie Munson x Reader | 18+
My best friend tells me that he's a keeper
I really like Dylan a lot
But Dylan's dad
He really drives me mad
With his faded tats
Sings in a cover band
Yeah he's super hot with his ripped dad bod
Oh my, oh my god
I like Dylan a lot
But oh god
I love Dylan's dad
I know y'all weren't expecting this... Well neither was I. It like invaded my mind and begged me to write it. (this is the dirtiest thing ive ever written.)
Word Count: 7.5k
Summary: You've been dating Dylan Munson for a little bit, and it's going well, or at least you feel like it is. Despite everything right with Dylan you can't help but feel uneasy...then you meet Eddie Munson, his dad... and find yourself wet at the sight of him. (reader is in her 20s, Eddie probably in his 40s or so)
Warnings: masturbation (both), voyeurism (both), lot of perv!Eddie, reader ends up cheating, just some dirty stuff. MINORS DNI.
As you sit cross legged on your best friend’s garage couch mindlessly watching some Netflix while she took another hit, your phone dings, a text message you’ve been waiting on.
“Ooh, speak of the devil.” She teases you, putting the bong aside to peek at what Dylan texted you. You roll your eyes at her, answering him to pick you up in the morning. “What did he say?”
Her eyebrows were wagging over-exaggeratingly, and you narrow your eyes. “Just asked when I wanted to get picked up for our trip to the beach tomorrow.”
“Are you excited?” She asks, her voice suggestive and you can hear more excitement in her voice alone than you felt about the trip.
“Yes.” You lie to her, because if you told the truth, you knew you’d hear about it.
Dylan was a good guy. You met him through a singles mixer you went to for shits and giggles and ended up meeting him. He had no business being there, his league was not the type of girl to go to a Fajita style mixer even for laughs. He was so overwhelmingly better looking than every other guy in that mixer that scooping him up before anyone dug their claws in was the logical thing to do.
It wasn’t that you didn’t find him hot.
Dylan ended up being almost everything you said you were looking for. Stable. Ready for commitment. Willing to go the extra mile.
He was stable in every way it takes most men into their 30s to figure out.
You knew he was a rare find as someone dating in your 20s. Yet, there was just something missing.
It wasn’t anything you could describe, and each time you had expressed the feeling people seem to dismiss it, claiming it stemmed from every failed relationship you’ve had. Logically, you should be head over heels over this man who is so sweet and willing to do the most.
But the feeling just nagged at your skull.
For the sake of not feeling guilty and seeing that same bug-eyed expression on your best friend you lie. It felt weird to have to lie to her just to seem grateful for what life has provided to you on a silver platter. So, until an actual reason for this hesitancy presents itself, the dates and the heavy make out sessions and whatnot will continue.
The ego boost he provides when he sends you drooling emojis when you send a bikini selfie for what you’re wearing the next day certainly doesn’t help your case.
“I’m so glad you found him, he’s so sweet.” She mentions off-hand.
You nod, gritting your teeth.
-
Dylan is on time, as always, prompt and proper to pick you up from your apartment. He texts to let you know he was outside, and you grab your beach bag of snacks and your towel and do a final assessment in the mirror.
Cute pink bikini that hung by a string sitting high on your hips, barely hidden by the long cut out dress you wore. Your bag matched the bikini, and you wore some tiny sunnies to put the whole look together. If you’re gonna date someone as good looking might as well look the part.
As you approached his chevy truck he was animatedly bug eyed while looking at you, his brown eyes popping out of their socket while he drummed his steering wheel. His zest and energy for life was always so contagious. You smiled at him, your cheeks burning as you climbed into the passenger seat.
“Hi baby.” He greets you, kissing you softly. You find yourself grinning into it.
He pulls out onto the main road for the forty-five-minute trip to the lake most people go for a weekend getaway. About five minutes down the road, Dylan pats his cargo shorts down real quick and grunts in disappointment.
“What?”
“Forgot the parking pass for the beach lot. I literally got that for fifteen dollars so I wouldn’t have to pay twenty at the till.” He explains, making a sudden left turn.
You’ve been to his house before, and he usually takes you there when his dad is either at work or just not home. You weren’t sure why, his dad seemed like a decent dude.
(From what you’ve heard anyway)
Maybe, like you, he wasn’t ready for meeting the parents yet.
“Oh, I think my dad will be home around now. Hope that’s okay.” He says, as if you had just spoken aloud. “I think it was time for you to meet him, anyways.”
Shit. Nope. He was ready. You were no where ready for him to meet your mom, who already loved him just from your best friend’s descriptions.
“Oh. Sure.” You glance down to your outfit, something worn not knowing you were about to meet parents. “Are you sure I’m dressed for that though?”
“My dad has met girlfriends in worse positions.” Dylan laughs. “Trust me. This is a better meeting.”
This helps you very little.
Five minutes down the road he pulls into the starter home he and his dad have been living in his whole life, a sweet little bungalow with three rooms and two bathrooms. It was by no means anything to cough at, certainly impressive for a mechanic, but Dylan seemed to behave incredibly sheepishly every time.
Dylan pulls in, and your heart races as you see his dad’s truck in the driveway. As Dylan gets out to open your door, he can feel your nervousness. “Can I just stay here?” You ask him, unsure why he needed you to go in for a pass in the first place.
“Oh I promise he doesn’t bite.” He jokes.
You give him a weak smile, holding his hand as you walked to the front door. The door doesn’t need a key, swinging open and the bright sunlight giving you both a shadow against the hardwood flooring. Dylan walks in, calling for his dad’s name. You squeeze his hand tighter out of nervousness. Eventually the sounds of his creaky steps are heard from the kitchen where Dylan is scanning for his pass, signalling his father coming down the steps.
You were facing towards the stove across the island counter, watching Dylan go through the drawers for it.
“Woah, thought you’d be halfway to the beach by now, you were so damn excited.” You hear his dad’s voice, and there’s something about it, his tone leaning towards a tease that enticed you to turn your head towards him.
Your jaw dropped. Or it didn’t. Certainly felt like a moment for your mouth to open in amazement. In a split second you knew where Dylan got his good looks, and it was only a fraction of how mouth watering his dad was.
He wonders in with sweatpants low on his hips wearing a band t-shirt and his long curly hair was wet from a shower. As he shuffled by to the fridge, the scent of aftershave invaded your nose and somehow it just went straight to your core. He was certainly fit even for a dad, slight dad bod but nothing to poke at, you could tell he worked with his hands.
“Forgot my pass.” He mutters, looking through another drawer.
“I saw it this morning, so I put it in your bag as you were heading out.” His dad mentions off hand, getting the ingredients for a bowl of cereal out. As he lifted his hands over his head revealing a tattoo on his tummy and the treasure trail saliva entered your mouth like water bursting through a man-made dam.
“Seriously?” Dylan dead pans. He turns to you, and you switch your glance to seem innocent like you haven’t been eye-fucking his dad. “I’m gonna go double check it’s in there. Just stay here be right back.” He kisses you on the forehead and leaves without giving you a chance to protest.
“Nice, to meet you, by the way.” He says in a gruff voice as he pours the sugary cereal into the bowl.
“Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Munson.” Your voice sounded strained; you were hoping you were just imagining it.
He lets out a noise in disgust, his face scrunching up comically. “Oh god. Don’t call me that. Call me Eddie. Never Mr. Munson. Gross.”
You smile closed mouthed at his genuine disgust for it, and Eddie presents a smile as if your laughter was the long-term goal. “Nice to meet you, Eddie.”
“Much better.” He praises you, and it might be the closest thing you’ll ever get to the kind of praise you wanted from him, the kind where you find yourself on your knees in the kitchen, but you happily accepted it. Any crumbs you would happily take.
He could spit on you, and you would thank him.
Oh. That’s…new.
That wasn’t something you felt with Dylan at all. If Dylan had decided to spit on your face during sex, you would call the police. It would turn you off so fast you would kick him off you.
“Going to Lake Maureen?” He asks you, supposedly making small talk.
“Nope.” You tell him. “Museum.”
Eddie tilted his head, and from his shoulder’s shaking and the slow smile you could tell he was laughing.
“Yes.” You affirm.
“Where did you meet again?” Eddie asks as he puts away the milk, his voice seeming to extend from a thought he doesn’t share.
“Oh, a mixer.”
“Not the church mixer.” Eddie tilts his head, seeming genuinely fearful it was the truth.
You confirm that yes, it was the church mixer.
Eddie grabs a mug to pour the coffee you hadn’t noticed had he put on. As his hands cup a graphic mug you couldn’t see the comic for, you see the silver rings on his fingers and if your core wasn’t heated up before, it certainly was now. He leans forward, taking a sip of straight black coffee for a minute. “Sweetheart. You’re far too pretty to be going to a goddamn mixer. No wonder he was so fucking enthralled when he got home that day.”
You feel your face heat up at the nickname followed by him calling you pretty. Your thighs squeeze together as you attempt to force your heart back into your chest where it belonged. Somehow your extremities were freezing, and all the heat was centered in your pussy, just soaked from his presence alone.
He could tell you weren’t taking the compliment seriously. “Seriously. If he fucks it up and you end up single again no more fucking mixers for you.”
“Not like I had any more choices.” You defend yourself, not knowing why his insistence turned you on so much.
Eddie rolls his eyes as if he didn’t believe you. His mouth opens to tell you something, and the sound of Dylan bursting through the front door seems to cut him off. “Oh, you should’ve told me, we could’ve been almost there by now. Come on, baby! See you dad!”
The door slams, and you guessed you were supposed to follow him. “Um, you were gonna say something?” and the mystery is just too much for you.
“Oh. Was I? Totally forgot.” Eddie shrugs, putting his coffee mug down, having chugged that entire cup within the conversation. “Have fun.”
He scoops another spoonful of sugary cereal in his mouth, the dimples on his face prominent but the smile devious.
That smile would haunt you for the next twelve hours.
-
The trip with Dylan was alright, he swore up and down it was the best trip and it just brought you both closer as a couple. You probably would’ve agreed. A trip to the beach with Dylan Munson sounded enticing and sexy and adventurous for the most part until you met his dad.
Now thoughts of his flexed forearms has he gripped the counter while talking to you, wet hair smelling beautifully of the musk shampoo he used invaded your mind. Dylan fingering you on the beach under your skirt was yes, smoking hot, but as you imagined a certain someone else doing the same it brought you to your orgasm much quicker and much harder. Dylan figured he must be doing something right.
Guilt evaded you as you knew what the hell you were doing was wrong. You now had an excuse to get rid of him, you were far more into his dad than you ever were into him, and it should’ve been a sign.
But if you broke up with him now, you wouldn’t be able to see his dad. Yet as you took a walk down the shoreline into a cave and your eyes close picturing certain ringed fingers gripping your hips as Dylan did it made the sneaking off and the public sex that much hotter.
Seems you were sluttier than your initial sex life led you to believe. Turns out, you just haven’t met a man you wanted to be slutty for. Public sex seemed fun in theory, always so nerve wrecking in practice.
Public sex with Eddie felt like you wanted to get caught with him, fully enjoying his cock and letting people see. Voyeurism mixed with public embarrassment was suddenly hot and you got so into it that Dylan expressed how excited he was to fuck you on the next hike you took together, something he has expressed much interest in, but you denied bashfully every time.
Because with Dylan sex wasn’t all encaptivating. Sure he could make you cum, but you were never ready to rip off his clothes in a heartbeat. The moment you saw Eddie your fingers started to itch for that damn low sitting sweatpants for them to droop just a little…bit…more.
Dylan drops you off with a romantic wet kiss, and you walk into the door of your apartment in a daze. Before you can even think about it, you find yourself on your bed, your skirt around your ankles and two of your fingers down your bikini bottoms.
You start to take them off but there’s a voice you picture saying, “No, no. Keep them on like the whore you are.” It was not Dylan’s.
You listened to it, pretending to rub your clit in front of him watching. You could see a wild eye on his face, picturing him not being able to touch you driving him mad. The heat that expands into your pussy from that thought alone drives your hips for more friction. “Oh so fucking needy, yeah?” You imagine him saying to you, and fuck, you couldn’t not think of him being good at dirty talk. “Need this cock, don’t ya?”
The image of him slowly working the elastic waist-band of his sweatpants made you moan aloud, needily grinding on your own fingers.
“Too damn bad. You’re just gonna have to make yourself cum, like the slut you are.”
The slight foreplay you were accidentally given all day through your own imagination mixed with how fucking wet you were brought you to a quick orgasm, fluttering in your extremities as you continued imagining the wild eyes on Eddie’s face or the firm voice as he didn’t give you a choice on your dating pool.
This was the first truly earth-shattering orgasm you’ve ever felt in your life. One that you truly had to recover from…and it was from just picturing this man.
Something in you wanted the real thing, and you were terrified of how willing you were to go through with it, and equally as terrified of going through life wondering what it could’ve been like
If sex with Eddie Munson was as good as the orgasm you gave yourself, you might have to be Dylan’s stepmom, because you just found what was missing.
-
“Hey baby.” Dylan says, welcoming you as he opens the door.
You hold your pillow and a duffle bag sits on your shoulder for a sleepover, and the shorter shorts with a tank top you wear signalling you were ready for a night in. As you pass by him, Dylan gives out a low whistle to how well your ass is shown off in the pair of shorts you wore. They were so well fitting he could see you were either wearing a thong or nothing, but you could tell it turned him on. While this gave you a confidence boost, he wasn’t the target audience.
When you requested the sleepover Dylan warned you his dad would be there. Good. You assured him that would be fine. That was the goal.
“Hi, sweetheart!” Eddie calls down to you, and the smile invades your face before you could stop it.
“Hi, Mr. Munson!” You call out, and the sound of gagging is heard. “I meant Eddie!”
“Oh, I forgot he gets everyone to call him by his first name, like a lame youth pastor.” Dylan rolls his eyes, tugging on your hand to bring you to the couch in the living room. “Movie?”
You nod jerkily. Dylan works around you, getting a blanket, popcorn, and the movie all set up. He turns down the lights, winking at you suggestively as he does so.
Less than five minutes into the movie, the beginning credits still lingering on to the actors he leans in with an open mouth, his hand making its way to your hip. With the smell of him still fresh, being able to smell him on the couch you were on, it was easy to get eagerly into the kissing. This encouraged Dylan, of course confusing your eagerness for him. He reaches down, placing two of his fingers over your clothed pussy.
You moan lightly, and he shushes you softly. Mentally you roll your eyes, because he was telling you to be quiet because his dad was home.
You were hooking up with him on his couch because his dad was home. You listen to him anyway, and he starts to rub in small circles, you moan even higher, imagining he could hear you and getting off to it. “Shh, baby.” Dylan whispers. “Oh, you’re wet. Fuck.”
He slips his hands into your shorts, leaning you down to rub your pussy and attack your neck at the same time. “Pussy feels…mazing.” Dylan mutters between the slobbery neck kisses he gives you. It was enough for you to picture him, but suddenly Eddie coming downstairs right now without knowing what you were doing got you off even more.
“Eat me out?” You ask him, and ever the gentleman he smiles devilishly at you as he crawls down. He goes to place the blanket over his head, and you stop him. “Wanna see your face.”
Okay, you wanted to see Eddie see your pussy as his son went down on you, but it made Dylan eager enough to dig in in a way you haven’t seen from him yet.
You whine from the hot pleasure it gave you, you grind on his face, the heat focused on your pussy in a way that has never happened before. The idea of Eddie accidentally walking in on you but watching instead of saying anything gets you off so easily Dylan is feeling your juices wet his chin and your ass like it never has before.
“Greedy baby.” He mumbles, placing two fingers into you and giving kisses to your thighs as he pumps them.
“Gonna cum soon, Dyl.” You warn him.
Luckily, Dylan knows it means to keep doing what he’s doing. You were close, but the sound of footsteps upstairs followed by a door closing pushed you over the edge, knowing he could very well be going to his room from elsewhere, but hoping he was at the top of the stairs.
Just the possibility of him being at the top pushed you over. “Holy shit.” Dylan mutters, crawling up to you. “Must’ve been riled up, huh.”
“Yeah.” You tell him, suddenly feeling Dylan’s boner poking the inside of your knee. “Mere, I wanna help you.”
“No, I wanna fuck you, let’s go to my room.”
His room…down the hall…where there’s a better chance he could hear you. “Sure!”
-
Eddie Munson was sure there was something out to get him. The moment your pretty fucking face greeted him in his kitchen when he wondered down fresh from a shower he was sure there was something laughing at this pure misery.
The smile on your face, the smell of your sweet perfume, the way your skirt hugged your hips all melted him into one pot. When you told him you met Dylan at a fucking mixer, he wanted to shoot the person who made you feel like you were worthy of being ogled at by a bunch of singles at an awkward church mixer.
A church mixer.
He hated that Dylan liked them, always said only weirdos go there and was sure Dylan as exaggerating when he expressed how gorgeous and out of his league you were.
His heart freezing at the sight of you sit perched on one of his stools, shyly watching your boyfriend, even only from the back made him wonder if angels were real. Fuck, he didn’t ask for any proof of your beauty when offered to show your Instagram, but he wouldn’t have believed it.
He spent that entire first conversation doing everything he could to be a fucking father figure and remind himself you were dating his son. He was not hitting on you at a bar, he was your boyfriend’s dad.
Somehow that just made the forbidden part about it that much hotter.
He felt like a pervert as the scent of your shampoo jumped out at him when he passed by you for the milk, and he had wanted to stop in place and take a big inhale. Felt like an even bigger pervert as he saw the string of your bikini bottom sitting high on your hip peaking out of your skirt and he just wanted to get a shot of that underskirt.
Every thought he had about you as your wit came through the conversation, he wondered what the hell you were doing with Dylan. He loved his kid, but you deserved better than what he knew his kid would provide.
He knew about Dylan that he’d be a great husband one day. Someone reliable and trustworthy enough to build a life with.
He didn’t want that for you. He wanted you to have something mind-blowing and earth shattering, something intoxicating. Something that made you feel the way he felt just by smelling your goddamn shampoo. Your teeny tiny bikini with your hair up in a messy bun with cute little sunglasses all somehow went to his cock, and he was glad you were called over before he said something even more stupid.
Eddie rolled his eyes at your claim there wasn’t a bigger dating pool, opening his mouth to retort--“Oh, you should’ve told me, we could’ve been almost there by now. Come on, baby! See you dad!”
The door slams, and that concluded the end of that conversation. “Um, you were gonna say something?” you ask him, and he wondered if the intrigue on your face was something he just imagined.
“Oh. Was I? Totally forgot.” Eddie lies. I was gonna say I am proof there is a bigger dating pool than you would believe, sweetheart… but he knew it would’ve said something he couldn’t unsay.
Dylan told him you were coming over for a sleepover, and he and Dylan’s room were only separated by the bathroom. Eddie might use the basement for the night because he didn’t trust his perverted mind not to seek you out and look at what little pjs you have chosen to wear. He gave you space out of respect when you arrived, wondering if it was flirting when you called him Mr. Munson.
Suddenly a noise that Eddie could only describe as the doorbell to heaven (or hell with what his mind was thinking) reached the door he had kept open for this very reason.
He kept his tv playing and sneaked off to the top of the stairs, hoping to catch his kid getting you off while you moaned under the covers. The treat he was given was far better, the hand over your tight ass shorts feeling you up as you leaned back and whined all high pitched. Eddie’s cock was so hard at the moment not touching it would be like self-neglect.
He backed up against the wall by the stairs, listening to your moans as he got you off, desperately wishing it was his fingers in your wet heat. He imagined your scrunched up face as you made those stunning noises, starting to stroke himself. A pause occurs, your blissed out voice asking him to eat you out. He bites back a moan at wanting to taste you, wanting to get all up in those juices and to show him how much you turned him on. He leans over the wall into the stair entry, expecting the blanket to be covering you but instead being met with your pussy on full display.
A low guttural moan escapes his throat, fucking into his fist and pretending it was you bent over for him instead, whining the same exact way. He knew you would have a pretty pussy, but this was just un-fucking fair.
You warn Dylan you were about to cum, and that pushes him over his own edge, and he suddenly has a mess he needs to clean up all over his fist. God he wanted you to clean it, to suck it all up. He was making himself hard again and he had to flee to his fucking bedroom to wash up.
Suddenly the creak of the stairs erupts as he is cleaning himself up, and Dylan’s door closes. Oh. They’re…continuing.
Your moans are suddenly loud, and Eddie finds himself hard again as he realizes he’s hearing you being fucked. Oh, he knew you were a fucking dirty slut.
Just fucking knew it. Something that hasn’t happened since he was in his 20s, but he’s ready to jerk himself off within minutes of just cumming. “Yeah, my whore being fucked open, letting everyone hear how good she feels, oh shit.” Eddie mutters to himself, right next to his door.
He ends up finishing at the same time you did, which didn’t take either one of you very long.
-
The next morning you wake next to Dylan sleeping with a big smile on his face. To him, that was the best sex you’ve ever had together. Mixed with your adventure at the beach last week, you guys were doing better than ever.
To you, it was only amazing because you kept thinking of Eddie fucking you and it did everything for your core. You get up in the tiny pair of pajamas you had packed, something that barely covered your ass and headed downstairs for some breakfast.
As you were leant down to assess the cereals, you heard the stride of someone come in behind you.
Eddie walks in behind you, holding back a swear as he sees your pussy peaking out of your pajama bottoms. A gentleman, and not knowing you fully reciprocated every horny thought, he ignores it and hopes you sit up.
You don’t, leaning even more forward and making a show of wondering what to eat. Eddie inhales, allowing himself to watch you. You turn around to him jerking his head away, and you felt some pride in getting his attention. “Morning.” You greet him, offering a bowl for him.
He rejects it. “Not hungry.”
“Oh.” You pour cereal, and Eddie focuses on not staring at your beaded nipples peaking through the tiny silk top you wore.
“Fuck.” He whispered, the boner growing.
“Something wrong?” You ask him innocently, and knowing this was working to your benefit made you nervous but eager.
“Lots to do today.” Like jerk off another three times.
“Like what?” You asked, taking a spoonful of cereal even though you had no appetite from the butterflies in your stomach.
“Oh not much.” Eddie wonders to you, and by reaching over you to grab the cereal he wonder if he could sneak a smell from your shampoo.
You sit up as he leans away, and you are so close you can see just how gorgeous he is. God, those brown eyes. “Do you have any…one to do?” You ask, glancing back and forth between his pretty lips and his even prettier eyes. You didn’t even know which ones to focus on.
Eddie leans in a bit to you, just ghosting over your lips. “Are you sure…that you want this?”
You nod, your eyes glazing over in want as the arousal in your gut suddenly exploded into a need.
“Cause…cause if we do this there is no going back. If your pussy…” he inhales sharply, taking a breath of your hair. “is as good as I imagine, there’s no way I’m giving you back.”
This sentence turns you into gelatin, and you lean forward to finally kiss him, his lips rough as he seemingly forgets how to act for a moment.
His brain finally catches up and he grabs onto you, inhaling and messy kisses, and grabby hands all at once as he tries to do everything he’s wanted to. Your hands make their way into his hair, and it was as soft as you pictured it. His lips messily kiss down your jaw onto your neck and you let out a whine. He smiles widely at that. “Good. One I made. Needed that.”
“You heard me…yesterday?” You asked, wetter from the idea of it.
“Heard you? Fucking came to it.” He swears, as he continues an assault on your neck. You moan in response, your hips involuntarily grinding up. “Come on, upstairs.”
You almost wanted to get caught by Dylan, but to keep it going longer you follow Eddie giddily upstairs as he trips over himself and you felt like a goddamn teenager. You follow him into his room, and the curtains were blackout curtains, the lights turned off giving the illusion of everything being dark. “Can we turn on the lights?” You ask, delicately. “I wanna see you.”
Eddie turns on his dimmer switch light so it was low, and the look in his eye as he approaches you sat on his bed had a level of lust in them that drove you wild. He leans in to give you a kiss after sitting right by you, and it wasn’t enough touching for you. You crawl forward as you eagerly kissed him back, straddling his lap. “Fuck, sweetheart, you are fucking gorgeous.” He mutters, the silk pajamas you wore bunching up in his hands as he grabbed at it. “The little strap that peaked out of your skirt tied together was just tempting me to unwrap you like a present.” He huffs, still kissing your neck. You find yourself impatient, wanting his lips back on yours.
“Fuck, been thinkin’ about you on my cock ever…” he inhales your perfume with a deep grunting sigh of content. “ever since.”
You mewl to his confessions, and he’s a much better talker than you could’ve imagined. Your hips start to grind on their own accord and with the little fabric they have between your silk shorts and his thin pajama pants you felt his hard cock fairly easily. You let out a high moan of contentment, and Eddie watches as you grind on his cock and get yourself off so easily. “Oh shit, she’s a dirty slut, hey.” Eddie comments leaning back and watching you grind yourself. “Doesn’t even need a cock inside her, will just take anything I give her with a smile on her face.”
“I would—” you gasp, the material scratching your clit in the best way, “I would take any crumbs, fuck.”
You start to moan higher and grind faster, and Eddie wanted to make you cum by his hands or his mouth the first time but you making yourself cum against his pants meant he was now using this as a fucking cum rag to smell you when you weren’t near. “Take off those shorts, doll. Wanna see your pussy.”
“Ok.” They are yanked off without a second thought.
“Oh, good listener. What a good girl.” He comments petting your hair gently as you continued to grind again with your heat now directly against his pj pants, he could feel it against his cock. “Oh, fuck, you are soaked. My fucking horny slut.”
“Horny for you.” You whimper the edge just right there.
“Whoring herself out for the Munsons.” He comments, sort of bitter he had to hear you fuck his son before he could claim you.
“Pictured it was you.” You admit, your voice in a whisper as you confessed but the high you wanted almost there.
“Fuck, did you?” He asks, the idea you only enjoying it so much because you pictured him.
“Mmhmm. Pictured you watching me, too.”
“Fucking little voyeur.” He whispers, and you nodded. He rewarded you by grabbing your hips and rutting against you and hitting your clit even harder and your orgasm snuck up on you, and the extra attention Eddie pays you as he watches it wash through you only helps the high take longer to recover from.
“Oh my god.” You whisper, a last of the intense orgasm still running through you.
“Not done.” Eddie whispers, a big smirk on his face. He lightly pushes you down and grabs your legs and puts them over his shoulder. You watch him carefully, his face looking at your pussy at a way that would usually resolve in embarrassment. Instead, it only turned you on more because it meant he wanted you just as much.
He dives into your pussy with a level of expertise that only came from years of pleasuring women. You don’t know why but you knew he got off to pleasuring others from the moment you saw him and every moan you let out he absorbed it, getting better and better as your verbal ques direct him. The heat in your pussy intensifies as he continues, fucking two of his fingers into you.
You place your hands in his hair, grinding up when the feeling of wanting to be fucked takes over you. “No, patience baby. I need to see what you look like when you squirt.”
“I-I can’t—”
“Every woman can, sweetheart. Just means you’ve had no one show you yet. Feel that?” He asks you, the heat in your pussy expanding as he continued to attack your clit and finger fuck you.
You nod, the feeling in your gut like a tidal wave of pleasure.
“Focus on it.” You do, and as you do you look up at his eyes, already staring into yours as he assesses your reactions. The heat intensifies by a thousand, and the feeling of wanting to…pee…takes over.
“Fuck—” you start to protest.
“Let it happen. Let go. It’ll feel so fucking good…baby let go. Gonna feel so fucking good.” You trust him so you let go and a gush invades your ear as a red-hot pleasure makes home in your pussy. “One more?” Eddie asks you, his thumb now messaging your clit.
You twitch under him, your bud being so sensitive. “Oh fuck, Ed. Too much.”
“No, I think you can cum again. Wanna see that beautiful face all scrunched up. Wanna take a photo.” He holds out his phone casually, and your face heats up. “Not feeling all the sudden shy, are ya? You whored your little pussy for me how is this different?”
“Its…” you manage out, already close again. “Its hot.”
“She gonna cum again, all over my fingers?”
“All over your fingers.”
“You gonna lick em clean?”
“Can we share?”
Eddie groans audibly, titling his head back. “Of course, doll. Of fucking course, now cum all over them, please.”
The third orgasm takes over your body, and it’s so goddamn good you stop responding for a minute which causes Eddie to panic. “Oh shit, you okay?”
Giggles burst out of you, the kind of post orgasm giggles you’ve only read about in spicy novels. You thought they were fake. “Can I suck you off now?”
Eddie’s eyes bulge, and he realizes his hand is still on your pussy. He taps it lightly, causing you to whine. He lifts the finger first, inserting it into your mouth. “Suck this first.” You wrap your tongue around it, keeping eye contact as you taste yourself, and this is the only time it’s ever been truly hot to be able to taste yourself. Other times it was just perplexing.
Eddie takes the other finger when you let go and starts sucking on it, he closes his eye, enjoying the taste of your pussy on his tongue. Eddie crawls onto his bed and you basically pounce him, yanking his pj pants down as fast as they go, wanting to see his cock. His eyes watch you, blown and enwrapped in lust as he watches your eagerness.
As his cock pops out of his pants, an involuntary smile spreads across your face. The head to his cock was so pink, he must’ve been horny. “Oh, pretty cock.” You mutter, and he wasn’t even sure if you were saying to him or just saying it out loud. “Oh my god, look how pink your head is. Mmm..sure seem like you need some attention.”
You take the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking on it alone but getting used to his girth. Holy he was gonna hurt even with how wet you were. You start sucking on it, taking bit by bit more into your mouth each time, eagerly making sloppy spit sounds as you did so. It wasn’t hard to generate the spit you needed, the sight of his dick made your mouth water.
Your head bobbed up and down on it, illicit sounds being drawn out of him, only encouraging you more as the feeling of his rings harsh against your scalp making you wet. You pop off him, spit connected from your mouth to his dick. You lean forward to his treasure trail, licking the hair and biting at it, something you’ve wanted to do since you saw him. You find your way back down and passed his cock and he’s about to ask when take one of his balls into your mouth, sucking loudly.
“Oh fuck, do you know how to use that pretty little mouth. Holy shit.” You roam over it with your tongue, sucking it in and out repeatedly. Then you move on to the next one, giving it its own show as well. Your mouth moves back to suck on his cock but he tugs on your hair to bring him up to you.
“Want you to face fuck me.” You say to him, still not done sucking on his cock.
“Nother time. Lemme fuck you.” He mutters, tugging on the shirt you still wore. You crawl back up to straddle him, nothing between his cock and your pussy now, but he places his cock on it so the shaft slides in-between your folds, teasing you, and causing you to whine. “Oh shit.” He works on the buttons holding your silky pink shirt, the skilled hands working fast through each one. As each one reveals another inch of skin, he feels more intoxicated by you, especially how you’re begging him to put his cock in. Your tits fall out of the shirt, and he rips the back off you, and you let it fall to the floor. You grab onto his band shirt, attempting to move it off him. You barely do it, the feeling of his cock so close inside you causing your focus to fall apart in seconds. He laughs, nearly cruel, yanking the shirt off, revealing more tattoos you’ve never seen. Your hands flutter to his chest, moving to each tattoo and touching every inch you can.
Your mission to focus and analyze each tattoo is interrupted by him maneuvering you onto your back. You lay there, open and ready for him. “Holy shit, fucking smoking hot.” He mutters, like he couldn’t believe you were here with him.
It was you who was the lucky one, he was crazy.
“You’re hotter.” You mutter, as he starts to align his cock with your entrance. “Thought of you last night, made myself cum so hard.”
“Oh fuck. What was I doing?” He asks, still teasing you with it.
“Just watching me finger myself. Talking me through it. Calling me a whore.” He groans, tapping his cock on it. “Please, Ed need your cock.”
“Beg for it, you fucking slut.” He whispers, something taking over him.
“Please, daddy. Want your cock. Want you to fuck me like a ragdoll. Please, pretty please fuck me until I’m a puddle. I just want your cock in me, so fucking bad.”
“Gonna be a good slut for me?”
“Yes..I will I promise.”
He chuckles darkly and finally…finally moves into you. Your eyes cross and a moan so erotic leaves your body and you had barely a single ounce of control over that left your mouth at that point.
Eddie puts his head into your neck, feeling your head tighten around him in pleasure as you got used to his girth and length.
“Move…please?”
“Thought you were gonna take the crumbs I gave you, slut.” He mutters.
“Fuck. Sorry.”
He smiles and your fingers fidgeting at your sides were a dead giveaway you were just needy for him to move. It made him feel fucking powerful just his cock could make you feel like this. He starts rocking, slowly and you whine from this resolve alone. “Oh what a fucking whore, just needed a good fucking.” He mutters into your ear, his hand finding its way to your neck. “Putting her pussy on display for me, showing she just needed someone to know how to fuck her.”
You say nothing in response, and his hips are starting to rock against yours harder. Your eyes reach the back of your head as you lose air, but you revel in the feeling of nearly passing out as he takes his hand off. “Holy shit, you really are just a whore.”
You nod, eyes half lidded as you looked up at his pussy drunk eyes. “Little…cockdrunk…slut…” he inhales sharply and a wad of shit hits your face and you find yourself opening your mouth for more. “Fuck—” his hips stutter at the sight of your smile when his saliva hits your mouth. He spits right into it as you open for more and you act like it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted, cause it was.
Your tongue pokes out, gasping in more need. His hips are against yours so harshly you would’ve been afraid of bruising if it didn’t fucking turn you on so bad.
“Fucking slut, you want me to cum in you? Wanna be filled with my fucking cum?” You nod, too cocked out to speak, you’ve never felt this good from penetration alone before. “Cum with me, doll.” He mutters using his two fingers against your clit as he leans in to kiss you. Within moments you flutter around him, moaning into his mouth and he lets go of your kiss, stuttering his hips and letting out a loud moan as you feel him fill you up.
His body weight collapses ontop of you, and his hands are suddenly gentle as they sweep at your bangs sticking to your sweaty forehead. “Fuck.” He mutters, giving you a dazed-out look of pure adoration. “That was much better than anything I came up with.”
You nod in agreement, words still not coming to your mouth.
“You were such a good girl, yeah?” You smile, a heat coming up to your cheeks. “You listened to me so well. C’mere.” He wraps your lips in a kiss, his cock still in you, still hard and keeping all his cum in you.
“C-can we stay like this?” You ask timidly, not wanting his cock to leave yet.
“Ooh, baby wants to cock-warm? Sure. Wanna turn on a movie until 9, when Dylan usually wakes?” Eddie asks, already leaning towards the channel changer on his beside table.
Having to tell Dylan it was pretty much over the moment Eddie kissed you hadn’t even crossed your mind, and it would eventually twenty minutes into the movie when you got back to earth. Eddie knew the realization would kick in eventually so he let you watch a movie of your choice, sitting up on his bed with you straddled on his lap after a bit of maneuvering so you could both see the movie on his screen adjacent to his bed.
Eventually, Dylan was gonna wake.
Eventually, a storm would hit.
But for now, Eddie stayed inside you to pretend like it wasn’t over yet.
-
As always i Love reading comments, replies, reblogs <3 remember reblogging is the best way to support on Tumblr
“ You got to be kidding me” Dustin says as he watches you with Mike and Lucas by his side walking with Jason Carver by your side as the two of you talked.
“Am I dreaming or is that real?” Mike asked. Dustin was in pure shock and his eyebrows scrunched together with his mouth a jar. “ Are they dating?” Lucas asked. Mike and Dustin both pushed Lucas towards them in hopes to find something. Lucas gave them a look while Dustin pointed his finger and mumbled angrily. Lucas has no idea what was said to him.
“ Good morning, Lucas” he heard the sound of your voice and turned around with his shoulder scrunched up. He sends you a small smile and looks towards Jason.
“ Good morning” he chuckled and straighten himself out with a cough. Jason waited for him to say something, when Lucas didn’t, he sighed.
“ Sinclair, if you don’t mind moving we have to get to our lockers. You don’t want be late to class either, we don’t need a slacker on our team”
Lucas pointed between the two of you.
“ Are you two dating?” He asked. Jason wrapped his arm around you giving Lucas a glance before glancing down at you.
“ I don’t see what it is any of your business Sinclair, last time I checked you could keep your own love life in check.”
Lucas looked away a bit hurt, but he spared a glance at you which you were looking down your shoes at this point.
“ I thought you didn’t hang out with “ nerds” he qouted with his hands, “ it doesn’t make you cool as you put it.”
“ Sinclair, I didn’t ask for your opinion. Get to moving before I kick you off the team”
Lucas huffed and stormed off with Dustin and Mike running after him demanding answers. You heard the bell ring and closed your eyes, mumbling how you were late and probably going to get detention.
“ Relax, nerd. Here is your excuse for being late” he fished out a note from the inside pocket of his jacket and shoved it into your hands.
“ What’s this?” You asked, opening the note. Inside it had some handwriting scrambled on it that looked really neat to be Jason’s handwriting.
“ Why?” He rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh.
“ Just take it and give it to your teacher, nerd. Stop asking questions before I take it back and change my mind.”
“ You’re only doing this because your mom pleaded my mom to tutor you” He rolled his eyes agains, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket.
“ So what? Are you going to whine about it now? You look and sound like a whale.”
“ Oh shut up, Carver. You can’t even begin a sentence on paper, let alone write the correct date.”
He gritted his teeth and backed you agains the locker with one hand leaning against the lockers. He stared down at you with a cold given look. You weren’t afraid of him. You are ready to jug anything at him.
“ Here is a suggestion dork face, you shut your mouth before I’m going to shut it for you” he spatted.
“ Is something wrong?” A sweet voice brought Jason out of his anger, he stepped back putting a smile on his face turning to face Chrissy, his girlfriend who looked worried between the two of you.
“ Why aren’t you in class?” She asked. In her hands she has a hall pass.
“ I was just telling Y/N here how it’s not nice to skip class” he says, giving you a look to go with it. You knew he didn’t want to upset Chrissy, even though he’s a big jerk. Chrissy looked over to you to see that you are glaring at Jason.
“ What did you do, Jason?” She asked, not believing a word coming out of her boyfriends mouth. Jason looked at her in shock and put a hand on his heart.
“ Baby, I didn’t do anything. Dork face-“ Chrissy cleared her throat, she shook her head. She didn’t like how he called you names just like he called Eddie “ The freak.”
“ Y/N just need a little help getting to class”
“ She can find her own way, Jason. I’m pretty. Sure because we share the same class” Chrissy looks at you.
“ Did he hurt you? Did he say anything?”
“ I’m used to it, but thank you” you shot her a small smile, casting one look towards Jason and heading towards class. You turned back around after walking away to see Jason and Chrissy bickering with one another. You had hoped you didn’t ruin anything. You decided to skip the morning class since you were already late and headed outside to sit by the tree and work on a drawing.
You didn’t know the time has passed but a shadow cast over to you and blocks the sun from your view.
“ Please move out of the light” you mumbled to them, looking into your bag for a different kind of pencil to use when the figure knelt down on their knees.
“ What were you doing with, Carver?” The sound of Dustin’s voice fills your ears.
“ Nothing that could hurt anyone, Henderson” he hums.
“ Eddie won’t like it” He says.
“ I don’t care if Eddie will like it or not, we aren’t friends anymore” you rose your head to glance at him. He had a deep frown on his face.
“ He misses you, you know?”
“ Did you need something?” You asked ignoring what he just told you even though it pulled at your heart strings knowing he thought of you. But you didn’t care and shouldn’t since Stephanie Peters decide to make it all better.
“ When are you going to sit with us? We miss you, I miss you” you closed your eyes giving a sigh.
“ I miss you too, and the boys too but not for awhile. I need some time away” He nods and stands up dusting himself off from the grass.
“ Don’t let Eddie see you with Carver, he will freak out” Dustin informs you.
“ He can do what he likes, Dustin. I told you I’m not his friend”
“ This can’t be real, you have to forgive him” you gave Dustin a look of disbelief not believing what you were hearing.
“ I believed he was into me, Dustin-“
“ He is!” He cuts you off waving his hands around.
“ Then he went to have Stephanie Peters, out of all the girls to please him like a hungry little puppy begging for a bone. I don’t need to see him, to talk to him or forgive him. He doesn’t deserve it.”
“ What about how he feels about all this? Don’t you care that he wants to fix it?”
“ I don’t. There is nothing to fix, Dustin. He chose his path.”
You stood up from the ground and dusting the grass off yourself, leaning down to grab your things. “ I need to head to my locker, it was good to see you Dustin” he sighs in defeat and watches you head back into school.
It wasn’t until lunch time where Eddie saw you walking in and get into the lunch line, but what surprised him was Jason Carver had popped up behind you. Eddie stood up from his chair and was ready to punch the lights out of Carver if he touched you but his mouth dropped when you turned around to talk to Carver as if the two of you were civil and friends.
“ Uh oh” Mike says. “ He saw it” Eddie stood up on the table to have a better look at what was going on. He couldn’t believe his eyes that Jason nCarver and you were being civil. You weren’t even throwing insults at him. Not from what he sees. It was like he was seeing a whole new world.
“ Eddie” Dustin warned seeing him hop off the table. Stephanie had turned her head in time to see Eddie walk past her table and her eye sight landed on you with Carver.
“ Is that Y/N talking to Jason? Are they friends?” She gasped pointing out with her finger to her friends. “ Is this the same Y/N we’re talking about? The dork? The nerd?” One of her friends turned around to spot you heading towards one of the table departing from Jason.
He only came to apologize for his behavior early. It was probably Chrissy who told him to apologize for being a jerk. You had accepted Jason’s apology with a fake smile and nod that you two were scheduled for a tutor session later in the library for a test that was coming up.
If Jason wasn’t going pass the test then he would be benched from playing any games or playing anything at all. It angered Jason until he came to realize that you were one of the smartest people in the school and you were always getting good grades. He came to realize you would help him. How did he get you to help him?
He threatened to beat the living lights out of Eddie, take his notebook, the notebook that held his campaign and have Patrick and Andy beat on Mike and Dustin. You were going to have that and agreed.
You noticed Eddie looking at you in disbelief but you paid no attention setting your tray down in front of Robin as she stopped her conversation she was having, to greet you. She felt eyes on the back of her head and turned seeing it was Eddie standing there in loss of words.
“ Did you do something to make him stand like that?” She pointed behind her at Eddie whom doesn’t move a muscle at all. You shook your head turning to look at him, shrugging as you picked up a fry.
It wasn’t until a pair of hands landed on the top of the table that scared you. It scared you enough to make you jump. Not just you but the whole table.
“ Munson, what do you want?” Robin asked. “ You have done enough damage already.”
He doesn’t even glance at her or says anything as he turns his focus on you.
“ What are you doing with, Carver? Hm? You know he’s dating Chrissy?” Eddie asks.
You were ignoring him taking another fry off your tray but as you continued to ignore him, it angered Eddie. If you looked him, then you’d see steam coming from his ears. His jaw was clenched together in anger as he waited for you to talk to him. When he had enough of this, he took your whole tray slide it off the table.
“ What the fuck was that for?!” You shouted stand up from your seat.
“ I’m talking to you!” He shouted “ or are you too busy thinking about what Jason Carver’s cock looks like!.”
The cafeteria got silent and it alerted Jason, he stood up from his chair as he watched you and Eddie shout at each other. It looked like a pair of animals ready to tear into each other.
“ Must be bigger than yours!”
Robin stood up from her chair and made her way over to you as she wrapped her arms around you. “ Let’s go into the bathroom to cool off.”
You shrug her off, not wanting to be even touched at the moment. You were beyond anger at Eddie right now. Who does he think he is?
“ Do you wanna see it, sweetheart?”
“ See what?” You were confused for a moment until he took a hold of his belt. He was too angry to realize what he was doing.Your eyes grew wide as saucers and you covered your eyes.
“ She’s not allowed to see it” you heard the familiar voice of Stephanie. You uncovered your eyes seeing her arms wrapped around Eddie. He looks very uncomfortable trying to push her away with a look of disgust on his face.
“ Um, what are you doing?” He whispered to her.
“ Relax buttercup, she’s not woman enough to see a real cock” Stephanie whispered back, patting his cheeks as she lets him him. “ You see him” she points to Eddie while talking to you.
“ You’re not even close to enough as I am, enough to handle him. I bet your still an ugly little virgin that doesn’t even know how to cum.”
“ Sorry, I lost it to your dad, Peters” Stephanie mouth dropped as her face got red. The cafeteria gasped but she couldn’t do anything about it as the both of you were sent to detention later today. You were being watched by the teacher and they had enough of what they heard deciding what to do.
Eddie was about to intervene when he was asked if he wanted detention too. But he licked his dry lips and without giving a reply he hopped on top of the table shouting as he walked across.
You were trying to suppress a giggle that even Jason and his basket ball goons were trying to catch him.
“ Mr. Munson! Mr. Carver!” The teacher shouted running after the two. Robin gave you a look which you shook your head telling her to ignore it.
“ I don’t know how you’ll manage detention with that one” she pointed to Stephanie sitting back at her table. “ You’ll end up ripping her hair out if she won’t shut her mouth.”
“ Can you tell Steve to pick me up later?” Her eyebrow raised leaning forward with her hands on the table as she whispered.
“ You have something for dingus now?”
“ No, I just don’t feel like walking all the way home” her eyes grew wide and she smacked your hand.
“ Are you insane? You walked all the way here in the morning?” You shook your head, snorting a bit. “ No, Carver drove me. His mom insisted on getting me.”
“ How do you even have Carver on a leash?”
“ I don’t, Chrissy does. He melts at her every command”
The cafeteria doors opened again and Eddie ran in with Jason still trying to catch him.
“ Get back here freak!” Jason shouted trying to grab Eddie but missing by a minute.
“ Too slow” Eddie shouted. You were trying not to show a smile as you watched this go on but Eddie saw briefly there that smile on your face that wasn’t missed by him. He wished he would of stayed longer to look at it but he had to run.
It wasn’t until detention was over and you tried hard not to rip your own hair out sitting in detention with Stephanie Peters, that Eddie hoped to talk to you. She couldn’t stop talking about how every single boy in the school was out to sleep with her. You remained in your seat glaring at your notebook that you were desperately trying not to rip piece by piece.
But he took notice of a familiar BMW in the parking lot and saw Steve Harrington sitting in the driver seat. What was he doing here? Why was he here? Eddie waited near the doors with his hands in his pockets as he paced back and forth and a smile grew on his face when he saw you walk out the doors.
He was about to open his mouth, but groaned when a pair of arms wrapped themselves around him.
“ You’re sweet, Munson waiting for little old me” Stephanie says while placing a kiss on his cheeks. Eddie’s nose scrunched up in disgust as he tried to push her away and not catching that you were making your way over to Steve’s car.
“ Get off of me, will you?” Eddie pushed her away gently as he could and scoffed at her. Stephanie pouted bouncing on her feet. “ But Eddie-“ she huffed seeing he was already walking away but halted in his steps when he watched the BMW drive off with you sitting in the passenger side.
“ Hurts doesn’t it?” Stephanie asked. “ She doesn’t seem to want you the way you want her, pity” she continued.
Eddie gritted his teeth and his hands clenched by his side. His eyes flashed anger when he turned to glare over at her. Stephanie eyes widen seeing his brown eyes were no longer that shade as they held a darker color which sent goosebumps up and down her arms.
“ Let’s go” he said through his gritted teeth. He didn’t know why he was so angry all of sudden. But it may have to do something with you being driven away by Steve Harrington out of all people. What did you see in him anyways? Have you moved on already?
“ Where are we going?” She asked, pouting when he gripped her arm dragging her to his van. “ Eddie” she called out him but he didn’t answer her as he slammed the door to the van after he got in. He didn’t ask her to get in when he tolled down the window and gripped the steering wheel like his life dependent on it.
She sat in the passenger seat of the van with her arms across her chest.
“ You know she’s probably dating that guy” Stephanie says in hopes those words would make him feel better. But they didn’t, not at all. He turned glaring at her while she sank in her seat.
“ Either you get out or you sit in silence as I drive you home. I don’t care what you do honestly Peters.”
“ Don’t need to be rude” she took the handle of the door and go out, making sure to slam the door letting Eddie know that she was upset with him. Eddie pressed his foot on the gas driving off.
She could get her own ride home.
“ Thank you for that, I really needed it” you put down your drink on the table and wiping your mouth with a napkin.Steve ended up taking you for a bite to eat after he heard the frustrating detention you had with Stephanie Peters. The thought of thinking about her sent shivers down his spine. Not the good ones.
“ I thought I saw Munson out there too” Steve decided to bring up Eddie since he saw him and thought that you were friends again with him. Robin hasn’t much told him anything about him, just that he hurt you.
“ Yeah, and?” You asked.
He shrugged, “ What did he do?”
You looked outside of Benny’s seeing only a few cars parked in the parking lot with his, a couple was stepping out of one of the cars and held hands as they laughed.
“ He was seeing Stephanie Peters while being with me” Steve’s eyes widen and his mouth dropped. He was in shock on what he has heard. His hand reached out to place on top of yours. The warmth of his hand hits you with comfort but yet it’s not the one you want.
“ I’m so sorry” he says. You shrugged like it wasn’t hurting you but it’s been about two months since it happened and yet you still question on why you and what you did wrong to end up being the one who got hurt at the end.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Steve asked worried that he might be overstepping but at the same time he hates seeing you upset. The door to Benny’s opened with almost a slam against the wall. Benny looked over at the sound of the noise watching one of his favorite customers walk through the doors as if they were ready to rip the door off it’s hinges.
“ Woah there, what’s the fire?” Benny asked. Eddie grumbled underneath his breath, not glancing at Benny.
“ You want your usual, boy?” Benny continued to ask. Eddie nodded his head, his stomach growling in hunger. He hasn’t ate since this morning.
The sound of your voice caught his ears and he regret looking over seeing who was sitting across from you. Of course you would be here out of all the places. Where you on the date with Harrington? His nose scrunched at the thought feeling his stomach tightened with knots. Were you doing this to get back to him? Was this your revenge?
His eyes bore into the back of your head as if your head was going to explode from the way he was glaring. You felt chills up your arms as if someone was watching you. Steve notices the look on your face.
“ What’s wrong?” He asks.
“ Is someone watching us?”you asked leaning in whispering it to him. Steve’s eyebrows shot up in surprised as his eyes roam over the diner until they landed on Eddie. They both locked eyes and Steve tilted his head in surprise to see him there.
“ Is he following us?” Steve asks you. “ Does he not get that you don’t want to talk to him?”
Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion and you turned around to see who he was talking about until you saw him. His hands were clenched by his sides, his jaw tightened and his eyes looked darker than the shade they usually were.
He was jealous. It was written all over his face.
A slight smirk appeared on your lips which Eddie has caught. Grunting in displeased that you found his anger and jealousy as amusement.
You turned back, clearing you throat and shook your head with a small laugh.
“ What?” Steve asks.
“ He’s too much” you mumbled. “ It’s like he’s obsessed with the thought that I found someone else and have moved on.”
“ Have you?”
You didn’t answer Steve and remained silent giving the answer he needed to here. He puts his hands on the table and interlaced them together as he sighed.
“ Not too be an asshole here but your kinda playing a dangerous game” your eyebrow shot up in question on what is he getting at. It’s not like you didn’t notice Eddie watching you and you were doing this out of cruelty. But at the same time you want Eddie to hurt.
You want him to feel the pain he had caused you. Differently.
“ How so?” Steve chuckled.
“ First you walk around with Carver from what I’ve heard Robin tells me, as if your dragging Carver along and now your here with me. Eddie must hate you for what your doing to him. I mean look at the poor guy” he points towards Eddie who’s still standing there like he was glaring at the two of you like his life depended on it.
You turned back to see Eddie hasn’t moved or looked away. He stood like a statue with his chest breathing up and down. You saw slight movement in his jaw letting you know he’s angry.
“ Sucks to be him then” you turned back to face Steve, giving a shrug.
“ Maybe you should talk to who” Steve says like he’s trying to make things better. “ You two should talk it out and see where you both stand on things.”
“ I don’t think so” you shook your head. The scent of weed, pine, shampoo that you were familiar with a scent of cigarettes hit your nose as goosebumps crawled up your arms. You knew he had came up to the table.
“ Harrington” Eddie greeted Steve.
“ Munson” Steve greeted him back.
“ Y/N” Eddie greeted you.
“ Eddie” you greeted him.
There was silence between the table and you weren’t even looking at Steve to see his reaction. You saw from the corner of your eyes, Eddie’s handcuffed belt and it was like you could feel the fuming coming from Eddie.
“ Are you two kids on a date?” He asked finally breaking the silence.
“ That’s not of your concern, Edward” you spoke raising your head to meet his gaze. His brown eyes were shade darker that held coldness in them. His lips were in a thin line. His shoulders were stiff as his arms crossed over his chest.
Eddie chuckled darkly, “ it’s my concern because the last time I checked you were into me. Not the hair.”
“ I got over you” you lied refusing to meet his eyes and instead stared at Steve who shifted uncomfortably in his seat now.
“ I call bullshit on that, sweetheart” Eddie balance back and forth on his food.
“ Eddie! Your food!” Benny shouted. Eddie turns his head at the sound of his voice and nods putting a finger up.
“ You best be going before your food gets cold, Munson” you mumbled.
“ I have a microwave in the trailer, you don’t need to worry about my food” he replied with a roll of his eyes.
“ How long are you going to stand there?” Steve decides to speak up. Eddie turns his head to look down at Steve remembering he was still sitting there in silence.
“ Oh don’t let me interrupt your little date, Harrington. Continue to talk like I’m not here. Please” Eddie waved his hand over the table as he spoke.
“ I think your lost, Munson. The door is there” you pointed towards the door without casting him a look.
“ I’m aware where the door is, sweetheart. Are you aware your not what Harrington is into?”
“ What is that suppose to mean?” You glared at Eddie as he smirked.
“ He doesn’t like nerd” he uncrossed his arms from his chest and placed his hands on his hips mocking Steve’s stands. “ Harrington is a god damn baby sitter too, you don’t date those either.”
“ You don’t decide who I date or like, Eddie. Leave.”
“ I don’t think so. I’m not leaving until we talk, sweetheart”
“ We have noting to talk about, Eddie.”
“ We have a lot to talk about, especially what your doing with Carver out of all people”
“ It’s not your business, leave.”
“ No” the two of you kept at it until Benny himself had enough of it. It was casting looks in the diner your way and he thought it was bad for business now that this was happening. He sighed as he tossed the towel over his shoulder and made his way over to your table.
“ Alright, break it up kids. Eddie go home, Y/N sit back down or leave. As much as I love you as my customers. You are bringing attention.”
Your eyes roamed around the diner seeing people were watching the scene happening between you and Eddie with deep frown on their face.
“ I’m sorry” you apologized to Benny, then looked at Steve who became interested in the napkin holder as he played with the ends of it. “ I’m sorry, Steve. I think I’ll head home. I need a walk. Thank you for this” you motioned to the finished meal.
Steve nodded his head without looking at you. It’s not that this didn’t bother him, it was that he was tired of having to hear Eddie this and Eddie that from Robin. He hated that you were fighting with Eddie. You were suppose to be both his friends but he felt like he was in the middle of everything.
You pushed past Eddie making sure to hit his shoulder on the way out, giving Benny the money you owed for the meal and headed towards the door. Eddie was about to follow you when Benny pulled him back by his arm.
“ Don’t you do it” he says to Eddie.
Eddie shrugged off his hold and huffed as he took the food from the counter where Benny had left for him and followed you out the door. He saw the back of your head making your way to your house down the path. He sighed to himself knowing he should leave you alone but he can’t seem to.
He hurries inside his van, making sure to leave the food in the back on the ground and closed it tight preventing from anything spilling out even though it was a burger and large fries.
The start of his van could be heard when you continued to walk, but you didn’t expect him to follow you side by side. He rolled down the window calling out your name. You looked ahead to paid no mind to him as you continued to make your way at home.
“ You know you’re the most annoying person ever. Get in the van, it’s going to rain soon.”
“ I don’t need a ride, Munson.”
Eddie grumbled as he slammed his fist against the steering wheel, frustrated that you were being like this in the first place. Why couldn’t you just get into the van without saying anything? Why couldn’t this be easier? Why did you have to be so difficult?
“ Get in the van, Y/N!” Eddie shouted, gritting his teeth.
“ No, thank you” you continued to walk when you heard the sound of the door opening and another grumble. A hand wrapped around your wrist, turning you around to face a pleading Eddie. He looked really tired. It was the first time you notice the bags underneath his eyes.
“ I’m so tired of you pushing me away when I’m trying to talk to you. I’m trying to fix this and you won’t let me.”
“ Because I don’t want you to fix this.”
His jaw clenched and he threw his hands up in the air.
“ Then what do I have to do to fix it? Tell me, and I’ll do it.”
“ I don’t want you to fix it!” You shouted.
Eddie stomped the ground getting more and more frustrated by the minute.
“ You know what, I hate how you make me feel. I hate how you have this affect over me and I can’t move past you. I can’t move on. I hate this and I hate you” Eddie says.
Your mouth a jar as well as your eyes grew wide as saucers. The words hitting you like a tone of bricks.
“ What?!” You asked.
He nodded.
“ I hate you because every time I saw you with some guy, I wanted to rip his head off. I want the guy you spend time with to be me. I want to be able to walk with you to school and drive you home. I want to be able to make you laugh and smile. I want to able to be with you. Just you. I don’t want anyone else.”
“ Yeah? What about Stephanie? What about those times when you played me like a fool? You were with her while you were with me. You broke me!” You shouted tears flowing down your cheeks. “ Do you have an idea what you’ve done?”
Eddie frowned seeing your tears. He wanted to reach out to wipe them away but he held back staring at you in silence.
“ You made me feel not good enough for you” you tell him.
“ Baby, you were more than good enough for me. I was stupid.” He says.
“ You really hurt me, Eddie” he nodded reaching over to brush a piece of hair behind your ear.
“ What can I do to fix it?” He asked again. You shook your head.
“ I have to go home, I have to get up early to go to Jason’s house.”
There was a certain look that flashed across Eddie’s face that you didn’t catch in time but you saw his jaw tightened at the mention of Jason’s name. It was like something struck in him.
“ Get in the van, now.” He said through his gritted teeth. “ I am not asking again” he was using a stern tone that made your knees feel weak. Something inside you told you to not question it about it and giving in as you headed to the van.
“ Good girl” you heard him say. You paused in your step, biting on your lip and he turned to watch the look on your face when he went to his side to get it. A smirk appeared on his face as he noticed you liked that. Minutes later, the door opened and you silently sat inside with your thighs clenched together.
Eddie started to van with one hand on the steering wheel while the other had placed on your thigh. He saw that you clenched them together, licking his lips as he tugged them apart. You were trying to push them back together, but he held a strong grip on them.
His hand kept getting higher and higher until his hand got underneath the skirt you were wearing. His index finger glided over the wetness that had formed on your panties.
“ Is this for me?” He asked, sliding your panties to the side as he fingers collected your slickness. He hummed in approvable while your cheeks redden and you were trying not to moan from him. You needed him to touch you.
“I like it when a good girl answers. Are you a good girl?” He asked. His thumb pressed onto your clit causing you to gasp out load. His grin widen hearing the gasp.
“ I wonder what other pretty sounds you can make” He removed his hand where you wanted him most and brought his hand away when you grabbed onto it.
“ Please, Eddie” you pleaded. “ I’ll be a good girl.”
He didn’t do anything for the rest of the ride to your house, smirking to himself feeling himself painfully hard in his pants. He wanted to bend you over and have his way with you but he was waiting until he was in your bedroom.
“ Parents home?” You shook your head, whimper and tugging on his hand to put it back where you needed it. But he didn’t. He kept chuckling to himself until the two of you were in your bedroom.
He licked his lips eyeing you.
“ You’re so pretty, you know?” He says sweetly. He walked around your room, taking off his jacket and placing on the back of the chair in your room.
“ Not as pretty as Stephanie Peters apparently” he gave out a deep sigh and shook his head. “ When are you going to stop bringing her up? She was a mistake.”
“ You were mine” the words hit him like a ton of bricks, they stung a lot but he licked his lips as he stared darkly at you.
“ How about I show you what a good fuck I gave Stephanie, that I can give you?” He says, in a darker tone.
“ Let me fuck you until you realized I wasn’t the mistake, I can make you forget even why you are so angry at me. I could make you forget whoever looked our touched you, then you can go back to hating me or not talking to me at all.”
You hate to admit it but you heard how good he is. You hate to admit, even to yourself but you were still attracted to him. You had only had sex with Eddie once, and it was rushed, that’s why you were standing there debating weather you wanted this. Him. You were so hurt over the whole Stephanie Peters thing.
Your mind is screaming at you no, not to do this but your eyes are telling him another story. Your body too.
“ Why do you want this?” You scoffed, trying to mask that you were slowly giving into him.
“ Simple. You know how good I can give it to you, sweetheart,” he chuckles with a known smirk.
The way he was looking at you was not making things easier.. His lips parted, forming into a large grin, his eyes on your own lip as he waits for you to speak.
You can’t deny how good he looks right now.
He steps closer and cups your face with one of his hands, running his thumb over your lips.
You can’t help yourself parting your lips, taking his thumb between them and sucking on it slowly. He lets out a heavy breathe, locking his eyes with your own as your tongue runs over his thumb.
“ I can see you want it, sweetheart.” He removed his thumb from your lips and pulled you into him, kissing you hungrily. It felt like Eddie could devour every inch of you with one kiss. His tongue tasted yours with desperation, causing you to make little noises.
The kiss is messy and intense, for the both of you, your mind is clouded as the only focus seems to be him. Just him.
Reaching for his shirt, you tugged on it in order to get ride of it, getting rid of your own too when he pulled away from you.
“ You missed me, didn’t you?” Eddie asked. “ Missed all of this” he pointed to his chest.
You smirked, shaking your head.
“ I think you missed these more” you took his hands into your own placing them on your tits. He licked his lips, making a slurping sound as he kneads them.
“ I did” he moans. Your mind is still screaming on what your doing that your only going to regret this later on. But you, you don’t care at the moment. You might regret it later, right now all you wanted was him. His tongue. His mouth. Him.
His tongue worked skillful on your neck while you felt like puddle in his arms.
His mouth comes back to yours as he pushes you towards your bed, throwing you like you were a doll. His tongue is already shoving it’s way into your mouth, you accept it with a moan focusing on the sloppy kiss.
One of his hands played with the strap of your bra.
“ I think this is in the way, don’t you think?” He asked, when he pulled away. The rest of your clothes came off after, tossing them wherever in the room. You had no idea when he took off his own clothes too in the process but he was back on you with one nipple in his mouth while his fingers were inside of you. Two of them. He swirled his tongue against your nipple, sucking on it with passion and his two fingers bend inside of your wet pussy.
He knew how good he can make you feel. He did it before.
“ You’re so wet for me, sweetheart. All for me, all desperate to be fucked, you poor little girl..” He teased, breathing against your nipple.
You let out a moan, staring down at him with a hard glare.
“ All for you” you moaned, nails digging into his back causing him to gasp as he looked up at you.
“ Please” you begged.
“ You know I love it when you beg for me, sweetheart”
“ Oh shut the fuck, Munson and fuck me.”
He chuckled as he pulled his fingers out of you, and leaned up capturing your lips with his, harshly kissing you like you were going to slip away from him. He moved around until he positioned between your legs, the tip of his cock touching your wet and throbbing folds.
You moaned.
“ I want you to ride me” he says, “ show me how much you want it.”
Deep in your mind, it was screaming for you to stop but you weren’t stopping because your body wanted this. This is what you craved right now. Him.
The two of you switched and you sank onto his cock, feeling the stretch all at once. Your breathing picked up, moaning feeling the sensation of him. He watched with desire in his eyes.
Your hips started to move as pleasure filled you. Your eyes locked with his, eyes darkening with lust and he couldn’t look away. His lips parted and he moaned, making you forget what he has done. That he hurt you.
You began to whimper feeling his cock fill you up completely, as followed. Your speed with his own. Both of you were load showing how the both of you craved this. His ring clad hands traveled up your body, one hand grabbing the back of your neck and brings you down.
He moves the hair away and kisses the side of your neck, with a small lick added.
“ If you don’t slow down, I won’t last long sweetheart” he whispers against your ear. The other hand grasps onto your hip, tightly squeezing.
“ My turn now” he adds with a whisper. He switches, thrusting into you hard, deeply but slowly. The way he was thrusting into you had your clenching around his cock. The sound of your wet pussy been snapped against his cock, his balls slapping against your add mixed with your moans and his, fills the room.
“ This pussy..” He thrust, moaning watching as he does, “ is so good to me.”
Your walls clench around him tighter, not missing an inch as you moan his name.
“ Look how good she takes it,” he moans, taking your earlobe in his mouth and tugging on it slightly. You feel his cock twitch and another moan escapes his mouth into your ear.You know he’s close and won’t last much longer as he continues to thrust into you with such intensity.
Your body is tingling with pleasure.
You feel the burning building into your stomach as he thrust deeply. One of his hands goes to your clit.
“ Look what a slut you are..” He moves his thumb in circular motions against your clit as he pants, gazing down at you. “ You like it, don’t you?”
“ Mhmmm!”
A sensation overfills your body focusing on that feeling. You whimper at the feeling. Your juice spills over his cock when you clench around him one more time.
“ C-Cum inside of me.. please..” You gasped between your pants. “ I want it.”
He moaned tying to talk but he let out a shaky breathe, “ You want all of my cum, sweetheart?”
“ I want it, Eds. All of your cum” your eyes were pleading.
He thrusted deeply inside of your pussy, moaning your name loudly as he cums deeply inside of you, panting and gasping while he paints your walls. You both are out of breathe, forehead to forehead looking at one another trying to get back to the real world
Eddie helps you slide off of him, sweat covers both your bodies from the moment. You stared at your ceiling tired and sore, but also that sensation lingering still. You lay there feeling Eddie shift besides you in the bed. Your head slowly turns to watch him raise on his elbows before rising fully off the bed walking towards your bathroom. You heard the sound of the faucet turned on and he was back with a wash cloth in his hands.
He apologized when you winced as he cleaned you off and he tossed it into the trash can by your desk, he didn’t care at the moment that you’d find it and later yell at him. His eyes roam your naked body laying in your own bed.
“ What?” You asked.
“ You’re beautiful” he says reaching over for his boxers. Your eyebrows frowned together in confusion on where he was going.
“ Um, Eddie?” He turns to look at you while he zips up his pants.
“ Where are you going?”
“ I’m leaving, sweetheart. What does it look like?”
“ It looks like your leaving me. Is this what you wanted? You were going to toss me away like I was garbage. You never cared about me” your eyes flash hurt as Eddie stared at you in disbelief.
“ I do care about you, sweetheart. But I don’t think a relationship is what you want right now.”
“ You don’t know what I want!” You stood up from the bed, aware that your naked and started to throw his things at him while he caught them almost falling over his feet.
“ Get out!” You shouted pointing to the window. He scrambled to his feet, eyes widen as he made his way to the window with you pushing him to it. He watched as tears ran down your cheeks.
“ Sweetheart-“ he started to say but you caught him off.
“ No, don’t you call me that! Get out!”
Once he left through the window you fell back into bed with tears feeling your heart in two. You believed for one moment that he really wanted you and was ready for a new start. You were ready to forgive him, only if he stayed away from Stephanie Peters.
But that wasn’t the case when your eyes met a sight that made you almost vomit right there and there. Eddie stood by Stephanie’s locker and she was giggling with her hand placed on his chest. His eyes met yours from the corner of his eye and he smirked seeing the look on your face.
“ Hey nerd face” Jason stood in front of you, “ my mom said something about inviting your mom for dinner or something. So I’ll see you later” he grumbled while Chrissy bounced over, throwing her arms around you.
“ Good morning” she greeted you but you stood frozen staring at the scene in front of you. Jason’s eyes falls onto Eddie with Stephanie and he groans.
“ You know you can do better dork face, how about a date with Andy?” He grabs onto your shoulder leading you to your locker as your feet tried to plant themselves from letting him push you.
“ No thanks, Carver. I’ve got a date” this wasn’t unheard by Eddie as you walked past him. He turned his head so fast that he didn’t think he even blinked. You already had a date?
“ Who’s the lucky guy?” Chrissy asked, nudging you.
“ Oh you don’t know him, maybe you do”
“ Tell us!” Chrissy gushed, jumping on her feet.
“ Steve Harrington” and just like that Eddie’s blood boiled and he stomped away from Stephanie to his locker. He walked past you and his eyes locked with yours.
pairings: aaron hotchner x reader, sort of spencer reid x reader
summary: after aaron’s rejection, you enlist spencer’s help to make him jealous.
word count: 4.2k
warnings: reader putting on a naked show, airplane turbulence, reid calling reader out for daddy issues
a/n: accidentally put too much spencer in this whoops
You couldn’t take it anymore.
The tension between the two of you was so palpable you were practically choking on it. You couldn’t be alone in a room with him without resisting the urge to throw yourself at him. Even with others around, you still had to peel off your drenched panties when you got home and take a cold shower.
And you knew he felt the same, though he wasn’t as obvious about how it affected him. The team had commented how you were his soft spot, always assigning you to him on cases (when you were newer, you had brushed the thought aside, thinking he wanted to watch over you and evaluate your work), getting your favorite coffee every morning and even putting his jacket around you when you’d been soaked in lake water after catching the unsub.
So when you decided to take the leap and ask him if he wanted to have dinner, you weren’t expecting him to reject you so blatantly. Just a flat-out no. Didn’t even try cushioning the blow.
You still couldn’t erase his expression from your memories as he told you he didn’t like you in that way. Confused at the time, you had stood there dumbfounded by what he was saying. Walking out of his office and heading home was a blur and you wondered if you had imagined his previous actions.
Sitting on your couch with a bottle of wine in hand, you thought about your interactions. Surely you didn’t imagine the way he looked at you on those nights you stayed late to help him with paperwork? Or the way he had comforted you after an unsub had harassed you mercilessly during an interrogation. Or when you had to share that hotel room in Alaska and sleep in the same bed for “warmth.”
After an hour of watching The Wedding Date, you had got an idea that was so delusional it might work. Calling Spencer in the wee hours of the night had him pick up the phone after the second ring, concerned it was an emergency. In a way it was, and he had gotten to your apartment in record time.
He had barely knocked on the door when you swung it open, grabbing by the arm and practically dragging him and his Jesus haircut inside. Spencer raised an eyebrow at your excitement, glancing at the state of your apartment as you drag him to the couch.
“What’s going on? Why’d you need me to come at,” he checks his watch. “Eleven thirty-seven at night?”
You sighed, pushing him to sit on the couch and grabbing the remote. “I kind of asked Hotch out. And before you congratulate me for making the first move, he doesn’t feel the same and basically told me he found me ugly and disgusting.”
Spencer gave you a skeptical look. “He did not say that.”
“Whatever, it was implied,” you reply and Boy Genius gives out a snort at your dramatics. “Anyways, I was watching The Wedding Date when I got this idea … In the movie, this girl hires an escort to be her date to her sister’s wedding because her ex is going to be there. And I was thinking …”
“Go on.” he encourages.
Spencer was the only one to know about your crush on Aaron. The others, especially the girls, had a suspicion you did but Spencer was the one you spilled all your information to. Mostly because he was the first to catch you making eyes at your boss and the closest in age to you. He had listened to the details of your days with Aaron, sometimes debriefing you on how Aaron had interacted with you, the words he had said about you, or the way his body language gave him away. You had eaten up everything he had said in the hopes it had been true.
He was also the only one you could go to with this plan. Derek would’ve had you relayed all the details of your crush to him before agreeing and you didn’t want to tell him he had been right about your crush. You’d have rather died than have Derek Morgan know he was right. Spencer was sweet and attractive, and despite your taste for older men than the doctor, it would be believable considering how much time you spend with each other outside of work.
“I was thinking that we fake date to make Hotch jealous.” you finish, slightly grimacing at how stupid the plan was now that you said it out loud. Before Spencer could reply, you jumped in. “I know it probably won’t make him jealous considering he doesn’t like me that way but on the off chance that it does–I kind of want him to hurt a fraction of what I had tonight. And you probably think the plan is idiotic and pathetic–”
“Alright,” he said, cutting off your rambling. When you raise an eyebrow, he lifts a shoulder. “I don’t think it's idiotic or pathetic. I think we should do it.”
It took you a few seconds to process his words. “Really?”
Spencer nods, giving you a small smile. “Yes, I would do anything for you. Besides, it would be a good experiment and I love experiments.”
You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Of course you do.”
“So how is this fake dating thing going to work?”
You spend a good half hour talking about the parameters of the plan. Both of you had decided it was best to keep it subtle instead of announcing to the team you were “seeing” each other. Neither of you would confirm it and if asked, you’d redirect the topic somewhat noticeably so whoever had asked would be able to pick up on it.
Spencer surprised you when he came up with the idea for small touches and light flirting. When you had given him a look, he was quick to explain his idea. Obviously, you had to be affectionate towards each other in front of the team and especially Aaron, but not so much that it qualified as PDA.
The smart doctor had proposed small touches like lingering fingers, a hand on a shoulder (you pointed out you did this with him quite often and he argued it would only make more sense to keep doing it), hair ruffling (again you told him you’ve done this to him and he admitted he liked getting his hair played a certain way), and hand squeezes.
You waited for the shock on Spencer’s face when you wondered out loud if it was effective for you to “sneak” into his hotel room during a case and have a member of the team see you going into his room so they could relay what they saw to the others; instead, you were met with an intuitive hum of agreement.
By the time you’d gotten done with planning, it was ten minutes past midnight and Spencer was yawning every few minutes. And while his apartment was only about ten blocks from yours, you offered for him to stay the night with the promise to stop at his place before work for him to get a change of clothes. He accepted and both of you had fallen asleep in the living room while the credits of the movie played in the background.
In the morning, you came to the realization that the wine you had drank had caused you to oversleep, and keeping Spencer up past midnight had also caused him to wake up about half an hour later than usual. You slapped him awake with a pillow before rushing to get ready.
Spencer had been half asleep as he got in your car but after a near-death experience with a semi, he had woken up and clutched his seatbelt all the way to work. As you entered the building, you were rolling your eyes as he mumbled how you were more of a reckless driver than Derek–impossible–and how he feared for his life whenever you were in the driver’s seat.
As soon as you pushed through the glass doors, Emily noticed something different. You placed your stuff on your desk, plopping down on your chair when she sits on your desk, glancing between you and Spencer, eyebrows raised.
“Reid, are you wearing the same sweater from yesterday?” she questioned, and your ears perked up at her words.
Your eyes flicker to Spencer’s outfit. With your lateness, you weren’t able to stop at Spencer’s place and he had assured you he could change into something from his go bag. He was in the midst of picking up the duffel when Emily commented on his fashion sense. You gave him a look to play along but he was looking down at his outfit to notice.
He tilted his head, nodding. “Yeah, we woke up late this morning.”
You’ve never seen Emily’s head turn so fast–you were worried she had accidentally snapped her own neck. The brunette smirked at you before turning back to Spencer. “We?”
Spencer looked up, eyes finally meeting yours. His eyes flickered with recognition and took the opportunity to start your idea. His slight blush was the cherry on top. “What?”
Emily’s smirk grew, and she looked like a cat that swallowed a canary. She turned to you, giving you the look she’d make when a guy would flirt with you during a girl’s night out. “So … what’d you do last night?”
You couldn’t help but grin at her nosiness. “Work. Long, hard work.”
“Yeah, I bet.” she chuckled, side-eyeing Spencer. “The work definitely looks hard when you’re doing it.”
The water you sipped trickled out of your mouth at the innuendo, and you furiously wiped your chin. Emily cackled at her own joke, drawing JJ’s attention from nearby. You try to ignore her, gently pushing her off your desk, mumbling about having to do work, but it only makes her gasp for breath.
JJ sauntered over to your desk, curious at whatever made Emily cackle like the green witch from the Kansas movie. “What’s going on here?”
Emily leans over to whisper in her ear before pointing at Spencer who had taken his go-bag along with him to the bathroom. JJ adopts Emily’s smirk, sharing a look with the brunette before glancing between you and the men’s bathroom.
The blonde pulls up a chair next to yours, the girls surrounding your desks. JJ leans in close, grinning mad wildly at you. “I thought you liked Hotch, not Spence.”
You rolled your eyes, pretending to be annoyed by the whole thing while you smiled internally. “I don’t like either of them, beyond friends. … Stop looking at me like that!”
“Clearly you like Reid more than that if you guys spent the night together.” Emily wiggled her brows, earning another chuckle from JJ. She yelped at the small smack you gave her on the arm.
“We didn’t spend the night together.” you hissed, keeping your voice low. How you would’ve loved to show Rossi your performance right now after he commented you were a terrible liar. “We were doing paperwork together and we fell asleep because it was late and so we woke up late.”
The girls gave each other a look, nodding at you, clearly not believing the semi-lie you told. (Did it count as a lie if you told them the half-truth but in a way that was unconvincing?)
“Uh-huh.”
“Of course. It makes perfect sense.”
“Yeah, especially if you guys were up late. It’s only reasonable that he stayed the night.”
“Mm-hm. You guys were probably so tired you didn’t do anything before sleeping.”
The sarcasm was leaking from their voices, practically dripping on the floor. You didn’t know how to answer their cryptic responses, covering your smile with a hand. You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped your lips. Despite Aaron’s harsh rejection not even twelve hours ago, you were feeling better.
Thankfully, you were saved from coming up with a reply when Penelope came in the room with a case file in her hands, gesturing towards the briefing room. Unfortunately, JJ and Emily’s amusement was so obvious, Penelope was able to pick up on the brewing gossip from just the look on their smug faces.
You passed her on the way up the stairs, giving her a small smile as she stayed back to get the information from JJ and Emily. You rolled your eyes when you heard the technical analysis gasp, walking to the briefing room faster.
While you temporarily escaped Penelope’s wave of questions upon entering the briefing room, you were met with the presence of the man your bones–and pussy–ached for. You avoided looking in his general direction as you sat next to Derek.
He turned to you as the girls entered the room, smiling. “Damn Mama, you look tired. What’d you do last night?”
And as if on cue, Spencer sat down in the empty chair on the other side of you, causing Emily to burst out laughing. The guys turned to look at her, confused by her reaction to Spencer’s timed action. She waved away their confusion, hiding behind her iPad, pretending to study the case all the while her shoulders shook from silent laughter.
Penelope had her eyes set on you and Spencer, giving you a look that read she wanted all the details directly from you. Saving you from having to explain Emily’s reaction, Penelope started the briefing, pulling everyone’s attention from you and Spencer to the serial killer running around Los Angeles.
It was easy to ignore Aaron’s stares through the briefing, too focused on the case details to give him attention but that couldn’t be said on the plane, especially when he walked up behind you on the steps. Your eyes met his and it felt like your nerves told your brain it was a fight or flight situation, causing you to internally panic.
You more or so sprinted up steps and into the plane, inadvertently sitting down next to the man half your coworkers suspected you were hooking up with. While it wasn’t unusual for you to sit next to anyone on the team, your normal spot had been right beside Aaron, the window seat while he took up the aisle seat. So accidentally sitting next to Spencer had caused Emily and JJ to share a glance with each other.
After Aaron had given the team details on what they were supposed to do–thankfully he had partnered you up with Rossi instead of himself–your phone buzzed relentlessly as Penelope texted you asking for details about your new paramour. Said paramour was peeking over your shoulder to read the numerous Penelope had sent.
After a second of them being left unanswered, she called you, her name popping up on your phone. You playfully glared at Emily and JJ before getting up and answering the call.
“Yes, baby girl?” you cooed, pushing the curtains aside to get a cup of coffee. “What can I help you with?”
“You and Reid?!” her voice was so loud you flinched as it hit your eardrum. “I thought you liked Hotch!”
“I don’t like either of them.” you sighed, heart pounding at the lie. Even just hearing his name had caused your body to tense, and you were sure there was a patch of wetness on your underwear. “And Spence and I are just friends.”
“JJ told me you guys spent the night together,” she replied, and you could practically hear her brain cogs working overtime. “As in doing intimate, not-suitable-for-work stuff.”
“No funny business, I swear,” you mutter, hissing when you spill coffee on yourself.
“Please don’t lie to me,” begged Penelope. “You can tell me anything, you know that. And you don’t have to be ashamed that you like Spencer, he’s cute in a nerdy way! You guys would make a great couple–”
Spencer pushed through the curtains, and it was as if Penelope sensed him through the phone because she went silent. Boy genius reached over you to grab a plastic cup from the counter, pouring his own coffee.
“Is that Garcia?” he asked, motioning to the phone. You nodded, smiling at the nearly inaudible hitch of Penelope’s breath. He chuckled, moving a tad closer to the speaker. “Hi, Garcia.”
Before she could reply, you intervened. “Bye Pen.”
You hung up, sighing. Taking a sip of coffee, you leaned against the small counter. “Not gonna lie, I didn’t think our plan would progress so fast. Do you think it makes it look less believable?”
“I don’t think so. If anything, it just made it more so,” said Spencer, mirroring your actions. “It’s very realistic friends would hook up when the situation pushes them to like working late nights, watching movies, or going to chess tournaments together.”
Giving him a blank look, you slurped your coffee rather loudly.
He cleared his throat, feeling awkward. “Anyways, the only thing people may not believe is that I was able to … get you.”
“That’s insane. Why don’t you think you could pull me?”
Spencer blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just that I’m me and you’re … you. It’s kind of obvious you’re out of my league. I mean you’re very pretty and you could get any guy and honestly, I find it hard to believe Hotch would turn you down–”
You grinned, interrupting his rambling. “Aww, Spence, you’re so sweet. But you underestimate yourself. You’re very cute and if I wasn’t attracted to men twenty years older than me, then I would’ve gone for you.”
“Have you ever wondered if your attraction to much older men is caused by your daddy issues?” he blurted.
The plane lurched to the side, bringing Spencer to pin you against the counter, a hand placed on the counter to keep himself from falling right into you as the plane stabilized. Fortunately, Spencer’s coffee had spilled on the floor instead of either of you. Unfortunately (or fortunately), Aaron had chosen that moment to walk into your little space.
You and Spencer freeze in place as your boss–and the object of your desires–catches you in a position that would’ve had Penelope screaming from excitement. Spencer's free hand was on the counter, trapping you in between. His torso touched yours, your breast pressing up against his chest and your right hand was on his shoulder to stop him from crushing you during the turbulence.
Aaron’s eyes narrowed at the contact and the lack of space between you and Spencer. Both of you immediately sprung into action, Spencer taking a step back while you slid to your left, trying to put more space between you both.
While you were internally celebrating Aaron’s almost-jealous expression, you were more embarrassed at what he must be thinking. You didn’t plan to be so outward with Spencer, after all, you both agreed on only subtle touches, not pressed up against each other in a public space.
“Are you two alright?” Aaron questioned, eyes darting between you and Spencer.
You didn’t want to be delusional and lie to yourself but the vein on Aaron’s neck was bulging, a thing that only happened when he felt stressed or angry. You must’ve smiled subconsciously because he stared at you, brows furrowed.
“Yeah, the turbulence just caught us by surprise,” you reply, motioning to the coffee-stained floor. You stepped around him, shoulder brushing up against his arm. The curtains parted and you backed out. “I’m gonna head back.”
You don’t miss the way his eyes linger as you walk back.
By the time you head back to the hotel, you’re grumpy and sticky from sweat. Throughout the day, everyone has heard you moan and groan about the heat. By now, the team has figured out you’d rather freeze to death than heat.
The AC at the police station could only do so much when the temperature outside was over one hundred degrees. Rossi fanning you while you checked out the crime scene hadn’t helped and when you got back to the station, you begged Aaron to let you stay inside, breaking that awkward tension between the both of you through your hatred of heat.
Not that the tension hadn’t grown whenever Spencer and you were in the same room. Aaron would send him out to look at the body or interview close friends but as soon as he came back to the station, Aaron would find some excuse to send him back out, not giving you two the opportunity to work the plan. Not that you cared that much, you were too busy melting.
When everyone got to the hotel, Aaron held out four keys, and the team groaned. You’d have to share.
JJ snatched a key from Aaron’s hand. “Me and Em will share.”
“I’m not sharing a room with Reid, again,” Derek announced, crossing his arms. A confused Spencer tilted his head at him, a little hurt at the comment.
JJ smiled, handing Spencer a key. “Spencer can share with his friend.”
You glared at JJ, and she threw you another smug smile. Emily snorted, faking a cough when Rossi turned to look at her. Turning to Spencer, you nodded. “Yeah, we can share.”
“Actually,” objected Aaron, eyes never leaving you. “It’s Reid’s turn to have a room to himself.”
Derek looked at him, confused. “No, it isn’t. He had a room to himself in Alaska, it’s my turn actually–”
“Morgan, you can share with Rossi,” Aaron said with finality, giving him a key. He looked at you once again. “I’ll share a room with you.”
You knew the plan had worked but you were too exhausted and sticky to be happy about it. Not that you hadn’t wanted to share a room with him again, but all you could think about was taking a cold shower and hopefully freezing your entire body to the point where you stay cold all throughout the case.
The team dispersed. Aaron and your room was on the third floor while the rest stayed on the first. He carried your duffel bag, and you didn’t bother fighting him like you usually had. The elevator ride up was awkward and you wished he could make up his mind on whether he wanted you or not.
As soon as he unlocked the door, you rushed into the bathroom and turned on the shower, setting the temperature to cold. You snatched your bag from his shoulder and ran back to the bathroom, peeling off your work clothes. A moan slips out as the cold water hits your skin, and for the entirety of the shower, you forget about the man behind the door.
Exiting the shower, you notice you haven't shut the bathroom door completely. The tiny crack allowed you to see Aaron sitting at the table, staring at the file in front of him. If you could see him, he could probably see you.
This is fucking crazy.
Maybe it was a breeze from the vent or maybe you mastered some form of telekinesis but the door cracked open further, about four inches wide now. You don’t make a move to close it.
Heart pounding, you dry yourself, turning away from the door as you bend over to dry your legs. The vent was the only noise you hear as you do so. You’re about to cave and shut the door but you feel eyes on you as you stand up straight.
You don’t turn around. Confidence grows as you take your time drying your hair with the towel, sometimes running a hand through it to separate the wet and semi-dry strands. The reality of the situation finally dawns on you when you squeeze the remaining water out of your hair.
Growing wet at the thought of Aaron watching you, nakedly drying yourself, you can’t help but give him a small peek at what he was missing. You turn around, enough so he could see a glimpse of your pussy. No, you don’t look in his direction, but you can see him staring from your peripherals.
The door had cracked open further since you last saw it. There was no doubt he saw every inch of your backside as you hadn’t wrapped the towel around you once.
You let your hands squeeze your breasts once before bending down to grab a t-shirt from your go bag. It’s oversize, the hem falling just below your ass. Putting a pair of red panties on, you remember how much Aaron likes the color.
Once you’re done, you zipped up your bag and looked in the mirror. It’s obvious how free your breasts are under the shirt, your nipples peeking from the thin material. Reading the words on the shirt, you realize it was one of Spencer’s. You remember stealing it from his duffel after swimming into the lake to save an unsub.
Your lips twitched into a smirk. Opening the door, you were met with Aaron’s unrelenting stare, eyes drifting up and down your body. Not giving him the satisfaction, you ignore him, dropping your bag on your bed.
Wait.
Looking around the room, you notice just one bed.
Shit.
In your distracted haze about the one-bed problem, you failed to notice Aaron moving. A hand gripped your waist tightly, pulling you back towards a hard chest. You freeze, glancing behind you to see a heated Aaron. His lips graze your ear.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?”
Summary: Trapped in the Upside Down, Steve is prepared to die alone until he finds you hurt and in need of help. Doing your best to survive while the world catches fire, is there time for one more chapter in your story?
Adapted from As The World Burns by @myeuphoricmindset
TW: FemReader, Angst WC: 4221 Masterlist Here
The loud hiss in your ears drags you back to awareness from the depths of peaceful blackness. There is something off about the air you’re breathing. It’s cold and dry and leaves a plastic taste in your mouth, so different from the smoke.
The smoke.
Your eyes fly open as you bolt upright, only to have a hand on your shoulder force you back onto the bed.
“Steve!” Your cry is muffled by the mask covering your nose and mouth, forcing oxygen into your lungs. “Steve,” you try again, tears blurring your vision.
“He’s alright. It’s okay. You’re both safe.” A tall man in a tan uniform is holding you against the bed. “Easy now, kid. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
There’s a dull ache where the IV pulls the skin of your wrist and a tightness where your arm has been stitched and bandaged. The stern look on his face doesn’t hide the kindness in his eyes.
The whooshing sound of metal on metal accompanies the curtains surrounding your bed being drawn back.
“Ah, good. She’s awake,” says a shorter man dressed in green scrubs and a white lab coat. “I’m Dr. Timmons, but everyone around here just calls me Doc.” He picks up the chart hanging from the end of your bed as a nurse pushes past him, moving to your side.
“Just a minute, and we’ll get that off you, sweetheart,” she soothes, replacing the oxygen mask with tubing that fits into your nose and wraps around each ear. “There, that’s better,” she says, satisfied, continuing on to check the bag of fluid that’s connected to your IV.
The police officer stepped back a few paces to give the nurse room to work and now stands with his arms crossed over his chest, watching the doctor with a blank expression.
“You came to us in quite a state,” the doctor says, looking up from the chart. “Can you tell us what happened to you?”
“She doesn’t need to go into all that, doc,” the policeman interrupts, “It’s just like the boy said - they were exploring a cave when the earthquake hit and got trapped inside.”
“I know that’s what you sa-”
“She’s not going to tell you any different. Isn’t that right, kid?” The policeman asks without taking his eyes off the doctor.
“Yeah, that’s right,” you say with a strained voice, becoming aware of the burning in your throat, “Can I have some water, please?”
“I’ll get that for you, sweetie,” the nurse says, pulling the curtain and walking out into the busy ER.
“Look, Hopper, her injuries contradict that story. I’m gonna need some more answers here,” Dr. Timmons’ tone has changed, clearly frustrated by being given the runaround.
“We’ve got people looking into it,” Hopper assures, crowding into the doctor’s space, “The kids are back safe and sound. You don’t need the hassle of filling out all that paperwork. You just get her all fixed up, doc. Let me handle the rest.” He takes another step closer and lowers his voice, “Just like I did after you tied one on at hideaway and decided to get behind the wheel.”
The doctor blanches, his face taking on a deep shade of plum. “Fine. We’ll do it your way, Hopper, but I’m admitting her.” He slams your chart into the hook at the end of your bed and points at you. “You’re staying put until your blood oxygen is over 95. You got that?”
Moving your head up and down you mumble a ‘yes’ before the doctor turns back to Hopper. “I’m going to go do my job if that’s alright with you.”
“By all means,” Hopper says with a wave of his hand as Dr. Timmons angrily pulls back the curtain, almost crashing into the nurse that had come back with some water. Hopper takes it from her and shuts the curtains behind them.
“You did good, kid.” He hands you the plastic cup with the straw.
“Please, I need to see Steve.” Your eyes sting as they fill with tears. You have to see that he’s okay, that this is real. That it was all real.
“He’ll be right back, I promise,” He says, trying to soothe you. “He wants to see you, too. That dummy wouldn’t get looked at until he knew you were okay. Nancy had to drag him away to get his hand stitched up.”
Nancy.
“Look, I know you two have been through hell, but I’m going to need you to do me a favor and keep all this to yourself, okay?” He waits for you to nod your head. “I’ll explain more to you when you’re out of here, but staying quiet for now is safer for everyone.”
“I–” You’re cut off when the curtain opens, and you’re met with Steve’s bloodshot eyes. Ashes cling to the strands of his hair. His face is streaked with soot and blood. The only clean spot surrounds the bandage covering his temple, but he’s still the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. The relief you feel pushes the tears over your lash line, leaving black drops on the white sheet as they run down your face.
“She’s awake,” Hopper points out the obvious, breaking the silent connection between you and Steve.
“I noticed,” Steve says, shooting Hopper a look before returning his attention to you, “Are you okay?”
It’s then you notice the petite brunette at his side. Her caramel curls swirl around her questioning blue eyes as she looks back and forth between you and Steve.
“I’m Nancy,” she introduces herself before you can answer him, her tiny hand winding around his elbow.
So this is her. A low pain travels from your gut to your chest. “Hi,” you address her with a forced smile. “I’m alright,” your eyes bounce back to Steve’s, “Just a little smokey.” You place a hand over your burning throat.
The screech of the curtain cuts off any further conversation.
“Goodness,” the nurse says, clutching a small stack of papers to her chest, “You kids aren’t supposed to be in here. We made an exception for Chief Hopper.” She pulls your chart from the end of the bed to add the paperwork. “We have a room already for you upstairs.” She squeezes between Hopper and your bed to unhook you from the monitors.
“They’re keeping me overnight,” you explain to Steve, who opens his mouth to protest.
“She needs some oxygen, Harrington. She’ll be alright,” Hopper reassures him.
“That’s right, and you, sir, should be going home to rest,” the nurse says to Steve, “Concussions are nothing to be taken lightly.
Looking toward Steve, you suck in a breath. He’s hurt, and you’ll be apart. Anxiety directs your hand, sliding across the bed in his direction, but he’s just out of reach.
“Maybe I should stay with her..” Steve hedges, placing his good hand on the bed inches from yours.
“Come on, Steve,” Nancy says, covering his hand with her own and pulling it away from you along with his attention, “She’s a grown woman. She doesn’t need you to protect her.” She rolls her eyes with a dismissive laugh. “Besides, you need someone to keep waking you up. You can come home with me, okay?” Her question comes out almost shyly, looking up at him from under her lashes. As his hand tightens around hers, you realize you were right all along. Everything does happen for a reason.
He promises he’ll be back first thing in the morning before leaving with her hand in his. As you’re wheeled to your room, you see him enveloped in a hug by a group of young teens, Nancy’s hand running up and down his back. A peace settles over you, blanketing your pain. Everything is as it should be.
The sheets and blankets on your hospital bed are dry and warm, but you still can feel the cold. The nurses helped you clean up and got you something warm to eat. Despite your exhaustion, you still can't fall asleep. You've been lying on your side facing the window ever since they left you alone. The cracked top of the library's clock tower interrupts your view of the blue sky and drifting white clouds. Colors you hadn't expected to see again.
If you stand, you might be able to see the closed seam of the gate you fell through, now nothing more than a scar on this town that will soon heal and be forgotten. You may not be as lucky. Some wounds are just too deep. With all the credit you give fate, you can't imagine one so cruel that you're meant to survive losing Steve Harrington.
As the light fades, the sky is streaked with creamy tangerines and pinks, but when your eyes close, all you can see is red. It’s hard to remember that you should be grateful. You’re home, and you’re safe. This is what you wanted. He saved you. He gave that to you. He gave you everything. And you took, without thinking twice. There’s nothing more that you can ask from him. After everything he’s done for you, you can’t ask him to love you. Not when it means he’s giving up the one thing he’s always wanted–Her.
“Sweetie, why aren’t you resting?” The nurse has come in to change the bag of fluid attached to your IV. “Are you in pain?” She asks.
So much.
“Just a little,” you reply, “I’m just having trouble falling asleep.” Your eyes don’t stray from the darkening sky. Stars are just beginning to appear.
“Well, the good news is that your oxygen levels are looking normal. You’ll be going home in the morning.” She moves into your line of sight, and you force your lips into a tight smile.
“Do you want something to help you sleep?”
“Yes, please.”
She returns a few minutes later, injecting something into the line attached to your wrist. There's a burst of cold as the fluid enters your veins and your eyelids begin to droop. The chill at your back reminds you of his absence. One last truth echoes through your consciousness before you're dragged into the depths of sleep.
He was never really yours.
"He wanted to come himself," Hopper says from behind a pair of dark sunglasses, his eyes never straying from the road ahead as you bump along in his Chevy Blazer. The extended weather report for the week playing softly on the radio.
"I'm sure," you reply, watching the scenery of Hawkins blur by outside your window.
"Nancy was worried about him driving," he continues to try explaining why he is the one picking you up from the hospital instead of Steve.
"Of course. Makes sense." Your acceptance sounds contrived, even to your own ears. Seeing him will just make things harder, anyway. A new voice crackles from the radio, interrupting your thoughts.
"Two missing students have been found alive and well after being missing for several weeks after yet another earthquake rocked the small town of Haw-"
Hopper’s hand shoots down to twist the knob on the radio, tuning the static until he lands on a station playing Jim Croce.
“I hear the motel six is pretty nice. They've got a pool, right?”
“They did. It cracked during the earth–” you correct yourself, “Gate opening.”
"Perdue kept paying for your room while the search was on. So everything should be how you left it."
“Well, it's a pretty good school.”
He nods. “You're studying rocks, right?”
“Geology.”
“Same thing,” he says, turning onto Main Street. Traffic flows easily, most of the roadblocks have been taken down, and repairs to the buildings are already underway. “Are you ready to get back to it?”
“I don't know. Studying the mysteries of the earth doesn't seem that exciting once you've been trapped in another dimension.”
The noise that comes from him is somewhere between a grunt and a chuckle. “I see why he likes you.”
“Did you know where I was?” You ask as you pass by the library. It looks the same as you left it. Half of it rubble, a crack running up the clock-tower, a few dead vines still clinging to its side.
His mouth twists as he shakes his head. “When the gate closed, it sent the town back into chaos, and we were focused on getting Steve back. I didn’t know you were missing until the folks with your school reported it. I should have guessed.”
“He didn’t think you were coming,” you tell him, your voice turning quiet. The music is too soft for him not to have heard you, but he doesn’t react.
"Look, you seem like a smart girl. If Harrington has already filled you in, I don't suppose I need to tell you why it's important to keep this to yourself. I don't want the government here poking and prodding my daughter or Steve or the rest of them. It's for your safety as well as theirs. Can I count on you to do the right thing here?”
"I understand. Believe me, the last thing I want is any trouble. I won't say a word."
“I’ve been down there, ya know. A couple of times. I can only imagine what you had to do to survive.” His face gives nothing away as his wrist casually rests on top of the wheel, but his statement is more of a question, and this conversation isn’t going to end until he finds the answers he’s searching for.
“It wasn’t….” you trail off, shaking your head, “Steve kept us safe.”
“Never would’ve expected anything less from Harrington. That kid throws himself between danger and someone he cares about without thinking twice. He’s a lot like my daughter in that way.”
“Eleven?” You ask, putting the pieces together.
He nods, continuing his thoughts, "Those damn kids think he's a hero–"
"He is," you say matter-of-factly without any hesitation. After everything, you won't hear otherwise.
The man's lips twitch, rising at the corners before he turns his head and peers at you from over his glasses, "Hmm. Well, they all want to meet you, hear what happened," he says before turning his eyes back to the road. "Nancy insisted on waiting one more day to let you two get some rest. She can be a little um…intense." His head bobs, pleased with his choice of words. "Now, Steve. That kid decided that she was the one back in high school. Hasn't changed his mind even though she's broken his heart a few times since then," he looks over at you again, "Me? I'm not so convinced."
"Well, thanks for filling me in on that, Chief." You try to keep the sarcasm out of your voice as you move your head back toward the window.
"You can call me Hopper," amusement laces his tone, "And I thought you might like to know, is all."
“Why would I want to know that?”
“Look, kid, I’m not one to get involved in–"
Blowing out a breath of disbelief, you raise your eyebrows at him.
"Okay. Maybe I am. Harrington reminds me a little of myself at that age, and I'm just trying to save the kid some misery."
“You must be a good cop, Hopper. Do people always tell you what you want to know?”
“One way or another,” he says with a sly smile, pulling into the motel parking lot. He kills the engine and pulls a blue and red keychain from his pocket. He drops the subject moving on to the next item on his agenda. “I already stopped at the office and got your key, so you can go on in and rest. I’ll pick you up tomorrow around one and bring you to meet the others. If you get reporters calling you, remember what we talked about."
“Thanks for the ride, Hopper. Don’t worry, I won’t forget.” Not any of it.
Your key sticks in the lock, and you apply a little pressure with your hip, forgetting about your stitches, until your arm bumps the door, sending pain shooting through your arm. Dust motes rise into the stale smelling air as you push into the small room. As Hopper said, everything is just as you left it. Every surface is covered with maps and books. Stacks of samples packed into boxes sitting on the floor. Extra climbing equipment and your open suitcase overflowing with clothes take up all the space on the extra bed. Having requested no housekeeping, the bed you last slept in remains unmade. An indent from your head is still clearly visible on your pillow. It’s all yours, but none of it feels familiar, like it all belongs to someone else-a girl you used to know.
“Thanks, Caroline. Yeah, there’s somebody at the door.”
“Just a minute,” you call with your hand over the phone receiver when another knock sounds from the other side of your door.
“Sorry. I don’t know,” you say, continuing your phone call, “Yup, I will. See you tomorrow. 10:30. Okay, Bye.”
Getting up from the bed, you pull your arms through the sleeves of an old cardigan to fight off the chill from the night air, your hair still damp from the shower. “Who is it?” You ask, looking through the peephole.
“Steve,” the reply comes at the same time you catch sight of the familiar chestnut hair.
The sound of his voice sends a dozen different emotions buzzing under your skin as your nervous fingers work open the lock. Taking a deep breath, you swing open the door, but the sight of him steals all the air away. Freshly shaven, hair perfectly styled, wearing a mustard-colored sweatshirt with an expensive-looking watch strapped to his wrist. His eyes lock with yours and you're alone together for the first time since the Upside-Down.
“Are you going to let me in?” He asks when the silence has stretched out between you.
“Yeah. Of course,” you say, backing into your room, “I’m sorry.”
He moves inside, closing the door behind him. As if it’s a habit, he steps closer to you, moving into your space. His arms rise like he plans on reaching for you, but his fists close around nothing before retreating into the pockets of his well-worn jeans. Sometimes you hate being right. He’s made his choice. Tugging at the ends of your cardigan, you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hold in the pieces of your broken heart.
"Do you want to sit?" You ask, nodding toward the spare bed with your packed suitcase on it.
“Sure,” he says, moving toward the bed. He takes a seat on the edge, wiping his hands along the worn denim of jean-covered thighs, long legs taking up most of the space between the two beds. Stepping over his legs, you pull up the rumpled bed covers before sitting opposite of him, wiggling your hands under your thighs so you won’t be tempted to touch him.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to be driving,” you blurt out a little too direct.
His face falls. “I’m not,” he replies, looking a bit sheepish, “Shit. I should have been there this morning. Nance con–”
“No, no. It’s fine. I can’t ask you for anything more, Steve,” you try reassuring him, but you know it’s not coming out right.
“Ask me?” His brows pull together in the middle, “You’ve never asked me for anything.”
“No. I just meant..” You shake your head, trying to clear away whatever this is between you that’s stopping you from connecting to him like you had before. “I just…are you okay? Does your head hurt?”
“No. Everything’s alright. Everyone is just overreacting. What about you? Your arm? Are you breathing okay?” This time he does reach out, his hand landing on your knee, the warmth of it almost feels like a burn.
“I’m fine,” you say, looking away from his hand, “I’ll just need to make a follow-up appointment in a few weeks at home.”
“Home?” His hand withdrawals to his own lap and looks over his shoulder at the suitcase behind him.
“Yeah, back to school. We both get our lives back, thanks to you. See, I was right. You did save me, Harrington,” you try keeping your tone light, a small smile on your mouth.
“I don’t know about that. I’m pretty sure we did it together.”
You can see he’s conflicted, not ready to face the truth that’s hanging over your heads, invisibly flashing like a neon sign-you don’t fit in with each other’s lives here.
“You’re still coming tomorrow, right? Everyone wants to meet you. Especially Henderson. That little shit keeps saying he needs to hear what happened from another person of science.” He quotes the title with his fingers fighting back a smile as he shakes his head, feigning annoyance, but it’s no secret how much he loves them all.
“I wish I could. I have to get back.” This is it. It’s time. “My friend from school is picking me up in the morning.”
“That soon? I could have driven you.” He frowns.
“Steve, you’ve got a life here. Your friends are waiting for you to come back to it.” And so do you, even if it’s going to feel different than the one you left behind. This has changed you. He has changed you. You love him enough not to take any more from him.
“They’ll understand. We’ve….we….I could stay with you for a few days.” He’s arguing, but you know deep down he knows it won’t work.
“Steve–”
“Until your stitches are out. Just to make sure you're okay.”
“And what would Nancy say about that?”
His mouth opens, but the words aren’t there.
“It's okay, Steve,” you give him a smile, “It’s okay. I'm glad she’s finally seeing you for the good man that you are.” The way I do. “You deserve that.”
“This doesn’t feel right,” he says, swallowing hard, a pained look on his face, “After everything…you and I….”
“We’re going to be alright.” Your voice cracks on the last word, but you don’t let your smile slip. He stands, reaching for your hand, pulling you into his chest. Your eyes close as your arms circle his waist, breathing him in for what might be the last time. His warmth surrounds you, fills you. It has you wishing you could bottle it. Take it with you. Let it tide you over until you feel this way again with someone else. It will never be him, but you have time now. He gave that to you. And with that time the memories will fade away, and you’ll be happy again.
“I meant every word I said,” he whispers against your ear. His fingers press tightly into your back like he might not let you go, and god, you don’t want him to.
“I know. Me too.” Your head tips back so he can see your face, and you hope he’ll remember this as truth. “You’ll always be my hero.”
He looks down at you, eyes shining before they close. His head dips until he can place a chaste kiss on your mouth, letting his lips linger long enough that you can memorize their soft feeling. His hand caresses your cheek, and he steps back. Without his touch tethering you, it feels like you might float away.
“I should go,” he says, his hands shoving back into his pockets, and you nod, ready to have this end.
“Please explain to Hopper for me,” you say, following him to the door.
“I will.” His hand turns the knob, opening your room to the cold night. Once his feet are over the threshold, he turns back toward you. “Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t go falling down any more rabbit holes.”
“I’ll try,“ you chuckle, “Stay safe. Let them take care of you for once.”
His eyes roll before he nods. “If you ever need me–”
“I know where to find you.” You grip the edge of the door to stop yourself from reaching for him.
“Okay.” His head bobs more as he looks down at his feet, a stubborn lock of hair falling over his forehead.
“Steve?”
He looks up, letting you get lost in the warm amber of his eyes one last time.
“Think about me sometimes, okay?”
“You don’t need to worry about that, honey,“ he says, lips turning up despite his sad eyes, “I’m always going to be thinking about you.”
The hollow ache in your chest spreads through your whole body, and tears escape, running hot over your skin. Before you can blink, his thumb is there, brushing them away.
“How about one more smile?”
“Yeah,” you sniff, swiping at your eyes quickly before putting all your love and hope for him into a smile, wanting him to take it with him.
“Bye, Steve.”
“Bye.”
His shoulders turn toward the parking lot and you close the door. Your tears fall unrestrained as you turn the bolt and slide the chain into place. Turning, you lean against the door and sink down to the floor, covering your face with both hands as you sob. Knowing that it was the right thing to let him go because only the right thing could be this hard.
AN: I decided to split to chapter it was just going to be too long. Besides, I made a really cute banner for the next part. So stay tuned Part 4 The Reason will coming soon. Thanks for reading and I'd love to hear what you think. xoxo -Jelly
older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap four/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday
Good Morning & Goodnight
summary: Your first night out with friends ends when Steve’s work day begins.
wc: 1.2k
warnings: 18+ series for future chapters, we’re a hot mess but Steve loves it.
authors note: It’s a shorty! I can’t believe we’re almost half way through. 🥹 this is a stepping stone chapter for the next one but it doesn’t mean that I didn’t at least give you something 😉
🌇 chapter one | chapter two | chapter three
The Masterlist/The Playlist/The tune:
Middle of June - 6:15am Monday Morning
Free drinks with your coworkers at the bar after close seemed like a great idea, until you were stumbling out of the club with a few of the other girls at dawn. Birds chirp loudly into the fuschia sky, mocking the hangover that was sure to hit as soon as your stomach processed the breakfast sandwich you ate on the train ride home.
The dull throb of your dehydration headache starts rearing its annoying head once you hit your street, your platform sandals dragging against the sidewalk. You can feel the way your eyeliner starts making your lashes stick with every slow sleepy blink of your eyes. Throat dry, all you can think of is your Brita in the fridge and how much you hope you refilled it last night.
“Howdy neigh- oh, honey.”
Your eyes widen when you hear the voice of the last person you want to see you like this. but you know there’s nowhere to hide when you reach your gate right as Steve’s leaving his. Meeting his gaze sheepishly, you can feel the heat rise up your neck and cheeks. You remember the blurry image of your smeared make up in the club bathroom mirror a few hours ago.
“Hi Steve.” You give him a small wave, embarrassment making you kick the sidewalk with the toe of your sandal.
“Fun night?” He smirks, pulling his Raybans on top of his head and pushing the hair out of his face. Specks of gray stand out on the sides in the fresh new light. His face is clean shaven, a crisp white dress shirt fitting tight across his chest, the outline of the tank top underneath visible. It brings you back to the way it clung to his muscles in your kitchen last week.
“Yeah, actually it was.” You use the last of your strength to form a smile, immediately wincing when you do and he has to stifle a laugh.
“I’m glad to hear it, although I do hope you don’t work today.” He reaches down adjusting the belt around his waist, before shoving a hand in his black dress slacks leaning against the gate with the other. His silver watch is just as shiny as his shoes.
“No I’m of -“ your voice cracks, making you clear your throat and suddenly the sun is extra bright. “No, I’m off today.”
“Good and please tell me you have ibuprofen up there?” Genuine worry paints his handsome features, he knew what a first Chicago hangover was like. It takes all of his will power not to work from home so he can check up on you the rest of the day.
“Yes, I’m not completely useless in taking care of myself you know?” You don’t mean for it to sound so snippy, but the hangover is getting the best of you and getting words out feels like knives to your skull.
His eyebrows raise, a little shocked before his face relaxes with a warm smile. A silent understanding.
“I didn’t mean it like that tough girl.” He straightens up with rosy cheeks.
“I’m sorry, that was rude. I’m just really tired and Ubers were like a million dollars -“ You can hear how your words start to shake, the lack of sleep finally catching up with you.
He steps forward on instinct, arms starting to outstretch in a hug, only to stop once his brain connects with the movements of his body. Maybe it was the little bit of alcohol still left in your system that makes you bold enough to meet him in the middle, but there is no turning back when your arms snake around his waist.
The muscles in his abdomen flex against your touch, and you feel him freeze up for a second before pulling you tight into his chest. The aftershave and cologne are overpowering against your senses, but you don’t care, inhaling deeply. He rubs a soothing palm down the dip of your spine with just enough pressure to make you sigh.
“I know, it feels like death,” he chuckles, “Go get some sleep okay honey?” His words come out soft against the top of your head before he gives the sides of your arms a squeeze pulling back just enough to see your face.
You want to kiss the two moles that sit side by side on his cheek, especially when he looks at you like this.
“Sorry for the dramatics at 6:30 in the morning.” You can’t help but giggle, brushing away the glitter that rubbed off onto his clean shirt.
The way he smiles with all his teeth tells you he could care less.
“Hey, you might not believe it but I used to have many nights like this way back when, alright?” He gets the eye roll that makes his whole day, and he has to resist the urge to pull you in for another hug.
“Suuuure grandpa,” you tease — his affection enough to make you feel like a functioning person even if just for a few minutes.
He scoffs with fake offense before he gives you one of those winks that makes you weak in the knees, and for a second you think he might kiss your forehead.
“Alright, I need to get to work and you need to go to bed. Don’t be a stranger if you need anything later okay?” He rubs up and down your arms before finally stepping back and you wish he’d just come lay with you.
You muster a nod before straightening out your wrinkled dress, shyness coming back when he slips his sunglasses back on. Why did he always have to look so good?
“Have fun at work, I promise I won’t die. I just need some water and a shower.” You try and wave off his worry as you make your way through your gate.
“You better not. Bandit would be very upset about losing his new best friend.” It’s his turn to get sheepish. “Me too.”
It doesn’t hurt when you smile this time.
“You have my word Steve.” You put your palm against your heart in a vow just for him.
“That’s my girl.” He grins, twirling his keys before catching them in hand, finally turning around to go to his car and leaving you a mess on your front steps.
That’s my girl.
The words play in your head on a loop while you shower, when you drink your bodyweight in water, and as you take enough ibuprofen to give you an ulcer. They haunt your dreams when your body gives into sleep and your headache finally subsides.
A loud knock on your front door wakes you from the kind of sleep that leaves you with a sore throat and a foggy brain. The sun is lower in the sky that shines through the crack of your new curtains, your clock reading 6:05 pm in glaring red letters when your eyes catch the time.
You can barely pick your feet off the ground when you shuffle to the door, a yawn loud enough to hear over the whir of the A/C. You unlatch the dead bolt, and when you open to see what’s on the other side, you’re reminded of his words from earlier that felt like a lifetime ago. They make you feel special again like they did at six in the morning despite the roll of your eyes, your lips twitch when you read the note that’s attached to the Doordash hangover cure from your handsome neighbor.
This is straight from the brain of the lovely @a-mended-pact and between her ideas and my writing I think we’ve created something pretty good here, I hope you think so too! At the moment I don’t know how many chapters this will be, ones listed below are the ones I have written.
Summary: Spencer Reid doesn’t believe in love, not after he watched the love of his life die in front of him.
Y/N doesn’t believe in happy endings, not after spending eleven years in an abusive relationship.
Both of them have had their hearts shattered beyond repair. But can two broken people make each other whole? Can Spencer and Y/N take the shards of their hearts and piece them together?
Stick and stones may break their bones, but can the right person heal a broken heart?
I request very politely, you better continue the camgirl story with all the smut there is or I'm suing 😫 Some proper thigh action would be nice 🤭
there's no thigh riding in this one, but it will happen i promise my darling, i owe you and i will deliver.
The Contract | Sugar Daddy!Aaron Hotchner
The Secrets We Keep (a Bunny and Clyde story) - Part Two
Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Aaron Hotchner x BAU/cam girl!Reader
Words: 5.6k
CW: 18+, mdni, nsfw.
Tags/warnings: D/s relationship, master!hotch x sub!reader, sex work (is real work), power imbalance/play, reader works at the bau and is a secret cam girl, hotch is a customer, pet names (bunny, sweet girl, good girl), (semi public) mutual masturbation, cum play, aftercare (is important istfg).
a/n: this fucking series and i...holy shit i cannot get enough of it. it's all i think about every day, i just can't stop thinking about them. my apologies to moments, it has been dethroned in my heart.
Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.
His lips were on you just as quickly as his hands.
It was overwhelming, your legs practically going numb as he pulled you into his room, all you could think to do was desperately try to deepen the kiss. He didn’t hold back, he couldn’t hold back, even if he wanted to, and thankfully you didn’t want that either.
You opened your mouth for him as his hands ran down your back to grab your ass, greedy, possessive, as if it had always belonged to him. He pulled you off the ground, maneuvering your legs to wrap around his waist. You obeyed without question, your legs holding onto him tightly as your arms hooked behind his neck.
It was a fervor of tongues clashing, teeth grazing, hands digging into soft skin. His finger nails dug harshly into your plush ass, eliciting a squeal from your throat. He groaned into the kiss in response, swiftly walking back towards the king size bed in his room and slamming you down on it.
You moaned into his mouth, the roughness only getting you going even more. He was sure he was living a dream, his heart beating so fast it was sure to explode. He pressed his body down over yours, enveloping you whole with his weight, keeping you trapped between him and the mattress.
It wasn’t that he thought you would escape, it was more that he didn’t even want to give you the option. You ground your hips into his crotch then, desperate hands trying to rip his shirt off his back.
He pulled back from the kiss, making sure to bite down on your bottom lip and tug as far as he was able before you tensed under him. Only then did he let go, swiftly pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere in the dark room.
You were panting hard, your ears were ringing, your chest and face were most definitely flushed crimson. You could feel him press his crotch into yours, hard, stiff, warm. So warm it almost made you melt into him.
Your hands immediately traced over his back, fingers gliding over every muscle, every ride, every dimple. His own returned to your body just as hungrily, his fingers gently tracing down your chin, your neck, your arms, your sides, before they made their home on your hips, squeezing them experimentally to gauge your reaction.
You hummed, running your own arms down his chest to pull him closer to you once more. This was everything, it was too much, having your boss so close, so warm against your core, so desperate and needy for you, just like user1102, was making your head feel dizzy with pleasure.
“Please, Master,” you whined. “I need—”
Your stomach growled loudly then, reminding you that you were actually starving.
You couldn’t help the giggle that erupted out of your mouth and into his, his own lips curling into a soft smile as he pressed them to yours one final time before he detached himself completely from your body.
You sat yourself up, eyes watching his every move like a hawk. He turned on the light, the faint glow from the one at the entrance of his room not enough as he now needed the entire room to be bathed in it, to sober him up enough to be able to restrain himself from taking you right then and there.
He turned to face you the second that it did, to fully take you in, to make sure that it hadn’t been a dream. You were still there, still panting softly, still looking at him with those round, expressive eyes he adored.
“When did you figure it out?” you asked him softly, clearly eager to fill the overwhelming silence that had taken over the room.
He walked over to the mini bar and poured a glass of water before he finally addressed you.
“I started to suspect the day you hit your foot at the office.”
Your eyes widened immediately, your cheeks flushing in response as you remembered that you’d seen him that same night…privately. You fell back on the bed, hands covering your face in embarrassment.
“No!” you whined. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
You felt him walk back over to the bed and sit on the other side, far away and yet incredibly close.
“I wasn’t sure,” he replied, gently nudging you to look at him.
You took a short, steadying breath before you let your hands slip away from your face, eyes finally adjusting and making out the glass of water and sandwich he’d bought for himself in his hands.
You smiled brightly, the prospect of Hotch, of your boss, of user1102 taking care of you, made your heart flutter. You got up to your knees, carefully taking the two items before you settled criss cross on the bed in front of him.
“What about now?” you asked him in between gulps of water, remembering all the other times he’d watched you drink it diligently after a particularly demanding scene. “What do you want now that you know?”
He took the glass back from you and placed it on the bedside table once it was empty. “Good girl,” the words spilled out of his mouth out of habit and you immediately stilled, the heat in your lower belly slowly starting to build back up.
He noticed your reaction, subtle and yet it made him feel like the most powerful person in the world.
“We shouldn’t,” he stated as a matter of fact. “Not right now.”
Your face immediately fell into a deep pout, almost unconsciously looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. He sighed deeply, looking down to break the spell you clearly had him under, his hands clutching onto the bed covers tightly.
“The things I want to do to you, sweet girl,” his voice was strained, hoarse, heavy on his chest. You were practically buzzing with anticipation, one second away from allowing your judgement to lapse and leap across the bed into his arms.
But you knew he was right. You knew you shouldn’t rush into this, as much as you trusted him, as much as you knew him, as much as he made your heart practically leap out of your chest with a simple glance.
You didn’t have a lot of time, your mind already racing with excuses to give Emily if you found her still awake when you got back to the room.
“I want,” he started, voice calm, collected, clear. “I want to be your Dom, bunny.”
He watched your reaction to his words like a hawk. Your entire body tensed, all the memories of your encounters over the past few months crashing down on you like a tidal wave. Only you weren’t drowning, but rather being filled with so much air it was overwhelming.
Your gaze met his, the rest of his face devoid of any emotion, and yet his green eyes were overflowing with them. He was terrified, positively horror-stricken about how you may react, about losing not only your friendship but also the outlet of release he’d grown to depend on.
But instead, you just beamed at him. You threw your things on the mattress before you shot back up to your knees and shuffled across the bed towards him.
He let you, his heart going so fast he couldn’t feel his arms or legs. You sat yourself over his lap, arms wrapping around his neck again before your lips were on his. It was a soft kiss, so soft he almost thought it hadn’t happened. But then it did again, and again, and again, and again, and soon enough you were devouring him in the sweetest kisses he’d ever experienced.
His heart swelled, his hands shooting up to wrap around your back, pressing you tightly against him once more. “Is that a yes?”
“Enthusiastically,” you smiled before leaning back down to place another kiss on his now puffy lips.
And just like that, he had everything.
You returned to your room soon after, sandwich in hand and dizzy with happiness. He’d asked you to text him when you made it back, a small test to gage just how enthusiastic you were about this, and you hadn’t disappointed him, going as far as to reassure him that you really, really, really wanted this.
Aaron couldn’t sleep that night, he couldn’t get his mind to stop racing, his heart to calm down, his excitement to dwindle enough for him to even close his eyes. The adrenaline coursing through his veins was more powerful than after he’d run a marathon, and he needed to channel it into something or else he was going to go crazy.
He thought about touching himself, about relieving the ache in his crotch, but he’d told you not to even think about touching yourself, wanting to frustrate you just enough until the two of you entered an official agreement. And so he didn’t do it either, it was only fair.
Instead he sat himself at the small desk that came with the room and he wrote. He wrote everything he could think of, everything he wanted to do to you, how he wanted to take you, how he wanted to take care of you, how he wanted to punish you, how he wanted to dominate you.
He wrote until his alarm sounded and the sun started to fill the world outside in a faint warm glow. He wrote until Dave was knocking on his door to make sure he was alright. It was only then, when he’d finished writing everything, that he snapped back into reality, got himself ready for the day, and stepped out to meet the rest of the team.
He’d made sure to keep you as far away from him the entire day, not trusting himself to not linger, to not lose focus, to not give himself a single reason to take you in the precinct bathroom.
You had a suspect in custody by early afternoon, and he’d made sure to keep you in the precinct with Reid, where you were safe. He was sure you knew why he’d made the call, it was pretty obvious and would definitely be one of the things that the two of you had to discuss.
But it didn’t matter, at least not right now. You didn’t even think to disobey, didn’t even think about the fact that he was definitely doing this because of everything that had happened the night before, didn’t even begin to let the new dynamic between the two of you settle. You’d been distracted all day, desperately trying to not allow your feelings for him to show.
It was dark by the time you boarded the plane back to Quantico, everyone pretty much determined to get some rest before you made it back. The couch was the first to go, Morgan and Reid fighting over it like children until Morgan won out, immediately plopping down on it and turning his headphones on high.
Rossi and Spencer took up the single seats facing the bathroom and kitchen while Emily and JJ took up a double seater, leaving you and Aaron at the head of the plane alone. You sat next to the window by yourself, as far away from JJ and Emily as you could just in case he had other plans than sleeping.
It took everything in him to not sit down next to you right away, the action would’ve been too obvious with all the empty seats around. And so for the first twenty minutes of the flight, you sat alone, waiting, trying to distract yourself by looking out the window.
He’d been staring at you relentlessly, impatiently waiting for the plane to stabilize in the air before thinking about approaching. He’d sat himself down at the perfect angle to watch you, his laptop light being the only one illuminating the otherwise pitch black plane.
He’d been reading the contract again, making sure that whatever he’d written in his sleep deprived and incredibly horny state was actually coherent, and properly worded before sending it to you.
Once he was sure everyone else was asleep, once he made sure that everything was worded as clearly as possible since there was no need for any twisted legal jargon, once he made sure that he was calm and collected enough, he hit send and watched as your phone lit up on the table beside you.
Your attention was finally brought back to the room, your hand shakily picking up the device before you saw what he’d sent you. He’d been smart to send it to your encrypted chat instead of to your official email, but it didn’t make it any less daunting, the lines between you and Aaron, and bouncingbunny1 and user1102 officially blurring.
You didn’t even dare glance in his direction, terrified of what it would do to you when you caught a glimpse of just how pent up he was. Instead you opened the file and began reading.
To say he was thorough was an understatement. You knew Aaron never did things halfway, never did things without thinking them through, and he’d clearly been thinking about this for a while.
He’d confessed early on in your private sessions that he’d never done anything like this before, never demanded complete control over someone in the way that he wanted over you. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious, willing to put in the work and learn.
You’d spent the entire first month just learning each other’s limits, him learning yours and discovering his own. By the second month he was more confident, eager to try things he’d found, determined to start having fun after setting up the foundation of trust between the two of you.
You had been enthusiastic from the start, never actually having someone exert this amount of dominance over you before. Sure, you’d had a few partners who were rough and liked to sometimes use you in the way you truly craved, but it had never been like this. You’d never gotten to explore the lifestyle this fully, with rules and requirements and clauses in place to protect yourself and your partner.
By the third month you’d gotten into a very comfortable routine with user1102, knew what to expect from your sessions, and it was through that knowledge that you somehow became even more excited to meet with him.
But there was just so much you could do, so much he could do to keep things interesting, to fill the ache in your chest, to fill the ache in your core. Your fingers had quickly become not enough so you’d started to use toys, and after a while even that wasn’t enough. You wanted him, needed him, craved him, in the flesh, to do the things he’d been making you do to yourself.
There had been a particularly tough case few weeks back that had you aching and desperate. You’d made it back home worked up, almost as badly as the first time you’d met him, and all you could think about was needing to be fucked so hard you forgot your name.
You were so close to biting the bullet, so close to asking him to meet face to face, so close to begging for him to come use you. But you knew you shouldn’t, knew that no matter how much you trusted him, you’d never seen his face, didn’t even know his name, and that could’ve been disastrous.
You didn’t realize you’d started rubbing your thighs together until you accidentally tapped your clit against the rough hem of your underwear. Your mouth was watering, your chest was practically heaving, your eyes clouded in lust as you read through the list of kinks that he had so thoroughly provided.
It was long, from calmer ones like spanking to the rougher ones he’d told you he fantasized about like collars and leashes. He was so perfect, your kinks lining up so perfectly that it almost felt like he’d been made just for you…or maybe you’d been made just for him, for each other.
You knew he was watching you from across the aisle, knew he was making sure to catch every reaction, every thought, every time your breath hitched. He needed to see it all, needed to know that you were consenting enthusiastically every step of the way, because even an ounce of hesitation and he would put a stop to it immediately.
bouncingbunny1: Master?
You bit down on your lip as you watched him pick up his phone, his attention off you and back on you virtually exhilarating.
user1102: Yes, bunny?
bouncingbunny1: May I please please please please pretty please touch myself?
He fought the urge to slam his laptop and cross the aisle towards you. Instead he took a steadying breath, daring to look at you, your puppy eyes and disarming pout barely visible in the low light of your phone screen.
But the little that he saw was enough to make him lose it, to finally realize that it didn’t matter just how much he wanted to be in control of you, you would always be in control of him first. Whatever you wanted, he would give to you, and the thought didn’t scare him, instead it only made him want you more.
user1102: Go to the bathroom and wait for me in there.
He watched as you locked your phone, plunging you in darkness once more before you slid out of your seat and made your way to the back of the plane. He waited impatiently for a few minutes, the anticipation of what he was about to do, to make you do, to see, finally in the flesh, made his heart beat rise like bile up his throat.
He finally stood, slowly yet surely walking across the plane, carefully making sure that no one had woken up, that no one knew what was happening. He didn’t need the looks, didn’t need wandering eyes to put two and two together, wanted to keep this just between the two of you, the privacy you deserved to figure whatever this was out the most important thing in his mind.
He stood in front of the unlocked bathroom for a second, steadying himself, getting out of his head and allowing him to slip into the role he’d been dreaming of playing for so long.
The bathroom was barely big enough for two people, but he squeezed in there regardless, his back pressed to the door tightly so that he didn’t touch you. You were just as overwhelmed as he was, your chest rising and falling deeply, your eyes glossed over with desire, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt.
He smirked to himself, the knowledge that you had gone to the bathroom before you left the precinct and changed into a skirt because you knew some version of this exact thing would happen almost enough to make him want to deny you of the pleasure.
He wanted to keep this professional, like it had been every time he called. One last time for old time’s sake, one last time before you were both responsible about this and discussed everything that he’d just sent you, one last time before you signed your names on a piece of paper that made you his officially. Only then would he allow himself to touch you, to worship you, to give you everything you wanted.
“On the counter,” he told you, eager to put some space between the two of you.
He watched you like a hawk, starving eyes following every twitch, every breath, every movement diligently. Your brain processed his words and you stepped forward, jumping on the vanity and waiting patiently for his next command. It had been like this for a while, this understanding of each other, of receiving and accepting.
He moved to face you, so close to you, to your open legs, to where he desperately craved to be. And still far enough that you were starting to get desperate, needy, whiny with each second that his hands weren’t on you.
“Bunch your skirt around your waist,” he continued, his strong hand coming up to rest over his growing erection.
You did as he said, eyes never leaving his. Your hands shook over your sheer tights, almost eagerly hooking under them and pulling them down your legs. But you stopped yourself, returning your hand back to its place against the sink to hold you up.
“Good girl,” he praised, his hand squeezing himself through his pants. That’s when you caught onto his game, caught onto what he was going to ask you to do since that was exactly what you had asked after all. “You can take them off now.”
You’ve never taken off your tights faster. There was always an issue, always something they got hooked on or an area where they stuck to your skin. But tonight they slid off your legs without so much as a beat too late. You tossed them to the side hurriedly and were met with an amused chuckle from the man in front of you.
But as much as he was trying to appear calm and collected, his hand had tightened his movements, his grip on himself clearly eager as well.
“Fuck,” you whispered, clearly enjoying the sight, the sight that he’d never allowed you to see, the sight that you’ve been fantasizing about for months.
“Go ahead, make yourself cum, bunny,” he groaned, back pressing against the wall farther to hold himself up.
Your cheeks immediately flushed crimson, embarrassment washing over you in burning hot waves. It was silly, you knew that. You’d done that and so much more for him, because of him for months. He’s probably seen you in as many positions, with as many toys, cumming in just as many ways — and yet this is what got you.
Make yourself cum. Make yourself cum while your boss watched you, make yourself cum while user1102 touches himself, make yourself cum while Aaron held your stare in his and completely shattered whatever platonic friendship the two of you have built for the past year.
“Don’t get shy on me now, sweet girl,” he cooed, his hand stilling its movements as an incentive for you to start yours.
You took one final steadying breath before you plunged, damning every self conscious thought you had into the darkest pits of your brain.
Your left hand slid down your stomach, teasing, making him pay for what he’s doing to you, as you pulled your legs up on the vanity, knees bent towards your chest.
His eyes glimmered in the light of the bathroom, his mouth slowly hanging open in anticipation, practically salivating for you.
You pressed your back against the mirror as your fingers hooked into your panties, pulling the completely soaked material to the side, exposing your slick folds to him. You watched him eagerly as he took in a sharp breath, his eyes darting between yours and your heat.
He was quick to reward you, his own hands unbuckling his belt unbearably slow. Two could play at this game, but neither of you had the patience for it right now. Your right hand flew right to your pussy, fingers quickly tracing the length of your folds, gathering your wetness towards your clit.
You moaned, just for him, just to remind him of what he should be doing as well, and he wasted no time sliding his zipper down and greedily pulling his cock out of his underwear.
You forgot how to breathe for a second, your brain struggling to process what it was seeing. He was big, bigger than your fantasies had concocted, bigger than you ever though he could’ve been, bigger than you knew what to do with. He smirked at the attention, stepping forward to bring it back to his face.
“Spit in my hand, bunny,” he extended his open palm to you and you could’ve sworn your head had exploded.
It took you a second to decide what to do. Your right hand returned to your aching entrance, gathering as much of your arousal as you could before you slapped your slick covered fingers against his palm.
He groaned loudly, so much so that it made your walls clench around nothing as even more leaked out of you. Before he could pull back, you brought his hand forward. You gathered as much saliva as you could in your mouth before leaning forward, eyes staring up at him filled with innocence, and you let the spit fall through your pursed lips onto his hand, mixing with the rest of your juices.
“Oh bunny, you’re killing me,” he moaned, his now drenched hand wrapping around his cock swiftly.
You smiled up at him, prideful, filthy, lustful, before your hand returned to its previous motions. You focused your energy on your clit now, slow and tight circles, matching the pace he subconsciously set.
As much as Aaron had revered to watch you pleasure yourself through his screen, that had been nothing compared to the real deal, to having you displayed in front of him, to knowing that he could reach out and touch you if he wanted.
“Finger yourself with your other hand,” he said through gritted teeth, the roughness of his hand around his sensitive tip almost pushing him over the edge. But he wasn’t done, he didn’t want to be, at least not yet.
You did as he wanted, making sure to open your legs wider so that he could watch as your fingers slid in and out of you. He moaned then, the sound practically vibrating in tandem with the airplane around you, making you almost feel him all around you.
He picked up his pace, strokes becoming more and more aggressive as he encouraged you to do the same. He was close, you could tell, and it swelled your chest with pride.
Usually you had to hear him closely, listen for those grunts that always let you know he was getting there. But seeing how his jaw tensed, how his breathing strained, how his hand squeezed harder around himself — you could not take it, your own tension building.
He knew that reaction well. He’d seen you wear it many times before. Your fingers were curling meticulously against your g-spot, your other ones picking up their pace over your clit while your thighs began to close together, seeking to relieve the tension.
But what made it even sweeter was the way he could now see your desire plastered all over your face, like you were the easiest book he’d ever read.
You looked at him, pleading, a broken shell of the confident agent he’d gotten the chance to know, turned into the slut he knew you could be. He took another step forward, his erection unbelievably close to your entrance, one more step and his tip would be in you.
You let out a gasp, your gaze frozen on the minuscule distance between your bodies. You wanted him to move forward, needed him to fill you up and relief the ache inside of you. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t and you knew it well.
Even then, in your desperation, you admired his determination to do things the right way. You both needed release, both craved it desperately, but he was not about to jeopardize your future relationship, one that needed to be built on of trust and communication and respect, for a quickie in the jet’s bathroom.
“Cum for me, bunny,” he told you, his voice gruff. You whimpered, allowing yourself to tune into the wave and ride it until it exploded within you.
You moaned loudly, your fingers not letting up their movements as you rode out your orgasm. Your walls clenched around your fingers, a gush of wetness pouring out of you to coat them in your slick.
His own strokes stilled for a moment, watching you come undone, savoring the fruits of his labor, waiting for you to come down from your high. It was only when your fingers slid out of you and you stilled your moments completely that he returned to his own.
“Can I cum in your panties, sweet girl?” he asked, his words getting tangled up in the unholy sounds spilling out of him.
You were hazy, your mind desperately trying to hold onto reality, onto your wits, onto the sound of his voice because you were terrified that if you didn’t, this would all disappear into thin air, back into the dream that you’d had for so long.
“Yes,” you managed, your shaky hand lifting up the front of your panties so that he could spill his seed over you.
His movements became erratic then, strokes became tugs, and just as quickly as it had began, it ended. He fully stepped into your personal space, his other hand wrapping around your thigh to keep you in place as he emptied himself into the wet cotton of your panties.
Your slick mixed with his spend, hot and heavy on your skin, clearly meant to mark you as his. He moaned into your ear, low, unhinged, euphoric, and you couldn’t help but whimper in return.
You were so far gone, so little and malleable, so much so that you knew that whatever he asked you to do then, you’d do it without question. Your head fell on the crook of his neck, labored breaths filling the room as he gently unhooked your fingers from your underwear to place it back to cover you.
He couldn’t stop looking at the white substance seeping through your panties, the squishy and lewdly wetness against your skin making him excited to fill your pussy up until you were leaking him everywhere.
You stayed like that for a few minutes. He knew he couldn’t keep you like that, couldn’t ask you to walk back out there and act as though nothing had happened, couldn’t risk you getting a rash because of his own ego.
At some point he tucked himself back into his boxers, getting himself back to the pristine put together image that he always was. He waited until you’d calmed down a little more before he cupped your face with his hands, pulling you to look at him again.
“Bunny, I’m going to get you all cleaned up, alright?”
You nodded, eyes sleepily blinking shut longer and longer. He set you back against the mirror, grabbing one of the towels and wetting it before he gently ran it over your hands and the inside of your thighs.
He set the towel to the side before he hooked his index fingers in your panties, pulling them down your legs before tossing them into the sink. He cleaned your pussy gently, making sure to get every last bit of the two of you off your delicate skin.
Once he was done, he patted you dry with another towel, reaching over to where your tights had landed to pick them up. He got on his knees, a sight that had you perking up just enough to catch him staring up at you with so much adoration you honestly didn’t know what to do with it.
It took everything in you not to melt right into his tough, to stay awake enough even though his warm finger riding up your legs was enough to lull you to sleep. It was only when he needed to hoist your tights over your ass that he picked you up, placing you back down on your shaky legs.
“Can you do me one last favor, sweet girl?” he whispered and you did your best to nod. “Can you pee for me? I don’t want you getting a UTI.”
You sighed deeply, being diligent not something you were looking forward to in that moment. But you nodded again, and he rewarded you with a soft kiss to your temple before he stepped outside of the bathroom to give you some privacy.
Once you were done, he walked you back to his seat on the plane, not caring if anyone saw because he knew that even if they did, they wouldn’t say anything at all. He made sure you were comfortable, wrapped in a blanket, buckled into the seat for safety, before he made his way back to the bathroom.
He cleaned everything up, going through his own routine before he washed his hands, pocketed your still damp panties, and made sure nothing looked out of place. He then grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before making his way back to you.
He sat beside you, his hand softly grazing your cheek to wake you up long enough to press the bottle on your lips, silently urging you to drink.
You did without question, almost as if you’d done this all your life, the motion nothing more than routine, easy, normal.
“Master?” you whispered sweetly after he deemed you’d drank enough.
“Yes, bunny?”
“Can I have a kiss please?”
“Of course, sweet girl,” his nose tickled your own before his lips landed on yours, gentle, kind, perfect. You hummed against him, eyes closing for the final time before sleep overtook you.
He smiled proudly, his heart so full, so content, so excited for what the future had in store for the first time in a very long time. He watched you sleep the rest of the flight, watched you curl further into him, watched you reciprocate all of the feelings that had been plaguing him since the night before.
You wanted him just as much as he wanted you, and that was all he needed to lay the self-sabotage to bed, to allow himself to drift off to sleep, even if it was just for a few minutes so that he could fully take you in, because all he really needed was you curled into his side like you belonged there all along.
fucking hell i am oN MY KNEES for this man. honestly what a fucking jOY it is to write them.
send me more requests for bunny and clyde!! i don't really have a series planned for them so i'm down to just write requested scenarios and play around with where their story goes.
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Younger!Fem!Reader (college student)
Summary: You and Jack have been friends for two years when you start having hot dreams featuring his father. Unfortunately, Mr. Hotchner happens to be just your type...
Tags: age gap, daddy issues, migraines, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, implied daddy kink, daddy kink if you squint, praise kink, Jack isn't necessarily a good friend, trauma bonding in a way, masturbation, smut, fluff, etc.
Word count: 11.2k
A/N: I wanted to take a break from editing Vanilla Twilight by writing a short one-shot. The thing is, I don't know when to shut up... Anyway, this ask and this pic inspired me, and I opted to write an entire fic around them. I just really needed to write smut after all the fluff and angst these past few times. I hope you like this one!
Being Jack Hotchner's best friend had its perks.
For one, he was honest and kind, and he was simply different than the rest of the guys your age.
Honesty had always been at the core of your friendship, through your first two years of college, you’d not only found a friend in him, but a brother.
You weren’t sure he saw you as his sister, but you didn’t care. He was still your family.
You were the first person he came out to, and he was the first person to whom you had admitted you had major daddy issues (which you still believed had been caused by not having a father around growing up).
Considering your mother had punched out when you turned 18, Jack was without a doubt the most important person in your life even if you weren’t the most important person in his life.
But being Jack’s best friend was sometimes a curse.
A sharply dressed, tall, and broad man disguised as a curse, that is.
Jack had an incredibly handsome dad, and to make matters worse, Mr. Hotchner was exactly the type you went for when you needed company.
Jack knew you had slept around with older men, he knew what your type looked like, yet he had never once mentioned his dad fit that pattern to a T.
Of course, you knew Mr. Hotchner was off-limits. You’d never try anything, you’d never do anything to jeopardize your friendship with Jack. But you couldn’t help how your eyes lingered on Mr. Hotchner sometimes, and it didn’t hurt anyone to just look.
You could control yourself, but forbidden things always had an extra appeal to them, didn’t they?
It was why, very early on in your friendship, you had reached an unspoken agreement with yourself: You would never spend the night at Jack’s house and you would avoid being alone with Mr. Hotchner at all costs. Thus, when party season was in full effect, you never drank to make sure you could drive yourself home after dropping Jack off.
Ironically enough, Jack loved having you around even more during that time because since you didn’t drink when you went partying, you could always be the designated driver.
Tonight had been no different in that regard, but a recent breakup had made Jack miserable and he had ended up drinking way more than usual.
Bringing him home was something you were happy to do, and each time you did, Mr. Hotchner thanked you profusely for bringing Jack home safe.
Each time, you tried not to make a fool of yourself, and you smiled and left without adding anything.
Truth was, even tired beyond words, Mr. Hotchner was extremely handsome. He was so effortlessly beautiful that you didn't trust yourself not to say something incredibly stupid to his face, and thus you actively chose not to talk to him alone when you could avoid it.
Sure, you could engage in small talk when Jack was awake and responsive, but when he was nearly passed out drunk, you did your best to avoid Mr. Hotchner.
There was something about the way his eyes bore into you that you couldn’t deny you liked, but you often explained it away by reminding yourself that Mr. Hotchner looked at everyone like that, with intense fixed gazes that could remind you of every wrongdoing you had ever committed.
Nothing you had tried had ever stopped you from blushing when you felt his eyes on you, and your high-pitched nervous laugh was only deafened by you chewing your cheeks furiously each time Mr. Hotchner said something nice to you.
You were positive Mr. Hotchner already thought you were a nutcase, or at the very least, that you were too shy and awkward to function properly when you were around him.
So, whenever you could, you avoided him out of self-preservation.
You had had to start evading him more in the past weeks when recurring sex dreams featuring him had started invading your nights.
It didn’t help that you were convinced that he was a sex god walking on two delightfully long legs. It didn’t help that you were sure that he had two muscly thighs that surely showed how he ran every other morning.
You had seen Mr. Hotchner sweaty and breathless only once, with his chest heaving big breaths that drew your attention to how deliciously large he was, and you had risked a glance at his whole body, licking your lips at the sight of his hairy legs, instantly concluding that coming over to study before noon wasn’t going to happen again for the sake of your sanity.
From that day, you had started having torrid dreams about grinding down on his damp thighs, dreams which had startled you awake and kept you on the verge of climaxing. Each time, you had woken up too worked up to care, and you had brought yourself to orgasm with only a few flicks on your clit before you screamed his name into your pillow.
It wasn’t right, but it was the only thing that did it. You had tried thinking of other things, you had even tried watching porn, but nothing worked except thoughts of Jack’s dad.
While it was great to be living alone because it meant that whenever the urge was too strong, you could get yourself off, it also meant that you had absolutely no control or restraint since nothing satisfied your incessant hunger for him, since nothing could scratch that particular itch…
You had managed to break two magic wands in the past three months, so you never stayed home too long when you had nothing to do, too afraid you’d turn into a sex addict.
But then there were the other dreams you were having, dreams way scarier than having Mr. Hotchner get you off.
Those dreams, dreams in which you shared a whole life with Mr. Hotchner, were your favorite. Yet, they were also heartbreaking because once realization hit you, once your mind was clear enough, you knew it would never happen, that it could never happen, and that hurt you a little more every time.
You had had so many dreams in which domesticity was the norm, in which you danced around the kitchen to great tunes while cooking together, in which his arms wrapped around your waist as his chin rested on your shoulder, as he hummed and squeezed you into a tight embrace, as he turned you around to kiss your forehead before he told you how much he loved you.
Your longing for him had only intensified in the past weeks as vivid fantasies muddled your mind, and you had had to escape any situation where you would find yourself talking to Mr. Hotchner even when Jack was around just to make sure Mr. Hotchner wouldn’t suddenly realize that every waking thought you had included him.
Mr. Hotchner probably knew most of the signs of attraction. Having been a profiler for the greater part of his life before he got a steady desk job meant that he was talented at observing, and you knew for a fact that he was brilliant and astute. You often chose not to dwell on those facts, instead, you averted your gaze so he wouldn’t read behind your eyes, so he wouldn’t magically deduce how detailed your imagination could be, as if he could know from a quick glance how you had envisioned him around you in every possible position and scenario.
You focused on Jack in the backseat, his blond hair ruffled by the wind coming in through the cracked window. The car smelled like alcohol and bad decisions, and your heart dropped in your chest when you noticed Jack shaking, hearing choked sobs every few seconds.
Fortunately, while you attempted to find the right words, he slumped and grew quiet.
The way it usually went when you brought him home was, you got Jack inside with your spare key, you dropped him on his bed upstairs before you left without making a sound.
But Jack was way drunker than usual, and you weren’t sure you’d be able to make him walk up the stairs by yourself. He was in no state to get himself up the stairs either.
You tried to talk to him to gauge if you could shake him awake just enough to get him up the stairs once you reached his house, but he just muttered strings of syllables.
The closer you got to his house, the more you realized you’d need help bringing Jack upstairs.
He was still mumbling things that made no sense, and you admired how the car ride didn’t make him throw up because he made no effort to hold up his head as he slouched in the back seat.
You chastised yourself for not asking someone to tag along to help you with Jack because now you would have only one option, and you weren’t sure you wanted to wake him.
It didn’t matter what you wanted, though. Jack was your family. You’d do anything for him.
Reluctantly, you asked Siri to call Mr. Hotchner.
He picked up on the first ring and you were relieved that perhaps you hadn’t woken him up by calling at this hour.
“Hi, sweetheart. Is Jack okay?” he muttered sleepily.
Shit. Maybe you had woken him.
Mr. Hotchner often called you ‘sweetheart’ but at this time of night with a husky voice? If this wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever heard…
You berated yourself for being distracted, intently focusing on the road and what needed to be done.
“Hello, Mr. Hotchner. Yes, he is. He’s just too drunk for me to bring him upstairs. Can you come down and help?” you asked, keeping your voice as even as you could.
“Of course. ETA?”
You looked around as you put on the turn signal. “I’m turning on your street.”
“Good. Thank you.”
You hung up just in time to park, getting out of the car swiftly to try to bring a clingy Jack out of the backseat.
Mr. Hotchner joined you before you even noticed he was outside, and a hand on your shoulder made you move back from trying to pick up Jack.
“I got him. Just help me when we get to the stairs, okay?”
You nodded.
It was all you could do because the sight of Mr. Hotchner in pajama pants and a tee shirt was apparently enough to bring your cerebral functions to a halt.
You were unable to comprehend how his hand had even ended up on you and how you could still feel the imprint of his palm on your skin.
Mr. Hotchner grunted from the effort it took to pick up his son, and you did your best not to memorize the sound for later use.
You shut the car door and followed him inside, taking some of Jack’s weight off Mr. Hotchner’s shoulders as you both brought him up the stairs and into his room.
You removed Jack’s shoes as Mr. Hotchner brought the covers over his son’s frame, and you tried not to think about the fact that you made a great team to get Jack into bed so efficiently.
Mr. Hotchner placed a gentle hand on Jack’s shoulder, smiling a little at how unresponsive he was.
Clearly, he found the situation relatable and you wondered if Mr. Hotchner had ever been this drunk when he was Jack’s age.
You found it endearing to see how a good father could be so loving to his grown-up son, and even if it hurt that you had never gotten that, you still loved seeing it when it happened.
“Goodnight, bud.”
You didn’t want to intrude so you made your way out of the room just in time for Jack to mutter under his breath something that made you flinch and stop in your tracks. “I fucking hate you, Dad. It’s your fault Mom isn’t here.”
The room was dark, but the silver sheen of the moon glimmered enough that you could make out most of his frozen features. You saw Mr. Hotchner recoil and you heard his breath hitch.
It was fair to assume his face had probably contorted into a deep frown as you witnessed his arm going up, his palm meeting his forehead.
You knew the story. But you also knew Jack didn’t blame him. He never had. He had always said his father was his hero. You had heard him ramble on and on about how proud he was, and he had almost given you a formal presentation to celebrate him and every achievement of his. Every time he spoke about his dad, his eyes sparkled with joy, and getting to know more about how extraordinary Mr. Hotchner was had never helped lessen your deep-seated infatuation with him. If anything, it only magnified it.
So why was Jack saying this now when his dad had always been his role model?
Had he been lying to you this whole time?
You debated saying something, but in the end, you and Jack constantly called each other out on your bullshit or whenever you were out of line, and this time, he was clearly out of line.
For all Mr. Hotchner’s faults, you knew he was loving and present, and Jack shouldn’t take that for granted. You certainly wouldn’t.
“Jack, what the fuck?” you snapped. You clenched your jaw to abstain from scolding him, it wasn’t your place, but you wanted to bark at him to apologize.
The cold glow shone and lit the room just enough, making it easy to see how Mr. Hotchner’s shoulders dropped, and the silent shock that plagued the room made his bleak expression all the more distressing. Luckily, before you could question your next move, he turned his back so you couldn’t scrutinize how pain stained his gaze.
Jack turned towards you, baring his teeth. His glassy eyes and his jutting chin betrayed a rooted but still gaping wound, sadly mixed with an obscure and previously undisclosed fury. “This is a family matter. Leave,” he snarled.
Jack had never once said anything of the sort to you, and to have him belittle your importance so freely hurt you profoundly.
He was your family, but perhaps he was right, you weren’t his.
You left the room before your vision got too blurry to walk out, and you heard harsh whispered tones before you went down the stairs.
You wiped your eyes and were halfway out the door when a firm hand grasped your arm and brought you back inside swiftly.
Your face met a firm chest and you knew who it was before you could try to hide your tears, and you didn’t care about anything other than comfort right now.
It occurred to you that Mr. Hotchner was probably seeking some comfort too, after all, it couldn’t have been easy hearing his son tell him that.
Your arms encircled his softer middle section naturally, and you banished the thoughts that started to emerge. His tummy was a part of him you longed to cherish in your most lucid dreams, but it was unfair to bask in the sensation of his tall build covering yours because this was simply two sympathetic bruised souls engaging in friendliness.
You shut your eyes for a second, trying to breathe in and out, hoping the pain would subside.
“He didn’t mean any of it. He just gets like this sometimes,” he said softly.
You slightly moved away from the hug, still holding on but barely, aware it wasn’t appropriate for you to indulge too much.
You looked up into Mr. Hotchner’s eyes, and his distant stare and set jaw made your heart ache.
He was hurt. He was holding it together, but he was evidently tormented by trauma, and his tense stance wordlessly confirmed that some invisible wounds lurked and continued to run deep.
His gaze softened all at once as it met yours.
“He loves you. He always says you’re his hero. He even told me he never once blamed you for–”
A tentative hand came up to cradle your cheek, and a flick of his thumb picked up a few stray tears. “Sweetheart, even if he hates me, I’m his dad. I’m always going to love him.”
You forced a smile as tears welled up in your eyes.
You truly admired the father before you, and as much as you felt crushed that Jack didn’t consider you important, you could almost forgive him because it had led to this soothing closeness.
“Are you okay?” he fretted with genuine concern in his voice.
You suddenly realized how close he was, how he hadn’t loosened his hold on you when you had.
You could feel how strong he was every time he breathed, you could smell his aftershave and detergent, and a blaring thought reared its ugly head; his scent and his presence made you feel more at home than anything else ever had.
You couldn’t entertain that thought.
Not now, perhaps not ever.
You moved back, hugging yourself as a chill ran over you. “I’m fine.”
Mr. Hotchner frowned, but he didn’t push it.
Truth was, you weren’t emotionally equipped to deal with any of this.
Jack and Mr. Hotchner would have to be on the back burner for a few days, and you would have to go home to lick your wounds before you would even consider talking to Jack again.
You turned away, opting to leave before you did or said something stupid, but again, a firm hand grasped your arm before you could escape.
“You’re not driving anywhere at this hour and in this state,” he protested.
Fuck.
"I'm just going to sleep in the car," you explained, knowing it wouldn’t work but nonetheless hoping it would.
As if he sensed your discomfort, he released your arm and held his hands up in front of him.
"Just take my bed. I'll take the couch."
Sleeping in his bed? Sleeping where he slept? Sleeping where his scent would overwhelm you?
Considering how often you had dreams about him…
You knew danger zones. And this was one.
Hell, no.
"Oh, no. It's fine, Mr. Hotchner. The car seat reclines–"
He chuckled, startling you with the unexpected sound. "When are you going to stop calling me that? We’ve already talked about this. You make me feel old."
"You're not–"
A small lopsided grin graced his face, and the sight reassured you on the spot. “You can either stay the night or you can finally tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’m not–”
He quirked an eyebrow, and you should have known the profiler would notice you avoiding him at all costs when you used to talk to him a lot more, even if most of the time Jack was present, you still used to interact with him more frequently than you did now.
“It’s nothing you did,” you stressed.
He gave you a tight-lipped smile at that. "Come on. Get some rest. I'll wake you early in the morning if you really want to leave before Jack gets up."
You knew there was no saying no to him, so you nodded and made your way towards the stairs.
You knew where his room was because there weren't many rooms upstairs, and Jack had made you visit the entire house early on in your friendship.
"Goodnight," he breathed as you trodded up the stairs.
"Goodnight, Mr. Hotchner."
You walked into his room and looked down at yourself. Sure, a summer dress would be fine to sleep in, but if you closed the door and slept in your underwear, no one would know.
You discarded your dress before you lay down in the middle of the most comfortable bed you had ever been in.
You shut your eyes, smelling Mr. Hotchner all around you as you had a bit earlier.
It didn't take long for you to find restful sleep, and it took even less time for your mind to drift off to thoughts of Mr. Hotchner.
You were in the throes of the hottest sex dream you had ever had, so close to reaching your peak untouched as you woke up with a glaring pain behind your eyes and at the base of your skull.
Oh, shit.
You were no strangers to migraines. You had had them for years, but getting one when you were far away from your meds, and in someone else's home, someone else's bed...
Someone's bed.
Right.
You had just been dreaming about that particular someone going down on you.
Great.
You needed something for the pain and you knew where the ibuprofen was, so you tip-toed down the stairs, making your way to the main bathroom.
You were trying to look through stuff in the dark when the light was turned on, instantly stilling your movements.
"I'm just– I have a migraine," you stuttered before he could ask what you were doing in his medicine cabinet.
Mr. Hotchner wasn't frowning, and he didn't look unhappy you had woken him up in the middle of the night again, but as soon as you shared the reason why you were awake, he furrowed his brow with concern.
Then he looked up and down at you.
Shit. I'm in my underwear.
Mr. Hotchner raised an eyebrow as he smirked, removing his tee shirt and offering it to you so you could feel less naked.
His gaze made you feel more naked than anything you could wear or not wear.
He was such a gentleman that he gave you his shirt even if he was the one who ended up half-naked next to you.
Well, better him than me.
You put it on and Mr. Hotchner just waited until you cleared your throat to let his gaze fall back onto you.
You tried not to look at his bare chest or at the scars you knew were there.
You failed within seconds, but you had enough decency to make an effort to keep your eyes locked on his face.
"I'm sorry about your migraine, honey. What do you need?" he uttered in a soft hushed tone.
You shrugged, taking two pills from the bottle before looking away and down at your feet. "Cold compress? I don't know."
Mr. Hotchner offered you a glass of water before he moved around you to wet a cloth with cold water, and instead of giving it to you, he just took your hand and made his way to the couch.
He sat with you, facing you with his legs crossed. Somehow, he looked younger sitting like this, waiting for you to join him.
"Put your head here," he said, gesturing to his lap.
You had no idea what to do, but you were in pain and emotionally unstable, apart from being sleep-deprived, and you would never turn down an opportunity to be close to him under those conditions because your judgement was certainly impaired.
You lay down your head in his lap, looking up at him looking down at you.
He placed the cold compress on your forehead, making you sigh in relief as your eyes fluttered close. Gentle hands started massaging the back of your neck, your temples, and your scalp, making you shudder as he pressed on spots where the pain stabbed and blinded you.
For his apparent rough exterior, Mr. Hotchner had a very tender touch, and you wondered in what world it was okay for you to know that.
"How's that?" he pondered.
Your tense shoulders went limp as you relaxed even more, his fingertips rubbing your nape expertly. "Really good," you purred.
You were at his mercy, lax and drowsing in his lap unashamedly.
“I used to get migraines and tension headaches at your age. You know, law school was– I used to be permanently stressed out, living my life on high alert.”
“You?”
“Yes. Why is that so surprising?” he asked.
You opened your eyes to meet his, watching him wait for an answer.
“Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Hotchner, but you just look like the kind of person who has it under control all the time,” you stated.
He looked pensive for a split second, but he resumed massaging your temples, removing the cloth and folding it the other way around before putting it back on your skin. He was apparently making sure it remained somewhat cold enough to provide relief. It was a small thing really, but it spoke volumes that he cared enough to do that.
“Not all the time–” he said calmly. “Anyway, I wished I had someone take care of me when I was– and I didn’t so…”
What about your wife?
You let that go as soon as it echoed around in your head. It wasn’t any of your business why Mrs. Hotchner didn’t take care of him when he wasn’t feeling well.
To be fair, you’d always thought marriage was about finding someone you wanted to take care of. Someone for whom you’d cook soup, someone whose tummy you wanted to rub, someone to hold, someone to pet your forehead when you’re feverish. But that was perhaps the daddy issues talking.
He picked up the TV remote, and he offered it to you.
“Do you want to put something on while we wait for the pills to make you feel better, honey?”
You nodded. “Let’s just keep it low.”
That was mostly for your sake rather than Jack’s since he would have deserved to be woken up by a movie blasting in the living room, considering.
He seemed intent on letting you choose so you settled for something corny that wouldn’t require you to focus. You selected The Fault in Our Stars since you had already seen it and you were certain you would be able to follow the story without having to think.
You decided to move before you dozed off in his lap, but Mr. Hotchner just held you down as he stretched his legs on the sofa, leaving you with some leeway to find a comfortable way to lie down while still keeping you close. You shifted on your side, hugging his leg as your face rested sideways on his firm thigh. It allowed you to see the TV while still feeling his warm hand palming your scalp.
You removed the cloth from your forehead after a while, and Mr. Hotchner took it from you before he set it down on the coffee table.
You pretended not to feel him tremble when the movie took a sad turn, and as his hand came up to wipe his eyes, you had to shut yours to avoid getting tempted to offer to lick his tears away.
You also had to compose yourself because knowing Mr. Hotchner was the kind of softie who cried at sad films only made your longing more acute.
Having your head on his leg was enough of a treat as it was. You just had to reel it in and keep a tight lid on whatever it was you felt.
Your plan to compose yourself with your eyes closed completely backfired when you realized you had fallen asleep.
You woke to soft whimpers and a bulge protruding near the side of your head, right before you realized your name was being moaned.
Repeatedly.
You opened your eyes to find Mr. Hotchner asleep in a way that would surely hurt his neck, and he was rock hard next to your head, moaning your name as if chanting it like a prayer.
It's just a dream. It doesn't mean anything.
You turned on your front to fully see what was poking at your head. The tent in his pajama pants was huge, and the flimsy material of his pajama pants did nothing to hide the fact that he was big.
You salivated at the sight, incredibly aware that everything you wanted was within reach.
A particularly throaty moan escaped his lips and this time, when you looked up, he was frowning at you.
You got down on your knees in front of him, making him turn to follow you, letting him plant his feet on the ground, and you weren't sure how to proceed from there but the man had just moaned your name and followed your move on instinct.
He was sporting an impressive erection, and you wanted.
How you wanted.
It didn’t take much but you were done questioning it.
You smiled softly, deciding to bend down and mouth at his clothed cock.
If he really didn't want this, he would have tried to hide, he would have moved, he would have been embarrassed, he would not have been moaning your name, and simply put, he would stop you.
Instead, the second your lips were around his clothed hardness, his hips jerked up into your face and he groaned loudly.
You were thankful Jack was passed out drunk because surely, this would have woken him up.
"Are you sure you want this?" he hissed.
You just mouthed at his dick with more conviction, making his eyes roll back in his head.
His hands ended up at the back of your head, pushing your face infinitely closer.
“I knew from the second I saw you that you had raging daddy issues. Are you about to prove me right, sweet girl?”
You were putting a wet spot on his pajama pants, trying to taste him through layers of clothing. You placed both your hands on his thighs, sinking your fingernails into his hard flesh. Your fingers dug through the material as your mouth moved on him, but you wanted so much more than this.
“Mr. Hotchner–”
“You’re always so formal–” he tutted. He put a tender hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb on your soft skin. “Maybe one day, I’ll have you calling me by the right name.”
You let your hands roam on his bare chest as you continued to wet his pants with your saliva, trying so desperately to get some friction as you started rutting on his foot.
Mr. Hotchner stopped you, palming himself through his pajama pants.
“Please, Mr. Hotchner,” you pleaded, looking up at him through your eyelashes.
“If you really want this, come up here,” he said, gesturing to his lap.
You got up so fast your head spun, but you straddled his lap without hesitation, patting his solid chest with determined hands. You felt him grip your waist, and you opted to trace his sideburns with the tip of your fingers before you let your fingers run through his hair.
He groaned instantly, rocking his hips up into you.
Mr. Hotchner leaned down to put his lips on your clothed breasts, savoring each one with warm breaths and enthusiasm, making you moan gently before he looked up at you on top of him.
He cocked his head while you panted above him, desperate to grind down on his erection to get some sort of relief.
His hands were on your rib cage, his fingertips so close to your breasts that even clothed, it felt like he was voluntarily teasing.
“How often I’ve dreamed of having you like this,” he noted, pushing your hair out of your face and behind your ear.
You started grinding down on his lap, making him gasp as you rocked your core against his. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, exhaling hot air onto your face, reminding you how close you were like this. It didn’t take long for your rhythm to falter and for the shirt to ride up your waist.
You were so lost in everything you felt that you had shifted away from his erection and you were left breathing hard as your panties slid back and forth on his hard thigh.
You saw Mr. Hotchner look down, his smirk wide as you both realized how wet you were. You were leaving an impressive spot on his pajama pants through your panties.
“You’re soaking me,” he croaked, his voice betraying he was as affected by this as you were.
You steadied yourself on his chest, feeling his hands grip your waist more forcefully, and without the tee shirt, he’d surely be leaving a mark.
He helped you rub yourself against his thigh, undoubtedly sensing you were consumed by the kind of craving that made you tingle from head to toe.
“Good girl. You’re doing so well,” he praised.
Of all the things he could have said, he happened to say the one thing that made you clutch his chest with biting nails.
“Mmffhm—”
“Oh, you like being called a good girl, sweetheart?”
You started shaking with need, feeling the coil in your stomach heating up and tightening.
His hand came to wrap itself around your throat, his eyes dark and filled with lust. “Answer me.”
“Yes, Mr. Hotchner.”
“Good girl,” he cooed with a smile, releasing your throat.
The flutters in your stomach melted with the burning desire raging inside you.
“Will you touch me?” you stammered, drunk on the feeling of his stiff thigh.
You could probably come like this if you continued.
Mr. Hotchner smiled cheekily, barely ghosting his finger over your drenched panties.
“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he grunted.
“Please–” you begged.
“I think you can come just like this, sweetheart. For me…”
You knew you probably could. You were close already.
He put his hands back on your waist, guiding your movements on his thigh, watching your hips rock back and forth intently.
“Are you going to make a mess, dirty girl? Am I going to need to wash you?” he asked huskily. “Maybe I should punish you for avoiding me. For not letting me talk to you or look at you.”
You were too far gone to wonder whether it had been as difficult for him to stay away from you as it had been for you to stay away from him.
You moaned as your hips moved without restraint on top of him, rolling them back and forth just right so the friction of your panties rubbed your clit perfectly.
“Oh, god.”
You were so close to reaching your peak, and you felt unbearably hot on top of him. You knew you were soaking his pants, making a mess on his thigh, and the thought of him wanting to wash you, of him being angry and punishing you because you had avoided him… It only spurred you on. The thought of him missing you in the slightest set you alight.
“Look at you, so beautiful wearing my shirt.”
“I’m too hot,” you whined.
“Do you want me to help you with that?”
You nodded eagerly.
His fingers pulled at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over your head, his eyes stuck on your face as you continued to grind down on his thigh. “You’re breathtaking.”
You smiled at the compliment, doing your best to ignore how delightful it felt that he thought you were breathtaking because you were sizzling from the inside with thirst, and you couldn’t deal with the weight of his admission while you chased your orgasm.
“Mr. Hotchner, you are so perfect–”
Lost in all the sensations and the sea of feelings that you were drowning in, he leaned down, his breath fanning over your breasts. He kissed a spot between them so softly, you thought you had imagined it for a second.
“You’re the most perfect thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he whispered.
The throbbing started to hurt, and you needed a bit more than just his thigh. You unhooked your bra, freeing your breasts, making your boobs bob up and down as you rubbed yourself on his erection a few times.
“Please, Mr. Hotchner.” You didn’t even know what you were asking for, but you needed him to do something.
He grinned at you before he wrapped his lips around a nipple, licking it before sucking on it, making you whimper on top of him.
He brought his other hand up around your throat before he decided to tap on your lips with his digits.
“Suck on them for me, sweetheart.”
You opened your mouth, and his index and middle finger sank between your lips. You sucked on them instantly, making him hiss your name as you felt him twitch in his pants.
Mr. Hotchner started licking your other nipple, sucking on it before he nipped at it gently, blowing hot air onto your skin as he alternated between them.
He removed his wet fingers from your mouth, making you whine at the loss before he mouthed at one nipple, pinching the other with his fingertips.
“So good, Mr. Hotchner–”
You shifted again as your rhythm faltered, rutting on his thigh again.
“Do it. Come on my thigh, sweet girl.”
You moaned loudly into the room, unable to keep the sounds from leaving your throat.
“Quiet,” he warned.
“I can’t,” you pouted with a whimper.
“Do you want me to keep you quiet?”
You nodded.
He put his middle and ring fingers into your mouth while his other hand came up around your throat, barely squeezing it, but it was enough. Sucking on his fingers with a hand wrapped around your throat, having him put pressure on your windpipe whenever you were about to be too loud, well, it did wonders.
You spared a thought for your sleeping friend upstairs, but as petty as it was, you couldn’t care less if you woke him right now.
Mr. Hotchner looked at you adoringly, showcasing his dimples as his lips curled into a dazzling smile, and the sight was enough for you to let go, the coil in your stomach ripped to shreds.
Your high came in violent waves as your body was overtaken by sharp shudders.
Yet, you felt as centered as ever when a soft palm tenderly stroked your back.
You opened your eyes, unaware you had closed them, and you found his gaze instantly, watching his hooded eyes, heavy with desire, survey you. He wasn’t scanning you for signs of uncertainty, his eyes simply darted over every inch of your face as if to take in your bliss.
“Beautiful,” he murmured.
You let yourself fall forward, reveling in the feeling of him under you, surrounding you with his warmth, his cologne, his soft hands running up and down your back, his fingertips as they grazed your spine and made you shiver in delight.
“Thank you,” you muttered in the crook of his neck.
You’d probably regret this come morning, you’d probably question it, go over it a thousand times, but right now, he felt too solid underneath you to do anything but appreciate his enveloping comfort.
“Come on, let’s go upstairs.”
You weren’t sure if your coming undone on his thigh would be the end of it, but you were thrilled that it apparently wasn’t.
You quietly entered his room with him, watching him lock the door before you let him remove your panties, watching him discard his pants and boxers eagerly.
He was indeed huge, leaking pre-cum and throbbing in need. The head was almost red, and you knew without a doubt that you wanted to take care of him as well as he had just taken care of you.
But Mr. Hotchner took the lead, and you willingly followed. You would always willingly follow him, and as terrifying as it was, the thought helped you draw in a full breath.
It took a matter of seconds for him to hover above you completely naked, and you couldn’t help but cup his cheek, feeling the shadow of a stubble scraping your palm.
He closed his eyes as if to savor it, and you cupped his other cheek, startling him enough to have him look into your eyes.
“You are so handsome.”
He looked giddy and shy for a second, two things you never would have thought to associate with him.
“This is way better than my imagination,” he admitted.
Wait. Had he thought about this too?
“You–” you started, your mind spiraling with a thousand questions.
“Yes, sweetheart. I’ve had to touch myself a lot because of you.”
“Show me?” you prompted.
He searched your features but he surely found you were dead serious about this.
Seeing his huge paw stroke his cock would fuel every last fantasy you would ever use to get off during your alone time.
“You really want to see, sweet girl?” he queried, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Yes.”
“I’ll– Okay. But on one condition: Would you say my name?”
From your very first interaction with him, he had insisted on having you call him something other than ‘Mr. Hotchner’, and you had always been afraid that overstepping that boundary would be crossing a line, that you wouldn’t be able to come back from it if you engaged in something less than formal.
You smiled at him, assured that you wished to trespass.
“Aaron.”
“Hmm…” he hummed contentedly. He positioned himself with his back to the headboard, looking at you sitting down between his legs, facing him. He watched your hands caress his thighs before he looked at you again. “Say it again.”
“Aaron.”
He beamed at you, offering his left palm to you. “Spit.”
You obliged him, spitting into his hand a few times before he wrapped it around his erection, immediately mewling your name as he relieved some pent-up pressure.
Watching his hand move up and down on his dick made you swoon, and the level of intimacy of this whole display wasn’t lost on you.
He trusted you.
And you trusted him.
You leaned down to kiss his thighs, watching his hand speed up on his cock as you gently started biting his flesh, making him growl your name above you.
“You’re doing so well, Aaron,” you applauded.
His hips jerked up at the praise, making him thrust into his fist. He not only loved hearing his name, he decidedly loved this, too.
Aaron looked absolutely delicious, and you would have to appeal to every last ounce of self-control you had not to touch him or taste him.
“Ever since you came into our lives, I haven’t been able to get you off my mind,” he declared, and his voice completely mesmerized you as you observed his movements on his cock like a hawk. “Haven’t been on a date. Haven’t had sex. I can’t even watch porn without thinking of you, sweet thing. Fuck–” he added, gritting his teeth. “I don’t even like porn.”
You looked up at him through your eyelashes, your face so close to his cock you could almost taste the tangy salty pre-cum leaking from the tip.
“I touched myself to thoughts of you, too. I touch myself thinking of you. A lot,” you disclosed candidly.
His hand lost its pace when his thighs started trembling, and he grabbed your chin, smiling at you.
“My sweet forbidden fruit.”
You hummed his name again, kissing his thighs in quick succession, biting him gently to elicit deep guttural moans to come flying out of his mouth.
You were positive the soundproofing in this house was decent by now.
“I’m close– Do you want me to come like this, sweetheart?” he asked.
You knew this was Aaron’s way of inquiring where this could go, where the limit was, and whether you wanted this to stop, but you wanted all of it. If this happened only once, you needed to experience all of him.
You shook your head, raising yourself up. “As beautiful as this is, I want more.” You leaned down, kissing his chest gently before you sucked on a nipple, biting it a little as he had done to you earlier. It made him gasp in surprise. “Sorry.”
“No– I– I liked it.” He paused, caressing your face. “Way too much.”
“I want to cherish you. All of you.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he uttered smoothly, cupping your face. “We’ll do that some other time. I feel almost ready to explode.”
Another time?
You really wanted another time, more than you cared to admit, and you were beyond happy he wasn’t rejecting the idea of having this happen again.
“I need you,” you blurted out.
He chuckled breathlessly, in no way mocking you but visibly, he was amused by your impatience.
“What do you want? What do you think of when you touch yourself?”
“Just you. Your mouth. Your fingers,” you clarified.
“We can make that happen.”
He flipped you, pulling you down on your back before he started kissing your neck, sucking on your pulse point and making you rock upwards, seeking friction.
Aaron started kissing his way down your body, lending great attention to your breasts again. He licked and sucked before he nipped gently, making you bury your hands into his hair. He groaned against your skin, thrusting his hips into nothing.
“What you do to me…”
He made his way down, kissing your stomach with so much affection that you felt cherished from head to toe.
You’d do the same to him some other him. You promised yourself that right there and then.
You were about ready to lose your mind once he settled between your legs, blowing hot air on your aching cunt.
“Please.”
“Say my name,” he demanded.
“Aaron.”
He grinned before he kissed your inner thighs, spreading you wide and pulling your legs over his shoulders.
“You smell delicious, sweet girl.”
He licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, not losing any precious seconds before he sucked on it, making you rock your pussy onto his face.
He pressed down on your stomach with one hand, keeping you in place. He flicked his tongue over your clit repeatedly, making you arch your back, thrashing against his face regardless of the hand that he kept on you.
You pulled on his hair as he started sucking more vigorously, shaking his head with the movements of his tongue, making you whimper as you bit harshly into your hand to silence your cries.
He whined the more you pulled, and you released your hold on him. Aaron instantly gathered your hand into his and put it back in his hair.
You resumed the motions, this time gently tugging, and he growled against your cunt, making you thrash more violently under him.
The coil started tightening in record time, threatening to tear incessantly, and you were helpless to his oral assault. He seemed to understand his hand was pointless on your stomach the more you moved, and he removed his mouth, licking his fingers before he breached you with one, putting his mouth back where it belonged before you could protest.
He devoured you while he finger-fucked you, and you were left trying to find the right words to express how absolutely wrecked you were. He was ruining you for every other man, and he looked as if he knew it. He looked way too smug to be able to get you off this easily.
He added another finger, arching them into you just so.
You saw stars before you could even warn him, and you came with a loud shudder as you heard him growl your name from between your legs.
He didn’t relent, and when you started whining because of how sensitive you were, it seemed to fuel him. He was trying to milk this orgasm out of you bit by bit, and he was succeeding. Your legs quivered and unexpectedly, you felt a spurt of wetness drip down your pussy and onto his face.
You could barely comprehend what had happened when you got lost in subspace, but the sound of his voice kept you firmly tethered in the here and now.
Aaron made his way up to your face, kissing your cheek so delicately after basically eating you out like a five-star meal.
His face glistened with your juices, and you realized how soaked his face was, how sticky and warm it was, but he didn’t seem to care and you certainly didn’t.
You cupped his face with one hand, letting the other gently pat his hair to make up for the fact that you had pulled on his roots.
He definitely liked having your fingers massage his scalp, he shuddered as you traced his scalp with your fingernails.
He looked at you with a simple question in his eyes, but the only thing you could think to say was, “Please fuck me.”
He met your gaze with a serious look, his frown deepening. “If I take you, there’s no going back, sweet girl. I don’t share.”
He was making a statement but offering you an out. He was opening the door, but he wasn’t letting it close behind you. He was serious about this whole thing, and it occurred to you all at once that he liked you enough to not want to share you.
And while you were ready to agree to anything to feel him inside you, while you needed it like you needed air, you liked him enough to know what you were agreeing to.
What you felt for him was sometimes inexplicable, but there was no denying that you would not want any other man to touch you after this.
You caressed his raven hair once more, smiling at him without a single doubt clouding your mind. Two orgasms would tend to make anyone carefree, but above all else, as bare as you were, you felt safe. Protected. Cared for. At home.
He smiled back when he didn’t find you uncertain, and he kissed your forehead before he moved to find something in the drawer of his nightstand.
If ever this was the one and only time you got to be with him, you needed to feel him. If ever your morals got to you in the morning, if your head went against your heart, you needed to be as close to him as you could.
“Aaron, I’m on the pill. Please… I need to feel you.”
He nodded and positioned himself between your legs again, but something overcame him as you tried to bring his face closer to yours to finally find out how his lips felt against yours.
He flipped you on your stomach as if you weighed nothing at all, a hand found its way to your stomach, bringing your ass up in the air.
On all fours, you felt incredibly naked before him. But he stroked your skin lovingly, and somehow, it felt right. It felt magnificent.
You didn’t feel all that naked anymore.
He tapped his cock on your ass a few times before he breached you with the head of his cock, making you clench around the width unwillingly.
You groaned and whimpered the more he sank into you, stretching you out and splitting you in half painfully slowly.
“So fucking tight–” he grumbled.
A hand settled on your waist, gripping it tightly as you felt him twitch inside you. He would probably leave a mark if he continued to grip your waist this way, but you would admire it for days to come if he did.
Fortunately, you were still dripping wet so it didn’t take long for the pain to subside and blend with pleasure, a dull throb echoing around your inner walls and making you clench around his dick.
He was fully sheathed, but he made sure you remained bent over, your face breathing in his scent on the pillows.
It was intoxicating to be surrounded by all of him, but it was also troubling because you would never get enough.
He slowly pulled out before he drove his cock back in in one go, and it was obvious as you tried to think that you had been rendered dumb and mute by his dick.
“Mmffhm—”
“You feel so good, sweetheart.”
His hips started snapping abruptly, his rhythm unforgiving as he thrusted in and out of you sharply.
Aaron was surely driven by forces of nature or by sheer animal instinct as he gripped your ass cheeks with his hands, chewing your flesh with his fingers.
It felt absolutely amazing to be taken.
It felt empowering to know he was making you his.
“Go on, tell me this pussy’s mine,” he drawled as his thrusts became sloppy.
“Yours. All yours,” you affirmed, chanting his name into the pillows as each thrust of his hips made your cheek rub against the sheets.
His thumb gently tapped on your asshole, letting you know you were at his mercy.
“All those pretty little holes are mine,” he groaned. “You are mine. Say it.”
“Yes,” you whimpered. “I’m yours.”
He let a hand wander down to your stomach before he reached your clit, palming you enough to make you shiver and thrash relentlessly on the bed.
The only sounds in the room were skin tapping against skin, muffled moans, and low groans.
He worked his fingers on your clit with harsher flicks, rubbing and pinching in succession.
“You’re clenching so hard around me, sweet thing. You have a vice grip on my dick.”
You could only partially moan incoherent syllables. “Mmffhm—”
“That’s right. I’m fucking you so good that you have to keep quiet or we’ll make the entire neighborhood.” He punctuated his sentences with harsher thrusts. “One day, though, I’m going to make sure to memorize all your pretty sounds while you beg and scream my name.”
Would there be another time? It wasn’t the first time he had suggested it tonight.
You couldn’t even think straight.
“I can feel your walls fluttering. Is the coil in your stomach tight?” he whispered breathlessly.
You barely nodded and a few soft slaps landed on your ass cheek, making you miss his fingers on your clit, but the sting of his palm was exquisite, sending an electric shiver down your spine before you felt flutters in your chest. Your stomach burned with need, you overflowed with happiness, and you were so close to losing it for a third time.
“Oh.”
“You like that, too, huh?” he teased. He said it as if he was making mental notes of everything that turned you on, and knowing him the way you did, he probably was. He was nothing if not observant, and he would surely make sure to know exactly how to get you off if the occasion presented itself again.
You couldn’t blame him, because regardless of the fact that you couldn’t form a single sentence, you had still taken note of everything that made him moan somewhere. You’d probably even get to revisit those things in your fantasies.
Aaron was all you could think about and he was all you could feel. He was everything that you wanted, and he would be everything you would ever want.
He drove his dick into you with longer thrusts, hitting so deep you saw stars as you chanted his name. He was not just grazing your g-spot, he was actually hitting it with precision every time he sank into you, and when his fingers found your clit again, you had to bite into his pillow to refrain from screaming your lungs out as your orgasm rocked you in waves.
You hadn’t had time to warn him, but it seemed to be a blessing when you felt him still behind you, his deep groans filling the room.
You felt him throb inside you, pulsating with each shot of cum you felt painting your walls.
He seemed to come for longer than you were used to, shaking violently enough to rattle the bed, but you wouldn’t move because you weren’t sure you could, and you wanted nothing more than to have his seed everywhere inside you.
Aaron suddenly let his entire weight fall down on you, seemingly unable to hold himself up any longer, toppling you over before he pulled you close to him as he rested on his side, watching you on your front as he started to delicately trace your spine with his fingers.
He smiled at you lazily, like a man who had just fucked you silly.
He looked proud, but he also looked genuinely happy.
You smiled back, finding it easy to be lost in this silent moment with him.
Nothing needed to be said or acknowledged.
His cum was shoved so deep inside you, his dick had stretched you so good you’d feel it for days, and he was smiling at you with affection in his sparkling eyes.
You didn’t want to wonder whether it would happen again because you were determined to make sure it would.
You remained transfixed for a few minutes, waiting for your trembling limbs to stop tingling.
Aaron started drifting off, but he shook himself awake and he grabbed your hand with determination. “Come on, I’ll wash you.”
You tried to follow him to what looked like an ensuite bathroom, but your legs were too wobbly to sustain you.
“My legs–” you explained as you almost fell face first.
His arms held you up effortlessly, and he just looked way too smug to have made your legs surrender.
“Oh, I’ll take care of you,” he cooed.
Aaron picked you up bridal style without notice as if it was normal to do so, bringing you to his shower as he started it with one hand.
He made it seem easy to hold you up, and you put your arms around his neck, indulging in the proximity he was providing.
He brought you inside the shower once he seemed satisfied with the water temperature, putting you down worriedly, holding you close as you verified that your legs could hold you up.
He was so gentle and careful, you wondered if this was the same man who had just fucked you senseless into the mattress, the same man who had told you to tell him you were his.
The same man who is your best friend’s father.
It came crashing down on you all at once.
You felt guilty, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret any of it.
Truth was, you would do it again.
All of it.
Am I a horrible friend?
It didn’t matter when Aaron was looking at you like you were the most precious thing he had ever held.
He kissed your forehead under the spray, letting his lips linger there before he kissed your nose and hovered above your lips.
You didn’t let him hesitate, knowing he had probably not kissed you until now because this was sacred. This was more. This wasn’t about carnal needs or desires, it was about having a real emotional connection.
It was about acknowledging this was more than just fucking.
You grabbed his head and closed the distance, finally finding out that his lips were soft and sweet, and that his breath was warm and soothing.
You kissed him until he let you graze his tongue, until you sucked on his lower lip, until his knees buckled and you had to hold him up as much as he was holding you up.
He was out of breath by the time you pulled away, his eyes dark but soft.
This time, he was the one who couldn’t find the right words.
“Can I wash your hair?” you inquired.
You knew he liked having your fingers in his hair, and you figured that since you were both wet anyway...
He nodded and kneeled, picking up his bottle of shampoo before handing it to you with a grin.
His eyes gleamed with anticipation, and he hugged your waist as you patted his head, watching how much younger he looked like this. The lines on his face were nothing if not incredibly attractive, but his whole demeanor as he kneeled innocently before you was simply adorable. He looked carefree, but above all else, he was unguarded.
Aaron moved back just enough to let you work, his hands on your legs, looking up at you like a golden retriever looked at his favorite human, with pretty and big brown eyes filled with adoration.
You finished washing his hair and you used his body gel to wash yourself clean swiftly, loving that you would smell like him for hours if you wondered whether your mind had played a sick trick on you when you woke up.
Aaron let his head fall down and for a second, you admired his fleeting vulnerability. You had caught a few glimpses of it tonight, but you knew without a doubt he was having second thoughts because of his son.
He was a good man. You were a good person. At least, you thought so.
And you had both just done something very… questionable.
But questionable shouldn’t feel this good, right?
“He doesn’t hate you, you know,” you whispered softly, hoping to calm the quiet storm which seemed to rage inside him.
You lifted his chin with your fingers, meeting his tender but apprehensive gaze. He wasn’t hiding and he wasn’t panicking, he was just calling his morality into question. You knew because you were, too.
He was completely bare before you, in every way possible. “Thank you.”
Aaron didn’t voice that Jack would probably hate him if he found out about this, and you were grateful for that.
Nothing needed to be said. You had both risked your relationship with Jack tonight.
He didn’t mention that he was concerned that his son already hated him either, but you knew he was worried. To be fair, Jack probably hated the entire world because of his breakup right now, and you didn’t think it had been directed at Aaron in particular. You were both just caught in the crossfire earlier.
While he and Jack had had their fair share of hurt, their relationship wasn’t rocky. You knew that much. After all, you were around for the last two years and not once did you feel any animosity between them.
You got on your knees, hugging him close under the warm spray. Whatever this was, whatever happened, he deserved comfort.
You got out of the shower still holding on to one another, wrapping yourselves up into towels before you walked back into his room.
He offered you a tee shirt before he kissed your crown, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist. “Are you hungry? I could make us something.”
He was so thoughtful, so considerate…
I am in love with him.
It wasn’t a scary realization, it wasn’t even unsettling. It was just there.
“I’m good. Thank you.”
He smiled and put the tee shirt down over your head before he put on a pair of boxers. You wondered what the right course of action was as he got settled in bed, but it became obvious as you watched Aaron opening up his arms to you. You didn’t hesitate and you wrapped yourself around him like a koala, your arms finding their rightful place around his waist.
He kissed your forehead again, his lips lingering there.
“What does this mean?” you finally asked, addressing this pleasant energy between you.
“It means that you should sleep here more often.”
“Aaron–” It still sounded foreign rolling around in your mouth, after all, you had called him ‘Mr. Hotchner’ for over two years, but it was not unnatural. “What are we–”
“I don’t know. Just stay with me?”
“This can’t ever happen again, right? Jack would never forgive us if he found out.”
“Why? He doesn’t want you for himself–”
Wait. How does he know that?
“Sorry?”
"I know my son isn't attracted to women, sweetheart. I figure, when he's ready, he'll tell me."
Apparently, Aaron was as observing as you gave him credit for.
But Jack wouldn’t be mad because he was jealous. He would be mad because he brought you here, and you had betrayed his trust.
“It’s not that. He’s my only friend. He’s–”
“Taking you for granted most of the time. He’s everything to you but–” He paused. He clearly knew how much it hurt you to hear it voiced out loud. “You’re a great friend, honey. He’s not. I know my son. I still love him but he’s not perfect– Look, you might have convinced yourself he was the closest thing you had to a brother, but I’m telling you, a friend– a brother– gives back. You bring him back from parties, you make up cue cards for him when he needs to study, you do some of his essays… When was the last time he did something for you?” He paused again, letting you think. “And if he knows exactly who you are like you think he does, he must know what kind of men you like–” he added, tracing your arm with the tips of his fingers, raising goosebumps as he painted your skin with soft touches. “And still, he brought you here…”
“Aaron–”
He kissed your forehead, angling his body so you could curl into his embrace a bit more. His lips were slightly parted as he looked into your eyes, and a faint taint appeared on his cheeks.
You crinkled your nose in amusement at the sight.
He was buried inside you minutes ago, and now he was blushing because you had used his first name unprompted.
He loved hearing his name leave your lips, that much was obvious from his dilated pupils and long lazy blinks.
“I’ll be good to you, sweetheart. I just need you to let me,” he murmured.
His hand finally sat on your rib cage, and you involuntarily pouted because this was exactly what you wanted, and he was offering it to you on a silver platter without any reservation.
“I just–”
“Sweetheart, we could find a million reasons not to but I want–” He paused, long enough for you to admire his pursed lips and furrowed brow. He was gorgeous self-assured, as you knew, but he was somehow even more stunning when he was insecure. He tugged on the hem of the shirt he had put on you, bowing his head down before zeroing in on your face. A fond expression ghosted over his features, looking at you through eyelashes that should be illegal on a man. “Look, we’ll figure it out, okay? You live alone, we can sneak around and… I don’t know. We don’t have to decide anything just yet, but I’d like to explore this. I really like you.”
“I– uh– yes. Me too.”
He set an alarm on his phone before he kissed the top of your head, squeezing you tightly into his arms.
“Sleep, sweet girl. I’ll wake you. Jack sleeps in till noon when he’s hungover anyway.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
You didn’t miss how his breath hitched at the nickname or how his pulse quickened as you yawned against his chest.
He let out a long breath as his arms engulfed you, lulling you into peaceful safety and unwavering comfort. He played with your hair and massaged your neck, tracing the lines of your face with his fingertips as if he wanted to be able to draw you from memory, effectively rendering you oblivious to the world before you could think about the possible repercussions of what you had just agreed to be for one another.
