summary: After a late night of drinking and a unexpected confession, Eddie Munson unknowingly becomes the test subject for a very important lesson- teaching Robin Buckley how to have sex with a guy.
warnings/tags: smut!, porn with very little plot, bisexual reader, experimenting robin, eddies just along for the ride, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, drunk/high sex, first time, this fic is very self indulgent sue me
shout out to my girlies for beta reading and polishing the outline ♡ @gem-writes @hamilhansen ♡
masterlist
The pool lights rippled across the water like liquid stars, turning Steve’s backyard into something that felt half-real and completely yours. Summer 1987 had been a strange, hazy stretch of rebuilding, government quarantines, and trying to remember how to just exist. But tonight none of that mattered. Tonight was warm air, cool water, and the low, constant sound of your friends laughing like the world wasn't trying to end.
You were sitting on the top step of the shallow end, legs stretched out. A red Solo cup rested on your knee. Across from you, Eddie floated on his back on one of those ridiculous floaties, arms spread wide, tattoos catching the light every time he breathed. Robin sat on the wide ledge near the diving board, knees tucked up, sipping whatever concoction Eddie had made her. Steve was right beside you on the edge, feet dangling in the water, a joint between his fingers and that loose, half-drunk smile he only wore when it was just the four of you.
Eddie sat up with a splash, water streaming down his face. “Okay, but hear me out — I’m telling you, if I can just get the timing right on the bridge, this song is gonna slap. It's dark. It's sexy. I had to write a badass song about surviving the apocalypse, right? Like I didn't get these fuckin' scars for nothing.”
Robin made a noise like she was choking on her own laughter. “Munson. You're insane.”
“Insane? Maybe. But,” Eddie said, pointing at her with the joint before passing it to you. “You know you'd do the same shit Buckley. Some of us are just more musically talented than others.”
Steve snorted, reaching over to steal the joint from your fingers after you took a hit. The smoke curled warm in your lungs, making everything feel a little softer around the edges. “Dude, you survived one apocalypse. Try surviving four. Plus Buckley is great with music. Don't shit on her trombone talents.”
You laughed so hard you had to grab Steve’s arm to keep from sliding off the step. “Yeah Munson. That girls got good blowing skills. Don't shit on her.”
Eddie clutched his chest dramatically. “I would never shit on my dear Buckley. You know I love you. Maybe I could use some of your blowing skills on this song.”
“Blowing skills?” Robin echoed. “Christ Munson. If you want me to blow you, you're gonna be waiting a long ass time.”
Steve was laughing too hard to come up with a coherent thought. Eddie looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole. Steve just splashed water at Eddie with his foot and said, “You’re all lucky I let you live here. I could’ve had peace and quiet. Instead I get you three idiots bickering and someone— someone — keeps stealing my good towels and leaving them on the bathroom floor.”
Robin raised her hand. “That was me. They’re softer than mine. Sue me.”
You leaned back on your elbows, the water lapping gently at your waist. “Speaking of stealing… Eddie, you owe Steve like six pairs of socks at this point. I saw them in your room.”
Eddie looked down at his feet in the water like he’d been caught. “They’re comfortable. And Stevie already stretched them out so they're perfect.”
“It’s theft,” Steve said, but he was grinning, the kind of grin that crinkled his whole face. “You know what else is theft? The last of the good cereal. I bought that box of Lucky Charms yesterday. It was gone by breakfast. I’m looking at you, Buckley.”
Robin didn’t even try to deny it. “I have no regrets. You can’t leave name-brand cereal in a house with three other people and expect it to survive. That’s on you, Harrington.”
The joint made another slow circle. You took a hit, passed it to Robin, and felt that warm, floaty buzz settle deeper into your chest. Everything felt good — the way the pool lights made Eddie’s wet hair look almost black, the way Steve kept bumping his knee against yours like he didn’t even notice he was doing it, the way Robin’s sarcasm had gone soft around the edges tonight. With the four of you the conversations could change on a dime but everyone kept up. You all loved each other.
Eddie paddled closer, resting his arms on the edge near your legs. “You know what I still can’t believe? That time Steve tried to make lasagna for all of us and used sugar instead of salt in the sauce.”
Steve groaned and dropped his head back. “It was dark! The containers looked the same!”
“It tasted like someone murdered an Italian grandmother,” Robin said solemnly. “I still have trauma. I had to wash it down with three beers just to be polite.”
You grinned at Steve. “And then you tried to fix it by adding more cheese and it just became… cheese soup with noodles.”
Steve pointed at you, mock-offended. “You ate three bowls. Don’t act like you weren’t into it.”
“I was high,” you said. “Everything tastes good when you’re high. That doesn’t make it good.”
Eddie cackled and flicked water at Steve. “She’s got you there, Harrington. Face it — you’re a menace in the kitchen. But we keep you around for the pool and the hair care products. Your shampoo collection is the only thing keeping this house from falling into complete chaos.”
Steve ran a hand through his wet hair on instinct. “It’s a routine you heathens. You wouldn’t understand. Some of us like to look like we didn’t just crawl out of a hedge.”
Robin leaned over and ruffled his hair on purpose, making it stick up in every direction. “There. Now you look like the rest of us. Welcome to the hedge club.”
Steve swatted at her hand but he was laughing again, that easy, bright sound that always made the night feel safer. The four of you drifted like that for a while — splashing each other lazily, trading stories about the ridiculous little disasters of living together, the past year. It's become something you never wanted to let go of. Your safe space in the chaos of the world.
Your skin was starting to prune. The high had turned everything warm around the edges. You felt loose and happy and stupidly fond of all of them.
Robin was the one who finally called it. “Alright, my fingers look like raisins and I’m pretty sure if I don’t eat something solid soon I’m going to start chewing on the pool noodles. Inside. Now.”
You pulled yourself up onto the edge, water streaming down your legs and bathing suit. Robin tossed you a towel. It smelled like Steve’s detergent — clean and expensive and somehow like home now. You wrapped it around yourself, goosebumps rising as the night air hit your wet skin.
Steve stood up, a little wobbly, towel slung around his neck. “Yeah… couch is calling my name. Just for a second. I’m good. I’m great. Not way drunker than I thought I was sitting down.”
Eddie climbed out after him, shaking his head like a dog and sending water flying. “Harrington, if you faceplant I’m not carrying you. You're gonna have to be an outside dog from now on.”
Steve waved him off, already heading for the sliding glass doors. “Yeah, yeah. Is the world spinning for anyone else?”
Inside, the house was dim and quiet. Steve made it three steps into the living room before the big sectional couch pulled him in like gravity. He dropped onto it with a heavy thump, one arm dangling off the edge, eyes already half-closed.
“Just… resting my eyes,” he mumbled. “You guys keep… having fun. I’ll be right…”
His eyes fluttered once. Twice.
And then he was gone — out cold, soft snores starting almost immediately, completely dead to the world.
Robin stared at him for a beat, then pressed both hands over her mouth to smother her laughter. “Oh my god. He didn’t even finish the sentence.”
Eddie leaned in the doorway in his low-slung towel, grinning wide. "Such a lightweight. Look at him. King Steve, defeated by vodka and like two joints.”
You stood there in your damp towel, water still dripping from your hair onto your shoulders, and felt that same warm, bright feeling from earlier swell in your chest. Steve, safe and passed out. Eddie watching you with that spark in his eyes. Robin already heading toward the kitchen with a mischievous little bounce in her step.
“Well,” Robin called over her shoulder, “since our fearless leader has officially tapped out… who wants to see if there’s any pasta left in the fridge? Or are we going straight for the liquor cabinet?”
Eddie looked at you, one eyebrow raised, smile slow and easy.
The three of you left Steve snoring softly on the couch and drifted into the dining room like it was the most natural thing in the world. The big wooden table still had a couple of chairs pulled out from earlier in the week when you’d all tried to eat a real meal together. Robin grabbed a fresh beer from the fridge and dropped into one of the chairs, kicking her feet up on the one next to her. You and Eddie stayed standing for a second, the wet ends of your hair still dripping onto your shoulders and the tops of your towels.
Eddie dug another joint out of the crumpled pack he’d left on the counter earlier and lit it with a flick of his lighter. The flame lit up his face for a second — sharp grin, dark eyes, water still clinging to his collarbones. He took a long pull, then passed it to you without a word. You leaned against the edge of the table and took your own hit, the smoke curling warm and familiar in your lungs. The high from the pool hadn’t fully faded yet— this one just layered on top of it, making the dim overhead light feel softer and the air between the three of you feel closer.
Robin twisted the cap off her beer and took a long drink. “God, work’s been so fucking weird lately. Jimmy's gone so it's just been me and Harrington running the show. Who decided that putting us in charge was a good idea? Dingus over there wouldn't know good music if it weren’t for us. He'd be playing ABBA all day and wonder why we'd get hate mail.”
You laughed, the sound a little looser than usual. “That sounds exactly like him. Just be glad you're not working under Keith anymore. Dude was a total fuckin' creep. Remember that time he tried to hit on Nancy and she brutally destroyed every bit of confidence he had left?”
Eddie chuckled from where he was leaning against the wall, joint between his fingers again. He wasn’t saying much — just chilling, listening, that lazy little smirk on his face like he was happy to let the two of you talk while the smoke curled around him. Every now and then he’d take a hit and pass it back to you, his fingers brushing yours for a second longer than necessary.
Robin groaned and took another sip. “And don’t even get me started on my mom. She keeps asking when I’m gonna ‘bring a nice boy around’ like I haven’t been gay as fuck my whole life. I told her I’m busy surviving the apocalypse and working, but apparently that’s not a good enough excuse.”
You took the joint from Eddie again, the paper warm against your lips. The high was settling deep now — that sweet, heavy feeling behind your eyes that made everything feel a little more honest. You exhaled slowly and looked at Robin across the table.
“Honestly? You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with any of that shit,” you said, the words slipping out before you could overthink them. “The last guy I was with was… god, he was bad. Like, aggressively bad. All confidence, zero skill. Kept asking if I was close. I had to fake it just to get him to stop. And then he had the nerve to look proud of himself after.” You shook your head, laughing a little even though it wasn’t really funny. “You’re seriously so lucky you don’t have to deal with that mess, Robin.”
Robin raised an eyebrow, but she was smiling — the kind of smile that said she knew exactly what you meant and was grateful she didn’t. “Yeah, well. That’s one bullet I’ve managed to dodge.”
You took another slow hit from the joint, then passed it back to Eddie. The question came out casual, curious, the kind of thing that only got asked when everyone was a little drunk and a little high and the house was quiet except for Steve’s distant snoring.
“Have you ever actually had sex with a guy?”
Robin made a face but didn’t look offended. She just shook her head. “Nope. Never.”
You tilted your head, genuinely curious now. “What about kissing? Have you ever kissed a guy?”
She snorted. “Yeah, duh. Had to pretend to be straight at some point, right? High school was a whole thing. There was this one guy who wouldn’t leave me alone until I let him kiss me at a party. It was… fine. Wet. Weird. I spent the whole time thinking about how I’d rather be anywhere else.” She shrugged, taking another drink. “But it got the job done. People stopped asking questions for a while.”
The room felt smaller suddenly. Warmer. Eddie was still quiet, but you could feel him listening — that sharp, attentive energy he got when something interesting was happening. He took a hit from the joint and held it, watching the two of you with dark, amused eyes.
You leaned forward a little, elbows on the table, the high making your voice come out softer and more honest than usual.
“Okay, but… if you had to have sex with a guy,” you asked, “who would it be?”
Robin didn’t even hesitate. She looked you dead in the eye, a little smirk tugging at her mouth, cheeks faintly pink from the beer and the conversation.
“Well, I only trust two guys,” she said. “And since Harrington’s passed out cold in the other room, I guess Munson would do.”
The words landed in the quiet dining room like a spark on dry wood.
Eddie let out a low, surprised laugh — not mocking, just genuinely caught off guard. Smoke curled from between his lips as he exhaled. “Wow. High praise, Buckley. I’m flattered. Truly. I’ll try not to let it go to my head.”
You felt your own pulse pick up a little, the high sharpening everything — the way Robin was looking at you both, the way Eddie’s grin had gone a shade more dangerous, the distant sound of Steve’s soft snoring from the living room like he was still somehow part of this even while he was dead asleep.
Robin just shrugged, but there was something playful and a little charged in the way she held your gaze. “I’m just saying. If the world ended tomorrow and I had to pick… at least I know he might not be a complete disaster about it.”
Eddie took another slow hit from the joint, then held it out toward her like an offering, his voice low and teasing. “Careful, Buckley. Keep talking like that and I might start thinking you actually like me.”
Robin rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she reached for the joint. “Don’t get cocky, Munson. It’s a hypothetical. And you’re the lesser of two evils right now.”
The air in the dining room had shifted — still light, still a little giggly from the drinks and the weed, but underneath it something warmer was humming. Something that felt like it could tip in any direction depending on what happened next.
Eddie’s eyes flicked to you for a second, like he was checking to see how you were taking all of this. His smile was easy, but there was a spark in it that hadn’t been there before.
The words hung in the air for half a second.
Robin’s answer — casual, a little smirk on her face, eyes flicking between you and Eddie like she was testing the temperature of the room. Steve’s soft snoring drifted in from the living room like background noise.
You looked at Robin.
She looked at you.
And there it was — that look. The one the two of you had perfected over the last year of living in this house together. The we’re about to do something really fucking stupid and we both know it look. Half challenge, half invitation. Your mouth twitched. Hers did too.
Eddie blinked between the two of you, brow furrowing. “Okay… what the hell is happening right now? Seriously. You two are doing that thing again. The creepy telepathic eye contact thing. I don’t like it when you do the creepy telepathic eye contact thing—”
Robin was already sliding out of her chair.
You met her halfway.
The second your mouths crashed together it was heavy. No hesitation. No testing the waters. Just the sudden, hungry press of her lips against yours, the sharp little inhale she took when your hands found her waist and pulled her in. She tasted like beer and the faint cherry of her lip balm and the weed you’d all been passing around. Her hands were in your damp hair immediately, tugging, angling your head so she could kiss you deeper, messier. The high made everything sharper and blurrier at the same time — the slide of her tongue against yours, the way her body pressed flush to you, the little sound she made in the back of her throat when your teeth caught her bottom lip.
You barely registered the dining room table behind you until your ass hit the edge of it. Robin followed, crowding between your legs, one hand braced on the wood beside your hip while the other slid up under the edge of your towel, palm hot against your still-damp skin.
Eddie made a noise like he’d been punched in the stomach.
“What the fuck,” he said, voice cracking in the middle. “What the hell is happening seriously. Is this— are you two— Jesus Christ, I’m right here. I’m standing right here. Harrington’s passed out in the next room and you two are just— okay. Alright. This is fine. This is totally fine. I’m not freaking out. I’m not freaking out—”
You broke the kiss just long enough to laugh against Robin’s mouth, breathless and giddy and a little wild from the high. She was laughing too, forehead pressed to yours for a second, both of you grinning like idiots who’d just decided to set something on fire for fun.
Then you turned your head, still half-tangled with her, and reached out.
Your fingers curled around Eddie’s wrist.
He looked down at your hand like it was a live wire.
“Come on,” you said, voice low and rough from the kissing and the smoke. You gave his arm a tug, already sliding off the table, Robin’s hand finding yours on the other side. “Bedroom. Now.”
Robin was still giggling as the three of you stumbled out of the dining room — her free hand grabbing the mostly-smoked joint and the lighter on the way past the table. Eddie let himself be dragged, half-protesting, half-laughing in that high-pitched, overwhelmed way he got when his brain was short-circuiting.
“I— you can’t just— what is happening right now,” he kept saying, even as he followed you down the hallway toward his room. “I was minding my own business. I was being chill. And now I’m being kidnapped by two extremely hot, extremely high girls who were just making out on Steve’s dining room table like it was a normal day—”
“Shut up, Munson,” Robin managed between laughs, shoving his bedroom door open with her shoulder. “Consider this your lucky day.”
You were both still giggling as you pulled him inside — the sound bright and stupid and full of that reckless, drunk-high energy that always seemed to hit hardest at three in the morning. Eddie’s room smelled like him— weed, old leather, that cologne he stole from Steve and never gave back. Posters on the walls, clothes on the floor, his guitar propped in the corner like it was watching.
The door clicked shut behind you.
Robin was still pressed against your side, her mouth finding the curve of your neck for a second just because she could. You were still holding Eddie’s hand, thumb brushing over his knuckles like you were grounding all three of you in the moment.
Eddie stared at the two of you, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, that wild grin starting to break through the confusion.
“Okay,” he said, voice a little hoarse. “Okay. I’m listening. I’m extremely listening. Someone please tell me what the game plan is here before I have a heart attack in my own bedroom.”
You and Robin exchanged another look.
And then you were both laughing again — soft, breathless, already moving toward him like the night had always been headed exactly here.
Robin broke first, a soft, nervous giggle escaping as she looked at you. “Okay. So. We’re really doing this.”
You felt that same reckless, high-drunk spark from the dining room table flare hotter in your chest. You stepped in close to her, one hand sliding around her waist, and spoke low enough that it felt like a secret even though Eddie was right there.
“I’m gonna teach you how to give a blowjob.”
Eddie made a strangled noise from somewhere behind you. “I— what— teach—?”
Robin’s eyes flicked to him, then back to you. She looked a little dazed, a little turned on, a little like she couldn’t believe she was nodding. But she nodded anyway.
You turned to Eddie, who was still standing there looking like his brain had melted. His cock was already straining hard against the front of his swim trunks. You exchanged a silent look of permission with him, stepped right into his space, hooked your fingers into the waistband, and tugged them down in one smooth motion.
His cock sprang free — thick, ruddy tip, already leaking. Bigger than average. Heavy.
Robin’s eyes went wide. “Jesus Christ. Are they all that size?”
You wrapped your hand around the base and gave him one slow stroke, just to watch the way his stomach jumped. Then you glanced at Robin with a crooked little smile.
“Nope. I’m just as surprised as you are.”
Eddie let out a shaky laugh that turned into a groan the second you dropped to your knees in front of him. You didn’t waste time — you leaned in and took the head of his cock into your mouth, warm and wet, tongue swirling around the sensitive underside while your hand worked what you couldn’t fit yet. The taste of him, the weight of him on your tongue, the way his hand immediately found the back of your head like he didn’t know what else to do with it — it all hit harder because of the high. Everything felt magnified.
“Fuck— fuck—” Eddie’s voice cracked. He was staring down at you like you’d just personally rewritten the laws of physics. “Okay. Okay, this is happening. This is really— Jesus, your mouth—”
Robin watched, transfixed, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Her cheeks were flushed. After a minute she cleared her throat, voice a little hoarse.
“Can I… can I just start with a handjob? I don’t think I’m ready for the whole… mouth thing yet.”
You pulled off Eddie’s cock with a wet pop, lips shiny, and looked up at her. “Yeah. Come here.”
Robin knelt down beside you on the floor. She hesitated for only a second before wrapping her hand around him — tentative at first, like she was testing the heat and weight of him. Eddie made another broken sound above you both, hips twitching.
You covered her hand with yours.
“Here,” you murmured, guiding her. “Like this.”
You started slow — long, steady strokes from base to tip, your fingers curled over hers so she could feel exactly how much pressure to use. Eddie’s cock twitched hard in your combined grip, a bead of pre-cum welling at the slit. You used it to slick the way, dragging both your hands up and down in a smooth rhythm.
“See?” you said softly, close to her ear. “He seems to like it when you twist your wrist a little at the top. And you can use your other hand on his balls if you want — gentle, though.”
Eddie was losing his mind above you. One hand braced on the edge of his dresser, the other hovering like he didn’t know where to put it. His voice was wrecked.
“I— I don’t— what the fuck is my life right now— god, that feels— you two are actually going to kill me—”
Robin let out a shaky little laugh, but she didn’t let go. She was watching your hands move together over him, fascinated, biting her lip. The high made everything feel warmer, slower, more electric — the slide of skin on skin, the way Eddie’s cock pulsed between your fingers, the soft sound of his breathing breaking apart above you.
You kept guiding her, slow and patient, showing her how to stroke him just right while Eddie stood there completely at your mercy, confused and painfully, desperately horny, and very clearly not wanting any of it to stop.
The slow, guided strokes had Robin breathing a little harder. You could feel the shift in her — the way her grip got more confident under yours, the way she kept glancing at Eddie’s cock like she was daring herself.
Robin licked her lips.
Then she leaned in.
Her tongue dragged slowly up the underside of Eddie’s cock in one long, tentative stripe from base to tip. She made a soft, surprised sound at the taste and the heat of him, but she didn’t pull away. Instead she did it again, slower this time, like she was getting used to it.
You didn’t hesitate. You dipped your head right beside hers and followed.
The two of you worked him together — tongues sliding up the thick vein on the underside of his cock, getting him messy and wet. Saliva and pre-cum mixed as you licked over the same spots, sometimes your tongues brushing against each other in the process. Robin let out a shaky little laugh against his skin, and you answered it with one of your own before you both went back in, lapping at him like you were sharing something filthy and sweet at the same time.
Eddie made a sound like he’d been shot.
“F-fuck— fuck— you two— Jesus Christ—” His voice was wrecked, high and strained. One hand was white-knuckling the edge of the dresser so hard the wood creaked. The other hovered uselessly in the air like he was afraid to touch either of you in case he lost what little control he had left. His thighs were trembling. “I’m— I’m not gonna last if you keep— god, your tongues—”
You and Robin ignored the warning.
You met in the middle again, tongues curling against each other over the head of his cock before sliding back down together, coating him in shiny wetness. Then you were kissing — really kissing — right there on his dick. Mouths open, tongues sliding hot and slick against each other with the thick length of him caught between you. Every time your lips met you could taste him on her, and she could taste him on you. It was messy. It was obscene. It was so fucking hot you felt dizzy with it.
Eddie’s hips jerked forward without his permission. A broken, desperate noise tore out of his throat.
“I’m serious— I’m— fuck, I’m gonna come if you don’t stop— I’m trying— I’m trying so hard not to—” His voice cracked on a moan as your tongues met again over his slit, lapping up the fresh bead of pre-cum that had leaked out. “Please— Jesus, you’re both gonna kill me—”
Robin pulled back just enough to look up at him, lips shiny and swollen, a wicked little smile on her face even though her cheeks were flushed dark. She gave the head of his cock one more slow lick, then glanced at you like she was checking if you wanted to keep going.
Eddie looked like he was hanging on by a thread — eyes glassy, chest heaving, every muscle in his body locked tight as he fought not to come all over both your faces right then and there.
“Can I… watch you get fucked first?”
You were still on your knees, one hand loosely wrapped around the base of Eddie’s cock. You glanced up at her, a slow, wicked little smile spreading across your face.
“Only if you sit on my face.”
Robin’s eyes went wide for a second. Eddie made a noise like his brain had short-circuited again.
You didn’t wait for more discussion. You stood up, grabbed Eddie’s hand, and tugged him toward the bed with you. Robin followed, still looking a little stunned but not saying no. You crawled onto the mattress and laid back, legs spreading automatically as you looked up at both of them.
Eddie hovered at the side of the bed, swim trunks still around his thighs, cock flushed and shiny from both your mouths. He looked wrecked already — hair wild, eyes dark, chest heaving.
“Are you guys sure?” he asked, voice hoarse. “Like… we can stop at any point. This is— this is a lot. I don’t want anyone to—”
“Munson,” you cut in, staring straight at him, “if you don’t fuck me right now I’m going to be mad at you.” Your tone was light but firm. Then you turned your head toward Robin and patted the space above your face. “And Robin… come sit on my face.”
Robin hesitated. Her cheeks were flushed dark, one hand twisting in the hem of her swimsuit. She looked at Eddie, then at you, then back at Eddie like she was checking one last time that this was really okay. Eddie just gave her a helpless little shrug, like I have no idea what’s happening but I’m not stopping it.
She climbed onto the bed.
You helped guide her — hands on her hips as she swung one leg over your head and slowly lowered herself, pushing the gusset of her swimsuit to the side. The second her cunt brushed your mouth you licked up into her, slow and deliberate, and Robin made a soft, shocked sound above you, thighs trembling on either side of your head.
Eddie was still standing there like he couldn’t believe any of this was real.
You reached down between your own legs and peeled your bikini bottoms off. Y you looked at Eddie upside-down from between Robin’s thighs.
“Eddie.”
That was all it took.
He climbed onto the bed, shoved his trunks the rest of the way off, and lined himself up. The head of his cock dragged through your folds once, twice, collecting wetness, before he pushed in with one long, smooth thrust.
You moaned into Robin’s cunt.
Eddie groaned like he’d been punched. “Fuck— you’re so— god—”
He started fucking you in deep, steady strokes, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. Every time he bottomed out you cried out against Robin, the vibrations making her gasp and rock down harder onto your tongue. She was watching everything — the way Eddie’s cock disappeared into you over and over, the way your tits bounced with every thrust, the way your mouth worked between her legs.
Robin leaned forward.
Her fingers found your clit and started rubbing in tight, desperate little circles, matching the rhythm of Eddie’s thrusts. The added stimulation made your whole body jerk. You sucked harder on her clit, tongue flicking fast, and Robin’s thighs clamped around your head as she moaned.
Eddie was losing it.
He was trying so hard to hold back, but between the way you felt around him, the wet sounds of you eating Robin out, and the sight of her fingers working your clit right above where he was buried inside you — it was too much.
“Fuck— I’m— I’m close—” he gasped. “I can’t— you feel too good— Robin, if you keep— shit—”
Robin rubbed your clit faster, leaning down so she could watch Eddie’s cock splitting you open while your tongue fucked into her. The angle let her grind down harder on your face.
You came first.
It hit hard — a full-body, shaking orgasm that made your back arch off the bed and your moan get muffled against Robin’s cunt. Your walls clenched tight around Eddie’s cock, pulsing hard, and that was it for him.
Eddie came with a broken, guttural sound, hips stuttering as he buried himself as deep as he could and spilled inside you. Thick, hot pulses that you felt with every twitch of his cock. He kept fucking through it in short, desperate thrusts, like he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.
Robin followed right after — thighs shaking around your head as she came on your tongue with a soft, surprised cry, her fingers still moving on your oversensitive clit until the overstimulation made you whimper.
For a few long seconds the only sounds in the room were heavy breathing, the wet slide of Eddie slowly pulling out of you, and Robin’s shaky little laughs as she carefully climbed off your face.
Eddie collapsed onto the bed beside you, one arm thrown over his eyes, chest heaving.
“Holy shit,” he muttered, voice completely wrecked. “What the fuck just happened.”
Robin was still catching her breath, looking down at both of you with wide, dazed eyes and a stunned little smile.
You just lay there between them, flushed and satisfied and still buzzing from the high.
The three of you were still catching your breath, bodies loose and warm on Eddie’s bed. Robin was the first to move, pushing herself up onto her elbows. Her hair was a mess, lips still shiny from where you’d had your mouth on her. She looked down at Eddie, who was flat on his back with one arm thrown over his eyes, his cock soft and half-hard against his stomach, shiny with a mix of your wetness and his own cum.
“So like—” Robin started, voice a little hoarse, “when your dick works again… can I try?”
Eddie dropped his arm and turned his head to stare at her like she’d grown a second head.
“When my— what the hell are you talking about, Buckley?”
Robin sat up a little more, tilting her head as she studied him with open curiosity. “Y’know… like when it gets all hard again like before. I wanna try. For real this time.”
You snorted, still lying between them, one hand resting on your own stomach. “I know a way we can get him hard again.”
Eddie lifted his head, eyes wide. “Hello? I’m— I’m right here, you menaces!”
You and Robin glanced at each other.
“Should we?” you asked, already smiling.
Robin hummed, pretending to think about it. “Hmm. Think we should.”
Before Eddie could get another word out, you rolled toward Robin and kissed her.
It started slow — lazy, post-orgasm kisses, your mouths moving together soft and wet. But it didn’t stay soft for long. Robin made a quiet sound and leaned in harder, one hand coming up to cup your jaw as her tongue slid against yours. The kiss got deeper, messier, the two of you making out right there on the bed like Eddie wasn’t even there.
Eddie made a wounded noise from beside you.
“This isn’t fair,” he complained, voice rough. “I want a kiss. I’m the one who just— I participated! I did labor! I deserve— hey— hey—”
You broke away from Robin with a grin and turned to him instead.
The second your mouth met his, Eddie melted. He kissed you back desperately, one hand sliding into your hair as he licked into your mouth like he’d been starving for it. You could feel him starting to twitch against your thigh already.
Robin watched for a second, then leaned in and nudged you aside so she could kiss him next. Eddie made another broken sound as she kissed him — slower at first, exploratory, then deeper once she got the hang of it. His cock gave a visible twitch against his stomach, starting to fill out properly.
You took your turn again, kissing him slow and filthy while your hand drifted down to wrap loosely around the base of his cock, giving him one lazy stroke. He was getting harder by the second.
“Fuck— you two are evil,” he muttered when you finally let him breathe. His voice was already wrecked again. “I was trying to be good and recover and now I’m— god— I’m hard again. This is your fault. Both of you.”
Robin glanced down at his cock, now fully hard and flushed in your hand, and bit her lip.
She looked back up at you, eyes bright and a little nervous but determined.
“So… can I try now?”
Eddie sat up a little, running a hand through his messy hair. His cock was fully hard again, resting against his stomach as he looked at Robin with that same soft, slightly overwhelmed expression he’d had since the dining room.
“Hey,” he said, voice gentle even though he was still catching his breath from the kissing. “I’m serious. You can stop at any point. Like… any point. You say the word and we’re done, no questions asked.”
Robin rolled her eyes so hard it was almost impressive.
“I know, Jesus Christ,” she muttered. “You’ve said it like six times already. I’m not gonna shatter.”
Eddie held his hands up in surrender, but he was still watching her carefully. “Okay. Okay. Just… making sure.” He hesitated, then asked, “Do you want to do it missionary? Or, like… any position you’re comfortable with.”
Robin made a face like he’d suggested they do it in the middle of the grocery store.
“Fuck no,” she said immediately. “I’m too shy to even talk at you right now, let alone look at you while you’re fucking me.”
Eddie blinked, then let out a short, surprised laugh. “Reverse cowgirl it is, then.”
You helped shift things around on the bed, moving pillows and making space. Robin climbed over Eddie’s lap, facing away from him — toward you instead. Her hands braced on your thighs for balance as she hovered over him. Eddie wrapped one hand around the base of his cock, the other resting lightly on her hip as he lined himself up.
Robin took a shaky breath, then slowly started to sink down.
The second he bottomed out inside her, her eyes went wide. A sharp, punched-out sound left her throat. She froze there for a second, adjusting to the stretch, fingers digging into your legs.
Eddie’s hands tightened on her hips. “You okay?” he asked immediately, voice low and careful. “Robin? You good?”
She didn’t answer right away, just breathed through it.
“Robin?” he tried again, a little more worried. “Hey, talk to me. You okay?”
Robin finally turned her head just enough to glare at him over her shoulder.
“Shut the fuck up, Munson,” she gritted out. “I can feel you in my throat.”
Eddie let out a startled laugh, the sound bright and relieved all at once. “Jesus. Okay. Noted.” He gave her hips a gentle squeeze. “Just checking. You’re calling the shots here.”
Robin took another slow breath, then rolled her hips experimentally. A tiny, involuntary sound escaped her when she felt how deep he was. She glanced at you, something between overwhelmed and determined in her expression, like she was still processing the feeling of being this full.
Eddie was still grinning, even as he stayed perfectly still beneath her.
“Guess I’m just a human dildo tonight,” he joked, voice warm and teasing. “At your service.”
Robin let out a shaky little laugh despite herself, still adjusting, still getting used to the stretch of him inside her. She hadn’t started moving properly yet — just sitting there, breathing, getting her bearings while Eddie waited patiently underneath her and you stayed close in front of her.
You could feel the tension in Robin’s body — the way her thighs were trembling slightly where they bracketed Eddie’s hips, the way her breathing was still a little too careful. So you leaned in and kissed her again, slow and grounding, one hand sliding up to cup the back of her neck. She melted into it almost immediately, some of the rigidness easing out of her shoulders as she kissed you back.
When you pulled away, she turned her head just enough and said, voice a little rough, “Eddie… start moving.”
Eddie didn’t need to be told twice.
He started slow, rolling his hips up into her in careful, shallow thrusts. Robin’s breath hitched, her hands tightening on your thighs as she adjusted to the feeling of him moving inside her. You stayed close, one hand sliding down between her legs to rub her clit in slow, steady circles with your thumb — matching the rhythm Eddie was setting.
Robin let out a shaky moan against your mouth when you kissed her again.
You didn’t stay up there long.
You broke the kiss and lowered yourself further, settling between Eddie’s spread thighs. From this angle you had a perfect view of where they were joined — his cock glistening as it slid in and out of her. You leaned in and dragged your tongue slowly over Robin’s clit first, then lower, licking along the base of Eddie’s cock and his balls on the next pass.
Robin clenched hard around him the second your tongue touched her.
“Fuck—” she gasped, hips jerking.
Eddie groaned, his hands gripping her waist tighter. “Jesus Christ, what did you just do to her?”
Robin let out a breathless, slightly unhinged laugh even as she rolled her hips down to meet Eddie’s next thrust. “She’s— fuck— she’s licking both of us. I can feel her tongue on your— god.”
Eddie let out a shaky laugh of his own, still fucking up into her in those deep, steady strokes. “You're so fucking tight Buckley. Pretty sure I'm going to fall in love with one of you after this.”
Robin reached down blindly and grabbed a handful of your hair, not pushing or pulling, just holding on as you kept licking — slow, deliberate strokes over her clit and the parts of Eddie’s cock that weren’t buried inside her.
“Shut up,” she managed, voice breaking on a moan when you sucked gently on her clit. “You’re— it feels like you're fucking me with your arm. H- How the hell do you walk around all day with— fuck— with that in your pants? Where the hell— Jesus Christ— do- do you put it?”
Eddie grinned, even as his breathing got rougher. “Y'know Buckley. That might be the nicest thing you ever said to me.”
Robin let out another shaky laugh that turned into a moan when you licked a particularly sensitive spot. “I hate you. I hate both of you. This is— fuck— this is your fault.”
“Pretty sure it’s your fault for asking if you could try,” Eddie shot back, voice strained but still teasing as he fucked her a little harder. “I was being a gentleman. You’re the one who decided to use me as a human dildo for kicks.”
Robin’s only response was a broken moan and another tight clench around him as your tongue worked between them.
Eddie groaned, head dropping back against the pillows for a second. “Yeah. Okay. Keep doing that. Both of you. I’m not complaining.”
Robin was breathing hard now, caught between Eddie’s cock and your mouth, her body starting to move more instinctively with every thrust. She was still holding onto your hair like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
The room was filled with the wet sounds of sex, Eddie’s low groans, and Robin’s increasingly desperate little noises every time your tongue dragged over her clit or Eddie hit a spot that made her clench.
Robin was getting close — you could feel it in the way her thighs were starting to shake on either side of Eddie’s hips, the way her breathing had gone ragged and uneven. You kept your mouth on her, tongue working her clit in tight, focused strokes.
Eddie was clearly struggling. His grip on Robin’s hips had gone tight, and his thrusts were getting a little less controlled, a little more desperate.
Robin must have felt it too.
She turned her head just enough to glare at him over her shoulder, voice breathless but sharp.
“If you cum anywhere near me, Munson, I’m going to murder you. I’m serious. I will actually kill you.”
Eddie let out a strained, half-laugh, half-groan. “Noted. Loud and clear. No coming near the lesbian. Got it.”
You pulled your mouth off Robin’s clit just long enough to speak, voice low and a little hoarse from how long you’d had your face buried between them.
“I’ll take it,” you said, looking up at both of them. “Cum on me. Face, tits, wherever. I don’t care.”
Eddie made a broken sound at that, hips stuttering for a second before he forced himself back into rhythm.
You went right back to work on Robin — two fingers rubbing tight and fast right where she needed it. Eddie kept fucking her through it, deep and steady, even as he fought to hold himself back.
Robin’s whole body went tight.
“Fuck— fuck— I’m—” Her voice cracked as she came, clenching hard around Eddie’s cock in rhythmic pulses. Her thighs shook on either side of your head and she grabbed at your hair again, holding on as the orgasm rolled through her. A broken, gasping moan tore out of her throat as she rode it out on Eddie’s cock.
The second she started to come down, Eddie carefully lifted her off him with shaking hands. His cock slipped free, shiny and flushed dark, and he barely had time to stroke himself once before he was coming from between her legs.
Thick ropes painted across your face and chest — hot and messy, landing on your lips, your cheek, and streaking down over your tits. Eddie groaned loud and broken as he came, hips jerking with every pulse, one hand braced on Robin’s thigh while the other worked himself through it.
Robin was still catching her breath above you, looking down with wide, slightly dazed eyes as she watched Eddie finish all over you. She let out a soft, breathless little laugh.
“Holy shit.”
Eddie was still breathing hard, staring down at the mess he’d made on your skin like he couldn’t quite believe any of this had actually happened. His cock gave one last weak twitch in his hand before he let go, slumping back against the pillows.
Robin carefully climbed off him and flopped down beside you on the bed, still flushed and breathing heavy. She looked at the cum on your face and chest, then at Eddie, then back at you.
“…Okay,” she said, voice a little shaky but amused. “That was… a lot.”
Eddie let out a weak, exhausted laugh from where he was sprawled out, one arm thrown over his eyes.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Yeah, it really fucking was.”
The three of you were sprawled across Eddie’s bed in a messy, sweaty pile. Robin was on her back beside you, one arm thrown over her eyes, still breathing hard. Eddie was half-sitting up against the headboard, looking thoroughly fucked-out and a little stunned. You were in the middle, cum cooling on your face and chest, the high still humming pleasantly under your skin.
Robin was the first one to break the silence.
“Wait—” she said, turning her head toward you and Eddie with genuine curiosity. “Is this what Steve’s is like? Has anyone here seen Harrington’s dick? Like… for science?”
Eddie let out a weak, disbelieving laugh, running a hand down his face.
“….Yeah, I don’t think you’re gonna be a lesbian anymore after this.”
Robin snorted, propping herself up on one elbow to look at him. “Nah. Still a lesbian. Have you seen how nice her tits are?” She gestured vaguely at your chest with one hand. “And she doesn’t have a dick that split me in half.”
Eddie clutched his chest dramatically, even as he was clearly fighting a grin. “Glad to know that I’m just an afterthought?”
You turned your head to look at him, still a little breathless, a lazy smile tugging at your mouth.
“If it makes you feel better… I’d have sex with you again.”
Eddie’s head snapped toward you so fast it was almost comical. His eyes lit up, that familiar cocky little smirk sliding back onto his face despite how wrecked he looked.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he drawled, voice low and teasing, “Is that an invitation?”
You let out a soft laugh, reaching over to wipe a bit of cum off your bottom lip with your thumb.
“It’s more of a standing reservation.”
Robin groaned and flopped back down, covering her face with both hands even as her shoulders shook with laughter.
“Oh my god. You two are actually disgusting. I can’t believe I let either of you near me.”
Eddie was still grinning at you, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who’d just been used as a human dildo and then immediately discarded in the rankings. He reached over and lazily dragged two fingers through the mess on your chest, smearing it a little before bringing his fingers to his own mouth and licking them clean with zero shame.
“Standing reservation,” he repeated, like he was tasting the words. “I like the sound of that.”
Robin peeked at him through her fingers. “You’re not allowed to do that Munson. It’s rude.”
“Rude is my brand, Buckley,” Eddie shot back, but his voice had gone softer, warmer. He glanced between the two of you, something fond and a little overwhelmed flickering across his face. “You two are gonna be the death of me. I hope you know that.”
You smiled, still loose and satisfied, and reached over to rest your hand on Robin’s thigh while your other hand found Eddie’s.
“Worth it though,” you murmured.
Robin didn’t answer right away. She just let out a long, dramatic sigh and turned her head to look at you, then at Eddie, then back at you again.
“…Yeah,” she admitted quietly, a small, crooked smile tugging at her mouth. “Yeah, it kinda was.”
summary: After a late night of drinking and a unexpected confession, Eddie Munson unknowingly becomes the test subject for a very important lesson- teaching Robin Buckley how to have sex with a guy.
warnings/tags: smut!, porn with very little plot, bisexual reader, experimenting robin, eddies just along for the ride, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, drunk/high sex, first time, this fic is very self indulgent sue me
shout out to my girlies for beta reading and polishing the outline ♡ @gem-writes @hamilhansen ♡
masterlist
The pool lights rippled across the water like liquid stars, turning Steve’s backyard into something that felt half-real and completely yours. Summer 1987 had been a strange, hazy stretch of rebuilding, government quarantines, and trying to remember how to just exist. But tonight none of that mattered. Tonight was warm air, cool water, and the low, constant sound of your friends laughing like the world wasn't trying to end.
You were sitting on the top step of the shallow end, legs stretched out. A red Solo cup rested on your knee. Across from you, Eddie floated on his back on one of those ridiculous floaties, arms spread wide, tattoos catching the light every time he breathed. Robin sat on the wide ledge near the diving board, knees tucked up, sipping whatever concoction Eddie had made her. Steve was right beside you on the edge, feet dangling in the water, a joint between his fingers and that loose, half-drunk smile he only wore when it was just the four of you.
Eddie sat up with a splash, water streaming down his face. “Okay, but hear me out — I’m telling you, if I can just get the timing right on the bridge, this song is gonna slap. It's dark. It's sexy. I had to write a badass song about surviving the apocalypse, right? Like I didn't get these fuckin' scars for nothing.”
Robin made a noise like she was choking on her own laughter. “Munson. You're insane.”
“Insane? Maybe. But,” Eddie said, pointing at her with the joint before passing it to you. “You know you'd do the same shit Buckley. Some of us are just more musically talented than others.”
Steve snorted, reaching over to steal the joint from your fingers after you took a hit. The smoke curled warm in your lungs, making everything feel a little softer around the edges. “Dude, you survived one apocalypse. Try surviving four. Plus Buckley is great with music. Don't shit on her trombone talents.”
You laughed so hard you had to grab Steve’s arm to keep from sliding off the step. “Yeah Munson. That girls got good blowing skills. Don't shit on her.”
Eddie clutched his chest dramatically. “I would never shit on my dear Buckley. You know I love you. Maybe I could use some of your blowing skills on this song.”
“Blowing skills?” Robin echoed. “Christ Munson. If you want me to blow you, you're gonna be waiting a long ass time.”
Steve was laughing too hard to come up with a coherent thought. Eddie looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole. Steve just splashed water at Eddie with his foot and said, “You’re all lucky I let you live here. I could’ve had peace and quiet. Instead I get you three idiots bickering and someone— someone — keeps stealing my good towels and leaving them on the bathroom floor.”
Robin raised her hand. “That was me. They’re softer than mine. Sue me.”
You leaned back on your elbows, the water lapping gently at your waist. “Speaking of stealing… Eddie, you owe Steve like six pairs of socks at this point. I saw them in your room.”
Eddie looked down at his feet in the water like he’d been caught. “They’re comfortable. And Stevie already stretched them out so they're perfect.”
“It’s theft,” Steve said, but he was grinning, the kind of grin that crinkled his whole face. “You know what else is theft? The last of the good cereal. I bought that box of Lucky Charms yesterday. It was gone by breakfast. I’m looking at you, Buckley.”
Robin didn’t even try to deny it. “I have no regrets. You can’t leave name-brand cereal in a house with three other people and expect it to survive. That’s on you, Harrington.”
The joint made another slow circle. You took a hit, passed it to Robin, and felt that warm, floaty buzz settle deeper into your chest. Everything felt good — the way the pool lights made Eddie’s wet hair look almost black, the way Steve kept bumping his knee against yours like he didn’t even notice he was doing it, the way Robin’s sarcasm had gone soft around the edges tonight. With the four of you the conversations could change on a dime but everyone kept up. You all loved each other.
Eddie paddled closer, resting his arms on the edge near your legs. “You know what I still can’t believe? That time Steve tried to make lasagna for all of us and used sugar instead of salt in the sauce.”
Steve groaned and dropped his head back. “It was dark! The containers looked the same!”
“It tasted like someone murdered an Italian grandmother,” Robin said solemnly. “I still have trauma. I had to wash it down with three beers just to be polite.”
You grinned at Steve. “And then you tried to fix it by adding more cheese and it just became… cheese soup with noodles.”
Steve pointed at you, mock-offended. “You ate three bowls. Don’t act like you weren’t into it.”
“I was high,” you said. “Everything tastes good when you’re high. That doesn’t make it good.”
Eddie cackled and flicked water at Steve. “She’s got you there, Harrington. Face it — you’re a menace in the kitchen. But we keep you around for the pool and the hair care products. Your shampoo collection is the only thing keeping this house from falling into complete chaos.”
Steve ran a hand through his wet hair on instinct. “It’s a routine you heathens. You wouldn’t understand. Some of us like to look like we didn’t just crawl out of a hedge.”
Robin leaned over and ruffled his hair on purpose, making it stick up in every direction. “There. Now you look like the rest of us. Welcome to the hedge club.”
Steve swatted at her hand but he was laughing again, that easy, bright sound that always made the night feel safer. The four of you drifted like that for a while — splashing each other lazily, trading stories about the ridiculous little disasters of living together, the past year. It's become something you never wanted to let go of. Your safe space in the chaos of the world.
Your skin was starting to prune. The high had turned everything warm around the edges. You felt loose and happy and stupidly fond of all of them.
Robin was the one who finally called it. “Alright, my fingers look like raisins and I’m pretty sure if I don’t eat something solid soon I’m going to start chewing on the pool noodles. Inside. Now.”
You pulled yourself up onto the edge, water streaming down your legs and bathing suit. Robin tossed you a towel. It smelled like Steve’s detergent — clean and expensive and somehow like home now. You wrapped it around yourself, goosebumps rising as the night air hit your wet skin.
Steve stood up, a little wobbly, towel slung around his neck. “Yeah… couch is calling my name. Just for a second. I’m good. I’m great. Not way drunker than I thought I was sitting down.”
Eddie climbed out after him, shaking his head like a dog and sending water flying. “Harrington, if you faceplant I’m not carrying you. You're gonna have to be an outside dog from now on.”
Steve waved him off, already heading for the sliding glass doors. “Yeah, yeah. Is the world spinning for anyone else?”
Inside, the house was dim and quiet. Steve made it three steps into the living room before the big sectional couch pulled him in like gravity. He dropped onto it with a heavy thump, one arm dangling off the edge, eyes already half-closed.
“Just… resting my eyes,” he mumbled. “You guys keep… having fun. I’ll be right…”
His eyes fluttered once. Twice.
And then he was gone — out cold, soft snores starting almost immediately, completely dead to the world.
Robin stared at him for a beat, then pressed both hands over her mouth to smother her laughter. “Oh my god. He didn’t even finish the sentence.”
Eddie leaned in the doorway in his low-slung towel, grinning wide. "Such a lightweight. Look at him. King Steve, defeated by vodka and like two joints.”
You stood there in your damp towel, water still dripping from your hair onto your shoulders, and felt that same warm, bright feeling from earlier swell in your chest. Steve, safe and passed out. Eddie watching you with that spark in his eyes. Robin already heading toward the kitchen with a mischievous little bounce in her step.
“Well,” Robin called over her shoulder, “since our fearless leader has officially tapped out… who wants to see if there’s any pasta left in the fridge? Or are we going straight for the liquor cabinet?”
Eddie looked at you, one eyebrow raised, smile slow and easy.
The three of you left Steve snoring softly on the couch and drifted into the dining room like it was the most natural thing in the world. The big wooden table still had a couple of chairs pulled out from earlier in the week when you’d all tried to eat a real meal together. Robin grabbed a fresh beer from the fridge and dropped into one of the chairs, kicking her feet up on the one next to her. You and Eddie stayed standing for a second, the wet ends of your hair still dripping onto your shoulders and the tops of your towels.
Eddie dug another joint out of the crumpled pack he’d left on the counter earlier and lit it with a flick of his lighter. The flame lit up his face for a second — sharp grin, dark eyes, water still clinging to his collarbones. He took a long pull, then passed it to you without a word. You leaned against the edge of the table and took your own hit, the smoke curling warm and familiar in your lungs. The high from the pool hadn’t fully faded yet— this one just layered on top of it, making the dim overhead light feel softer and the air between the three of you feel closer.
Robin twisted the cap off her beer and took a long drink. “God, work’s been so fucking weird lately. Jimmy's gone so it's just been me and Harrington running the show. Who decided that putting us in charge was a good idea? Dingus over there wouldn't know good music if it weren’t for us. He'd be playing ABBA all day and wonder why we'd get hate mail.”
You laughed, the sound a little looser than usual. “That sounds exactly like him. Just be glad you're not working under Keith anymore. Dude was a total fuckin' creep. Remember that time he tried to hit on Nancy and she brutally destroyed every bit of confidence he had left?”
Eddie chuckled from where he was leaning against the wall, joint between his fingers again. He wasn’t saying much — just chilling, listening, that lazy little smirk on his face like he was happy to let the two of you talk while the smoke curled around him. Every now and then he’d take a hit and pass it back to you, his fingers brushing yours for a second longer than necessary.
Robin groaned and took another sip. “And don’t even get me started on my mom. She keeps asking when I’m gonna ‘bring a nice boy around’ like I haven’t been gay as fuck my whole life. I told her I’m busy surviving the apocalypse and working, but apparently that’s not a good enough excuse.”
You took the joint from Eddie again, the paper warm against your lips. The high was settling deep now — that sweet, heavy feeling behind your eyes that made everything feel a little more honest. You exhaled slowly and looked at Robin across the table.
“Honestly? You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with any of that shit,” you said, the words slipping out before you could overthink them. “The last guy I was with was… god, he was bad. Like, aggressively bad. All confidence, zero skill. Kept asking if I was close. I had to fake it just to get him to stop. And then he had the nerve to look proud of himself after.” You shook your head, laughing a little even though it wasn’t really funny. “You’re seriously so lucky you don’t have to deal with that mess, Robin.”
Robin raised an eyebrow, but she was smiling — the kind of smile that said she knew exactly what you meant and was grateful she didn’t. “Yeah, well. That’s one bullet I’ve managed to dodge.”
You took another slow hit from the joint, then passed it back to Eddie. The question came out casual, curious, the kind of thing that only got asked when everyone was a little drunk and a little high and the house was quiet except for Steve’s distant snoring.
“Have you ever actually had sex with a guy?”
Robin made a face but didn’t look offended. She just shook her head. “Nope. Never.”
You tilted your head, genuinely curious now. “What about kissing? Have you ever kissed a guy?”
She snorted. “Yeah, duh. Had to pretend to be straight at some point, right? High school was a whole thing. There was this one guy who wouldn’t leave me alone until I let him kiss me at a party. It was… fine. Wet. Weird. I spent the whole time thinking about how I’d rather be anywhere else.” She shrugged, taking another drink. “But it got the job done. People stopped asking questions for a while.”
The room felt smaller suddenly. Warmer. Eddie was still quiet, but you could feel him listening — that sharp, attentive energy he got when something interesting was happening. He took a hit from the joint and held it, watching the two of you with dark, amused eyes.
You leaned forward a little, elbows on the table, the high making your voice come out softer and more honest than usual.
“Okay, but… if you had to have sex with a guy,” you asked, “who would it be?”
Robin didn’t even hesitate. She looked you dead in the eye, a little smirk tugging at her mouth, cheeks faintly pink from the beer and the conversation.
“Well, I only trust two guys,” she said. “And since Harrington’s passed out cold in the other room, I guess Munson would do.”
The words landed in the quiet dining room like a spark on dry wood.
Eddie let out a low, surprised laugh — not mocking, just genuinely caught off guard. Smoke curled from between his lips as he exhaled. “Wow. High praise, Buckley. I’m flattered. Truly. I’ll try not to let it go to my head.”
You felt your own pulse pick up a little, the high sharpening everything — the way Robin was looking at you both, the way Eddie’s grin had gone a shade more dangerous, the distant sound of Steve’s soft snoring from the living room like he was still somehow part of this even while he was dead asleep.
Robin just shrugged, but there was something playful and a little charged in the way she held your gaze. “I’m just saying. If the world ended tomorrow and I had to pick… at least I know he might not be a complete disaster about it.”
Eddie took another slow hit from the joint, then held it out toward her like an offering, his voice low and teasing. “Careful, Buckley. Keep talking like that and I might start thinking you actually like me.”
Robin rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she reached for the joint. “Don’t get cocky, Munson. It’s a hypothetical. And you’re the lesser of two evils right now.”
The air in the dining room had shifted — still light, still a little giggly from the drinks and the weed, but underneath it something warmer was humming. Something that felt like it could tip in any direction depending on what happened next.
Eddie’s eyes flicked to you for a second, like he was checking to see how you were taking all of this. His smile was easy, but there was a spark in it that hadn’t been there before.
The words hung in the air for half a second.
Robin’s answer — casual, a little smirk on her face, eyes flicking between you and Eddie like she was testing the temperature of the room. Steve’s soft snoring drifted in from the living room like background noise.
You looked at Robin.
She looked at you.
And there it was — that look. The one the two of you had perfected over the last year of living in this house together. The we’re about to do something really fucking stupid and we both know it look. Half challenge, half invitation. Your mouth twitched. Hers did too.
Eddie blinked between the two of you, brow furrowing. “Okay… what the hell is happening right now? Seriously. You two are doing that thing again. The creepy telepathic eye contact thing. I don’t like it when you do the creepy telepathic eye contact thing—”
Robin was already sliding out of her chair.
You met her halfway.
The second your mouths crashed together it was heavy. No hesitation. No testing the waters. Just the sudden, hungry press of her lips against yours, the sharp little inhale she took when your hands found her waist and pulled her in. She tasted like beer and the faint cherry of her lip balm and the weed you’d all been passing around. Her hands were in your damp hair immediately, tugging, angling your head so she could kiss you deeper, messier. The high made everything sharper and blurrier at the same time — the slide of her tongue against yours, the way her body pressed flush to you, the little sound she made in the back of her throat when your teeth caught her bottom lip.
You barely registered the dining room table behind you until your ass hit the edge of it. Robin followed, crowding between your legs, one hand braced on the wood beside your hip while the other slid up under the edge of your towel, palm hot against your still-damp skin.
Eddie made a noise like he’d been punched in the stomach.
“What the fuck,” he said, voice cracking in the middle. “What the hell is happening seriously. Is this— are you two— Jesus Christ, I’m right here. I’m standing right here. Harrington’s passed out in the next room and you two are just— okay. Alright. This is fine. This is totally fine. I’m not freaking out. I’m not freaking out—”
You broke the kiss just long enough to laugh against Robin’s mouth, breathless and giddy and a little wild from the high. She was laughing too, forehead pressed to yours for a second, both of you grinning like idiots who’d just decided to set something on fire for fun.
Then you turned your head, still half-tangled with her, and reached out.
Your fingers curled around Eddie’s wrist.
He looked down at your hand like it was a live wire.
“Come on,” you said, voice low and rough from the kissing and the smoke. You gave his arm a tug, already sliding off the table, Robin’s hand finding yours on the other side. “Bedroom. Now.”
Robin was still giggling as the three of you stumbled out of the dining room — her free hand grabbing the mostly-smoked joint and the lighter on the way past the table. Eddie let himself be dragged, half-protesting, half-laughing in that high-pitched, overwhelmed way he got when his brain was short-circuiting.
“I— you can’t just— what is happening right now,” he kept saying, even as he followed you down the hallway toward his room. “I was minding my own business. I was being chill. And now I’m being kidnapped by two extremely hot, extremely high girls who were just making out on Steve’s dining room table like it was a normal day—”
“Shut up, Munson,” Robin managed between laughs, shoving his bedroom door open with her shoulder. “Consider this your lucky day.”
You were both still giggling as you pulled him inside — the sound bright and stupid and full of that reckless, drunk-high energy that always seemed to hit hardest at three in the morning. Eddie’s room smelled like him— weed, old leather, that cologne he stole from Steve and never gave back. Posters on the walls, clothes on the floor, his guitar propped in the corner like it was watching.
The door clicked shut behind you.
Robin was still pressed against your side, her mouth finding the curve of your neck for a second just because she could. You were still holding Eddie’s hand, thumb brushing over his knuckles like you were grounding all three of you in the moment.
Eddie stared at the two of you, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, that wild grin starting to break through the confusion.
“Okay,” he said, voice a little hoarse. “Okay. I’m listening. I’m extremely listening. Someone please tell me what the game plan is here before I have a heart attack in my own bedroom.”
You and Robin exchanged another look.
And then you were both laughing again — soft, breathless, already moving toward him like the night had always been headed exactly here.
Robin broke first, a soft, nervous giggle escaping as she looked at you. “Okay. So. We’re really doing this.”
You felt that same reckless, high-drunk spark from the dining room table flare hotter in your chest. You stepped in close to her, one hand sliding around her waist, and spoke low enough that it felt like a secret even though Eddie was right there.
“I’m gonna teach you how to give a blowjob.”
Eddie made a strangled noise from somewhere behind you. “I— what— teach—?”
Robin’s eyes flicked to him, then back to you. She looked a little dazed, a little turned on, a little like she couldn’t believe she was nodding. But she nodded anyway.
You turned to Eddie, who was still standing there looking like his brain had melted. His cock was already straining hard against the front of his swim trunks. You exchanged a silent look of permission with him, stepped right into his space, hooked your fingers into the waistband, and tugged them down in one smooth motion.
His cock sprang free — thick, ruddy tip, already leaking. Bigger than average. Heavy.
Robin’s eyes went wide. “Jesus Christ. Are they all that size?”
You wrapped your hand around the base and gave him one slow stroke, just to watch the way his stomach jumped. Then you glanced at Robin with a crooked little smile.
“Nope. I’m just as surprised as you are.”
Eddie let out a shaky laugh that turned into a groan the second you dropped to your knees in front of him. You didn’t waste time — you leaned in and took the head of his cock into your mouth, warm and wet, tongue swirling around the sensitive underside while your hand worked what you couldn’t fit yet. The taste of him, the weight of him on your tongue, the way his hand immediately found the back of your head like he didn’t know what else to do with it — it all hit harder because of the high. Everything felt magnified.
“Fuck— fuck—” Eddie’s voice cracked. He was staring down at you like you’d just personally rewritten the laws of physics. “Okay. Okay, this is happening. This is really— Jesus, your mouth—”
Robin watched, transfixed, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Her cheeks were flushed. After a minute she cleared her throat, voice a little hoarse.
“Can I… can I just start with a handjob? I don’t think I’m ready for the whole… mouth thing yet.”
You pulled off Eddie’s cock with a wet pop, lips shiny, and looked up at her. “Yeah. Come here.”
Robin knelt down beside you on the floor. She hesitated for only a second before wrapping her hand around him — tentative at first, like she was testing the heat and weight of him. Eddie made another broken sound above you both, hips twitching.
You covered her hand with yours.
“Here,” you murmured, guiding her. “Like this.”
You started slow — long, steady strokes from base to tip, your fingers curled over hers so she could feel exactly how much pressure to use. Eddie’s cock twitched hard in your combined grip, a bead of pre-cum welling at the slit. You used it to slick the way, dragging both your hands up and down in a smooth rhythm.
“See?” you said softly, close to her ear. “He seems to like it when you twist your wrist a little at the top. And you can use your other hand on his balls if you want — gentle, though.”
Eddie was losing his mind above you. One hand braced on the edge of his dresser, the other hovering like he didn’t know where to put it. His voice was wrecked.
“I— I don’t— what the fuck is my life right now— god, that feels— you two are actually going to kill me—”
Robin let out a shaky little laugh, but she didn’t let go. She was watching your hands move together over him, fascinated, biting her lip. The high made everything feel warmer, slower, more electric — the slide of skin on skin, the way Eddie’s cock pulsed between your fingers, the soft sound of his breathing breaking apart above you.
You kept guiding her, slow and patient, showing her how to stroke him just right while Eddie stood there completely at your mercy, confused and painfully, desperately horny, and very clearly not wanting any of it to stop.
The slow, guided strokes had Robin breathing a little harder. You could feel the shift in her — the way her grip got more confident under yours, the way she kept glancing at Eddie’s cock like she was daring herself.
Robin licked her lips.
Then she leaned in.
Her tongue dragged slowly up the underside of Eddie’s cock in one long, tentative stripe from base to tip. She made a soft, surprised sound at the taste and the heat of him, but she didn’t pull away. Instead she did it again, slower this time, like she was getting used to it.
You didn’t hesitate. You dipped your head right beside hers and followed.
The two of you worked him together — tongues sliding up the thick vein on the underside of his cock, getting him messy and wet. Saliva and pre-cum mixed as you licked over the same spots, sometimes your tongues brushing against each other in the process. Robin let out a shaky little laugh against his skin, and you answered it with one of your own before you both went back in, lapping at him like you were sharing something filthy and sweet at the same time.
Eddie made a sound like he’d been shot.
“F-fuck— fuck— you two— Jesus Christ—” His voice was wrecked, high and strained. One hand was white-knuckling the edge of the dresser so hard the wood creaked. The other hovered uselessly in the air like he was afraid to touch either of you in case he lost what little control he had left. His thighs were trembling. “I’m— I’m not gonna last if you keep— god, your tongues—”
You and Robin ignored the warning.
You met in the middle again, tongues curling against each other over the head of his cock before sliding back down together, coating him in shiny wetness. Then you were kissing — really kissing — right there on his dick. Mouths open, tongues sliding hot and slick against each other with the thick length of him caught between you. Every time your lips met you could taste him on her, and she could taste him on you. It was messy. It was obscene. It was so fucking hot you felt dizzy with it.
Eddie’s hips jerked forward without his permission. A broken, desperate noise tore out of his throat.
“I’m serious— I’m— fuck, I’m gonna come if you don’t stop— I’m trying— I’m trying so hard not to—” His voice cracked on a moan as your tongues met again over his slit, lapping up the fresh bead of pre-cum that had leaked out. “Please— Jesus, you’re both gonna kill me—”
Robin pulled back just enough to look up at him, lips shiny and swollen, a wicked little smile on her face even though her cheeks were flushed dark. She gave the head of his cock one more slow lick, then glanced at you like she was checking if you wanted to keep going.
Eddie looked like he was hanging on by a thread — eyes glassy, chest heaving, every muscle in his body locked tight as he fought not to come all over both your faces right then and there.
“Can I… watch you get fucked first?”
You were still on your knees, one hand loosely wrapped around the base of Eddie’s cock. You glanced up at her, a slow, wicked little smile spreading across your face.
“Only if you sit on my face.”
Robin’s eyes went wide for a second. Eddie made a noise like his brain had short-circuited again.
You didn’t wait for more discussion. You stood up, grabbed Eddie’s hand, and tugged him toward the bed with you. Robin followed, still looking a little stunned but not saying no. You crawled onto the mattress and laid back, legs spreading automatically as you looked up at both of them.
Eddie hovered at the side of the bed, swim trunks still around his thighs, cock flushed and shiny from both your mouths. He looked wrecked already — hair wild, eyes dark, chest heaving.
“Are you guys sure?” he asked, voice hoarse. “Like… we can stop at any point. This is— this is a lot. I don’t want anyone to—”
“Munson,” you cut in, staring straight at him, “if you don’t fuck me right now I’m going to be mad at you.” Your tone was light but firm. Then you turned your head toward Robin and patted the space above your face. “And Robin… come sit on my face.”
Robin hesitated. Her cheeks were flushed dark, one hand twisting in the hem of her swimsuit. She looked at Eddie, then at you, then back at Eddie like she was checking one last time that this was really okay. Eddie just gave her a helpless little shrug, like I have no idea what’s happening but I’m not stopping it.
She climbed onto the bed.
You helped guide her — hands on her hips as she swung one leg over your head and slowly lowered herself, pushing the gusset of her swimsuit to the side. The second her cunt brushed your mouth you licked up into her, slow and deliberate, and Robin made a soft, shocked sound above you, thighs trembling on either side of your head.
Eddie was still standing there like he couldn’t believe any of this was real.
You reached down between your own legs and peeled your bikini bottoms off. Y you looked at Eddie upside-down from between Robin’s thighs.
“Eddie.”
That was all it took.
He climbed onto the bed, shoved his trunks the rest of the way off, and lined himself up. The head of his cock dragged through your folds once, twice, collecting wetness, before he pushed in with one long, smooth thrust.
You moaned into Robin’s cunt.
Eddie groaned like he’d been punched. “Fuck— you’re so— god—”
He started fucking you in deep, steady strokes, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. Every time he bottomed out you cried out against Robin, the vibrations making her gasp and rock down harder onto your tongue. She was watching everything — the way Eddie’s cock disappeared into you over and over, the way your tits bounced with every thrust, the way your mouth worked between her legs.
Robin leaned forward.
Her fingers found your clit and started rubbing in tight, desperate little circles, matching the rhythm of Eddie’s thrusts. The added stimulation made your whole body jerk. You sucked harder on her clit, tongue flicking fast, and Robin’s thighs clamped around your head as she moaned.
Eddie was losing it.
He was trying so hard to hold back, but between the way you felt around him, the wet sounds of you eating Robin out, and the sight of her fingers working your clit right above where he was buried inside you — it was too much.
“Fuck— I’m— I’m close—” he gasped. “I can’t— you feel too good— Robin, if you keep— shit—”
Robin rubbed your clit faster, leaning down so she could watch Eddie’s cock splitting you open while your tongue fucked into her. The angle let her grind down harder on your face.
You came first.
It hit hard — a full-body, shaking orgasm that made your back arch off the bed and your moan get muffled against Robin’s cunt. Your walls clenched tight around Eddie’s cock, pulsing hard, and that was it for him.
Eddie came with a broken, guttural sound, hips stuttering as he buried himself as deep as he could and spilled inside you. Thick, hot pulses that you felt with every twitch of his cock. He kept fucking through it in short, desperate thrusts, like he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.
Robin followed right after — thighs shaking around your head as she came on your tongue with a soft, surprised cry, her fingers still moving on your oversensitive clit until the overstimulation made you whimper.
For a few long seconds the only sounds in the room were heavy breathing, the wet slide of Eddie slowly pulling out of you, and Robin’s shaky little laughs as she carefully climbed off your face.
Eddie collapsed onto the bed beside you, one arm thrown over his eyes, chest heaving.
“Holy shit,” he muttered, voice completely wrecked. “What the fuck just happened.”
Robin was still catching her breath, looking down at both of you with wide, dazed eyes and a stunned little smile.
You just lay there between them, flushed and satisfied and still buzzing from the high.
The three of you were still catching your breath, bodies loose and warm on Eddie’s bed. Robin was the first to move, pushing herself up onto her elbows. Her hair was a mess, lips still shiny from where you’d had your mouth on her. She looked down at Eddie, who was flat on his back with one arm thrown over his eyes, his cock soft and half-hard against his stomach, shiny with a mix of your wetness and his own cum.
“So like—” Robin started, voice a little hoarse, “when your dick works again… can I try?”
Eddie dropped his arm and turned his head to stare at her like she’d grown a second head.
“When my— what the hell are you talking about, Buckley?”
Robin sat up a little more, tilting her head as she studied him with open curiosity. “Y’know… like when it gets all hard again like before. I wanna try. For real this time.”
You snorted, still lying between them, one hand resting on your own stomach. “I know a way we can get him hard again.”
Eddie lifted his head, eyes wide. “Hello? I’m— I’m right here, you menaces!”
You and Robin glanced at each other.
“Should we?” you asked, already smiling.
Robin hummed, pretending to think about it. “Hmm. Think we should.”
Before Eddie could get another word out, you rolled toward Robin and kissed her.
It started slow — lazy, post-orgasm kisses, your mouths moving together soft and wet. But it didn’t stay soft for long. Robin made a quiet sound and leaned in harder, one hand coming up to cup your jaw as her tongue slid against yours. The kiss got deeper, messier, the two of you making out right there on the bed like Eddie wasn’t even there.
Eddie made a wounded noise from beside you.
“This isn’t fair,” he complained, voice rough. “I want a kiss. I’m the one who just— I participated! I did labor! I deserve— hey— hey—”
You broke away from Robin with a grin and turned to him instead.
The second your mouth met his, Eddie melted. He kissed you back desperately, one hand sliding into your hair as he licked into your mouth like he’d been starving for it. You could feel him starting to twitch against your thigh already.
Robin watched for a second, then leaned in and nudged you aside so she could kiss him next. Eddie made another broken sound as she kissed him — slower at first, exploratory, then deeper once she got the hang of it. His cock gave a visible twitch against his stomach, starting to fill out properly.
You took your turn again, kissing him slow and filthy while your hand drifted down to wrap loosely around the base of his cock, giving him one lazy stroke. He was getting harder by the second.
“Fuck— you two are evil,” he muttered when you finally let him breathe. His voice was already wrecked again. “I was trying to be good and recover and now I’m— god— I’m hard again. This is your fault. Both of you.”
Robin glanced down at his cock, now fully hard and flushed in your hand, and bit her lip.
She looked back up at you, eyes bright and a little nervous but determined.
“So… can I try now?”
Eddie sat up a little, running a hand through his messy hair. His cock was fully hard again, resting against his stomach as he looked at Robin with that same soft, slightly overwhelmed expression he’d had since the dining room.
“Hey,” he said, voice gentle even though he was still catching his breath from the kissing. “I’m serious. You can stop at any point. Like… any point. You say the word and we’re done, no questions asked.”
Robin rolled her eyes so hard it was almost impressive.
“I know, Jesus Christ,” she muttered. “You’ve said it like six times already. I’m not gonna shatter.”
Eddie held his hands up in surrender, but he was still watching her carefully. “Okay. Okay. Just… making sure.” He hesitated, then asked, “Do you want to do it missionary? Or, like… any position you’re comfortable with.”
Robin made a face like he’d suggested they do it in the middle of the grocery store.
“Fuck no,” she said immediately. “I’m too shy to even talk at you right now, let alone look at you while you’re fucking me.”
Eddie blinked, then let out a short, surprised laugh. “Reverse cowgirl it is, then.”
You helped shift things around on the bed, moving pillows and making space. Robin climbed over Eddie’s lap, facing away from him — toward you instead. Her hands braced on your thighs for balance as she hovered over him. Eddie wrapped one hand around the base of his cock, the other resting lightly on her hip as he lined himself up.
Robin took a shaky breath, then slowly started to sink down.
The second he bottomed out inside her, her eyes went wide. A sharp, punched-out sound left her throat. She froze there for a second, adjusting to the stretch, fingers digging into your legs.
Eddie’s hands tightened on her hips. “You okay?” he asked immediately, voice low and careful. “Robin? You good?”
She didn’t answer right away, just breathed through it.
“Robin?” he tried again, a little more worried. “Hey, talk to me. You okay?”
Robin finally turned her head just enough to glare at him over her shoulder.
“Shut the fuck up, Munson,” she gritted out. “I can feel you in my throat.”
Eddie let out a startled laugh, the sound bright and relieved all at once. “Jesus. Okay. Noted.” He gave her hips a gentle squeeze. “Just checking. You’re calling the shots here.”
Robin took another slow breath, then rolled her hips experimentally. A tiny, involuntary sound escaped her when she felt how deep he was. She glanced at you, something between overwhelmed and determined in her expression, like she was still processing the feeling of being this full.
Eddie was still grinning, even as he stayed perfectly still beneath her.
“Guess I’m just a human dildo tonight,” he joked, voice warm and teasing. “At your service.”
Robin let out a shaky little laugh despite herself, still adjusting, still getting used to the stretch of him inside her. She hadn’t started moving properly yet — just sitting there, breathing, getting her bearings while Eddie waited patiently underneath her and you stayed close in front of her.
You could feel the tension in Robin’s body — the way her thighs were trembling slightly where they bracketed Eddie’s hips, the way her breathing was still a little too careful. So you leaned in and kissed her again, slow and grounding, one hand sliding up to cup the back of her neck. She melted into it almost immediately, some of the rigidness easing out of her shoulders as she kissed you back.
When you pulled away, she turned her head just enough and said, voice a little rough, “Eddie… start moving.”
Eddie didn’t need to be told twice.
He started slow, rolling his hips up into her in careful, shallow thrusts. Robin’s breath hitched, her hands tightening on your thighs as she adjusted to the feeling of him moving inside her. You stayed close, one hand sliding down between her legs to rub her clit in slow, steady circles with your thumb — matching the rhythm Eddie was setting.
Robin let out a shaky moan against your mouth when you kissed her again.
You didn’t stay up there long.
You broke the kiss and lowered yourself further, settling between Eddie’s spread thighs. From this angle you had a perfect view of where they were joined — his cock glistening as it slid in and out of her. You leaned in and dragged your tongue slowly over Robin’s clit first, then lower, licking along the base of Eddie’s cock and his balls on the next pass.
Robin clenched hard around him the second your tongue touched her.
“Fuck—” she gasped, hips jerking.
Eddie groaned, his hands gripping her waist tighter. “Jesus Christ, what did you just do to her?”
Robin let out a breathless, slightly unhinged laugh even as she rolled her hips down to meet Eddie’s next thrust. “She’s— fuck— she’s licking both of us. I can feel her tongue on your— god.”
Eddie let out a shaky laugh of his own, still fucking up into her in those deep, steady strokes. “You're so fucking tight Buckley. Pretty sure I'm going to fall in love with one of you after this.”
Robin reached down blindly and grabbed a handful of your hair, not pushing or pulling, just holding on as you kept licking — slow, deliberate strokes over her clit and the parts of Eddie’s cock that weren’t buried inside her.
“Shut up,” she managed, voice breaking on a moan when you sucked gently on her clit. “You’re— it feels like you're fucking me with your arm. H- How the hell do you walk around all day with— fuck— with that in your pants? Where the hell— Jesus Christ— do- do you put it?”
Eddie grinned, even as his breathing got rougher. “Y'know Buckley. That might be the nicest thing you ever said to me.”
Robin let out another shaky laugh that turned into a moan when you licked a particularly sensitive spot. “I hate you. I hate both of you. This is— fuck— this is your fault.”
“Pretty sure it’s your fault for asking if you could try,” Eddie shot back, voice strained but still teasing as he fucked her a little harder. “I was being a gentleman. You’re the one who decided to use me as a human dildo for kicks.”
Robin’s only response was a broken moan and another tight clench around him as your tongue worked between them.
Eddie groaned, head dropping back against the pillows for a second. “Yeah. Okay. Keep doing that. Both of you. I’m not complaining.”
Robin was breathing hard now, caught between Eddie’s cock and your mouth, her body starting to move more instinctively with every thrust. She was still holding onto your hair like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
The room was filled with the wet sounds of sex, Eddie’s low groans, and Robin’s increasingly desperate little noises every time your tongue dragged over her clit or Eddie hit a spot that made her clench.
Robin was getting close — you could feel it in the way her thighs were starting to shake on either side of Eddie’s hips, the way her breathing had gone ragged and uneven. You kept your mouth on her, tongue working her clit in tight, focused strokes.
Eddie was clearly struggling. His grip on Robin’s hips had gone tight, and his thrusts were getting a little less controlled, a little more desperate.
Robin must have felt it too.
She turned her head just enough to glare at him over her shoulder, voice breathless but sharp.
“If you cum anywhere near me, Munson, I’m going to murder you. I’m serious. I will actually kill you.”
Eddie let out a strained, half-laugh, half-groan. “Noted. Loud and clear. No coming near the lesbian. Got it.”
You pulled your mouth off Robin’s clit just long enough to speak, voice low and a little hoarse from how long you’d had your face buried between them.
“I’ll take it,” you said, looking up at both of them. “Cum on me. Face, tits, wherever. I don’t care.”
Eddie made a broken sound at that, hips stuttering for a second before he forced himself back into rhythm.
You went right back to work on Robin — two fingers rubbing tight and fast right where she needed it. Eddie kept fucking her through it, deep and steady, even as he fought to hold himself back.
Robin’s whole body went tight.
“Fuck— fuck— I’m—” Her voice cracked as she came, clenching hard around Eddie’s cock in rhythmic pulses. Her thighs shook on either side of your head and she grabbed at your hair again, holding on as the orgasm rolled through her. A broken, gasping moan tore out of her throat as she rode it out on Eddie’s cock.
The second she started to come down, Eddie carefully lifted her off him with shaking hands. His cock slipped free, shiny and flushed dark, and he barely had time to stroke himself once before he was coming from between her legs.
Thick ropes painted across your face and chest — hot and messy, landing on your lips, your cheek, and streaking down over your tits. Eddie groaned loud and broken as he came, hips jerking with every pulse, one hand braced on Robin’s thigh while the other worked himself through it.
Robin was still catching her breath above you, looking down with wide, slightly dazed eyes as she watched Eddie finish all over you. She let out a soft, breathless little laugh.
“Holy shit.”
Eddie was still breathing hard, staring down at the mess he’d made on your skin like he couldn’t quite believe any of this had actually happened. His cock gave one last weak twitch in his hand before he let go, slumping back against the pillows.
Robin carefully climbed off him and flopped down beside you on the bed, still flushed and breathing heavy. She looked at the cum on your face and chest, then at Eddie, then back at you.
“…Okay,” she said, voice a little shaky but amused. “That was… a lot.”
Eddie let out a weak, exhausted laugh from where he was sprawled out, one arm thrown over his eyes.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Yeah, it really fucking was.”
The three of you were sprawled across Eddie’s bed in a messy, sweaty pile. Robin was on her back beside you, one arm thrown over her eyes, still breathing hard. Eddie was half-sitting up against the headboard, looking thoroughly fucked-out and a little stunned. You were in the middle, cum cooling on your face and chest, the high still humming pleasantly under your skin.
Robin was the first one to break the silence.
“Wait—” she said, turning her head toward you and Eddie with genuine curiosity. “Is this what Steve’s is like? Has anyone here seen Harrington’s dick? Like… for science?”
Eddie let out a weak, disbelieving laugh, running a hand down his face.
“….Yeah, I don’t think you’re gonna be a lesbian anymore after this.”
Robin snorted, propping herself up on one elbow to look at him. “Nah. Still a lesbian. Have you seen how nice her tits are?” She gestured vaguely at your chest with one hand. “And she doesn’t have a dick that split me in half.”
Eddie clutched his chest dramatically, even as he was clearly fighting a grin. “Glad to know that I’m just an afterthought?”
You turned your head to look at him, still a little breathless, a lazy smile tugging at your mouth.
“If it makes you feel better… I’d have sex with you again.”
Eddie’s head snapped toward you so fast it was almost comical. His eyes lit up, that familiar cocky little smirk sliding back onto his face despite how wrecked he looked.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he drawled, voice low and teasing, “Is that an invitation?”
You let out a soft laugh, reaching over to wipe a bit of cum off your bottom lip with your thumb.
“It’s more of a standing reservation.”
Robin groaned and flopped back down, covering her face with both hands even as her shoulders shook with laughter.
“Oh my god. You two are actually disgusting. I can’t believe I let either of you near me.”
Eddie was still grinning at you, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who’d just been used as a human dildo and then immediately discarded in the rankings. He reached over and lazily dragged two fingers through the mess on your chest, smearing it a little before bringing his fingers to his own mouth and licking them clean with zero shame.
“Standing reservation,” he repeated, like he was tasting the words. “I like the sound of that.”
Robin peeked at him through her fingers. “You’re not allowed to do that Munson. It’s rude.”
“Rude is my brand, Buckley,” Eddie shot back, but his voice had gone softer, warmer. He glanced between the two of you, something fond and a little overwhelmed flickering across his face. “You two are gonna be the death of me. I hope you know that.”
You smiled, still loose and satisfied, and reached over to rest your hand on Robin’s thigh while your other hand found Eddie’s.
“Worth it though,” you murmured.
Robin didn’t answer right away. She just let out a long, dramatic sigh and turned her head to look at you, then at Eddie, then back at you again.
“…Yeah,” she admitted quietly, a small, crooked smile tugging at her mouth. “Yeah, it kinda was.”
pairing: steve harrington x reader (w.c. 6.3k)
summary: after months of chemistry with steve, the whole group suspects there's more between you two. specially nancy, who keeps pushing the truth. you deny it, claming you're just close. until she walks in and catches you together doing more than ''just friends'' things.
warnings: porn with plot, +18 (minors do not interact), explicit nsfw, big dick steve, praise kink, fingering, unprotected sex, almost creampie, dirty talk, getting caught, secret situationship, mutual masturbation, p in v, oral sex (f & m receiving), dryhumping, jealousy behavior.
author's note: hii petition requested here :3 hope u like it n please be patient about the others one pls! love yall
you knew steve harrington for what felt like forever now.
it all started back when dustin first dragged him into your orbit after the chaotic demodog incident.
at first, steve was just your annoyingly popular friend; the former king of hawkins high who somehow ended up babysitting a bunch of kids and fighting monsters alongside them.
but over time, that reluctant acquaintance changed into something much deeper.
steve became one of the most important people in your life.
he was the person you called when you couldn’t sleep.
the one who remembered your favorite snacks after a rough day.
the only one who could make you laugh even when the weight of the upside down felt crushing.
the two of you shared an effortless closeness that went far beyond normal friendship.
you spent countless nights talking in his car, shoulders brushing, exchanging quiet confessions under dim streetlights.
he knew your fears, your dreams, and the way you liked your drinks.
you knew his insecurities, his regrets, and the parts of him he hid from the rest of the world.
and yet… you weren’t together.
not officially.
there were no labels, no dates and no promises.
just a deep, tender bond that everyone around you seemed to notice except the two of you.
or at least, that’s what you told yourselves.
steve had been completely honest with you about nancy.
one quiet evening, months after their breakup, he told you everything; the good moments. the painful fights, the way he had failed her, and how much it hurt when things ended.
he spoke openly about his guilt and the lingering sadness, but he also made it clear that he had moved on.
the feelings were no longer romantic; they were just memories now.
still, he trusted you enough to lay it all bare, something he rarely did with anyone else.
you listened without judgment, and that night only pulled you two closer.
robin, of course, found the whole thing endlessly entertaining.
she never missed a chance to tease you both.
whenever she caught steve staring at you a little too long or noticed how his hand instinctively rested on your lower back when you walked together.
“you two are so gone for each other it’s actually painful to watch.” she’d smirk and say.
she loved poking at steve specifically, grinning.
“just admit you like her. the way you look at her is embarrassing. even the kids have noticed.”
steve would roll his eyes, cheeks slightly pink.
“shut up,” but he never actually denied it.
after that, you became close friends with nancy and Robin.
or that’s what you thought.
one crisp afternoon, the three of you –you, nancy, and robin– were walking through the woods. you were supposed to be gathering information about some gates, but the conversation drifted into more personal territory.
steve was a little further ahead, scouting with eddie, but every so often he would glance back over his shoulder, his eyes finding you almost instinctively.
he’d give you that soft familiar half-smile before turning his attention back to the trail.
and nancy noticed it immediately. she let out a small bitter-sounding laugh as she pushed a branch out of her way.
‘’god, look at him. he can’t even go five minutes without checking on you.’’
you looked at her, thinking the words to talk.
‘’it’s actually kind of impressive how attentive he is… when he wants to be.’’ nancy continued.
robin raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet, sensing the shit in tone. nancy continued again, her voice was sweet but laced with something sharper.
‘’must be nice having someone glued to you at these days.’’
you felt heat rise your cheeks. laughing nervously, you shook your head and tried to brush it off.
‘’oh, come on, nancy. it’s not like that,’’ you said quickly, forcing a smile. ‘’steve’s just… protective of everyone. he’s not that attentive with me specially. we’re just close friends, that’s all.’’
nancy turned her head to look at you, her expression unreadable but her smile thin.
‘’right,’’ she replied, the word dripping with disbelief. ‘’just friends. of course.’’
she looked forward again, eyes landing on steve’s distant figure as he once more glanced back toward your group.
towards you.
robin cleared her throat, trying to cut through the tension, but the damage was already done.
you swallowed hard, heart racing, and kept walking in silence, painfully aware of steve’s eyes still lingering on you from afar.
that same evening at the wheeler house, the group was crowded around the large dining table covered in maps, newspapers clipping, and half-empty mugs of coffee.
steve stood directly behind you, his tall frame leaning over your shoulder as he pointed at a particular route on the map.
his chest pressed warmly against your back, and one of his hands settled naturally on your waist, his fingers splaying possessively over the fabric oof your shirt.
the touch was innocent enough to anyone glancing over. but the way his thumb began to move –slow, deliberate circles against your side– was anything but.
you felt his breath ghost over the side of your neck when he spoke.
a low and intimate voice.
‘’right here,’’ he murmured, his lips dangerously close to your ear. ‘’this is where we need to be careful.’’
your breath hitched. without meaning to, you leaned back into him, your hips pressing subtly against his front.
steve’s grip tightened instantly, pulling you closer for just a second.
the heat between your bodies was undeniable.
his fingers flexed against your waist, and you could feel the tension in his arm, like he was fighting the urge to do more.
the air around you felt thick, charged with something heavy and unspoken.
steve’s other hand brushed against yours on the table, lingering far longer than necessary, his pinky slowly tracing the side of your hand.
you bit your lip, trying to focus on the map while your heart hammered in your chest.
from across the table, robin smirked but stayed quiet.
nancy, however, watched the entire interaction with narrowed eyes, her pen frozen in her hand.
eddie, never one to hold back, groaned loudly and threw his head back in exaggerated disgust.
‘’oh my god, seriously? can you two stop eye-fucking each other for five minutes? we’re trying to plan how not to die and you’re over here practically dry-humping each other in front of everyone!’’
he waved his hands dramatically.
steve didn’t move away immediately.
instead, he let out a low chuckle. his hand gave your waist one last possessive squeeze before he finally straightened up.
but the heated look he gave you over your shoulder made it very clever this moment was far from over.
you felt your cheeks burning as you avoided nancy’s sharp gaze.
but she said nothing.
after the group finally finished planning their strategy to confront vecna, everyone slowly dispersed.
leaving you and steve completely alone in the dining room.
the tension in the air was immediate and thick.
steve leaned back against the table, his arms crossed over his chest while he watched you with that cocky little smirk.
‘’so…’’ he started, giving you a low voice full of sarcasm. ‘’you gonna keep pretending in front of nancy that you aren’t completely obsessed with me? or are we still playing the game?’’
you turned to face him, trying to keep your expression neutral even though your heart was racing.
‘’you’re the one who can’t keep his hands off me in front of everyone,’’ you shot back, raising an eyebrown. ‘’real subtle, harrington.’’
steve let a low chuckle and pushed off the table, slowly stalking toward you.
‘’oh, i’m sorry. was i being too obvious when you were practically pushing your ass back against me earlier?’’ he stopped right in front of you, close enough that you could smell his cologne. “don’t act like you didn’t love it.”
you rolled your eyes, even as heat crawled up your neck.
“you’re so full of yourself.”
“and you,” he said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. his fingers lingering on your jaw, “are a terrible liar.”
his thumb brushed slowly over your cheek.
‘’you’ve been looking at me the same way i’ve been looking at you all day. don’t think i didn’t notice.”
the tension between you was electric.
steve’s eyes dropped to your lips.
then back up to your eyes.
he looked at you hungry.
‘’you drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured. “acting all innocent in front of the others while you know exactly what you do to me.”
your breath hitched.
“maybe you just need better self-control.”
steve smirked, stepping even closer until your bodies were nearly touching.
“or maybe you should stop pretending you don’t want me to lose it.”
for a second, you both just stared at each other, the air heavy with unspoken desire.
then steve cupped your face with both hands and kissed you.
it was deep and urgent from the start.
you kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers sliding into his hair and tugging.
steve groaned softly against your mouth, one hand dropping to your waist to pull you flush against him.
the kiss grew hotter, tongues meeting, bodies pressed together against the table as weeks of hidden tension finally spilled over.
‘’fuck… i hate hiding this,” steve whispered with husky voice.
before you could respond, the door swung open.
“oh, for the love of god—” robin stood there, holding two mugs of coffee, eyes wide. “again?! i can’t leave you two alone for five minutes without you attacking each other!”
the next day, you, robin, and nancy spent the afternoon at the hawkins public library.
you three were tucked away in a quiet corner surrounded by stacks of old newspapers, town history books, and anything that might give you new information about vecna.
for a while, the conversation stayed focused on research.
but eventually, nancy closed the book in front of her with a soft thud and looked directly at you.
“so… are you and steve actually together?” she asked, her voice calm but pointed.
you felt your stomach drop.
robin glanced up from her notes but said nothing, choosing to stay silent for now.
nancy leaned forward slightly, continuing before you could answer.
“because the tension between you two is impossible to ignore. it doesn’t look like friendship. it looks like something more.”
you shook your head quickly, forcing a nervous smile.
“no, nancy. we’re not together. i promise. steve and i are just really close friends. that’s all.”
nancy let out a small sigh, tilting her head as she studied you.
“look, i know steve. i dated him for a long time, remember? i know exactly how he acts when he’s into someone. it’s kind of his thing when he’s flirting.” she paused for a moment, then added, “and honestly? it’s fine. it doesn’t bother me. steve and i are friends now. i’ve moved on.”
you felt your cheeks heat up. you shook your head again, more firmly this time.
“no, really. we’re not like that. we trust each other. there’s nothing romantic going on.”
nancy gave you a small, knowing smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“of course,” she said softly, her voice sweet but edged with something sharper. “you two are just… very close. i understand. it’s sweet, really.”
the comment hung in the air, light enough to seem innocent, but pointed enough to sting.
you couldn’t hold back anymore.
“nancy… are you jealous?”
the question slipped out before you could stop it. robin’s head snapped up from her notes, eyes widening slightly.
nancy blinked, clearly caught off guard, but she recovered quickly with a soft laugh.
“jealous? no, i’m not—”
before she could finish, robin cleared her throat loudly and interrupted.
“okay, ladies, as fun as this is, we should probably get back to investigating,” she said, tapping the newspaper in front of her. “vecna isn’t going to defeat himself, and we’re running out of daylight.”
nancy pressed her lips together for a second, then nodded.
“you’re right,” she said, standing up and smoothing her sweater. “i’ll go check the history section on the second floor. maybe there’s something useful there.”
she gave you one last lingering look before walking away toward the stairs.
the moment nancy disappeared between the shelves, robin turned to you with a knowing smirk.
“alright. she’s gone,” robin said, leaning closer. “i know there’s something going on between you and steve. and before you try to deny it again — i’ve literally walked in on you two making out. twice.”
she raised an eyebrow, waiting.
“so… how long has this been going on?”
you let out a long sigh, glancing around to make sure nancy was still out of earshot.
“a few weeks,” you admitted quietly. “it just… happened. we’re not officially together or anything. it’s kind of a mess, honestly.”
robin nodded slowly, a small smirk on her face.
“i figured. you two have been acting weird for a while. it was only a matter of time. just be careful, okay?”
you smiled weakly.
“yeah… i know.”
the rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of research.
when you finally got home that night, you were exhausted. you had just changed into your pajamas when the phone rang.
without thinking, you picked it up.
“hello?” a familiar low chuckle came through the line.
“hey, baby… it’s me.” you smiled, lying back on your bed.
“steve. i didn’t know it was you.”
“yeah, i figured,” he said, voice warm. “how was the library? did you find anything useful, or was nancy giving you a hard time?”
you let out a soft laugh.
“a bit of both. we found some old records that might help with vecna, but nancy kept pushing about us again. she’s convinced we’re together.”
steve hummed.
“let her think what she wants.” hs tone shifted, becoming slower and deeper. then the quiet was made, until he talked again. “i miss you. been thinking about you nonstop since yesterday.”
“i miss you too,” you whispered.
steve’s voice dropped even lower.
“yeah? i keep thinking about that kiss… how you pulled me closer. fuck, i wanted to lift you onto that table and take my time with you right there.”
your breath caught. heat spread through your body as you squeezed your thighs together instinctively.
your free hand rested on your stomach, fingers twitching as you fought the urge to slide them lower.
“steve…” you breathed, voice shaky.
“i’ve been all day remembering how you sound when you’re turned on,” he continued, husky and teasing. “i want you so bad, baby. i want to kiss down your neck, push your legs apart and—”
your fingers hovered just at the waistband of your pajama shorts, heart racing, breath coming faster.
you were so close to giving in—
“honey!” your big sister’s voice suddenly echoed from downstairs. “dinner’s ready! come down before it gets cold!”
you froze, letting out a frustrated sigh as you pulled your hand away.
“shit… i have to go,” you whispered, cheeks burning. “my sister’s calling me for dinner.”
steve groaned deeply on the other end.
“worst timing ever. alright… go eat.” he paused, then added with a smirk in his voice, “but tomorrow i’m coming over early.”
the next afternoon, you had just stepped out of the shower, steam still filling your bathroom.
you wrapped a towel tightly around your body and walked into your bedroom, hair damp and skin still warm.
you were supposed to meet up with nancy, robin, eddie, and the rest of the group in less than an hour to go over the final details of the plan against vecna.
you were reaching for your clothes when you heard the familiar sound of your window sliding open.
you jumped, letting out a startled gasp as steve climbed through the window like he used to do back in the day.
he landed quietly on your floor, brushing off his jeans with a smug little smirk.
“jesus christ, steve!” you whisper-yelled, one hand clutching the towel tightly against your chest. “you scared the hell out of me!”
he straightened up, eyes slowly dragging down your body, taking in the sight of you in nothing but a towel.
his smirk deepened.
“sorry, baby,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “couldn’t wait until later.” he took a slow step closer, his eyes dark with heat. “and damn… this is a much better view than i imagined.”
you felt your face heat up as you took a small step back, still gripping the towel.
“steve. i have to get ready. we’re meeting everyone soon and i’m not even dressed.”
he ignored your protest, closing the distance between you until he was right in front of you.
his fingers lightly traced the edge of the towel near your collarbone, not pulling it, just teasing.
“you sure you don’t have five minutes?” he murmured, voice low and flirty. “because you look way too good in just this towel.’’
before you could answer, steve’s hands slid down to your waist, gripping you firmly as he pulled you flush against him.
you didn’t resist.
the second his lips met yours, you melted into the kiss, arms wrapping around his neck.
the kiss was hungry from the start.
steve kissed you like he’d been waiting all day, tongue sliding against yours as one of his hands stayed firmly on your waist and the other cupped the back of your neck.
you kissed him back just as eagerly, fingers threading into his hair and tugging lightly, exactly how he liked it.
“fuck, i missed this,” steve breathed against your lips between kisses. “missed tasting you… missed the way you sound when i kiss you like this.”
you let out a soft moan into his mouth as he deepened the kiss again, his tongue exploring yours with slow, heated strokes.
your body pressed tighter against his, the thin towel the only thing between you.
steve walked backwards until he reached your bed and sat down on the edge, never breaking the kiss.
with a gentle but firm tug, he pulled you onto his lap, straddling him.
the towel rode up your thighs as you settled over him, and his hands immediately gripped your hips, holding you in place.
“steve…” you whispered breathlessly, forehead resting against his as you both tried to catch your breath.
he smirked, eyes dark with want, and gave your hips a light squeeze.“What?” he teased, voice rough.
“you said you had to get ready… but you’re not exactly pushing me away, baby.”
you laughed softly, still a little dizzy from the kiss, and leaned in to kiss him again, slower this time.
steve groaned quietly into your mouth, one hand sliding up your back under the edge of the towel while the other stayed firmly on your thigh.
“we really don’t have time,” you murmured against his lips, even as you kissed him once more.
“i know,” he replied, nipping at your bottom lip. “but fuck… you make it really hard to care.”
you kept kissing him deeply, straddling his lap as the kiss grew hotter and messier.
your hips rocked slowly against him without thinking, and steve’s grip on your thigh tightened, pulling you closer.
his tongue moved against yours hungrily, one hand now fully under the towel, caressing the bare skin of your back and waist.
soon you felt him getting hard beneath you.
his cock pressed against your core through his jeans. you smiled against his lips and rolled your hips deliberately, grinding down on the growing bulge.
“mmm… already?” you teased, voice breathy and playful. “i thought you were supposed to behave.”
steve let out a low, strained groan, his hips buckling up slightly to meet your movement.
“you’re the one sitting on my lap in nothing but a towel,” he muttered with a rough arousal voice. “what did you expect?”
you smirked and leaned in, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and down his neck.
you sucked lightly on the sensitive spot just below his ear, then gently bit down, earning another deep groan from him.
“fuck, baby…” steve hissed, tilting his head to give you better access.
his hands gripped your ass under the towel, squeezing as you continued grinding against his now fully hard cock.
“you’re gonna kill me.”
you kissed and licked along his neck, enjoying the way his breathing got heavier every time you rolled your hips.
“maybe i should stop then…” you whispered teasingly against his skin, even as you pressed down harder against his erection.
“don’t you fucking dare,” he growled, one hand sliding higher up your thigh, dangerously close to where you were both aching for contact.
steve pulled you even tighter against him and captured your mouth in a deep intense kiss.
his hand moved to the back of your neck, his fingers threaded into your damp hair as he held you in place, kissing you harder.
his tongue slid against yours with hunger, dominating the kiss completely.
you moaned softly into his mouth and started rocking your hips, grinding slowly but firmly against the hard bulge in his jeans. the friction made you both breathless.
steve groaned deeply, the sound vibrating against your lips as he pushed his hips up to meet every roll of yours.
he kissed you like he was starving, focusing especially on your upper lip — sucking it into his mouth, licking it, biting it gently before soothing it with his tongue.
he kept returning to it over and over, obsessed.
he was pressed so close his nose kept brushing against your cheek and almost poking the corner of your eye with every tilt of his head, but neither of you cared enough to pull away.
“fuck, baby…” he panted between kisses with a rough voice. “you feel so good grinding on me like that.”
you answered by rolling your hips harder, dragging your covered pussy along his clothed cock in slow deliberate movements.
steve’s grip on your neck tightened as he kissed you even deeper, sucking on your upper lip again while his other hand squeezed your ass under the towel, guiding your movements.
the dry humping became more urgent.
the towel had ridden up completely around your waist, and only his jeans separated you now.
every time you rocked forward, his hard length rubbed perfectly against your clit, making you whimper into his mouth.
steve’s nose pressed against the side of your eye again as he angled his head to kiss you even more desperately.
tongue sliding deep.
lips locked on your upper lip like he couldn’t get enough of it.
without warning, steve gripped your hips and flipped you onto your back on the bed.
you gasped as he moved over you, settling his body between your spread legs. the towel had completely fallen open, barely covering anything anymore.
steve leaned down and kissed you hard again, then moved to your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin as he pressed his hard cock against your bare pussy through his jeans.
“fuck, you smell so good,” he groaned against your neck, inhaling deeply. “fresh out of the shower… all warm and soft. i could eat you up right now.”
you whimpered, arching your back and rolling your hips up against him.
“steve… please…”
he lifted his head, eyes dark with lust as he looked down at you.
“please what, baby? use your words. tell me what you want.”
“touch me… please. i need you or your fingers.” your cheeks burned, but the ache between your legs won.
steve smirked, clearly pleased.
“that’s my good girl.” he brought two fingers to your lips. “first, suck.”
you obediently opened your mouth and took his fingers in, sucking them slowly while looking up at him. you swirled your tongue around them, getting them nice and wet.
steve groaned at the sight, his cock twitching against you.
“fuck, look at you…” he muttered, voice thick. “sucking my fingers like you would my cock. so fucking pretty.”
after a few seconds he pulled them out with a wet pop and immediately slid them down between your legs.
he rubbed your soaked pussy slowly, teasing your clit before pushing two thick fingers inside you.
you moaned loudly, back arching off the bed.
“shit, you’re so wet already,” steve breathed, pumping his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace. “this pussy is dripping for me. you’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?”
“yes…” you gasped, hips moving to meet his fingers. “steve… faster, please.”
he leaned down to kiss you again, sucking on your upper lip while his fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust.
“greedy girl,” he whispered hotly against your mouth. “you want more? want me to make you cum before i fuck you?”
you could only moan in response, nodding desperately as his fingers pumped faster, curling and rubbing against that sensitive spot inside you.
steve kept kissing you deeply, occasionally breaking away to suck and bite your upper lip while his thumb circled your swollen clit.
“that’s it, baby,” he growled against your lips. “fuck my fingers like a good little slut. you’re so fucking wet… i can hear how much this pussy needs me.”
your hips bucked wildly against his hand.
the pleasure built fast and intense until it finally crashed over you.
you came hard around his fingers, back arching off the bed as you cried out his name.
steve didn’t stop, working you through your orgasm with slow, deep strokes until you were trembling and breathless.
he finally pulled his fingers out and brought them to his mouth, licking them clean while staring down at you with dark eyes.
“delicious,” he murmured.
steve then tugged the towel completely off your body, tossing it aside.
he started kissing down your neck, your collarbones, sucking on your tits and swirling his tongue around your nipples before continuing lower.
he kissed and licked down your stomach, taking his time, until he settled between your legs. he looked up at you, eyes locked with yours as he spread your thighs wider.
without warning, he leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly up your soaked pussy.
you arched sharply, a loud moan escaping your lips. steve groaned against you.
“fuck, you taste even better than i remembered.” he buried his face deeper, nose pressing against your clit as he licked and sucked eagerly.
his nose kept brushing and nudging against your sensitive bundle of nerves every time he moved, adding to the overwhelming sensation.
“look at me,” he demanded, glancing up at you while his tongue flicked rapidly over your clit. “i want to see your face while i eat this pretty pussy.”
you could barely keep your eyes open, but you tried, one hand gripping his hair tightly as he devoured you.
steve sucked your clit into his mouth, humming in satisfaction, then pushed his tongue inside you, fucking you with it while his nose continued rubbing against your clit.
“you’re so fucking wet for me,” he groaned between licks. “such a needy little thing… cum on my tongue, baby. i want to feel you falling apart again.”
the combination of his tongue inside you and his nose pressing rhythmically against your swollen clit quickly pushed you over the edge. your legs shook violently around his head as you came with a loud, broken moan, thighs clamping around him.
steve kept licking you through it, savoring every drop until you were a trembling, oversensitive mess.
when he finally pulled back, his lips and chin were shiny..
you were still catching your breath when you pushed yourself up, moving onto your knees in front of him on the bed.
your hands reached eagerly for his belt, fingers working quickly to undo it.
steve watched you with dark, hungry eyes, but just as you started to pull the belt open, he grabbed your wrists gently but firmly, stopping you.
“not yet,” he murmured.
he cupped your face with both hands, tilting your head up.
then he leaned down and kissed you deeply, making sure you could taste yourself on his tongue. the kiss was slow, filthy, and possessive.
you moaned into his mouth as you tasted your own wetness on his lips and tongue.
when he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily.
“go ahead, baby,” he whispered, voice rough. “now you can take it out.” he released your wrists, letting you continue.
your hands immediately returned to his belt, unbuckling it with shaky fingers before working on the button and zipper of his jeans.
steve groaned deeply, hips twitching forward into your touch.
“fuck… baby, please,” he rasped. “don’t tease me. i’ve been hard for you since i climbed through that window.”
you smiled up at him, continuing to stroke him slowly over the fabric, feeling him throb under your hand.
steve let out a low desperate sound, his head falling back slightly.
“shit… your hand feels so good. please, just touch it already.”
encouraged by his begging, you finally slipped your hand inside his boxers and wrapped your fingers around his hard cock.
he was hot, heavy, and hard.
you stroked him a few times, your thumb brushing over the leaking tip.
steve moaned, louder this time.
“that’s it… just like that. fuck, your hand—”
you didn’t wait any longer.
you pulled his boxers down, freeing his cock. without hesitation, you leaned forward and took him into your mouth, sucking on the head before sliding down as far as you could.
“fuuuck—” steve groaned, his hand immediately going to the back of your head. “just like that, baby. good girl… sucking my cock so well.”
he gathered your damp hair into a makeshift ponytail, wrapping it around his fist.
you bobbed your head, taking him deeper, your tongue swirling around him as you sucked.
steve’s grip on your hair tightened, guiding your movements as he gently fucked your mouth.
“look at me,” he breathed, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. “i love watching you with my dick in your mouth.”
his other hand caressed your cheek as you worked him, occasionally pushing a little deeper, making you gag softly around him.
steve’s groans grew louder, his hips moving in shallow thrusts as he held your hair firmly in his fist.
you took him deeper, sucking harder, your tongue pressing against the underside of his cock while your hand stroked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.
steve’s breathing became ragged, his grip on your hair tightening.
“fuck— baby, i’m close,” he warned, voice strained. “gonna cum in that pretty mouth if you keep going like that…” you didn’t pull away.
instead, you moaned around him and sucked harder, looking up at him with watery eyes.
that was all it took. steve let out a deep, guttural groan as he came hard, thick ropes of cum spilling into your mouth.
“swallow it,” he growled, still holding your hair. “all of it, baby. good girl…”
you swallowed every drop, looking up at him as you did.
steve watched you with pure lust in his eyes, breathing heavily. he pulled you up and kissed you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue, before gently pushing you onto your back.
he settled between your spread legs, his still-hard cock resting heavy against your soaked pussy.
he was very big —thick and long— and he knew it.
steve looked down at you, his eyes dark.
“gonna go slow, okay baby? i don’t want to hurt you.”
he laced his fingers with yours, pinning your hand beside your head, and squeezed gently. then he slowly started pushing inside you.
you gasped as the thick head stretched you open. steve groaned deeply, forehead pressed against yours.
“fuck… so tight,” he breathed, his rough with pleasure voice. “look at you taking my cock so well. such a good girl for me.”
he pushed in another inch, slow and careful, watching your face the entire time.
“that’s it… breathe for me, baby. you’re doing so fucking good. taking every inch like you were made for it.”
you whimpered as he kept sinking deeper, stretching you wide. steve kept whispering praises.
“so fucking pretty when you’re full of me… you feel that? feel how deep i am?” when he finally bottomed out, buried to the hilt inside you, he stayed still, letting you adjust.
he squeezed your hand tighter, fingers still perfectly interlaced with yours.
“you okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, kissing your lips. “you’re so tight around me… gripping my cock so perfectly. i could stay like this forever.”
he started moving then — slow, deep thrusts, rolling his hips carefully as he kissed you again.
“such a good fucking girl,” he praised between thrusts. “taking all of me so well… i’m so proud of you, baby.”
steve kept your fingers tightly interlaced, squeezing your hand as he fucked you.
at first his thrusts were slow and deep, letting you feel every thick inch stretching you open. the wet sound of him sliding in and out of your soaked pussy filled the room.
“fuck, Steve…” you moaned, squeezing his hand back. “it feels so big… right there…”
“that’s it, baby,” he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. “right there? you like it when i fuck you deep like this?”
he gradually picked up the pace, thrusting harder and faster. the bed started creaking beneath you.
steve’s grip on your hand tightened as he drove into you with more intensity.
“fuck, you’re so tight,” he panted, voice rough. “this pussy was made for my cock. look at you taking every inch like a good little slut.”
without warning, steve pulled out of you, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness.
he grabbed your thighs and easily lifted you up. you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you across the room and pressed you against the desk.
the wood creaked under the impact as he pinned you there. steve lined himself up and pushed back inside you in one slow, deep thrust, groaning loudly at how tight you felt.
“fuck… yes,” he growled against your neck.
he started fucking you against the dresser with slow, intense strokes.
every thrust was powerful and deliberate, his hips rolling deeply into you. the dresser shook with each thrust, the mirror rattling softly behind you.
he started fucking you against the dresser with slow, intense strokes.
every thrust was powerful and deliberate, his hips rolling deeply into you. the table shook with each thrust.
steve kept one hand under your thigh for support while the other gripped your hip hard enough to leave marks.
he buried his face in your neck, sucking and biting as he fucked you passionately.
“you feel so fucking good like this,” he groaned, voice low and rough. “pressed against the desk… taking my cock so deep. such a perfect little fucktoy for me.”
you moaned loudly, nails digging into his shoulders.
“steve… oh god, it’s so deep—”
he growled in response and picked up the rhythm slightly, still keeping each thrust slow and intense, making sure you felt every single inch.
the angle was perfect, his cock hitting that sensitive spot inside you with every roll of his hips.
“look at me, baby,” he demanded, forehead pressed against yours. “i want to see your face while i fuck you like this.”
you kept your eyes on his, moaning with every deep, powerful thrust.
steve fucked you harder against the dresser, his hips snapping forward as he chased his pleasure.
his grip on your thigh was almost bruising, the other hand still holding yours tightly.
“fuck, i’m so close,” he groaned, voice strained. “you’re gonna make me cum so hard, baby…”
you were both right on the edge when the bedroom door suddenly swung open.
nancy stood there, eyes wide with shock.
for a second, everything froze.
steve was buried deep inside you, your legs wrapped around his waist, both of you completely naked and sweaty.
nancy’s mouth fell open.
“what the—?!” she gasped, her face turning bright red. “oh my god!” she immediately turned around and slammed the door shut behind her, but not before muttering a stunned “what the fuck…”
steve groaned in frustration, forehead dropping to your shoulder.
“shit…”
you were both breathing hard, hearts racing.
he slowly pulled out of you, setting you down on shaky legs.
your knees nearly gave out, but he caught you, holding you against his chest for a moment.
“we have to get dressed,” you whispered urgently, still flushed and trembling. “they’re probably all waiting for us.”
steve nodded, kissing you quickly on the forehead. “yeah… fuck. bad timing.’’
you both rushed to get dressed — you throwing on whatever clothes you could find, steve pulling up his jeans and fixing his shirt.
the air was thick with frustration and leftover arousal.
once you were both decent, you took a deep breath and opened the door.
steve followed right behind you.
the moment you stepped into the hallway, the atmosphere shifted.
nancy was standing a few feet away, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
her face was still flushed with embarrassment, but now it was mixed with clear annoyance and discomfort.
she looked at both of you, her jaw tight.
“everyone’s waiting in the living room,” she said, her voice colder than usual. “we’ve been ready for twenty minutes.”
her eyes flicked between you and steve, lingering a second longer on him.
steve cleared his throat, trying to sound casual.
“yeah, sorry about that. we… got distracted.”
nancy let out a sharp humorless laugh.
“distracted. right.” she looked at you again, her expression unreadable. “you might want to fix your hair before we go. it’s a mess.”
Summary: Working at Big Belly’s Diner in Hawkins wasn’t glamorous—late-night truckers, spilled coffee, and grease that clung to everything. You never thought a metalhead line cook could upend your life. But then again, Eddie Munson was never just a cook.
Tags: Fluff, tooth rotting fluff, you'll need a dentist again, diner au, line cook!Eddie, waitress!Reader, friendly and flirty banter, getting together, no upside-down, mutual pining, even their coworkers ship them. no description of reader. No use of Y/N.
A/N: I'm the most free I've been, I feel like to celebrate, I'll give you another Eddie fanfic. If you have any requests, suggestions, or thoughts, feel free to send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated. Please do not steal or cross-post it on another platform without asking. Thank you.
Word Count: 10.9k
masterlist
The lunch rush was already in full swing, the kind of chaos that made the air feel heavy with steam and the scent of frying onions. You balanced a notepad in one hand, pen in the other, as you crouched slightly beside a booth of regulars—two truckers who smelled like diesel and black coffee.
“Two Big Belly Burgers, one extra pickles, one no onions. Fries with both. And two cherry Cokes,” you repeated, flashing them your waitress smile before heading toward the kitchen pass-through.
Eddie was there, leaning against the stainless-steel counter like the picture of laziness, a spatula twirling in his fingers. His hair was tucked under a red Big Belly’s cap in the loosest possible interpretation of the dress code, a few curls already escaping.
You slapped the ticket down in front of him. “Table three,” you said. “Don’t burn them this time.”
He gave you that grin—the one that was half challenge, half trouble. “Please. My burgers are the only reason people come here.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Sure. It’s definitely not because they’re desperate and this is the only place open after eleven.”
“Jealous,” he shot back, flipping a patty onto the grill with more flair than strictly necessary. “Admit it—you’d kill to be back here in my kitchen kingdom.”
You leaned an elbow on the counter. “Right. Because smelling like fryer grease all day is my dream.”
From the other side of the kitchen, one of the dishwashers called out, “Just kiss already!”
Without missing a beat, you and Eddie both shot back in perfect unison—
“She wishes!”
“He wishes!”
You caught each other’s eyes then, both of you trying not to smile too wide, and it was ridiculous how much heat could pass over a counter full of burger buns.
The diner was humming with clinking cutlery, chatter, and the tinny hum of a Foreigner song crackling through the overhead speakers. You moved from table to table, the coffee pot in your hand your trusted sidekick.
“Top you off?” you asked one of the truckers, steam curling from the pot as you poured. A couple of high school kids in the corner booth waved you over next, their notebooks and milkshake glasses sharing precious table space. You kept that practiced smile on, the one you could wear through a ten-hour shift without cracking—though it always turned real when someone tipped decently.
From behind the pass-through, Eddie’s eyes tracked you. He tried to make it look casual, like he was just glancing up to check if an order was ready to be run out, but the curve tugging at his mouth gave him away. It wasn’t his usual smirk either—more like something softer. So soft, in fact, that he nearly missed the angry hiss from the grill.
“Shit—” He lunged for the spatula, flipping the burger just in time to save it from turning into charcoal. Well, mostly save it.
When you finally swung back around to the kitchen, you picked up the plate he’d slid under the heat lamps. “Uh-huh.” You tilted your head at the patty. “Looks a little… dark, Munson.”
Eddie braced his arms on the counter, leaning toward you with exaggerated offense. “That’s called caramelization, sweetheart. Adds flavor. You’re welcome.”
You smirked, shaking your head as you grabbed the plate. “If the customer sends it back, I’m telling them you tried to assassinate them via overcooked beef.”
“Tell them it’s gourmet,” he called after you as you wove back into the dining room, and you didn’t have to see him to know he was still watching.
By the time the last table was wiped down and the coffee pots were dumped, the air in Big Belly’s felt calmer—just the hum of the refrigeration units and the scrape of chairs being set back in place. In the kitchen, Biggie was barking goodnights as the staff worked through their closing checklist, mopping floors and stacking clean pans.
You pulled on your coat over your uniform, the fabric still carrying the faint smell of grease and fryer oil. Through the front windows, you spotted Eddie outside, leaning against the brick wall by the dumpster, a cigarette hanging from his fingers. The tip glowed orange in the dim light, his hair catching bits of neon from the diner’s flickering sign.
When you stepped out, the night air felt sharp after the heat of the kitchen. Eddie glanced over, a little smile tugging at his lips, not the cocky grin he wore during shifts—just something easy.
“Thought you clocked out already,” he said, voice low.
“Was just finishing up.” You tucked your hands in your coat pockets, standing beside him. For a few seconds, it was quiet except for the faint hiss of his exhale.
“All the food looked good today,” you said finally, tilting your head toward him. “Well… besides that one dark one.”
He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Still on about that?”
“I’m just saying, you’re lucky I didn’t have to deal with an angry customer.”
“You wound me,” he said, but there was no real defense in his tone—just the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth, like he liked that you’d noticed at all.
For once, neither of you rushed to fill the silence that followed.
Headlights swept across the parking lot, and you spotted Karen’s beat-up Buick pulling up near the curb. She leaned over from the driver’s seat to wave, the muffler rattling like it might give out any second.
You glanced back at Eddie. The smoke from his cigarette curled into the cool night air, his eyes still on you like he wasn’t quite ready for you to leave. You shifted your weight, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture more nervous than you meant it to be.
“Well… guess that’s my ride,” you said, your voice softer now, without the sharp edges of your shift banter.
He gave a small nod, the kind that felt like it meant more than it seemed. “See you tomorrow, waitress.”
“See you, cook,” you replied, letting the words linger between you before turning toward the car.
As you slid into the passenger seat and Karen pulled away, you caught one last glimpse of him in the side mirror—still leaning against the wall, cigarette burning low, watching until you were gone.
The morning rush hadn’t started yet, but you could already hear Biggie clattering around in the back kitchen, muttering about invoices and delivery schedules. You were wiping down the counter when the front door chimed, and in strolled Eddie—hair a mess under his cap, leather jacket over his white shirt like he hadn’t bothered to change until the last possible second.
You smirked. “Well, well, look who decided to show up.”
He only raised his brows, unfazed, as he sauntered past you toward the kitchen.
“Oh, Biggie!” you called out loud enough to carry to the back. “Guess who’s late again—”
Before you could get another word out, Eddie’s arm slid around your shoulders, pulling you against his side. His hand came up over your mouth in a lazy, practiced motion, like he’d done it a thousand times before.
“Don’t listen to her, Boss,” he said, strolling through the swinging doors with you half-dragged along, his voice smooth as ever. “She’s delirious from too much caffeine. Happens every shift.”
You mumbled against his palm, swatting at his arm as he grinned down at you, walking at the same casual pace as though he hadn’t just been caught sneaking in late.
Biggie poked his head out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “Munson. Clock in. Now.”
“Yes, sir,” Eddie said brightly, finally letting you go with a dramatic flourish like he was saving you from yourself. He tossed you a wink before ducking fully into the kitchen, leaving you standing there with your arms crossed and an involuntary smile tugging at your lips.
The shift passed without incident—no spilled milkshakes, no burned patties, no customers yelling about wrong orders. By the time the dinner crowd started thinning out, you found yourself at the counter, refilling the straw dispenser. The neat little red-and-white paper tubes clinked softly as you stacked them in place.
“Psst.”
You looked up, and there was Eddie—head poking out of the pass-through window like some kind of overgrown raccoon, curls slipping out from under his cap. His elbows rested on the ledge, chin propped in his hand, watching you with that crooked grin that usually meant trouble.
“What?” you asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.
He tilted his head, mock-thoughtful. “Just wondering… hypothetically… would it kill you to go see a movie with me sometime?”
Your hand froze halfway to the dispenser, a straw dangling loosely between your fingers. You blinked at him. “A movie?”
“Yeah, you know,” he said, voice casual but the faintest thread of nervousness sneaking through. “Dark room, big screen, overpriced popcorn. Whole civilized experience.”
You set the straw down carefully, schooling your face into its usual smirk. “Hmm. I don’t know. Sounds risky.”
Eddie leaned further out the window, his grin widening. “Risky how?”
“Spending two whole hours with you? What if you talk through the whole thing?”
He gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “I would never. I am a gentleman of the cinema.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “We’ll see, Munson. Maybe.”
As you turned back to the straws, your eyes flicked up—and immediately caught Karen’s from across the counter. She was wiping down a booth, eyebrows raised, lips twitching in barely contained laughter. And as if you both had the same mind, giving each other a wide-eyed oh my god look.
The night air outside was cool, carrying the faint scent of rain on pavement and the greasy tang of the fryer vents. Eddie was in his usual spot by the wall, one boot pressed against the brick, cigarette dangling lazily from his fingers. The glow at the end flared when he took a drag, his head tilted back like he was soaking up the quiet.
You tugged your coat tighter around yourself as you stepped out, the door swinging shut behind you with a soft thud. He noticed you immediately—of course he did—and that small, crooked smile curved onto his face like it belonged there.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite waitress,” he said lightly.
You stopped a few feet away, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “So…”
“So?” he echoed, blowing a lazy plume of smoke to the side.
“You can’t just—” You waved a hand vaguely, searching for the words. “Drop something like ‘go to a movie with me’ in the middle of a shift and then not elaborate.”
His grin tugged wider. “Couldn’t wait, could you?”
You gave him a flat look, though the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed you. “Don’t push it, Munson.”
He flicked ash onto the cracked pavement, then gestured with the cigarette like it was a pointer. “Alright, picture this: The Hawk, Saturday night. I pay for the tickets, I don’t talk during the show—unless it’s to make fun of the trailers—and I even spring for popcorn. Big spender, right?”
You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, lips twitching despite yourself. “That’s your big pitch?”
“What, not impressed?” he asked, feigning outrage. “I’ll even let you pick the movie. Total gentleman move.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously charming,” he countered, smoke curling past his grin.
You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered. “Maybe.”
And the way his gaze softened at that single word made your chest feel strangely light, like maybe you’d just agreed to more than popcorn and a dark theater.
The theater lobby smelled like butter and sugar, a mix of popcorn and candy that clung to the carpet and the air itself. The neon lights buzzed faintly overhead, flickering just enough to remind you this wasn’t exactly a glamorous movie palace, but for Hawkins, it was as good as it got. Eddie held the door open with an exaggerated bow, and you gave him a look as you stepped inside, brushing past him.
At the ticket counter, the bored teenager behind the glass slid two tickets under the slot after you’d pointed to the poster on the wall. Labyrinth. David Bowie’s painted face stared down with a piercing gaze, all mystery and glitter. Eddie blinked at the poster, then at you, one brow arching high.
“Labyrinth?” he asked, half incredulous, half amused. “Huh.”
You turned to him, clutching your ticket, tilting your chin in challenge. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly, though the grin tugging at his mouth gave him away. “Just… didn’t have you pegged as the fantasy type.”
You shrugged like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I like fantasy. Big worlds, magic. Makes real life seem a little less boring, you know?”
Eddie tried to play it cool, tried to make it seem like he was only half-listening as he shifted his weight and adjusted his jacket, but there was no mistaking the way his grin softened into something warmer. He coughed into his fist, looking away like the popcorn machine had suddenly become fascinating. “Yeah, uh… fantasy’s cool. Definitely. Totally respectable choice.”
You squinted at him. “Respectable?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, the picture of nonchalance. “I mean, what’s not to love?” His tone was light, but underneath the sarcasm, something else flickered—relief, maybe. Relief that you, of all people, shared the same thing he secretly adored.
He bought the popcorn before you could reach for your wallet, handing it over with a flourish as if he were presenting you with some rare treasure. “M’lady,” he said dramatically, bowing again.
Rolling your eyes, you tugged the bucket from his hands, though your smile lingered. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet you’re here with me,” he shot back, following you toward the dark theater doors.
The movie hadn’t even started yet, and already you could feel the edges of your usual banter softening into something else, something less guarded. And though Eddie pretended to be casual, slouching in his seat with his boots propped on the sticky floor, he kept sneaking sidelong glances at you as the lights dimmed—like he couldn’t quite believe you’d chosen this movie, like he couldn’t quite believe his luck.
The theater lights dimmed, the chatter of the crowd dissolving into the swelling orchestral opening of Labyrinth. The screen bathed the room in pale light, flickering across rows of heads. You shifted the bucket of popcorn onto your lap, stretching your legs into carpet space ahead of you. Eddie slouched low in his seat beside you, a picture of exaggerated casualness, arms folded for all of two minutes before his hand crept toward the popcorn.
“Don’t hog it,” you whispered, nudging the bucket toward him.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispered back, already fishing out a handful.
For the first twenty minutes, you were absorbed, eyes fixed on Sarah navigating glittering forests and bizarre creatures. But out of the corner of your eye, you could see Eddie watching—sometimes the screen, sometimes you. He looked a little too invested for someone who’d pretended this wasn’t his thing. Every time a puppet cracked a joke, he hid his laugh behind the back of his hand, like letting it out would ruin his tough act.
Then came the cliché.
A low, clearly staged yawn stretched from him, his arm lifting in an arc of theatrics so overdone it could have been in the movie itself. And then—oh so casually—it dropped behind you, on your shoulders, fingers grazing the fabric of your coat.
You turned your head just slightly, meeting his profile lit by the flickering screen. His eyes stayed stubbornly forward, jaw tight with fake innocence.
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling, focusing hard on the screen. If he noticed the way your shoulders shook with the effort of holding back a laugh, he didn’t say anything.
Instead, Eddie leaned just a fraction closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear: “Smooth, right?”
You gave a quiet huff through your nose, still keeping your eyes ahead. “Ridiculously obvious.”
“Really?” he murmured, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
You didn’t answer, only popped another piece of popcorn into your mouth, fighting to hide your grin in the shadows of the theater. Eddie, for his part, looked smug as hell, even as his fingers drummed nervously against your shoulder—like he couldn’t decide if he’d gone too far, or if maybe, just maybe, he’d done exactly enough.
The van rattled to a stop outside your place, headlights washing over the quiet street. The engine gave a final grumble before Eddie killed it, the sudden silence leaving only the ticking of cooling metal and the faint echo of music still humming in your ears from the theater lobby.
You hugged your coat tighter as you shifted in your seat, the faint smell of popcorn still clinging to your fingers. Eddie drummed his rings against the steering wheel for a beat, then finally turned his head toward you, hair falling into his eyes in the low glow of the dashboard.
“So…” he drawled, voice casual but with that undercurrent of nerves he tried to hide. “How’d I do?”
You arched a brow. “Do?”
“Y’know.” He gestured vaguely between the two of you. “First outing. Movie. Popcorn. Stellar company.” He gave a lopsided grin. “I’m fishing for a review here.”
You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “Hmm. Not terrible.”
He gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. “Not terrible? That’s all I get? I executed the classic arm move and everything.”
You snorted. “Executed is the right word for it. Subtlety? Zero.”
But your smile gave you away, and Eddie’s grin softened, pride flickering in his eyes like he’d won something anyway. He leaned back, tapping the wheel once more before clearing his throat.
“Okay, but—hypothetically…” His voice dipped a little lower, suddenly less teasing. “If I were to ask you to hang out again… would you?”
You let the silence stretch, turning slowly to meet his gaze. His usual bravado faltered just a little under your pause, like maybe you’d actually make him sweat. Then you let the corner of your mouth lift.
“Yes.”
For a split second, he looked caught off guard, and then that grin broke across his face again—bright, a little wild, the kind that made it hard not to smile back.
You reached for the door handle, but not before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and glancing at him one last time. “Goodnight, Eddie.”
“’Night,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost like he didn’t trust it not to give too much away.
And as you slipped out into the cool night air, Eddie stayed leaning over the steering wheel, watching until you disappeared inside, grinning like he’d just pulled off the heist of the century.
And whether or not you called Karen immediately to tell her all about that night, giggling and swooning, he didn’t have to know.
The rush hit earlier than anyone expected. By noon, every booth was full, counter stools packed tight, and the bell over the door didn’t stop jingling. The air grew thick with fryer heat and chatter, and you could practically feel Biggie’s stress radiating from the kitchen.
You’d just dropped off an order of pancakes when the pass-through window stayed suspiciously empty for too long. Usually Eddie would be there, flipping you a cocky grin along with the plates, but now all you could see was the flare of flames off the grill and Biggie barking something about timing.
When you finally leaned on the counter, tapping your order ticket meaningfully against the metal ledge, Eddie shot you a look fro. His curls were sticking to his forehead, and for once, his smirk was gone.
“Don’t even start,” he said, spatula clattering as he tried to keep up with three different pans at once.
“I wasn’t gonna,” you said sweetly, though the edge of impatience slipped through. “But my table’s starting to wonder if they’re eating lunch or waiting for dinner.”
“Tell them the chef is a perfectionist,” he grumbled, flipping a patty with more force than necessary.
Biggie barked from the fryer station: “Tell them the chef’s drowning!”
Eddie shot him a glare. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Boss.”
You could already feel the tension building—customers starting to shift in their booths, forks tapping on tabletops. If you let it boil too long, the whole shift would tip into disaster territory.
So you improvised.
You grabbed a tray, snagged a basket of fries fresh from the fryer (the one thing they were ahead on), and portioned them into little red plastic bowls. With your brightest waitress smile, you swooped through the dining room, setting them down one by one.
“Compliments of the kitchen,” you announced, voice carrying just enough to hit the back booths. “Our fry guy’s in a generous mood.”
Eddie’s head whipped toward you from the pass-through, spatula frozen midair. “What the hell are you doing?” he mouthed.
You ignored him, dropping another basket on a table of high schoolers who instantly lit up. “Don’t worry, folks—burgers are worth the wait,” you added cheerfully, as though the whole thing was part of a plan.
Within minutes, the restless shifting turned into casual snacking, the edge of irritation smoothed out with salt and grease. By the time you circled back to the counter, Eddie was leaning on the ledge, spatula tapping against the metal rhythmically. His smirk had returned, though it looked a little tighter around the edges.
“You just gave away half my hard-earned fries,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” you replied, propping a hand on your hip. “Crisis averted.”
“Or crisis caused, depending on how Biggie tallies the inventory.”
“Please,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You’ll thank me when no one storms out.”
Biggie’s voice bellowed from behind Eddie: “She’s right, Munson!”
Eddie groaned, dragging a hand down his face. Then, quieter, just for you: “You know you’re way too good at this, right?”
The heat in the kitchen wasn’t just from the grill anymore, and you had to busy yourself with refilling coffee mugs to keep from smiling too wide.
Sure enough, once the fry distraction bought the kitchen a little breathing room, plates started sliding onto the pass-through one after another. Eddie worked like a man possessed, sleeves pushed up, curls sticking damply to his temple as he barked times back and forth with Biggie. Within fifteen minutes, the backlog had cleared, trays of burgers and shakes weaving their way out to every booth.
The diner’s mood shifted right along with it. Customers leaned back into their seats, laughing again, munching fries between bites of their meals like they’d never been impatient in the first place. Even the truckers at table three—your usual grumblers—were cracking jokes as you topped off their cherry Cokes.
When you swung back to the counter, Eddie was there waiting, one arm braced against the ledge. His cheeks were flushed from the heat, hair escaping everywhere from under his cap, but he was grinning like he’d just won a battle.
“Well,” you said, balancing an empty tray against your hip. “Look at that. Everyone’s fed, no riots, no casualties.”
Eddie pointed his spatula at you. “Because of me.”
You scoffed. “Because of me and my genius complimentary fries idea.”
“That was reckless,” he argued, though there wasn’t much fire behind it. “You could’ve doomed us all.”
“Or,” you said, leaning just close enough to drop your voice, “I saved your ass.”
His smirk faltered—just for a second—before it came back sharper, softer somehow. He twirled the spatula like a drumstick, shrugging. “Guess I’ll allow it this time.”
Biggie clattered a pan onto the drying rack behind him. “You two done flirting or should I get a mop for the counter?”
Your head snapped toward the kitchen boss, cheeks heating, but Eddie only laughed—loud, unbothered.
By the time the chairs were flipped onto tables and the last of the coffee pots were scrubbed out, the diner had settled into its usual late-night quiet. You tugged off your apron and slung it over the counter, rubbing at the faint smell of fryer grease that clung to your uniform.
Eddie was waiting by the door, jacket half-zipped, hair still a little wild from the kitchen heat. For once, he didn’t look like he was about to crack a joke.
“Hey,” he said, catching your attention before you could step past him. He shifted his weight, scratching at the back of his neck, then let out a short laugh like he hated that he was being earnest. “You, uh… did good today. With the fries thing. Really took the pressure off.”
You blinked, thrown by the sudden sincerity. “Well, someone had to save your kitchen kingdom.”
That got you a crooked grin. “Yeah, yeah. But seriously—good job. Thanks.”
And before you could get a word in edgewise, his hand came up, ruffling your hair in a quick, boyish motion. The gesture was so casual, so utterly Eddie, that you just stood there with your mouth open as he strolled out the door.
By the time you caught up, he was already crossing the lot toward his beat-up van, keys jingling in his hand. He glanced back once, just long enough to flash you that grin again—the softer one, not the troublemaker’s smirk—before climbing in.
The engine roared to life, and you were left standing under the hum of the diner’s sign, hair mussed, heart hammering way harder than a simple “good job” should’ve allowed.
Another dinner rush had faded, leaving only the low hum of the refrigeration units and the occasional clink of silverware from the stragglers. You were wiping down the counter when the front door chimed, letting in a burst of cool air and three familiar figures.
Gareth, Jeff, and Doug shuffled in like they owned the place, each of them grinning as they headed straight for their usual booth in the back. Jeff tossed you a lazy salute, Gareth immediately sprawling across the bench like he’d just run a marathon, and Doug called out, “Hey, superstar waitress, what’s good tonight?”
You didn’t need to look at the clock to know why they were here. Corroded Coffin always rolled in late, just late enough that Eddie could slip away from the grill without Biggie barking at him.
“Same as always,” you said, grabbing your notepad out of habit even though you could recite their order in your sleep. “Three burgers, three fries, three Cokes.”
“Make mine a shake,” Gareth cut in, stretching his arms over his head with a groan. “Vanilla. Band practice was brutal.”
“Practice,” Jeff muttered, smirking. “You mean you couldn’t keep time if someone stapled the beat to your forehead.”
“You wanna fight, man?” Gareth shot back, but the half-asleep look on his face gave him away.
You shook your head, scribbling the order anyway, when Eddie appeared through the swinging doors. He’d shed his apron, cap stuffed in his back pocket, and the second he spotted his bandmates, his whole face lit up.
“Look at this sorry bunch,” he said, striding over like he wasn’t still technically on the clock. “What, garage run outta chips again?”
Jeff snorted. “Nah, figured we’d mooch off your employee discount instead.”
Eddie slid into the booth beside Gareth without hesitation, draping an arm across the back of the seat. He looked lighter here, out from behind the grill, like slipping into his other world was as easy as changing shirts.
You stood there with your pad, arching a brow. “You’re actually gonna make me write this down when I already know it?”
“Hey, don’t ruin the illusion,” Eddie shot back, grin tugging at his mouth. “Makes it seem official.”
You rolled your eyes but scribbled anyway, mostly for show. “Fine.”
“You have bad customer service,” Eddie said instantly, and his friends laughed like they’d heard this kind of exchange a hundred times before.
The booth was a mess of fry baskets and empty ketchup packets by the time the band’s chatter turned serious—or as serious as Corroded Coffin ever got. Gareth leaned forward, elbows planted on the table, drumming absentmindedly on the salt shaker.
“So,” he said, glancing at Eddie. “We’re still good for Friday, right? The Hideout’s expecting us.”
Jeff smirked. “Expecting us to bring five friends and drink just enough to cover the power bill.”
Doug shrugged, already halfway through his second Coke. “Hey, a gig’s a gig.”
You had just approached with the water pitcher, ready to top them off, when Eddie spread his hands dramatically. “Gentlemen, this is not just a gig. This is the night Corroded Coffin shreds Hawkins to its very core.”
“Yeah, until the amps short out again,” Gareth muttered.
“Operator error,” Eddie shot back, jabbing a finger at him. “Don’t slander the gear.”
You poured water into Jeff’s glass, trying not to smile as the conversation washed over you. But when Eddie leaned back with that lopsided grin, bragging about their setlist, curiosity got the better of you.
“You’ve got a show?” you asked, glancing between them as you filled Gareth’s cup.
All four of them looked up at once, like they hadn’t realized you were actually listening. Eddie’s grin widened instantly. “Why, sweetheart, you interested?”
You rolled your eyes, though your lips twitched. “I was just asking.”
“It’s at The Hideout,” Doug jumped in, eager. “Friday night. We start at, like, ten. You should come.”
Jeff smirked into his glass. “Yeah, we could use an unbiased critic who doesn’t have a guitar in his hands.”
Eddie leaned an elbow on the back of the booth, eyes fixed on you. “You’d like it. Loud, chaotic… kinda like a diner during rush.”
You lifted a brow, meeting his look head-on. “Guess I’ll just have to see if I’m free.”
Gareth let out a low whistle, elbowing Eddie not-so-subtly. Eddie only shoved him back, still grinning, but when you turned to walk away with your water pitcher, you caught the flicker of something softer in his expression—like maybe the idea of you being there mattered more than he’d admit.
The Hideout was exactly the kind of place you’d expect a band like Eddie’s to play—dim neon lights buzzing over a haze of cigarette smoke, sticky floors, and a stage barely raised above the crowd. A handful of regulars nursed beers at the bar, while a couple of high school kids loitered by the corner, pretending they weren’t too young to be there.
You slipped through the door just as the noise in the room swelled—Eddie and his band climbing onto the stage. Gareth twirled his sticks, Jeff fiddled with the amp cords, Doug tuned the bass with a practiced scowl. And then there was Eddie—hair loose around his shoulders, guitar strap slung across him, confidence radiating like he’d been waiting his whole life for this exact spotlight.
He leaned toward the mic, flashing a grin at the crowd—or maybe just to himself—and tapped it with two rings. “Alright, Hawkins,” he drawled, voice rough but electric. “Let’s make some noise.”
The first chord ripped through the room, gritty and loud enough to vibrate in your chest. Heads turned, conversations stalled. It wasn’t polished—raw edges everywhere—but it was alive. Eddie was alive.
You hadn’t expected much when you walked in, but seeing him there—grinning wide, lost in the music, every bit the showman—it was impossible not to be caught up in it.
And when his gaze swept across the room mid-song, snagging on you for just a second, his grin stretched wider. Like he’d been waiting to see if you’d show.
The music hit fast and heavy, no warm-up, no easing in. Just Gareth pounding the drums like he was trying to break them, Jeff grinding out power chords that rattled the amp, Doug keeping the bass steady underneath it all. It was loud, unpolished, and unapologetic.
And Eddie—Eddie owned it.
He prowled the tiny stage, hair whipping with every sharp tilt of his head, rings catching the stage lights as his fingers tore across the fretboard. He wasn’t just playing; he was performing.
And then his eyes found you again.
It wasn’t long—just a flick, a half-beat too long on your face before he turned back to the mic—but you felt it all the same. That grin of his shifted, sharper, like he’d just been given the best kind of secret.
By the time their final song crashed to an end, Eddie ripped one last scream from his guitar, holding it high like a victory banner. The room erupted—small as the audience was, it was enough to shake the walls.
And over the noise, Eddie looked for you again. Not the crowd, not the bar. You.
You clapped until your palms stung, and when his grin split wide and wild in return, it felt like maybe he’d just played the whole set for you alone.
The amps buzzed as the last note faded, Gareth throwing his sticks onto the snare with a flourish while Jeff muttered something about needing new cables. The crowd scattered quickly, most heading back to the bar, leaving only a few lingering claps and whistles in the air.
Eddie set his guitar down gently—surprisingly gently for the way he’d manhandled it on stage—and jumped down, weaving through the tables until he found you against the wall. His face was flushed, sweat glinting at his temples, curls sticking to his neck. Still, that grin hadn’t gone anywhere.
“Well?” he asked, spreading his arms wide like he needed you to hand down a verdict. “Did we rock your world or what?”
You smiled, shaking your head. “Not terrible.”
He pressed a hand over his heart, staggering back a step like you’d mortally wounded him. “Not terrible? Again? After I nearly set the strings on fire for you?”
“You looked like you were having fun,” you said, tone lighter than the words.
“Fun,” he repeated, grinning crookedly. “Yeah. Guess I was.”
For a moment, neither of you filled the silence—his breathing still heavy from the set, your pulse still humming with the noise of it all. Then, almost abruptly, Eddie glanced down at himself, tugging at his sweat-soaked shirt with a grimace.
“Christ, I probably look like hell,” he admitted. “And smell worse.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “Eddie, I see you in the kitchen every day. This isn’t that different.”
That startled him into a chuckle, a real one, low and a little disbelieving. He ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck as if you’d said something far kinder than you meant to. “Guess you’ve got a point. Fry grease, sweat… stage sweat. Same thing.”
“Almost the same,” you teased.
“Almost,” he echoed, meeting your eyes again with a look softer than the grin he wore on stage—like maybe the chaos of the performance hadn’t burned all the way out of him yet.
Eddie was still rubbing the back of his neck, half-embarrassed, when the words slipped out of you before you could think twice.
“You still look good, though.”
His head snapped up, eyes wide for half a beat like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right. Then that grin started creeping back in, slow and smug, but with just enough warmth under it to give him away.
“Oh yeah?” he drawled, leaning a little closer. “Sweaty, half-dead Munson still does it for you?”
You rolled your eyes, heat rising in your cheeks. “Don’t push it.”
“Too late,” he shot back instantly, smirk widening.
You shook your head, biting back your own smile. “Honestly, though… you surprised me.”
He arched a brow. “Surprised? Thought I’d trip over the amp and take Gareth down with me?”
“I mean,” you said, drawing it out like you were weighing every word, “I was expecting, you know… a shitty garage band.”
Eddie gasped, hand flying to his chest like you’d stabbed him. “Was expecting?!”
“Keyword: was,” you teased, holding his gaze. “Turns out you’re… not half bad.”
“Not half bad?” he echoed, staggering back a step like he’d been shot. “Sweetheart, that’s practically a rave review from you.”
You laughed, unable to help it, and Eddie’s grin softened just a fraction at the sound. For all the dramatics, for all the swagger he’d carried on stage, here with you he seemed almost lighter—like your words mattered more than the applause had.
By the time the gear was packed away and the crowd had thinned, Eddie jingled his keys in his hand, leaning toward you with that familiar lopsided grin.
“C’mon. I’ll give you a ride. Perks of knowing the talent.”
You arched a brow. “Oh, talent, is it?”
“Damn right,” he said, holding the door open with a mock bow before leading you out to the van.
The drive back was quieter than you expected. The van rattled like it always did, an old cassette of Dio humming low in the deck, but Eddie wasn’t filling the silence with his usual wisecracks. Every so often, you’d catch him drumming his rings against the steering wheel, sneaking glances at you out of the corner of his eye before looking quickly back at the road.
When he finally pulled up to your place, the engine gave its usual protesting cough as he shut it off. The world outside was hushed, porch lights glowing faint in the dark. Eddie climbed out without hesitation and rounded the van to walk you up the path, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets.
At your door, you turned to face him, the night air cool against your skin after the stuffy warmth of the Hideout.
“Well,” you said, shifting your weight. “Thanks for the ride.”
He nodded, rocking back on his heels. “Thanks for, uh… y’know. Showing up. Didn’t think you’d actually…” He trailed off, shrugging like the rest didn’t matter.
“Yeah, well,” you said softly, “I was curious about your rockstar persona.”
That grin tugged at his mouth again, a little crooked, a little shy around the edges. For a beat too long, he just stood there, looking at you like he was deciding something. His hand twitched at his side, then he leaned in—close enough that you felt the warmth of him, close enough you thought maybe—
But at the last second, he chickened out.
Instead, his hand shot up to ruffle your hair in that boyish, maddening way, leaving it mussed as he stepped back with a grin that was far too casual to be believable.
“Goodnight, waitress,” he said, voice a little softer than usual.
You huffed, fixing your hair, though you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “Goodnight, cook.”
He lingered a second longer before backing away, heading for the van. You stood at the door until the headlights faded down the street, your hair still in disarray and your heart thumping like maybe you’d just been cheated out of something—though somehow, the ruffle still felt like a promise.
The lunch rush was already pushing everyone to their limits—coffee cups draining faster than you could refill them, plates of burgers flying out in every direction, Biggie barking for someone to mop up a spill near the counter. You were three steps from losing your “waitress smile” when the front door chimed and a newcomer slid into a booth by the window.
She looked harmless enough—just passing through, maybe—but the second she opened her mouth, you knew it was trouble.
“I’ll take a Big Belly Burger,” She said, tapping the menu thoughtfully, “but no bun. And can you sub the fries for a salad? Oh, and no onions. Actually… make it no cheese, too. But can you add mushrooms? And… can the patty be well-done, but not too well-done?”
By the time she finished, you were gripping your pen like it might snap. “...Right. Got it,” you said, because arguing was pointless.
The kitchen was its usual storm of sizzling grease and shouted timings when you slipped through the swinging doors and slapped the ticket onto the counter. Eddie snagged it without looking, spatula spinning in his fingers. But as his eyes scanned the order, his brow furrowed, then furrowed deeper, until he looked up at you with utter betrayal.
“What the fuck is this?” he demanded, waving the ticket like it was written in code.
“Don’t look at me,” you shot back, leaning an elbow on the ledge. “I just take the notes. That—” you pointed at the paper—“is all them.”
Eddie jabbed the ticket toward the grill like it had personally offended him. “No bun? No cheese? Fries swapped for a salad? Who even is this person?”
“New in town,” you said flatly. “Apparently from the planet ‘Make Eddie’s Life Difficult.’”
He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “This is sacrilege. A burger without a bun is just—meat. That’s not a burger. That’s sadness on a plate.”
“Welcome to customer service,” you said sweetly, though the edge of your voice betrayed your own fraying patience.
The diner bell chimed again out front, and you glanced back to see another group sliding into a booth. You sighed. “Anyway, good luck with that. I’ll be drowning in refills if you need me.”
Eddie threw his arms wide. “Oh, sure, abandon me in my darkest hour.”
Meanwhile, the grill hissed angrily behind him, and the ticket still fluttered in his fingers like a curse.
Somehow—miraculously—Eddie actually pulled it off. The patty came out dark but not burnt, topped with mushrooms, perched miserably on a plate beside a sad little house salad Biggie had thrown together. No bun, no fries, no cheese—nothing that made it look like it belonged in Big Belly’s at all. Eddie shoved it into the pass-through with a scowl like he was personally offended.
“There,” he said, spatula clattering against the counter. “A crime against burgers. Delivered without love.”
You shot him a look but took the plate anyway, balancing it on your tray as you wove back into the dining room.
The newcomer was waiting, arms crossed, a tight little smile on her face like she’d been timing you. You set the plate down gently in front of her.
“Big Belly Burger, no bun, no cheese, mushrooms added, salad instead of fries,” you said, professional as you could manage despite the chaos buzzing behind you.
She looked at the plate. Then at you. Then back at the plate.
“What is this?” she snapped.
You blinked. “Uh—your order.”
Her expression twisted into something sharp. “Are you stupid? This isn’t what I asked for.”
Heat crawled up your neck. “I—this is exactly what you said. Burger, no bun, no cheese—”
“Don’t you dare talk back to me,” she cut in, voice loud enough that a couple of truckers at the counter glanced over. “This is pathetic. You can’t even get a simple order right? God, no wonder you’re stuck in this dump.”
The words landed like slaps, sharper for how easily she threw them. Your practiced waitress smile faltered for the first time all shift, your throat tightening as you clutched your tray to your side.
The customer gave a scoff, pushing the plate away like it was contaminated. “Unbelievable. Absolutely incompetent.”
And suddenly the noise of the diner—the hiss of the grill, the chatter of the booths, the clatter of cutlery—felt miles away, all of it drowned out by her voice, by the sting of it.
You tried to swallow the heat burning in your chest, tried to paste that waitress smile back on, but the woman wasn’t letting up.
“You must be new,” she sneered, eyes flicking over your uniform. “No one with half a brain could last long in a place like this. Honestly, how do you people even stay open? The food looks like garbage, and the service is even worse.”
Your grip on the tray tightened, knuckles white. A dozen comebacks sat on your tongue, but you bit down hard on every one of them—because what was the point?
Then the kitchen doors banged open.
“Alright, what’s the problem now?” Eddie’s voice cut through, dry and sharp as a blade. He still had his apron on, spatula in hand like he’d stormed out mid-flip. His gaze snapped from you to the customer, and his grin was nowhere in sight. “’Cause if you’re complaining about the food, lady, I cooked it exactly the way you ordered it.”
The customer turned her sharpness on him in an instant. “Oh, wonderful. The cook. Figures.” She gave him a once-over, curling her lip. “What kind of kitchen lets someone like you handle food? You look filthy. Disgusting, really.”
Eddie’s jaw tightened, his fingers drumming against the spatula like he was fighting not to let loose everything in his head. “Listen here Wicked Witch of the West, say what you want about me,” he said, voice low, “but you don’t get to talk to her like that.”
Before the woman could bite back, another voice rumbled from behind him—deep, booming, and far less patient.
“Excuse me?”
The customer’s head snapped up just as Biggie stepped out of the kitchen, towel still slung over one massive shoulder. The man lived up to his nickname—broad, tall, his presence filling the space like a storm cloud. His usually warm face was set in stone.
“Who,” he asked slowly, voice carrying across the diner, “are you to talk to my employees like that?”
The woman froze, all her sharp edges crumbling under the weight of his stare. Around the diner, regulars had gone quiet, watching with open curiosity. The customer shifted in her seat, suddenly small against the booth.
“I—I was just saying—”
“No.” Biggie’s voice was final, heavy as a gavel. “You were insulting my cook. My waitress. My diner. If you don’t like it here, you can leave. Now.”
Color drained from her face. She sputtered, muttered something under her breath, and finally grabbed her purse with a huff. The legs of the booth squeaked as she scrambled out, the whole diner’s eyes following her as she stalked toward the door.
The bell chimed as it swung shut behind her. Silence held for a beat—then a couple of the truckers clapped, and laughter rippled through the room, easy and relieving.
Eddie finally let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Well. That was fun.”
Biggie only grunted, heading back to the kitchen with a mutter of “Don’t let her waste my plates.”
The rest of the shift blurred by in a haze of clinking glasses and the hiss of the fryer. You kept your head down, smile fixed but dimmer than usual, every “top you off?” and “anything else tonight?” running on autopilot. The regulars still laughed, still tipped, but the spark you usually carried—the one Eddie never stopped noticing—just wasn’t there.
From behind the pass-through, he watched you. Saw how your shoulders drooped just a little more with every table, how your smile never quite reached your eyes. And it made his chest twist in a way he couldn’t shake.
By the time the last table cleared and the chairs were flipped onto the booths, Eddie was waiting by the door, leaning against the frame with his jacket slung over one shoulder. You tugged your apron off, folding it neatly, ready to slip past him with a tired “see you tomorrow.”
But he caught your arm.
“Hey.”
You blinked up at him. His grin was there, but softer, not the cocky one he wore behind the grill. He studied you for a second, then—without warning—he reached out and framed your face in his palms, squishing your cheeks together.
“Look at this face,” he said, exaggeratedly mournful. “All sad and pouty. Can’t have that. It’s a diner crime.”
You let out a muffled chuckle, your words garbled against his hands. “Ehd-dee—”
He wiggled your cheeks between his palms, eyes wide with mock-seriousness. “Nope. Not allowed. Smile regulation: strictly enforced.”
Despite yourself, a real laugh bubbled out, and you swatted at his wrists until he finally let go. Your cheeks were warm, partly from his hands, partly from laughing harder than you’d meant to.
“There she is,” Eddie said, his grin settling into something softer, more genuine. “Knew you were still in there.”
You rolled your eyes, but the heaviness in your chest had lifted just a little. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah, but it worked.” He slung his jacket fully on and gave you a small, crooked smile. “Don’t let some jerk knock the shine off you, alright? You’re too good at this job to let her win.”
For a moment, the quiet hum of the empty diner was the only thing between you. Then you nodded, tugging your coat tighter. “Thanks, Munson.”
He only ruffled your hair—gentler this time—before pushing the door open for you. “Anytime, waitress.”
Your room was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of a lamp on your nightstand. A record hummed faintly in the background, needle crackling as you flipped through a book halfheartedly. It was the first night in weeks you hadn’t had to smell fryer grease or hear the hiss of a flat-top grill, and the stillness almost felt strange.
Then—three sharp knocks rattled your window.
You froze, heart jumping before you crept toward the glass. When you tugged the curtain aside, you nearly laughed out loud.
There was Eddie, standing on the patch of lawn outside, curls spilling wild under the streetlight, leather jacket zipped up against the chill. In his hands he held a grease-stained cardboard box like it was a treasure chest.
“Pizza delivery,” he said, grinning wide, tapping the box for emphasis.
You slid the window open an inch, leaning against the frame. “Pretty sure I didn’t order anything.”
“Lucky for you, I don’t check receipts,” he quipped. “House special: one large pepperoni, no bun, no cheese, mushrooms added.”
You snorted, unable to stop yourself. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s hilarious,” he countered, eyes glinting. “C’mon, you laughed.”
The night air slipped in, cool against your skin, while he shifted his weight, tilting his head up at you like some backwards Romeo. For a moment you both just stood there, divided by the glass, the strangeness of it making you grin.
“Seriously, Munson,” you said, voice softening, “what are you doing here?”
“I was bored. Thought I’d drop by. Share some fine Italian cuisine.” He lifted the box again with a flourish. “Figured you could use a break from diner food.”
You leaned your chin against the sill, smiling despite yourself. “You know you look ridiculous right now, right?”
“Oh, absolutely,” he said. “But I also look heroic, standing out here in the cold with piping hot pizza. Which brings me to my next point…” He gestured dramatically toward the night sky, then fixed you with an exaggerated pout. “Are you really gonna let me—and this innocent, defenseless pizza—freeze to death out here?”
You sighed, shaking your head, but your hand was already on the latch. “Alright, fine. Get in before the neighbors call the cops on you.”
Eddie’s grin widened as you shoved the window open, and with all the grace of someone who’d done this a thousand times in his head but never once in real life, he swung a leg over the sill and half-tumbled inside. The pizza box tilted dangerously in his hands, but somehow, miraculously, it survived.
“Ta-da,” he announced, straightening up like he hadn’t just made a complete mess of climbing through.
You arched a brow. “Very smooth.”
“I meant to do that,” he said breezily, plopping himself cross-legged onto the floor and setting the box down in front of him. He popped the lid open with a flourish, steam curling into the room. “Behold. Dinner of champions.”
You hesitated a moment, arms crossed, but the smell was too good to resist. With a small shake of your head, you lowered yourself onto the carpet beside him, tucking your legs under you.
“Don’t say I never bring you anything,” Eddie said, offering you the first slice with a dramatic bow of his head.
You took it, biting back a smile. “Very generous. Totally worth climbing through a window for.”
“Exactly. This is romance, sweetheart. Shakespeare had nothing on me.”
You laughed around your first bite, leaning back against the side of your bed as you chewed. The two of you sat there in the soft glow of your lamp, sharing pizza on the floor, trading pieces back and forth until greasy napkins littered the box lid.
For once, there was no diner rush, no angry customers, no stress. Just the warmth of Eddie beside you, licking pizza grease off his thumb and talking with his mouth full, and the quiet realization that nights like this felt… easy.
The pizza box was nothing but grease stains and empty space by the time you leaned back with a satisfied sigh. Only one lonely crust sat abandoned in the middle—the one you’d been saving.
Eddie’s eyes zeroed in on it instantly.
“You finished with that?” he asked, already reaching.
You narrowed your eyes. “No.”
“Cool,” he said, snatching it up anyway. He took a huge bite, grinning through the mouthful. “Now you are.”
“Unbelievable,” you muttered, shaking your head as you balled up a napkin and tossed it at him.
He caught it one-handed, looking far too pleased with himself, but the smugness didn’t last. You leaned forward suddenly, brushing your thumb over the corner of his mouth where a smear of pizza sauce and crumbs clung.
“There,” you said simply, wiping your hand on your own napkin. “You’re a mess.”
Eddie didn’t freeze or flinch—he just went a little sheepish, laughing under his breath as he rubbed at the same spot like he could erase the evidence of your touch. “What can I say? High-class dining brings out the animal in me.”
You snorted. “You’re lucky I don’t work room service, or you’d have been blacklisted already.”
“Please. You’d miss me.”
The words were easy, teasing—but the way he looked at you then, soft in the glow of your bedside lamp, made it feel like there was more weight under them than he’d ever admit out loud.
“Maybe I would,” you said quietly, surprising yourself as much as him.
For a moment, Eddie didn’t joke back. His grin faltered into something smaller, gentler. He tilted his head, studying you like he wasn’t sure if you were teasing or telling the truth.
“Yeah?” he asked, voice lower now, stripped of its usual bravado.
You shrugged, trying to play it off, though your chest felt tight. “I mean… you make shifts less miserable. And nights like this—” You gestured vaguely at the empty pizza box between you. “I don’t hate it.”
Eddie laughed softly, but it wasn’t his usual sharp bark. It was warm, almost nervous, like he couldn’t believe you’d said it out loud. He leaned back on his palms, hair falling loose around his shoulders, and for once there was no smirk—just a boy sitting cross-legged on your bedroom floor, looking at you like you’d cracked him open.
“You know,” he said, voice thoughtful now, “I wasn’t sure you’d let me in tonight. Figured you’d call me an idiot and shut the window.”
“Maybe I should’ve,” you teased, but it came out softer than you meant.
“But you didn’t.” He gave a little shrug, like it mattered more than he wanted to admit.
Silence stretched between you, not heavy, just… charged. You realized you were still sitting close, knees brushing lightly, his rings glinting in the lamplight as his fingers drummed nervously against the carpet.
And then—like it was the simplest thing in the world—Eddie leaned in.
Slow enough that you could’ve stopped him. Slow enough that you didn’t want to.
His lips brushed yours, tentative at first, tasting faintly of pepperoni and soda, and the world seemed to narrow to just that—his breath, his warmth, the way his hand hovered uncertainly before resting against the side of your face like he needed the anchor.
It wasn’t dramatic or perfect. It was a little clumsy, a little nervous. But it was real.
When he finally pulled back, just an inch, he searched your face with wide, uncertain eyes. “That okay?” he murmured.
You smiled, heart hammering. “Yeah. That’s okay.”
Relief broke across his face in a grin that was equal parts joy and disbelief, and he ducked his head like he couldn’t quite handle it.
You stayed there on the floor together, the empty pizza box forgotten as the minutes stretched. The conversation drifted in circles—music, movies, the diner—nothing world-changing, just the kind of easy talk that felt like you could get lost in forever. Every so often Eddie leaned over again, stealing another kiss, a little bolder each time, and every time you kissed him back, you felt the nerves in him melt just a little more.
Eventually, though, he sighed, glancing at the clock on your nightstand. “I should probably head home before the van decides to die in your driveway.”
You walked him back to the window, the cool night air spilling in as he swung a leg over the sill with considerably more grace this time. He landed lightly on the grass, then turned back to you, hands in his jacket pockets, grin tugging at his lips.
“So…” he drawled, rocking back on his heels. “Girlfriend?”
You rolled your eyes immediately. “Really, Munson? That’s the best you’ve got? You can do better than that.”
He let out a mock groan. “Everyone’s a critic these days.” Then, tilting his head up at you with a lopsided grin: “Fine. Will you give me the honor and be my girlfriend?”
This time you let the smile show, leaning just a little further out the window. “Yes.”
Eddie’s grin exploded into something bright and wild, and before you could second-guess it, he leaned up and caught your mouth in one last kiss—warm and quick, but it left your pulse racing anyway.
When he finally stepped back, he was still grinning, eyes shining like he’d just pulled off the impossible. He gave you a little salute, turned, and practically skipped toward his van, boots scuffing against the pavement in a celebratory bounce he didn’t bother to hide.
You stayed at the window, chin resting on your arms as you laughed watching him go, his figure lit by the streetlights until he climbed into the van. The engine sputtered to life, and even as he drove off, you couldn’t stop smiling.
The morning rush hadn’t hit yet, but the diner was already humming—coffee brewing, booths filling one by one, the hiss of bacon from the back kitchen. Everyone was in place: Karen wiping down the counter, Biggie barking about a missing order of hash browns, you moving between tables with your notepad at the ready.
The bell over the door jingled, and in strolled Eddie—late as usual, curls barely contained under his Big Belly’s cap, leather jacket slung over one arm. “Good morning, lovely people!”
“Morning, sunshine,” Karen called, rolling her eyes.
“Munson,” Biggie barked from the kitchen, not even looking up.
“Boss,” Eddie replied cheerfully, giving him a two-fingered salute. He made his way down the diner, exchanging nods and lazy greetings like nothing in the world was out of the ordinary.
And then he passed you.
“Morning,” you said lightly, slipping by with a pot of coffee in hand.
Eddie paused mid-step, glanced at you, then stopped entirely. “Oh—wait.”
You blinked. “What?”
“Forgot something,” he said casually.
Before you could ask what, he turned back, caught you gently by the wrist, and pulled you into a kiss. Right there in the middle of the diner.
It wasn’t long—quick, soft—but it was unmistakable.
The room froze for half a heartbeat. Then—
Gasps. Laughter. A cheer from one of the truckers at the counter. Karen clapped her hands together with a squeal, while someone from the back shouted, “Finally!”
Your face burned as Eddie pulled back, that cocky grin plastered across his mouth like he’d just won the lottery. He gave an exaggerated bow to the peanut gallery, then winked at you before sauntering toward the kitchen as though he hadn’t just caused a scene.
“Let's do a good job, sweetheart,” he tossed over his shoulder, absolutely smug.
You stood frozen with the coffee pot in hand, your coworkers still buzzing with laughter and commentary, and all you could think was—of course he’d make it public like that.
──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──
The first thing you noticed was the warmth. The second was the ache in your legs that reminded you exactly why you were waking up tangled in Eddie’s sheets, his arm slung heavy across your waist. Sunlight slanted in through the blinds of his trailer window, catching the dust motes in the air and the soft mess of curls tickling your shoulder.
You shifted slightly, and Eddie groaned low in his throat, pulling you closer before blinking his eyes open. His grin spread slow and lazy across his face, like he’d been waiting all night for this exact moment.
“Morning, sweetheart,” he rasped, voice rough with sleep. “Sleep okay? Or did I wear you out too much?”
You smirked, tilting your head toward him. “Cocky.”
“Confident,” he corrected, nosing at your neck, pressing a kiss just under your jaw. “There’s a difference.”
You laughed softly, but it broke into a gasp when his hand slid across your hip, tugging you closer. “Eddie…”
“Mhm?” he hummed, mouth trailing down your collarbone. “Don’t mind me. Just appreciating my girl.”
“Pretty sure you did plenty of that last night.”
“Not enough,” he shot back without missing a beat, his lips brushing your skin with every word.
You shoved lightly at his shoulder, grinning despite yourself. “God, you’re insatiable.”
He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, hair falling into his face, grin absolutely wicked. “Say the word, and I’ll make you a very happy woman all over again.”
For a moment, you considered it. His eyes glinted, his hand already tugging at the sheet, but then you arched a brow and leaned close enough that he thought you might actually take him up on it.
“You know what else would make me happy?” you murmured.
Eddie froze for half a second, then smirked. “Do tell.”
You grinned. “If you made me breakfast. Preferably pancakes.”
He stared at you, utterly betrayed. “Pancakes?”
“Yes, pancakes,” you said sweetly, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “With syrup. And maybe bacon if you’re feeling generous.”
Eddie groaned, flopping back against the pillow like you’d just asked him to scale a mountain. “Ten months together, and this is what it’s come to. I bare my soul—and my body—and you want pancakes?”
You leaned over him, pressing a quick kiss to his mouth before pulling away with a smirk. “Yup. Pancakes.”
His grin returned in full force, mischievous and warm all at once. “Fine. But only because you’re cute when you beg.”
“Beg?” you scoffed.
“You just did,” he teased, sliding out of bed with a stretch. “And for pancakes, no less. Don’t say I never spoil you, sweetheart.”
The trailer smelled like butter and sugar, the kind of sweetness that stuck to the air. Eddie stood at the stove in nothing but sweatpants, hair pulled back haphazardly, spatula in hand. He hummed something familiar as he flipped the last pancake onto the growing stack, tongue peeking out in concentration like it was the most important performance of his life.
“Voilà,” he declared, turning with a flourish as he set the plate down on the table between you. The pancakes weren’t perfect—edges a little uneven, one definitely darker than the others—but they were stacked high, steam curling up like a promise.
You cut into the first bite, fork sliding through the fluffy center, syrup dripping down the sides. The second it hit your tongue, your eyes fluttered shut. “Oh my god. Heaven.”
Eddie’s grin spread wide, smug and boyish all at once. “Yeah?”
You licked a bit of syrup from your lip, giving him a pointed look. “See, I knew I was smart dating a cook.”
He laughed, sliding into the chair across from you, his knee brushing against yours under the table. “So that’s all I am to you, huh? Free food and pancakes on demand?”
You tilted your head, smiling softly. “Among other things.”
Something shifted in his grin then—still playful, but gentler around the edges. He leaned forward, chin propped on his hand as he watched you eat like you were the whole show. “You’re trouble, you know that?”
“Good trouble,” you corrected, nudging his foot with yours.
“The best kind,” he agreed, reaching across the table to brush his thumb over your knuckles. His rings were cool, but his touch was warm, grounding.
For a moment, the world was just that—the smell of syrup, the sunlight spilling across the table, and Eddie looking at you like he couldn’t believe his luck.
“You really like ’em?” he asked softly.
“I love them,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze. “And you.”
His grin turned shy then, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he leaned across the table and kissed you—slow, sweet, tasting faintly of syrup and butter—before pulling back just enough to whisper, “Best damn review I’ve ever gotten.”
eddie munson x bisexual!reader x lesbian!chrissy cunningham
Just a saucy blurb taking place in the universe of this story.
18+, MDNI┃2k
cw: MFF, platonic!hc, oral (f receiving), handjob, use of a dildo, allusion to pegging, polyamory? sort of kind of?
The steady ticking of the egg timer on the coffee table felt about a million miles away.
You could still hear it, but barely registered the time it was counting down.
Truthfully, all you could think about right now, all that you could focus any of your attention on, was Chrissy’s hot tongue as it laved over your clit in time with her fingers curling inside of you.
She had draped herself across the chaise of the sectional sofa, letting her newly dyed locks spill over the edge like a chocolate waterfall. With an eager smile and shining eyes, she had beckoned you forward and positioned you over her with your knees on either side of her head.
You let your heat hover over her lips and leaned back, supporting yourself with your hands so as not to drop the full weight of your body on her, but also so Eddie’s view wasn’t obscured.
Jury was still out on whether that was actually a kindness to him or not…
“You sure you only set it for ten minutes?”
From the other side of the room, Eddie made a huffy and miffed little sound through his nose as he shifted in his seat, subtly tugging at his sweats in an attempt to offer himself a little bit of relief.
“Don’t…haaaah…don’t be a sore loser, Ed,” you scolded gently, a teasing smile on your lips as you winked at him from your seat on Chrissy’s face.
She had flown into Indianapolis on Thursday for a business meeting and decided to take a few extra days off to make a long weekend of it—ostensibly staying in your spare room, although she’d been there for two nights already and the guest bed still had yet to be slept in. As per usual.
The past few months, she’d been volunteering more and more for these sorts of work trips. And whenever she did, you and Eddie would drive up and either stay the night in whatever lavish hotel suite her company set her up in, or drive her with you back to Hawkins for longer stays.
Vibrations rippled across your pussy lips as she hummed excitedly beneath you and her fingers slipped from their spot inside your core to wrap her lithe arms around your thighs, tugging you closer so she could lick deeper into your heat.
The moan it drew out of you made you toss your head back and Eddie’s eyes narrowed, lit with a combination of lust and envy.
“This is bullshit,” he muttered, shifting again.
“It’s your own fault,” Chrissy chided, pausing the efforts of her tongue to tip her head and look at him. “Who goes all-in on a pair of twos?”
Eddie grumbled more, casting his eyes at the abandoned cards strewn across the coffee table.
The poker game started out with fairly normal betting, using leftover Halloween candy as chips, and all three of you joking over blush pink glasses of rosé while a shamelessly bubbly playlist poured out of the stereo speakers. You had gone out fairly quickly, perfectly content just to watch and listen while sneaking candy from their respective piles.
But once you dropped out, it didn’t take a minute for Chrissy and Eddie’s competitive natures to come out and to up the ante, as it were.
With their full piles of candy already pushed into the center, the two of them narrowed their eyes at one another over their cards, both shooting daring, challenging smiles at the other.
They agreed the winner of the next hand would get ten full minutes to do whatever they wanted with you—but any attempt of the loser to touch themselves would add more time to the clock.
A loud, high moan burst past your lips as Chrissy thrust her fingers back inside you and stroked that precious spot that had you seeing white behind your eyes. Your thighs shook against her cheeks that rounded as she grinned, relishing in the gush of your arousal around her fingers.
“Ooh, you like that don’t you, sweetie?” Chrissy cooed up at you and then tipped her head to look at Eddie again, shiny eyes dancing with mischief. “She’s kinda needy tonight. What’s going on, Ed? I hope you’ve been taking care of our girl.”
“I take care of her just fine,” Eddie assured, his sour look deepening as his cock twitched.
Chrissy shrugged and she returned to the task at hand while your eyes landed on Eddie’s—big and round and wet and pleading. He was milking that pathetic lost puppy angle for all it was worth.
Giving him a small smile, you cleared your throat to get Chrissy’s attention and her heavy-lidded eyes fluttered open, feeling the way that you shivered with delight when your eyes met.
You gazed down at her, the sight of her lovely face between your plush thighs and the way her seaglass eyes glistened as she peered back up at you making your stomach quiver and flip with excitement. With a steady hand that no longer trembled with nerves the way it had the first few times you’d done this with her, you reached out to brush your knuckles across the softness of her cheek that was still plump and hydrated from the facemasks you’d done the night before.
“Chris…can he play too?” you whispered, playing it up with a pout of your own. “Please?”
The plaintive lilt of your voice and the way your lashes fluttered at her as you asked sooo sweetly might have indicated Chrissy was the one running the show. But as you had learned in the last few months, there was little (if anything) you could ask for that she or Eddie would deny you.
She pursed her lips, taking a moment to reply like she was deep in thought before she broke out in a beaming smile, placing one last kiss to your puffy clit before unwinding her arms from around your thighs so she could shimmy out from under you.
The two of you smoothly swapped places so you were laid out on the chaise with your head at the end near the edge. Finally, you looked at Eddie and crooked your finger to beckon him over.
His eyes bulged in his skull and he nearly tripped over the footstool to his chair he got to his feet so quickly. Scrambling over to the couch, clumsily tugging his sweats to the middle of his thighs, his chest heaved with his panting breaths like the anticipation was actually killing him.
Chrissy giggled at the overeager display, slipping off the couch and disappearing down the hall.
“Areyousure?” Eddie asked, his words all running together as he kneeled in front of you, his hard cock bobbing at the level of your mouth.
You nodded as you reached out for him with your right hand, only to rethink it and extend your left instead. You could very nearly see the diamond on your third finger reflecting in his deep brown eyes as your hand wrapped around his length. And a strangled moan rumbled from deep in his chest, the sound dissolving into more breathy and desperate panting at the sight.
He loved watching the ring he’d given you glitter while you jerked him off.
A few slow, lazy strokes was all it took to have him leaking all over your hand, still painfully hard from watching you and Chrissy without being allowed to offer himself even a second of attention.
Rhythm holding steady, you stretched your neck to look at Chrissy as she emerged from the guest room wearing nothing but an intriguing smile and carrying a black silk drawstring bag.
From it, she produced a purple silicone toy and a bottle of lube. Your eyes widened at the sight, your abdomen tightening in anticipation as she brought it over to the couch and sat beside you.
It looked like a dildo, but a sort of double-ended one? It had a rounded bulb at one end shaped almost like an egg, tapering off and then flaring into a hump that would rest right on your clit. From there, it curved into a standard phallic shape of a shaft with a slightly enlarged head.
Chrissy squeezed some lube out onto her hand and thoroughly coated the bulb with it.
“This okay?” she asked, slowly rubbing the tip of the shorter end through your folds.
You pictured it in use—one end tucked snugly into your heat, the other sticking out between your legs. Chrissy sliding down on it sooooo slowly, the pressure building up inside of you like you were actually inside of her. Her hips rocking in that slow, leisurely pace she liked until it got to be too much and she had to go faster; had to grind her body into yours until you were thrusting your hips, pushing the toy deep inside her cunt until she cried out for you to make her come—
“Yes,” you whined, breathless as your mind filled with images so filthy you could hardly catch your breath. “Yes, I want you to ride me, please—”
Chrissy’s eyes gleamed, her gaze never dropping yours as she pressed the toy inside, making your mouth fall open in a gasp at the stretch.
Your folds fluttered around the bulb, sucking it in deeper while Chrissy made sure the other end was positioned correctly for her.
“You look so pretty with a purple cock, angel,” she cooed, dropping a delicate kiss to the tip that you swore you could actually feel.
You shimmied your hips, making the toy wobble slightly, gently batting Chrissy’s button nose with it and eliciting a delighted giggle from you both.
Above you, Eddie let out a low groan and the look on his face was nothing short of euphoric.
“Is, um…” he cleared his throat, a nervy sort of chuckle breaking through as his eyes followed the sight of your dick standing rigid between your legs. “Is that staying here, by chance?”
Your eyes met his and your brows raised almost to your hairline not with shock, but intrigue.
That’s new, you thought.
And seemingly reading your mind in the way he was so good at, Eddie’s lips curled upwards and he rolled his shoulders in a casual shrug.
As if to say, what the hell?
“Consider it an engagement present,” Chrissy tittered, squirting some more lube onto her palm and generously coating the shaft with it. “I’ll just take it for a test drive.”
Her eyes met yours and one of them closed in a slow wink, making electricity skitter down your whole body. You clenched around the end inside of you, humming as it pressed on your g-spot.
“You ready for me, angel?” Chrissy husked, hand moving up and down on your cock in the same unhurried pace yours was stroking Eddie’s.
Matching you stroke for stroke.
You nodded eagerly and then tipped your head backward to lock eyes with Eddie as you gave his cock a light and teasing squeeze, salivating at the thought of having his thick length in your mouth while Chrissy was bouncing on yours.
“How about you?” you asked him in a sultry purr. “You ready to watch me fuck her?”
And you thought you had an idea what Eddie might say. You thought he might lean in closer to growl something filthy in your ear about pounding her until she screams. Or whisper something soft and full of adoration about how sexy you were. Or whine pitifully about how much he needed you.
But Eddie said nothing. He just beamed down at you, chest filling with a surge of pride seeing you like this. Confidence just pouring out of you, your face glowing with it—completely radiant.
He couldn’t stop himself from leaning over, his mouth meeting yours in a hungry, devouring kiss. The kind of kiss that said in no uncertain terms:
You’re mine. You’re mine and I fucking love you.
He kissed you until your lungs ached for air, until your chest was heaving and you gasped into his mouth trying to breathe. Until at last, you broke apart when you couldn’t restrain the moan that burst out of you when the toy began to vibrate.
Your mouth fell open as you looked down at the thing like it just split in two like a hydra head.
The buzzing between your legs rippled across your g-spot, making it so you could barely keep your eyes open—your firm grasp on Eddie’s cock tightening instinctively. Eddie keeled forward with a loud groan and his hand landed on the cushion next to your hip trying to steady himself.
“Oh,” Chrissy smiled, swinging her leg across you and gripping the toy’s shaft to position the tip at her entrance. “Did I not mention it did that?”
That got a laugh out of all of you.
And then, just as she had sunk fully onto your length, a loud ringing filled the air and all three of you looked to the table. The egg timer you had all forgotten about had finally gone off—far past the supposed ten minute limit. Eddie gasped as he pointed an accusatory finger at Chrissy.
your bff chrissy invites you to hang out with your former hook-up, and her ex-boyfriend. what could go wrong?
18+ MDNI┃4.8k
cw: light weed/alcohol use, wallflower-ish reader, refs to prior casual hook-ups with steve. not quite smut and not quite fluff. kinda like… kissing smut? Is that a thing? reader makes out w/ everyone in this. some chrissy slander (for the sake of plot!)
not sure if I’d even post this if it didn’t have one of my favorite kisses I’ve ever written, so. do with that what you will.
This was hardly the most debaucherous evening the Harrington den had ever seen.
By most standards, it was fairly tame. Four empty beer bottles sat out on the coffee table, a single joint being passed between four sets of lips.
It barely warranted a PG-13 rating. Nobody was doing headstands on kegs, or cutting lines of illicit substances; there were no bottles being spun, nor cards being dealt for strip poker. No one’s clothes were coming off… at least not yet.
When Chrissy called your parent’s landline and told you to be ready in ten minutes, you didn’t stop for a second to question where you might be going. And although your parents didn’t mind one way or another about you going out for the night at your big age, you still felt a thrill of nostalgia as you slipped out the front door and raced across the lawn to climb into Mr. Cunningham’s Cutlass, giggling all high and girlish with Chrissy as you buckled in and sped off into the night.
The two of you hadn’t been back home for the holidays less than 48 hours and you were already bored out of your minds. Anything would have been better than sitting in your childhood rooms staring at your popcorn ceilings, but there wasn’t exactly a plethora of places you could go.
There weren’t any good bars in Hawkins, at least not where you wouldn’t be ogled by some creepy drunks. And with all your other friends who were in town busy preparing for holiday festivities with their families, you couldn’t exactly come barging in to take over their basements or rec rooms like you might have in your younger years.
So Steve Harrington’s big, permanently parent-free home was really the only spot you could have expected to end up. What you didn’t expect was for Eddie Munson to be the one greeting you.
He flashed you an easy smile as dashing as it was wicked as he pulled open the front doors to reveal himself, all his edges glowing with the warm light coming from behind him Your breath snagged at the sight of him, just as alluring and captivating as you remembered him being in high-school.
His umber eyes scanned you up and down and he murmured your name under his breath.
“Good to see you,” he said with quiet amusement.
“Y-yeah, you too,” you stammered, cringing at the immediate regression to your painfully introverted teenage self. The same one who’d get so nervous buying tiny baggies of weed off him; whose heart would pound so uncomfortably in your chest whenever he sat next to you at lunch.
Not next to you, you reminded yourself pointedly.
He only sat next to Chrissy, you just happened to be on his other side.
“What, uh…what are you doing here?” you asked, the question weighing on your clumsy tongue.
Only a meager step up from standing there like a mute idiot under the porch light.
“Just waiting on you guys,” Eddie replied. His eyes shifted from your face to land on Chrissy as she came bounding up the walkway from parking her dad’s car on the street.
“Hiya, handsome,” she tittered, flouncing past you and pressing her pillowy lips to the side of his face in a demure peck. Pink danced across the apples of his cheeks and he smiled at her.
It shouldn’t have been so surprising.
You knew Eddie and Chrissy were still friendly, and often got together whenever she was back in town. And you had heard Eddie was friends with Steve now—though you were a little bewildered as to exactly how that had happened…
Still, you never would’ve guessed he’d be thrown into the mix of this random excursion.
You schooled your expression into something resembling neutral as Eddie led you and Chrissy back to the den where Steve was fussing with his father’s record player. Soft crackling preceded the rousing swell of guitars, and the former king of your high school cheered at his own success.
He greeted you and Chrissy, pulling you both into easy hugs, his broad hands rubbing up and down your backs, giving you tight squeezes so his Polo cologne lingered on your clothes even after he’d released you from his grasp. A whiff of whiskey got to your nose, explained by the rocks glasses sitting out on the table. Silently, you prayed there was something else for you to drink.
From there, the evening was fairly formulaic. Steve retrieved a few beers from the kitchen and Eddie produced a pristinely rolled joint from his jacket pocket. You took a slow swig of your drink and stared at Eddie’s hollowed cheeks while he puffed on the joint to light it before holding it out for you. His fingers brushed with yours ever so slightly as you took it, and it burned as though you’d grabbed the glowing orange tip rather than the end with a bit of Eddie’s spit still clinging to it. Something you tried (and failed) not to think about as you inhaled a hit.
Rather than crowding all four of you onto the brown leather sofa that was the only seating, you’d all sat on the floor around the oval coffee table. It was easier to share the joint, for one, but you could also see everyone’s faces while you talked, and did some much needed catching up.
Steve and Chrissy mostly gossipped about your former classmates, trading off increasingly catty barbs about people whose names you’d hardly thought about since graduation.
Meanwhile, yours and Eddie’s side remained rather uneventful, the both of you barely daring to chance a look at the other whenever you were passing off the joint like a baton.
Then, in the middle of Steve telling some story about Brenda Baker trying to sneak a porno out of Family Video, Eddie carefully tilted his whole body towards you, leaning into your space.
“Hey…” he whispered, “y’ever notice how Steve’s head looks kind of like a Lego?”
You had to slap both your hands over your mouth to stop the laugh that nearly burst out of you.
Eddie’s eyes twinkled, his teeth showing as he let out a snicker. His laugh only made it harder for you to stifle your own and you reached out a hand, clamping it down on his forearm.
His hand then landed on top of yours, warm and calloused palm giving it a squeeze as you were tittering together like a couple of schoolchildren. Your bodies swayed and your shoulders shook, heads bending close almost like you were about to lean on one another for support.
Too distracted to notice Chrissy’s eyes on you.
“I think we might’ve missed something,” she remarked lightly, snapping you out of your stupor.
Your head whipped up at the sound of her voice, and you found yourself staring down the barrel of her appraising gaze. Her seaglass eyes scanned over you, pouty lips pursed in a not-quite smile, only stopping when they flitted down and landed on something that held her interest.
You looked down as well, realizing too late you were still holding onto Eddie’s arm.
And like he was a pan that was too hot, you jerked your hand back and tucked it into your lap.
Having already shared another joint earlier, Eddie and Steve were first to drop out of the rotation.
About halfway through, they shifted off the floor and up onto the couch, settling into the cushions while you and Chrissy scooted closer together on the carpet and traded off the remaining half.
Your quiet giggles seemed to float and swirl in the air along with the wisps of smoke, bodies all loose and relaxed, heads spacey and unbound. You did your level best to keep your eyes on Chrissy or Steve, but could practically feel your retinas straining with the urge to look at Eddie.
It was hard not to picture what he looked like behind you, casual and unconcerned. His knees falling open into a natural spread. His head tipped slightly to the side, resting a cheek on his fist as he smiled all lazy and docile at the back of your head. You could almost feel his gaze on you.
That had to be the weed, though.
It had to be your imagination.
In an attempt to ground yourself, and to think about anything other than Eddie and whether or not he was or wasn’t looking at you, you honed in on the music playing. You hadn’t paid much mind to what Steve put on when you got there, but the song that just started grabbed your attention.
The thrumming bass was distinctively suggestive. It might as well have been the soundtrack to that porno Brenda Baker tried to steal.
“Did we stumble into some kind of sixties love-in here?” you chuckled as you polished off your beer.
Eddie’s laugh was deep and throaty. It made your whole face hot, spreading down to your neck and sternum. You knew it wasn’t that funny, and you were definitely getting an assist from the weed, but it still made your heart jolt in your chest.
Chrissy too let out a little peal of laughter and glanced at Eddie with a hungry look in her eyes you recognized all too well. She twisted her body to push up on her knees and fluidly got to her feet, determinedly not breaking eye contact with her ex. He shifted down in his seat, but held her gaze, only looking away once—his eyes meeting yours for the briefest of seconds.
She slid onto Eddie’s lap with a practiced ease and his hands moved instinctively to her hips, the low light glinting off his rings making them wink at you as his fingers wrapped around the subtle curve of her waist. Her head dropped, her soft curls spilling over her shoulder like a curtain.
Purely out of habit and smidgen of self-preservation, you looked away so as not to have to watch their mouths meeting, your eyes landing on Steve at the other end of the sofa. He widened his legs slightly and tipped his head at you with a You wanna? kind of smile, nodding you over.
You climbed into his lap, mirroring Chrissy’s position on top of Eddie, settling onto Steve’s strong denim-clad thighs. He swept his broad hands up your back, one of them settling at the nape of your neck, his fingertips brushing lightly along your hairline before he claimed your mouth.
Steve was just as good a kisser as you remembered. The two of you had something of a history of finding yourselves in situations not so dissimilar to this multiple times over the years. When he reigned supreme at Hawkins High, you had gotten good at sneaking off to find secluded spots to fool around during whatever party or school function you found yourselves at.
That is, until he started dating Nancy Wheeler: the beginning of the end for him.
And after that, when Robin Buckley started showing up to the far less glamorous band and drama parties with The Hair in tow, he’d see you there as well and his eyes would meet yours with a kind of unexpected familiarity. Like seeing one of your teachers shopping at the Big Buy.
Except he never finger blasted any of his teachers at the market. At least not to your knowledge.
The point was, it was always easy to fall into a rhythm with Steve, and tonight was no exception. His kisses were slow and languid, likely due to the lingering effects of the joint that was similarly affecting you. The record playing ended and no one seemed all that interested in putting on a new one, so the room filled with nothing but the sound of two pairs of lips meeting over and over.
You did your best to ignore the hums and groans of pleasure coming from the couple not three feet away from you. But all of their noises—Eddie’s in particular—sparked a feeling low in your gut you had never felt intensely. He wasn’t doing anything outlandish, or being any louder than Steve was underneath you, it was simply the knowledge that it was Eddie—and that these were the kinds of noises he made when he was turned on.
And that you were actually, finally hearing them.
“Fuck, honey,” Steve swore under his breath, soft enough for only you to hear.
You pulled back slightly, blinking your way out of the haze you’d slipped into, and realized you had unconsciously started grinding down harder on Steve’s lap, aching for some relief.
“S-sorry,” you whispered, still trying to catch your breath. “Got, um…carried away.”
“Don’t be,” he grinned right back at you, his palm leisurely coasting up and down your thigh.
The kissing resumed as you ducked your head to meet his, but it turned out to be short lived.
You jumped in spite of yourself when you felt the gentle tickle of fingertips brushing lightly up and down your arm. Your lips broke apart from Steve’s and your head turned to see Chrissy watching you with heavy lidded eyes and a kiss-swollen mouth. An equally dazed-looking Eddie was kissing the side of her face, his teeth nipping at the hinge of her jaw and the space behind her ear.
She tugged gently on your wrist with one hand and braced herself on Eddie’s shoulder with the other, using him as an anchor as she leaned to the side. Her eyes started to close, and she angled her head in such a way to be as inviting as possible as she drew nearer.
Realizing her intentions, you copied her motions and met her half-way in between where you sat perched upon the two boy’s laps. As yours and Chrissy’s lips locked, Steve and Eddie shared a brief but exhilarated glance, as if to check with the other that they were truly seeing this.
The two of you kissing had proven itself foolproof tactic over the years for getting Chrissy whatever she wanted—free drinks, admission to the bars, enticing whatever boy she had her eye on.
You didn’t love it, the whole faux-lesbian dog and pony display, but the feeling of Steve and Eddie’s heated gazes locked on the two of you while your mouths moved and slid together was a distinctly pleasurable thing. Warm and heady and…hot.
Chrissy’s lips and yours separated with a quiet smack, the tip of her dainty nose brushing yours as her sparkling eyelids fluttered. A feline smile curled up the corner of her mouth as she glanced first between the two boys, and then back at you.
“Hey,” she whispered, her impish voice teeming with mischief, “you guys wanna swap?”
The room fell silent in the wake of her question. You thought for a second you hadn’t heard her right, until your eyes darted to meet Eddie’s. His gaze was already locked on you, dark brown eyes molten with desire between making out with Chrissy and watching the two of you kiss.
“Um…”
You shifted shyly under the intensity of his stare, unprepared for the way it’d pierced down to your very soul, and looked to Chrissy for confirmation.
“Are you sure?” you asked.
“Absolutely,” she said, her large eyes flicking in between Eddie and Steve, taking in the reactions on their handsome faces. She smiled blithely, “As long as the guys don’t mind.”
Steve seemed barely phased by the question. He just grinned hazily at you both and pulled back his bottom lip with his teeth, his hand still absently rubbing up and down your thigh.
“S’fine by me,” he said, giving your leg a squeeze.
Eddie on the other hand had gone deathly still. He swallowed thickly, just shy of audibly gulping, and your eyes trained on the way his throat bobbed, making the veins in his neck bulge.
A wash of different emotions surged across his features…but he didn’t say ‘no.’
“C’mon,” Chrissy said, slipping from Eddie’s lap, “let’s do it.”
She hovered over you like Steve was an arcade game she was waiting herturn at. Inhaling a shaky breath, you pushed up on your knees and swung yourself off of him so she could take your spot.
But rather than taking Chrissy’s place on Eddie’s lap, you sat beside him and turned your body to drape your legs over one of his thighs, your feet dangling down between his calves.
“You okay?” you whispered, scooting a bit closer. Eddie exhaled slowly as he nodded.
His hand curled under your knee, tugging both of your legs nearer. Your calf was now pressed to his groin, feeling something hot and hard beginning to strain from behind his jeans.
The gentle pressure made his eyelids flutter and he groaned quietly, the soft rumbly sound of it zinging through you like a shock. Your leg muscles flexed, pressing against him more insistently in a shameless attempt to make him make that noise again. He did. Louder this time. His eyes closed fully, his brow subtly pinching as if he were lost in a moment of quiet contemplation.
Really, he was just struggling to hold himself together.
Eddie had always been sort of curious about you. You’d only had a few of conversations at school or during parties after games that Chrissy dragged him to. Maybe not dragged, per se, but heavily implied he should attend if he didn’t want to deal with a very cranky girlfriend.
You were quiet and studious. A little aloof, maybe, but he got the sense it wasn’t out of snobbery like with some others. You had always been polite and friendly to him, after all. Never shot him any dirty looks or muttered under your breath like Chrissy’s cheer friends did when he sat at their table.
Still, he knew nothing would ever happen. Even after he and Chrissy broke up, he could tell you weren’t the sort of person who went after a friend’s ex. It just wasn’t in your nature.
Now, evidently, the tides had turned in his favor.
He kept one hand on your knee, his middle fingers carefully stroking the socket of space behind it. His other arm curved around your body and his hand settled into its new home at the small of your back. His heartbeat quickened in his chest when he found your top had ridden up slightly, exposing a patch of bare skin below the hem of your t-shirt. And it only beat faster when his fingertips brushed something soft and lacy peeking out from underneath your jeans.
The breathy and excited coming from behind you made your neck and ears burn fiercely hot, and you tried your best to put all thoughts of Chrissy and Steve out of your mind. You focused instead on Eddie—on the subtle spice of his cologne and how warm and solid his body felt pressed against your own. You remembered how lanky he’d been just a few years ago, and he still had a bit of that going on, but he’d seemingly filled out with muscle and fat quite a bit since then.
Particularly in his arms.
Your mouth went dry studying the lines of his forearms, new sinewy muscles twitching under his tattoos, veins in his hands popping as he subtly squeezed your knee to get your attention.
His brow lifted slightly when your head jerked up and your rounded eyes met his gaze, cocky smile playing on his lips like he was pleased as punch to catch you staring like you were.
“Sorry,” you chuckled, “you just, uh… you look good.”
The words are spoken low and close to his ear, your breath rippling down his neck and making him shiver. “So do you,” he murmured back, “I like these, especially…”
Your body tensed briefly, sitting up and pressing tighter as he slipped his fingers under the elastic band of your panties and snapped them lightly against the small of your back.
“Oh, yeah?” you snickered. “You wanna borrow ‘em sometime?”
His breath and yours mingled as you chuckled softly together, his head dipping low so his bangs swept your forehead. He inhaled sharply and exhaled it slow as he looked into your eyes.
“You know we don’t…we don’t have to…”
His chin wobbled trying to form the words and he wet his lips with his tongue, breathing heavier as his eyes dropped to yours, and you felt almost dizzy with the anticipation.
“No, it’s okay,” you assured him, maybe a little too eagerly. “I want to.”
“Yeah?” he whispered, low and heated. “Me too.”
The first touch of his lips on yours is a gentle brush. Like a snowflake clinging to a branch that it nearly didn’t land on, only barely catching. You reached out and ran your palm across the top of his chest, sliding it along his collarbone over his shirt and moving upwards to cup his jaw.
His whole body shuddered at your delicate touch, stilted breath rushing out through his nose as he tried to steady his racing heart. His mouth sought yours, slotting your lips together with much more…intention this time. It makes you gasp into the kiss as he squeezes you tighter against him, pressing your knee more insistently against his length as it filled out between his legs.
Under your hand, his jaw started to tremble as your kissing grew messier and more fervent. His neck stretched, as if trying to get closer to you even with your faces effectively mashed together. Your thighs pressed, squeezing in a futile attempt to relieve the throbbing pressure in your core.
Breathless and desperate, aching and needy for more, you slid a hand into his hair and clutched at the curls that ran along the nape of his neck.
The mere tug on Eddie’s hair unravels him, causing him to release a low growl like a ravenous animal. It makes your stomach lurch and shudder, excitement flapping low in your belly. Not like butterflies, but like great winged beasts with mighty, snapping jaws and huge talons that could rip through flesh like paper. His fingers dug hard into your skin, threatening to leave contusions that would be tender and aching for days. But you couldn’t find the will to care if he does.
Part of you almost wants him to. Wants the solid reminder that this is real, that it truly happened. Wants to be able to press down on them later and feel like it’s happening all over again.
Suddenly, being next to him wasn’t enough.
You tightened your hold on his hair and leaned backwards, pulling him with you so his body was pinning you to the leather cushions. Another sinful groan from Eddie made his lips vibrate with yours and he moved them further down, planting a string of feverish kisses along your jaw.
But as your chin tipped up, offering him unfettered access to the sensitive expanse of your neck, you remembered your head should have just hit Steve’s thigh or Chrissy’s calf.
Except it didn’t. Because they were both gone.
You tipped your head further back to confirm your suspicion, chest heaving under Eddie’s chin when he did the same.
“Wh…where did they go?” you wondered.
Eddie shook his head, the ends of his curls tickling your cheeks as they swished. He craned his head to look around, finding the den deserted. And then the answer to your question came in the form of a high-pitched moan emanating from the room directly above your heads.
Steve’s bedroom, if memory served.
“Well, that answers that,” Eddie said with a mirthy kind of scoff. And had you not been watching his face so closely, you might have missed the emotion that flickered across it momentarily.
It wasn’t quiet irritation, it was more like…amusement? Like he wasn’t all that surprised.
“So, what should we do?” you asked meekly.
“Well, we could…um…”
He looked down at you and swallowed hard, just the sight of his muscular throat bobbing again making you pulse with need all over. His eyes darted from your face, landing briefly on your chest, and his own reaction you felt through his jeans finished the sentiment for him.
“Eddie, I…” You chewed on the corner of your lip thoughtfully, sort of hating yourself for saying this even before you had. “I don’t think I can? It just…it doesn’t feel right.”
Kissing him was one thing. Anything more than that felt too much like an actual betrayal.
You liked Eddie, really you did. He always struck you as being very sweet and kind underneath all that brassy bluster. Seeing him with Chrissy, the way he doted on her, the way he went out of his way doing whatever he could to make her smile…it had filled your head with lots of silly fantasies; completely unfounded daydreams about what it must be like to be loved like that.
But Chrissy was your best friend. And even if she was okay with you two making out, you had a hard time believing she wouldn’t be taken aback by you doing anything more.
Sure, you had fooled around with Steve before. But he wasn’t your ex. And maybe Chrissy and Eddie weren’t together right now, but that didn’t erase all the years they had been.
It wouldn’t be right, and you knew it. No matter how much you wanted to, or how hard your body (and your heart and your brain) were screaming at you to do this…you just couldn’t.
Eddie’s lips pressed together in a grim line. The abject disappointment on his face was clear, but he gave you an understanding nod and pushed himself up to climb off you. He then offered his hands to help you stand and you slid your fingers into his warm, waiting palms.
When he pulled you to your feet, you found yourself standing nearly nose to nose, practically as close as you’d been on the couch. It gave you one last chance to admire the fullness of his lips; the light dusting of freckles that speckled on his cheeks and the rounded, bulbous tip of his nose; the density of his dark lashes that framed those pools of deep amber.
He really was sort of breathtaking.
From overhead came another high moan, coupled with a faint but steady thump of a headboard hitting the wall behind it. You and Eddie exchanged a wry chuckle and he shook his head.
He looked towards the door and then back at you, giving you a hopeful smile.
“How about I give you a ride home?”
finishing a wip? in this economy??? tysm for reading. love you, mean it! 🔮 if you liked it, please tell me so 🙃
summary: who knows where the current will take you when the heat chases you into the lake. you might just like what's waiting for you at the end of a dock.
pairings: eddie munson x reader
warnings: MDNI!! swearing, smoking(weed n cigs), drinking, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), face riding, p in v sex, semi-public sex, edging, r and eddie are TOO freaked out for each other so i probs forgot some
notes:i blacked out while writing this n it was gunna be more dramatic but its not the vibe!! im not sure how well i paced/edited this. hopefully i captured summer vibes love ya'll
"It's so fucking hot." Jonathan hisses, trying to push the window open more to shove a box fan into the frame to filter more air into his home.
You only laugh, legs dangling off of the edge of his scratchy couch. "Don't you have AC?"
He grits. “There.” He takes a step back, the sheer blinds billowing open with the new breeze, the scent off of the woods floating through the screen. "The AC broke.”
You watch him come back towards you, body bouncing when he collapses on the couch near your head. "That does feel better." Your knuckles lay along the carpet, empty and useless, nails grazing between the soft fibers and hard stains from random liquids. "Shoulda stayed home if I knew that." You glare gently up at him.
Jonathan had been your best friend for years, to you it felt like eons. You had met in middle school gym class when he had stolen your hiding spot beneath the bleachers one day. You were fast friends, bonding over how silly a physical education class was, music, books, comics, and mostly photography. Soon enough, those hidden moments had turned into discussing cute boys and girls, trying weed together for the first time, and collectively hating your physical education class still.
“Oh please.” He meets your glare with amusement.
“Do you have any weed?” You ask the ceiling fan mindlessly.
You can feel him shake his head. “No, I slowed down a bit since Nancy asked.”
You bat your eyes dramatically, “Oh Nancy. Your amazing, awesome, beautiful girlfriend who is way too good for you?”
“Shut up.” He pinched your ankle.
“Have you told her you loved her?” His eyes go to the carpet, “She’s a nice girl Jon.” You prop up on your elbows. “She’s also very scary. If you love her you should tell her before she leaves your sorry ass.”
He shoves off the couch. “Okay we’re leaving. I’m not sitting here, sweating, and reminiscing on all my bad decisions with you.”
“Where did you have in mind?”
An hour later you’re both walking through the woods towards Lover’s Lake. Everyone must have had the same idea because the dock is packed and there is little space to settle on the shore line, but it was better than dying of heatstroke in Jonathan Byers’s house.
You hear your name and are shoving a beaming face up at your friend, “Nancy!” You did like Nancy, a lot, and she was really good for Jonathan even though it prevented you from stealing some of his weed now. She also was super open with your friendship with her boyfriend, so you all hung out often. “Did you break your own AC so you had an excuse to come here?” You whisper up to him.
“Of course not.” But he was using his naive voice.
“You made it.” She is quick to push up on her toes to kiss her boyfriend.
His hands went to her hips, “His AC went out, we were dying a slow painful death when he mentioned you invited him to this lake party.” You lie for him, throwing a thumb over your shoulder, “I’m gunna get a drink.”
“Steve and Robin are by the keg!” Nancy tells you as you walk away.
The one thing that sucked about loving Nancy and Jonathan being together, you had too damn much respect for their relationship to show how upset it made you losing your best friend. You spot the old Scoops Troop by the keg refilling plastic cups with beer. Robin’s eyes light up when she sees you, singing your name while filling up a cup for you. “There you go.”
The beer sloshes when she hands it too rough but you laugh anyways. “Thanks.” You motion around the lake, “When did this all happen?”
“Tina.” They say together.
“Ah.” You nod after a long gulp. “Well thank god for Tina.”
Steve knocks his cup with yours, “Cheers to that.” You settle in next to them, trying to find joy in the smile Nancy brings to Jonathan’s face while sweat runs down your back even if he has ignored you the whole time. By the second cup you’ve ditched your shirt, draping it over some chair while Robin bickers with Steve about a conspiracy involving driver’s licenses. By the third cup of beer you can’t handle the heat in your cheeks anymore.
“I’m going in the water.” You don’t even bother asking them to come with you, you just shuck off the rest of your clothes and wade into the cool waves to wash off the steaming heat your body radiates, wash off the sweat that sat in your hairline from the summer sun baking you beneath her harsh rays. You float on your back for seconds, minutes, you're not sure but you keep taking sips not sure if its lake water or beer running down your neck.
The music begins to quiet down, or it’s your ears underneath the water. The sun moves as time passes, or that's just the current pulling you and spitting you out. All you know is by the time you drain the last sip of your cup and peek your head up the shore line is so far away that your feet no longer reach the bottom of the lake.
“Shoot.” You purse your lips, treading water, peering around noting the empty dock to your right and the two men lounging in lawn chairs in the grass a few yards off of the lake.
“You lost, little siren!” A familiar voice shouts to you.
You kick your legs to the right, wading through the water as it begins to become shallow the closer to the dock you got. “No I-I uh…lost track of…”
“Yourself?” The voice jokes and your forehead creases because you had heard the laughter too often in the lunch room at school. You squint, but the sun behind them eclipses their faces. He groans, pushing off of the lawn chair, footsteps coming down the dock until you’re staring up at him.
Eddie Munson bends down and holds a hand out to you. He's wearing a band t-shirt, you can't make out the words but it looks intense. His hair is dark, long, curly, bangs nearly covering warm brown eyes. Your hand slides into his and he yanks you, helping you climb up onto the dock. “Thanks.” You breathe, a firm hand on your waist to steady you on the rotted wooden dock.
Those same warm eyes run up the length of your bare legs, your bare torso, the bikini top covering your breast, lingering on the water dripping down from your neck, finally stopping when he reaches your face. “We heard the party from here.” He motions with his eyes, then snaps them back towards your face.
“Were you people watching?” The corner of your mouth tugs up.
“Drunk teens offer great entertainment.” He smirks, “Who let your float away?”
You finally take a step back. “It’s a long story.”
He turns slightly, his own empty chair coming into view. “We got time.” He plucks your empty red cup, “Beer.”
“Weed?”
His grin is wild.
“Wait.” You take a deep drag of the joint sitting between your knuckles. “You were Jonathan’s dealer?”
Reefer Rick nods, who you learned was the other person sitting next to Eddie, whose dock you had floated upon. “I was until about two weeks ago.” He plucks the joint from your hand. “Told me his girlfriend asked him to quit.”
Eddie scoffs, leaning on his hands in the grass. He had given you his chair, a band shirt too, to cover your bathing suit clad body. “Wheeler has him whipped. I don't blame him either, she’s scary.”
Rick passes Eddie the joint after a pondering inhale. “That’s right. You all went to school together.”
“Go tigers!" You throw a sarcastic pumped fist in the air.
Eddie watches you, watches you take the joint from his hand. “I didn’t know you smoked.”
“I only got high with Jonathan.” You push the joint past your lips. And now my friend won’t get high with me anymore. A good reason didn’t make it easier to swallow.
“Boring.” Rick boos you, but then slaps a hand on your knee, “Now you got us babes.”
You roll your eyes, “Yay me.” But as you tap away the ash the loneliness you had felt floating weightless seems to have been left in the murky water. “Thanks though, for the weed.”
“He ditched you, didn’t he?”
Your eyes flare up to Eddie, “Ditch is a strong word.” You hold the joint out for him, reversing the circle. “He’s in a relationship, and I like Nancy, and I’m happy for him.” Long fingers graze yours, cool rings reminding you why you had swam in the water in the first place; the heat. “It’s just an adjustment.”
“That’s when you get a boyfriend…or girlfriend…or whatever you’re into.” Rick snatches the joint out of Eddie’s hand before he can even breathe. “That way you’re not waiting around for your friend to not be busy.”
You suck on your teeth. “True.” You had a boyfriend your sophomore year. It was fine, quick and full of awkward sex, and fizzled out before a spark could even form. You wanted a spark, you wanted heat and feverish skin and that nauseating overwhelming giddiness. You wanted what Jonathan had. “Maybe I’m jealous.”
“Of Nancy? Scandalous.” Rick gasps finally letting the joint move back to Eddie.
“No.” You laugh. “Of what they have.”
He watches you over his knuckles, speaking with smoke in his lungs. “Have you ever explored things with-!”
“No!” Your eyes bulge. “No. It was never like that with us. We are forever best friends.”
“You want that hot kinky sex they’re having.”
You glance over at Rick, blissfully red-eyed, and can’t help but throw your head back and laugh. Eddie even snorts out a small chuckle handing you the remaining dregs of the joint to which you finish and smash out in the glass ashtray.
Then, you settle back into the chair letting the weed fill your brain with hazy smoke, letting the heaviness of the heat dissipate off your skin. “Surprised you stayed this long with what they say about me.”
“My best friend is Jonathan Byers.” You smirk, “What gave off the impression I care what people say about anyone.”
“Touche, baby.” Rick mumbles.
Eddie grins back, “Touche, little siren.”
“You’re in a band right?”
Rick rolls his eyes. “Don’t get him started.”
“I am.” Eddie kicks his shin. “Corroded Coffin, we play at The Hideaway, small crowd, but they get rowdy.” He grimaces, shifting his weight and then eyes the plastic you sat upon. “Do you-!”
“Is that ground hard?” He nods and you stand up.
Eddie moves into his chair again and you go to take the spot in the grass when he grabs your wrist. “No. Sit.” He pats at his knee.
You’re too high to think about it otherwise and settle into his lap, backing up against him, letting his left arm wrap around your waist to hold you up. “What an odd turn of events for me.”
He smiles up at you, “Those are usually the best.”
The three of you sit there, chatting about nonsense, letting rock music lull from a small radio under Rick’s chair, let them rope you into people watching the exact party you had come from. You can’t make out noise or faces, but it’s fun to invent fake stories.
It’s not fun when the rush of Eddie’s scent fills your nose every time he shoots up close to point out something across the water, or his hand digging into your thigh when he laughs too hard, or the way in the quiet moments he draws shapes into the bare skin of your leg. You watch the sun crawl across the sky, a golden yellow turning burnt orange, dark purple replacing light blue and stars taking their place before the final curtain closes.
You’ve leaned back into Eddie’s chest, dark hair tickling your nose when a breeze blew, his musky scent wafting through you. He was speaking softly in your ear, whispering out facts about some strange deity he had made up in that fantasy game Will played. You don’t know how you got to that point, but his gentle voice was so soothing you didn’t mind at all.
“Am I boring you?”
“You’re boring me.” Rick yawns standing up. “I’m going inside. You can sleep over little siren or at least make Eddie walk you back to your party.”
You beam up at him. “Thanks for the weed.”
“Anytime.” He squeezes your cheeks, then stalks off the screen door squeaking then slamming close.
You eye the empty chair. “I should-!”
Two arms wrap around you. “You’re warm.”
“It's still sweltering outside.” You joke.
“It’s a little chilly.” He tries, but it only makes you laugh a little. A hand on your inner thigh cuts the sound off instantly, but he’s quick to inch it away. “Sorry.”
You feel your heart speed up in your throat, you feel the little stutter in your breath as his hand comes into direct focus and the heat suffocates you. Yeah, you wanted what your best friend had, but Rick was right too, you did miss sex. It had been so long, and his hand was right there, long fingers begging to be used.
Your thighs rub together and you know he can tell you’ve arched back into him. “It’s okay.” You breathe.
“Is it?”
A double edged question you’d agree to every time, and maybe this was the best turn of events. “Yeah.” You whisper out.
His hand inches back inward, cool rings dragging across warm skin. He licks his lips, you can hear it. You wish you could see it, wish you could turn and feel his lips on your own. No, instead your eyes are locked in on his hand resting on your inner thigh, just resting. His other hand comes up, brushing hair away to expose your ear, your neck, partially your face and you glance backwards slightly at him.
Brown eyes stare back at you, dark, heavy, intoxicating as the tips of his fingers graze too close to what burned through you. Your mouth parts, and the hem of his long shirt rides up your body only the thin layer of a bathing suit hiding all that scorched heat between your legs.
Eddie’s grip digs in at the same time he buries his face in the crook of your neck. “You smell so good.”
“What do I smell like?” You exhale.
You feel the warmth of his open mouth dragging up the chorded muscles in your neck. “Like sunscreen and sweat, like weed and vanilla.” Your eyes flutter close when his tongue laps at your skin. “You smell like summer.”
And how could you refuse him the taste of summer? “Hmm.” His teeth graze your pulse and he pushes your head towards him to nip at your ear lobe the same time his hand inches up your body, a finger curling along the inner seam of your bikini bottoms.
A gasp, a claw squeezing his thigh and his body grinds up into yours. “Gunna touch you now ‘kay?”
“Mhm-hmm.” You lick your parted lips, nodding against his face. Two fingers brush against the front of you, ghosting your throbbing clit over damp fabric. You're not sure if it's from the lake or your arousal, if you had to guess; both.
Your face is hot, new sweat forms on your hairline and you want to claw out of this shirt he forced on your body. He sucks on your jaw, his hard cock digging into your back side. He’s teasing you, putting light pressure on your clit like he’s simply adjusting his grip on your body. You’re clenching around nothing, your body begging him silently to fuck you if it quenches this insatiable need steaming off of you. And maybe you could cum like this, pathetic and empty because you’re sure if he kept dangling it in front of you eventually your body would combust inward.
“Does it hurt?” He whispers against your ear. You make a confused whine, “The want for me to put my hand inside of you, does it hurt? It seems like it hurts.”
“Yeah.” You croak out.
He clears his throat, “You must need it real bad then, huh?” He pushes your bathing suit to the side, two fingers gliding are slick arousal, “You poor thing.” He mumbles into your ear, “All worked up for me.” He simply plays with it all, sliding fingers through your folds, gentle circles rubbed into your clit. “Would you cum like this?” Your back arches into him, “Or do you need more?” Fingers edge your weeping entrance, teetering the ring of it but never quite going inside of you.
“I-I ne-I want more.” You can’t breathe, can’t think. You’re simply panting, dizzy with need, suffocated by the heat of arousal.
He plunges two fingers inside and you nearly cum right there on his hand, sagging against him with deep rooted relief. It takes you a moment to even register he’s thrusting up into you, that the deep ridges of his rings feel like cold ice along the walls of your cunt, or that he’s whispering into your skin. “Does it feel good baby?”
“Yes.” You moan into the night, snaking a hand around his head to hold onto something. “Fuck, Eddie.”
He groans into your cheek, fucking you harder with agile fingers, fucking you so good you can barely see straight. “Like when you say my name like that. Like feeling you clenching around me already, dripping down my wrist.” He sucks on your neck, harsh. “So pretty, so perfect, I want you to cum all over me.” Teeth bite down on you and you cry out, “Can you do that? Can you be a good girl for me?”
You nod, legs opening wider, mewling for him incoherently, “So-so good.”
“You are, aren't you?” His husky voice consumes you, his other hand sliding down your body to press down onto your clit. You grind up into him, rolling your hips to meet each thrust of his knuckles curling inside of you. With dexterous precision on your clit, and fingers grazing that sweet spot deep inside of you; your nail claws at his scalp, toes curling in the grass below.
His whole body shifts, sitting up straight, shoving you backwards, curling himself over you as he pushes a third finger up into you, filling you, stretching you. You are unable to speak, unable to think, only high pitch gasps leave you with each brutal thrust of his hand. Your ass rolls against his cock with every motion, his leg keeping your knees apart.
It's obscene, the sound that echoes off the lake, the sick wetness slapping against your skin. It’s a fever taking over your skin, a spark burrowing into your core to ignite your whole body in flames. With one final long drawn out figure eight drawn into your clit, you explode. You clamp down around his hand, gushing over his fingers, his jeans, with a broken moan on your lips. You rock against his palm still buried inside of you, riding it out, letting your vision blink back into existence. A new wetness seeps in from behind you and you’re convinced it’s from you too. But there he is, slowly grinding against you, the once rock hard length growing soft and you know the wetness was his own orgasm.
His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass, spilling out of the sides of your suit when your body collapses back with him boneless, your brain mushy. Slowly, he tugs his hand out of you with a squelching sound and a breathy hiss from you.
“What an odd turn of events.” He speaks from behind you, your breaths evening out in tandem.
“Those are usually the best.”
Eddie laughs softly, then in one quick motion he twists your body, draping you across his lap, your legs dangling off the armrest of the plastic lawn chair. “You okay? Was I too rough?”
“No.” You shake your head, resting your heavy brain against his chest. “That was…”
“Hot.” He leans his chin on the top of your head.
You laugh. “Yeah.”
You close your eyes, getting lost in the steady way his heartbeat slows down thumping consistently beneath your ear. “You’re a dream.” He whispers, stroking down your hair. “We should take you back.”
“We should go get ice cream.”
“You’re half naked.” He reminds you. “And we’re covered in…”
You sigh, “If only there was a large body of water to fix that.
“Is that so?” His hands go under your thighs and he shoots up, a hoarse giggle escaping your throat as he runs with your body towards the lake. His feet pound against wood and soon you’re weightless once more before cool water slams into you washing away any trace of what happened in that lawn chair. Except water couldn’t scrub it from your brain, your nerves, the feel of his fingertips on skin. No, you think, breaking the surface, his heavy band shirt tugging you down, there was no way you could forget the way Eddie Munson had made you feel tonight.
A dream.
You splash him with water, he splashes back, his wide smile brighter than the moon now hanging over your heads. And you’re laughing, remembering what carefree fun was supposed to feel like. Maybe you’re still high, or maybe being with Eddie was easy, or maybe both things were true.
“My legs are so heavy.” You complain, trying to swim, trying to tread water.
“I bet.” He smirks, crossing the space between you two to grip your hips, pulling you towards him. “I got you.” He guides your legs around his waist, holding you with a firm hand on your spine. He gazes up at you, moving his hand up your vertebrae until it's rooted to the base of your skull and he pushes you forward to connect your mouth to his.
You hum into his lips, a hand resting on his jaw, the other in his mane of hair, parting your lips for him to slip his tongue inside. Your mouths meld together, tongues gliding along each other, rolling around like two dragons dancing delicately in the sky. His tongue licks at the roof of your mouth, tasting the smoke still stuck to your teeth, sucking on the air neither of you take in. His spit tastes so good, like cheap beer and nicotine and something citrus, and you swallow it down greedily, losing yourself to the tangible taste of him. You can’t stop kissing him, can’t tear your mouth off of him even when you can feel your top lip growing puffy, can feel your lungs begging you to take a breath.
He nips at your bottom lip and finally you suck in a quick breath, chasing his mouth for more. “I think this is how sirens kill men.” He mutters, dragging his bottom lip along yours. “Entrance them and drown them.”
“I’m not a good singer.” You capture his lips again.
“I disagree.” He sucks your lip in and you moan. “You make such pretty noises.” You chuckle into his mouth, two arms wrapped around his neck. “Stay.” You reel back to stare down at him, “Actually, no. I’m going to take you home and then I’m going to take you out.”
You laugh softly, “Okay.”
Eventually you do climb out of the water and he walks to his van, the pair of you unable to stop smiling over at the other, wet hair plastered to drenched skin. He opens the passenger door for you, but before you can climb in he grabs you by the hips again, pressing you into metal and kissing you. He tilts your face up, shoving his tongue down your throat, licking the sides of your esophagus until you’re dizzy all over again.
Your hand runs the length of his pale skin beneath his soaked shirt, nails dragging up his ribcage to splay against his sternum, his heart pounding in tune with your own.
He pecks your swollen lips, quick kisses, pushing your hips towards the front seat. “I like kissing you.”
“I like being kissed.” You smile against his teeth.
Eddie lifts your feet, planting them on the ground and forcing the door close to jog around the car and slide into the driver’s seat. “Here.” He digs into the back of his van tugging free a jacket. “You got my shirt all wet.”
“You got it wet.” You laugh taking the jacket and tugging it on your body. Summer nights were cooler, but humid, the heat pressing in with a sticky sensation that made your whole body feel damp. “Thanks.” You curl into the leather, smelling him all around you.
“You headed back to Byers?” He asks, turning the engine over. “The party?”
You smile, “Nah, you can just take me home.”
“You hooked up with Eddie Munson!” Nancy gasps across the Byers’s kitchen table where Jonathan, her, and you ate lunch. You had come over as soon as you woke up to explain where you had disappeared too last night, but the evidence was marked up your neck in deep hickies and teeth indents.
You roll your eyes, “We didn’t hook up, we just…made out.” Yeah, he totally didn’t finger bang me in a lawn chair until he came in his pants.
Jonathan eyes you suspiciously, knowing you’re lying, but he doesn’t push. “And he wants to see you again?”
“Yeah.” You look down to hide the slow smile forming. “Sure, why not.”
“You shouldn’t have just…gone over there without saying bye.” Jonathan toys with the placemat underneath an empty plate. “I-We were worried about you.”
You shrug. “I didn’t intend to float away. It just happened and honestly…I had a really good time.”
“Eddie’s a little weird isn’t he though?” Jonathan raises an eyebrow at you.
“And you aren’t?” Nancy laughs.
He throws up his hands. “I just mean…I don’t want him treating you bad or hurting you or whatever. I don’t know a lot about him. What if he’s like a serial killer or something.”
“He ran a club for a fantasy game my little brother, your little brother, and their friends were a part of.” Nancy playfully glares, “I think we kinda know things about him. He’s obnoxious."
“He’s in a band.” You offer.
Jonathan’s worry softens into something amiable. “His only downfall is the drug dealing.” Nancy points out.
When she’s not looking, you mouth ‘free weed’ to Jonathan making your best friend laugh and shake his head at you.
Eddie had stopped by your house while you were out, but alas, you were out. Your mother took his number down for you, but when you call he’s not home. No big deal.
You call again the next day; no answer or returned call. He doesn’t come by either.
A whole week goes by and maybe Jonathan was on to something and Eddie only liked you when the weed hit his system. The heavy smoke had faded and he had been left with regret and a cum stain in his underwear, what more did he really want with you?
But when you lay in your bed at night, you can’t get the image out of your head of the way he looked at you, the way his fingers ghosted over your skin, the way he had called you a dream.
A dream, induced by drugs.
You turn on your side and curl around your pillow.
The phone rings the next afternoon. “Hello?”
“My little siren.” Your heart picks up a few beats, “Sorry I stopped by and missed you, and then Rick needed my help with some stupid shit and little Henderson, you know Dustin right? Yeah, he came by and we started this whole campaign planning thing for Hellfire and-!”
“Eddie.” You chuckle, “It’s fine. You-you don’t owe me-!”
“No I do. I can’t have my favorite girl thinking I was blowing her off.” You chew on your smile. “Hey, can you be ready in like 25 minutes?”
“Why?”
“Wanna go for a drive?”
Twenty-five minutes fly by too fast and you’re bouncing your legs up and down on your stairs, clutching the carpet, staring at your front door waiting for him. The second hand on the clock mocks you with every slow tick and the anticipation nearly makes you crawl out of your skin. You groan into your palm, physically unable to stop watching the door waiting, waiting, waiting…
Two minutes later, Eddie pulls up and you hop off of the stairs not even giving him the chance to knock. You check yourself out one last time; fix your hair, pull your denim mini dress further down your thighs, adjusting the cherry red belt wrapped around your center. You grab your camera bag, of course, and lastly, you throw Eddie’s jacket over your shoulders and bound out of the front door.
He’s closing his driver side door when your hand squeezes his shoulder. “What’s u-Damn…” He turns to fully take you in, eyes taking you in head to toe with a low whistle. “Damn.” He hisses, hands going to your waist. “You look too damn good in that jacket for me to ever beg for it back.” He leans down and kisses you like this has been so completely normal since the dawn of time. “I wanted to come to the door.”
“That’s alright.” You hide the fact you couldn’t wait a second longer to feel his hands on your body.
He pokes your nose, “Needy girl. Well, up ya get.” He motions with his head, following you around his van to open up the door for you to climb inside with a small smack to your ass. You settle the small bag on the floor near your feet. Once he closes the door, you’re shucking off the jacket already flustered from the midday sun beating down on you. “Fuck.” He groans once he’s behind the wheel, “You smell so fucking good.” He shoots across towards you, burying his face in your neck, hair tickling you while he kisses up your throat, along your jaw, planting one last peck to your lips before settling back into his seat.
You smirk to yourself. You had sprayed the same perfume tonight that you had worn when the lake had carried you to his dock. You figured it was his favorite now. “Where are you whisking me away tonight?”
“Somewhere I’m not tempted to kiss you every second.” He glances over at you.
You lean over, sliding a hand on his thigh, “Now what would be so wrong with that?”
He parks at the ice cream shop along the strip of stores in downtown Hawkins. “M’lady.” He offers his arm to help you out of his van walking along the pavement towards the colorful inside holding far too many hot patrons. “You ask, you shall receive."
“And we’re both in dry clothes this time.”
“Speak for yourself.” He whispers in your ear making the heat crawl up your neck. A hand glides down your side to sit peacefully at your waist, then he drops it suddenly. “Sorry, sorry is that okay?”
You grab his hand before it goes back completely, “More than okay.” You smile up at him.
He smiles back down, “It’s hard to keep my hands off of you.”
“It’s my wylde ways that have seduced you, Munson.”
“It sure is.”
You glance around the shop, the bright yellow and blue painting the wall, the multicolored sprinkles decorating it. It was blaringly overstimulating in a way only an ice cream parlor could be. “Steve and Robin used to work in an ice cream shop, it was nice to get it all for free.”
“Damn they shoulda came here after the fire, at least could have gotten me a discount.” He jokes peering down at the variety of flavors behind glass, “What do you want?”
You order your ice creams, but Eddie doesn’t let you sit down, no he drags you back outside to his van and speeds off down the road, your melodic laugh floating out of his open windows. He drives you out of the downtown area, music playing at a low volume while he rolls along the road. “Where are we?” You ask peering out of the window at the hill of grass stretching before you.
“Dustin told me about this place, and figured it would be a nice place to enjoy our ice cream.”He grabs a blanket from the back then flies out of the car, pulling you, along with your camera, with him up the giant hill overlooking Hawkins.
Your cheeks are aflame and the heat presses down in your chest, but Eddie’s hand is in yours.
Cresting the hill you can see the scorch mark the mall fire had left, the fair grounds being set up, rows of suburban houses, and the mandarin orange sun burning in your face. That's when you finally sit. “This is nice.” You tell him, scooping a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth.
You sit there for a while, eating ice cream that was melting far too quickly while the crickets and cicadas sang in the greenery enjoying the view along with you. It was a peaceful quiet, like you both were simply enjoying the moment rather than filling it with empty conversation.
You wipe your hands and slowly begin to pull your small camera free from the bag it hid in. It wasn’t as nice as Jonathan’s, but then again he was better at photography than you. You line up the shot of the setting sun and snap a few stills, panning across the faraway town, slowly turning it on Eddie.
“Smile.” You grin behind the lens and watch that wide beam take over his whole face. He makes a silly face, sticks out his tongue, flips you off and no matter what happens to you two at least you could leave here with pleasant memories.
“My turn!” He rips it from you, quickly spinning it, snapping a few of himself from an upside down angle accidentally before turning it on you. It shutters and clicks at you, your hand in half of the frame as you shove it up, then you pounce, grabbing at your camera, toppling over him to free it from his clawed grip around the lens. “Just one! Please!” He cackles wildly, the camera still clicking with every crazy picture he takes.
“You’re wasting m-! Ha!” You free it and wiggle it above your head.
He puts his hands up pathetically. “Oh no you got me.” But those two hands land on your thighs which are now straddling his hips. “What’ll you do to me now, little siren?”
You slowly lower your hands, lining up one more shot of him trapped beneath your bracketed legs, at his calm dark expression. Then you set your camera aside, and plant two hands on either side of his face, “This is the part where I drown and kill you, Munson.”
His mouth twists, nose scrunching, the smirk fighting to form in his mouth, “Oh please drown me.” His right hand moves inward, slipping beneath the hem of your dress brushing a knuckle down the length of the front of your underwear. “You’re already halfway there.”
Your eyebrows shoot up, and gods, you’ve never done this but gods did you always want to. You don’t even care that you're at the top of an exposed hill while there is still daylight illuminating the sky. You straighten up onto your knees fully, tugging down your underwear, maneuvering it off your legs to sit meaningless next to your melted ice cream.
With two firm hands on your ass, Eddie guides your body upward until your knees replace where your palms were. His eyes are dark, hungry as he takes in the glistening sight above him. “Come on.” He urges you down, “Please let me have her, please.”
You grip the grass to steady yourself as you bring your cunt down onto his mouth. The moan he lets out is outrageous and vibrates up into you to come out of your own mouth. His tongue works you, ravages you like he’s dying of thirst, and he’s not even hitting your clit, he’s just below you, tasting you, exploring you until finally you roll your hips. “Fuck.” You choke out needing to put a second hand to the ground to bring your clit closer to the apex of his tongue and once he finds it–oh and he finds it–your vision screws up. A hot zing of pleasure shooting up your spine that has you grinding down into him.
He slows his erratic movements to lick at that throbbing bundle of nerves, to shower it with attention that has you losing all rhythm. You let go of the grass, sitting up straight to land a hand on his own hip. He’s firm beneath you, unwavering even as his fingers dig into the flesh of your ass, as the other reaches up to knead into your breast.
“Right there, right there…” You pant now fully fucking his face, his nose buried in deep as he drawing shapes into your clit with his tongue. Your core burns, your thighs shake beside his head and nails curl into his stomach. “Eddie I-!” Teeth graze you and you’re clenching around nothing, moaning at the clouds, coming apart over him, rolling your hips until the shockwaves wash down to your feet.
You don’t even realize his tongue had moved off of your clit, that it's thrusting up into your pulsing cunt, drinking down whatever you’ll give him. And the noises. The slurping and sucking and groaning from beneath nearly have you ready for another orgasm, and he’d give it to you.
You push up onto your knees more, coming off of his face and suddenly two hands grab you by the waist, holding you firmly as he pushes upward to land you on your back beneath him. His eyes are wild, mouth soaked with your pleasure and soon enough, he’s kissing you. His tongue swirls around your mouth like he wants you to taste yourself on his tongue, like he wants you to know how crazy it drove him.
He takes your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs. “Mhm.” Is all he says, licking around his mouth to gather more of you into his mouth. His hand goes to his pants, unbuckling himself, zipping down his jeans, freeing his hard cock from the restraints of denim. You glance down, then back at his face, “Okay?”
“Yes.” You nod, mouth watering, hips slightly bucking up to meet him.
Eddie only smirks, dragging the tip of his cock up and down your sopping entrance, brushing against your sensitive clit, circling your weeping hole. “Does it hurt? The want for me to put my cock inside of you, does it hurt? It seems like it hurts.”
“Eddie.” You whine. “Don’t tease me.”
“You must need it real bad then, huh?” He pushes in slightly, a breath of relief before he tugs himself out. “All worked up for me.” Again, he pushes in with just the tip and your back arches off of the ground, groaning through your teeth when he pulls out again. “Tell me you need it, baby, come on tell me how bad you want me to fuck you.” You’re near tears when he thrust up and down your slicked up folds, “I’ll make you cum like this, do you want that? I’ll do it for you.” The shaft of his cock keeps brushing against your sensitive clit and you could cum like this if he doesn’t stop, you’re close to bursting with it actually and it’s embarrassing how wet you get thinking about it.
You swallow, “I need it, Eddie.”
He tsks, pressing into your clit with his cock harder, the blood orange sky blurring about you, colors melting together like the cream in your forgotten cup. “Not good enough, baby. You’re such a good girl, my good girl. You don’t need me inside you to cum right?” You try to fight it, but you grind up into him, rolling your hips along his cock simply sitting outside of your body, using it to get yourself off. You moan from your throat and he simply watches you try to shove it down, “That it’s, there you go, you got it.” He brushes hair off of your forehead, cooing at you, all the while he’s rubbing his cock with unyielding precision along everything that made stars pop up behind squeezed eyelids. “It’s okay, let it go baby.” Your stomach tightens and with two fists twisted into Eddie’s shirt, you clamp down around air, cuming pathetically without him inside you a frustrated whine leaving your mouth. Wet pleasure seeps between your smashed thighs only mocking you more, the familiar blissful relief following soon after. “Gods you’re fucking drenched.” You glare up at him. “All you needed to say was please.”
You grit your teeth, “Please, I need you to fuck me Eddie Munson. I need to cum with you buried deep inside me.”
He presses a kiss to your lips, “Of course, baby.” Eddie plunges into you with a sick, squelching sound not even giving you time to adjust before his hips are smacking against yours. He pulls up, two hands gripping your hips to slam you down onto his cock, “Fuck you feel so good, fucking divine.” He tugs one knee up and out, opening you up more, fucking you deeper. “I need this dress off.” He undoes the belt around your center, letting it fall carelessly. “I’m gunna flip you over now.”
“Huh wai-!”
But he pulls out and flips you over by hitching you by your hips. Then, he buries himself back into you before you have even taken the next breath. He tugs the zipper down, letting the dress grow slack and then fully falling around your body leaving you naked and exposed for him while the world moves around you. He runs a hand up your spine, arching you for himself, snaking a hand sideways to fully cup your breast. He groans, pinching and pulling at your nipple, the heat growing in your core once more.
He fucks you punishingly faster, hitting something so good it has you mewling for more. “You fuck me so good, Eddie.”
“Fuck yeah I do.” Two fingers hook into your mouth, rings digging into the corners. “Fucking know just what you like, baby girl. Your pussy was made for me, you were made for me.” Your tongue swirls around his digits, the divets and ridges of cool rings, letting him fuck your mouth with his fingers until drool pools out of your lips. You think you’d let him do whatever he wanted if it felt this good for him to do. “Cum around my cock now.” He takes his dripping fingers and slides them between your legs, drawing perfect circles into your clit.
It doesn’t take long until spots dance in your vision, until your legs shake under the weight of your impending orgasm.
He hisses, “Fucking squeezing me, you’re so tight. Jesus.” He pulls back, and slams into you; slow, steady, dragging his cock along the soft spot deep inside of you, curved especially for him. Pleasure drips down your thighs, and all you can do is cry out his name when you cum around his cock. Your front half collapses, only staying upright with his knuckles wedged into your hip bones thrusting into you through your orgasm.
Eddie spills inside of you, hot spurts coating your insides with every slow pulse of his hips to milk every last drop out. He doesn’t pull out right away, no, he only shifts you down all the way and rolls to wedge himself behind you.
“You okay?”
You’re blissfully drained. “Good. Really good.”
“Mhm.” He hums. “I left an indent.” He traces where his knuckle dug into your hip, a small imprint from the horn on one of his rings. His tongue lazily lolls on your nipple. “Didn’t give them enough attention.” He sucks one into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue.
“Eddie.” You breathe out some semblance of a laugh, but it breaks off into a small moan when his soft cock begins thrusting again up into you. Warm cum threatens to slip out around the edges only for him to shove it back up into you when he fucks it back in. Teeth graze your nipple as he keeps at it, lavishing your breast, sucking and licking while pumping his cum further into you, not daring to let a single drop spill over.
You let him keep at it, let him hump at you and roll his tongue around your breast until he begins to grow hard again inside of you, until you even need more of it. He moans into your skin and you roll onto your back bracketing him between your legs letting him turn the focus to your other breast. He fucks you slow, without thought, the fullness of him heating your skin more than the summer sun setting beyond you. “Give me one more.” He mutters into your breast, a hand slithering between bodies. “I need it, baby, please give it to me.”
You’re too delirious to know if he means your orgasm or his own. “Keep fucking me, Eddie.” You whine, nails in his hair tilting your hips up to take him deeper, to make him hit that spot inside you as his thumb presses into your clit.
His face nestles into your neck and he’s sucking and biting on sweaty skin. “You smell so good, you taste so good, gunna taste even better with my cum filling you up.”
“Yeah?” His pace picks up, his thrust becoming rougher. “Please, Eddie, I need it, I need your cum, wanna be so full of it.”
“Feel good inside you already huh?” He presses down harder on your clit, "Want you to cum with it all inside you, yeah? Can you do that for me? Show me how good it makes you feel, how good I make you feel.” You squeeze your eyes tight and clamp down around him, back arching up, nails raking down his scalp, his spine with a broken cry on your lips. “Such a good girl.” He pants, hips sputtering, more cum spilling up into you and out around his cock. “Yeah there you go, take it so good. You let me fill you up so well, fucking milking me for it, baby.”
He gives you a few more thrust, but this time he finally does pull out collapsing beside you on the ruined blanket. “Holy shit.” Your breaths come in shallow and shattered, sweat fully covering both of your bodies in a glistening sheen. “That was…”
“Hot.” He repeats and you only drape an arm over your face while you attempt to laugh. “You make me get so lost in it.”
You peek over your arm at him, “Same. It’s never…”
“Been like that with anyone else.” You both laugh, and you even cover your face with two hands to hide the noise coming from you. He sighs, tugging your hands down by your wrist. “I think you did kill me and this is heaven."
“Or a dream.” You grin weakly.
“One I never want to wake up from.” He leans down and kisses you gently like he hadn’t rocked your world.
You prop up onto your elbows, peering around the hill. “I should probably get dressed before someone calls the police on us. Hopper would still arrest me for indecent exposure even if he’s obsessed with my best friend’s mom.”
Your dress is covered in arousal and cum, so is the blanket. Eddie runs back to his van, throwing you an extra T-shirt he had lying around. You glance down at the words written on the shirt, “Hey, so are you still running Hellfire Club?”
“No.” He glances at the shirt too, his club shirt, settling in beside you. “Well, yes, but no. Dustin and Mike took over once I graduated, but I still help out with campaigns if they need it.”
You nod, “Will said you were a great DM.”
Eddie waggles a finger at you, “Will Byers is a little liar. You should have seen that smug smirk he had when they chose Mike to be the new DM.”
“Two things can be true, Munson.” You nudge him with your shoulder. You chew on the corner of your mouth, “Why did you…”
“Never try to get with you when we were all in school together?” He sighs, tugging at blades of grass, “I don’t know, you were always with Byers I assumed things until Nancy Wheeler came around. At that point I was so lost in trying to graduate and the band and Hellfire I really wasn’t interested in anyone.” He glances at you, “What’s your excuse?”
You mimic his sigh, “I thought you were cute, but was a little intimidated and then you graduated and I figured I’d never see you again so it didn’t matter.”
“You never dated anyone else?”
You shook your head, “I had a boyfriend, no heat, no passion-!”
“Boring sex?”
“Yes.” You laugh, but your smile falls. “I kept waiting to feel that spark and it never really happened...” You look over at him, until you.
Eddie frowns, “You’re going to college in the fall for photography aren’t you?”
You nod, “In Chicago.” You roll your eyes, “Jonathan is going to Emerson with Nancy, he’ll probably work with her. I’m undecided. I would love to maybe go more into film, it seems way more interesting, but that is a whole different program.” His silence is oppressive, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
The muscle under his eye twitches, “We got the whole summer to hang out.” You try to smirk, “To hook up, then…”
“We’ll go our separate ways?”
“Sure.” You shrug, feigning nonchalance, trying to not give him the idea that you wished he would ask for more. “I’ll be home often, we can hang out when I’m back in town for breaks and stuff like that.” You nudge him again, “I can bug you for free weed.”
He forces a laugh. “Right.”
His cum warms between your legs, and you feel there’s something teetering on a fragile ledge threatening to break, but you’re too afraid to name it. Because you can fake it all you want, but the idea of leaving Eddie come August had made sadness weasel into your chest. “The sunset is pretty out here.” You change the subject staring out at the amber waves burning while the sun dipped low.
“It is.” But his voice came in facing you, not like he was looking at the sun at all. You lay back on the ground, staring up at the indigo sky, the crescent moon shyly beginning to show herself to you.
He lays down next to you, tucking his arm beneath you, curling you up against his chest. “We should go to the fair.” You mumble out, your eyes closing.
He doesn’t respond, only draws shapes into your shoulder absentmindedly.
“Was it good?” Your ear twitches in Jonathan’s direction, and you glance over at him with your hands still on the clips holding up your developing pictures. “The date. The date with Eddie?”
“Oh.” You drop your hands, “It wasn’t really a…date.” It felt like a date and ended like a porno so you weren’t sure how to describe it. “It was nice though, I had a lot of fun.”
Jonathan has the audacity to look playfully disappointed in the red light of the room. “Did you sleep with him?”
“No!” You scoff, crossing your arms. “No we just…we made out.”
“You’re a horrible liar.” He shakes his head, laughing to himself, coming around the table to pin up the photo next to the one you had just finished. It was all the film from your camera, all the film from your night with Eddie. “I don’t care if you did, as long as he…treats you well.”
You roll your eyes, but the softness is there. “He did.”
Jonathan’s eyes catch on the film beginning to fully develop, the one Eddie had taken of you. “I’ve never seen you like this.” He motions to the picture, “You seem…really happy. I mean you always are happy, but this is just…different.” You chew on the inside of your cheek, “What are you going to do about the fall?”
“Nothing.” You shrug.
“Does he know you’re leaving?” You nod, “And he’s okay with that?” You nod, again. “I mean, I guess that’s smart…long distance would be hard.”
You turn away from him, busying yourself with another picture. “We’re just having fun, it’s nothing serious.”
“That will be a…clean break. You guys can still be friends or what-not.” Jonathan agrees, “If that’s what you want.” You can tell he’s skating around what he really wants to say.
“We never talked about it.”
He breathes your name. “You two should talk about it, your expectations or else whatever is going on is only going to end up hurting one of you.”
“Eddie.” You heave it at the ceiling. “He…Maybe he wants something casual.”
“Don’t underestimate him.” Jonathan forces you to look at him. “I regret not telling Nancy how I felt sooner. She never would have gone back to Steve if I had told her, but I was afraid. Don’t repeat my mistake, if you like him…tell him.” He nudges you, “Don’t you remember all the shit you gave me. I think your words were, "if you love her you should tell her before she leaves your sorry ass.”
You frown, “You said long distance would be hard.”
“You’d make it work.” He smiles.
Eddie picks you up at six that night, wide eyed and a wider smile. Again, you don’t even give him the chance to come to the door, you’re simply bounding down your porch, across grass, and jumping into his waiting arms. “Did you miss me, little siren?” He mutters into your mouth and you press up to kiss him.
You ignore Jonathan’s logical voice in your head as the giddiness of it all shoots up your throat, and the embarrassing amount of need for him to keep some part of his skin attached to yours. He gives it to you in the form of a hand resting on your thigh while he drives. “Those pictures turned out horrible.” You grin over at him.
“Why? Was the lighting bad?” He peeks between you and the road.
“No,” You laugh. “They were all blurry and unfocused from you shaking the camera.”
“Me?” He gasps dramatically. “You were the one clawing it out of my hands.”
You laugh louder, “Some of them turned out nice.” You rest your head on the headrest to look over at him.
“You’re the prettiest girl in Hawkins.” The smile on his lips is so genuine it clenches something in your chest and your gaze tracks down, heat burning your cheeks. “You’ll have to show me them. I’m sure they’re great.”
You’re too flustered to respond, so you shoot down to the floor, digging through Eddie’s endless supply of cassette tapes, the flimsy plastic clinking every time you dig deeper into the collection. One particularly old one snaps open, slipping into your hand like a sign. The grin only grows when you read the title of the song, “I can’t believe you have this.” You pop out whatever metal album he has in currently and slide the new one in.
The Spinners, ‘The Rubberband Man’ begins to play and Eddie only huffs a quiet laugh to himself. “I forgot that it was in here.” But you are dancing with subtle rolls of your shoulders in the front seat of his van, “I figured you would be more of a pop enthusiast. I hear Madonna is all the rage.”
“I’m a music enthusiast, baby.” You play with the wind blowing past you with a hand out of the van window.
“My mom loved this kind of stuff.” Your eyes drag back over to him, at the bittersweet feeling swirling in his brown eyes. “She died when I was young.”
You frown, “I’m sorry.”
Eddie turns up the song, “Music is how I can keep her alive.” His hand lands on your thigh again, and maybe there was a reason the flimsy cassette tape fell out of its case.
By the time the song ends, his van is pulling into the makeshift parking lot in the middle of the field outside of the Hawkins Fun Fair. The engine cuts, and so does the radio, and you’re peering through the windshield at one of the bigger rides, swirling and dipping, loud thrilling screams coming in through the windows. “Why here?”
“You said you wanted to go.” And he listened.
He helps you out of the van, extending an arm for you to take like some galient knight, and he’s rushing off with you. Eddie made everything be the most dramatic thing ever, never allowing a dull moment to slip, and being with Eddie made you feel like a kid; wild and free and consumed with the present. It was too easy to free fall with him entwining himself with you, with his contagious laugh and warm eyes drowning you under the intensity of his gaze.
And maybe it was because you had gone to school together for so long, but it just felt like he knew you, really knew you. In a way you had only ever allowed Jonathan to know you, no one else had ever really mattered until…
“Eddie!” You cover your face laughing as he blatantly cheated during one of the carnival games when the booth worker had their back turned. He had reached across the counter and slung a ring around one of the milk bottles, then convincingly looked far too innocent.
Eddie hushes you, “See that big bat.” He points to the big prizes along the top of the carnival game’s rig. “We’re getting that. We have to. It belongs to us.”
Us. Gosh you would love an us, but you’re the one that tried to friendzone the pair of you if only to save you two the stress. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was never supposed to be friendship between you and him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was between you and Eddie Munson was otherworldly. “Okay big shot.” You roll your eyes, and watch him successfully cheat his way with the other three rings.
“Pick your prize.” The worker drones on.
Eddie slings an arm around your shoulder. “We’ll take the bat.” You say, pointing up at the large stuffed bat.
“What are you going to name it?” He asks, glancing down at the oversized creature clutched to your chest.
You pretend to think hard about as it the writing wasn’t on the fucking wall. It should have had a collar with the name with how cliche it was. “I think I like….Osbourne. We can call him Oz for short.”
Eddie stops completely, two younger kids banging into his back, but he’s staring at you. “I think you’re my dream girl.”
You roll your eyes, take his hand, and drag him away towards the food vendors. With a comically large bright pink cotton candy in one hand and another gripping the fluffy prize, you journey to the ferris wheel. With Oz stuffed between the two of you, Eddie maneuvers the lap bar down gently before the gondola rocks forward. “This is fun.” You hum picking strands of pink cotton candy off and plopping it into your mouth.
“Which part?”
You wave around as Hawkins slowly rolls up and around you. “All of it, I haven’t had fun at the faire in a while.”
“Jonathan Byers is boring?” He feigns shock.
You nudge him with a shoulder. “He’s not boring, he’s just different. You should understand. He’s just...”
“With Nancy Wheeler?”
“Sure.” You let the heavy pink sugar melt on your tongue. “Don’t get me wrong I’m so happy for him, for them. I just miss my best friend sometimes. Like Rick said, I wait around sometimes for him to not be ‘busy’ and that’s not fair to him or me.”
He plucks off a piece of cotton candy. ‘You got me now, babes.” But something flashes in his eyes, like he too is suddenly remembering you’re leaving come August. You frown down at your dwindling sweet treat, and you should say something, bring up what Jonathan had told you to bring up, but the second you open your mouth Eddie’s voice comes out. “I wasn’t lying.” You glance over at him, “You really are a dream, my dream.” He toys with one of the stuffed ears on your bat, and something swirls in the depths of his brown eyes, something akin to what was blooming in your own chest. But you both were cowards, it seems. He opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again, “I have a lot of fun with you.”
“Don’t get all sentimental on me now, Munson.” You ruffle his wild curls, and he’s quick to grab you by the side of the neck and kisses you firmly. The gondola rocks with the sudden halt and when you turn–his forehead still pressed to the side of your temple–Hawkins is stretched out in front of you. The air is hot, the scent of fake warm sugar floating from the funnel cake vendor below the Ferris Wheel, but beneath it, Eddie wafts up too, musky cologne and nicotine tattooing itself to the inside of your nose that will haunt you if you dare to try to find someone else.
You’re not sure you could, not sure you even want to.
He settles back into the seat with you, one arm draped around your shoulder tucking you against himself watching the sun set beyond the cluster of tall trees. “I never had a dream boy, well actually I kind of always thought Dally from The Outsiders was cute." Your back vibrates with his laugh, “I think I just always wanted someone who made me laugh, cared and listened to me…prioritised me. I wanted to be that couple that is so disgustingly in love that people are jealous.” You toy with the fabric flaying off of his dark jeans. “But I don’t know…If it’s any consolation, I have a lot of fun with you too.”
Unsaid words linger in the space around you mingling with the thick smell of powdered sugar and fried dough, it hangs there by a spool of fluffy strands of spun sugar.
Eddie plants a single kiss to the top of your head.
The ferris wheel begins to move again, indifferent to the turmoil and fear in your chest.
Thunder claps, followed by the crack of lightning as rain lashes against Eddie’s van. The pair of you could care less if there was a tornado outside it wouldn’t stop the drag of your tongue up the shaft of his cock. It wouldn’t stop his fist in your hair pushing your mouth back down around him until you’re forced to bite down the gag. You bob your head along him, deeper and deeper until tears prick your eyes, swirling your hand around whatever your mouth could not fit.
“Fuck, your mouth is perfect.” He grits out.
You smile up at him, licking at a sensitive part just below the head that has him bucking up. You suck your cheeks in, sealing him harder wondering if you could make him cum just like this. You grip him firmer, spit cascading from the corner of your mouth down your wrist only making it easier to glide your hand up and down.
His hand in your hair halts you. “Stop. I’m too close.” You shake him off and bury your face into his groin, the head of his cock tickling the back of your throat, and then you pull off of him to do it again and again. His thighs tighten and this time you do stop. His body shutters, the orgasm lingering right there. “I…you…” Your laughter vibrates its way up his cock, and you begin to move again. You swirl your tongue around his cock in the same rhythm of your hand. The van digs into your knees, turning them numb as you don’t dare disrupt the momentum. He’s still close, you can tell from the way his voice gets stuck in his throat. Up and down, up and down, until…You pop off of his cock watching him writhe slightly from halting on the edge of his orgasm. “I’m gunna pass out.” He whines, “Please…let me…”
You climb up his body. “That is payback for teasing me.”
“I’m sorry.” He kisses your swollen lips. “I’ll never do it again.”
“Yes you will.” You smirk against his mouth. “Because so will I.”
You sink down onto his throbbing cock and his nails dig into your hips. “I’m not gunna last long.” He grits it through his teeth. You know that, so you roll your hips slowly, fluidly, letting his cock slide against your cunt. This angle is delicious with the way his pelvis rubs into your clit if you lean slightly. “Cum before I do…” His thumb presses into your clit, “I need you to…” You know your hip will be sore from how hard he grabs it, how hard he tries to keep his own orgasm at bay.
A hand lands on his thigh behind you, moving faster on his cock, driving yourself towards your own orgasm with him buried up against that sweet spot only he seemed to ever be able to reach. You’re panting at the ceiling of the van. It’s filled to the brim with foggy windows and that unmistakable aroma of sex. “Eddie.” You whine throwing your hand out towards the window knowing it will brand as liquid runs down the imprint.
Your eyes squeeze shut and your body clamps down around him, hips stumbling with the movement. He’s quick to grab you by the hips and fuck up into you until finally he’s spilling into you, groaning your name like it was his famous last word. You’re still rolling your hips, he’s still twitching inside of you, but your breaths even out together, the pleasure weaning with every heavy exhale. “Jesus H. Christ.”
You glance down at him, bare skin shining with sweat, damp hair plastered to his forehead, his neck. “I think you’re the prettiest boy in Hawkins.”
“You’re so full of shit.” He chuckles, tugging you into his chest. He pulls out of you at the same time you roll to lay on his right side. You’re both naked, drenched in sweat and arousal, and his car digs into you uncomfortably despite the thin blanket he has lying on the ground. You couldn’t imagine being anywhere else as rain pours down harder beyond the windows. “We left right on time.”
You hum. “Imagine getting stuck on the Ferris Wheel during a thunderstorm.” You stick a hand out and curl your knuckles imitating the lighting outside with a dramatic boom. Then your hand collapses with a dying withering sound, “Horrible way to go.”
“That’s morbid.” But he’s laughing beside you. “One sec.” He reaches his other hand up and over his head, digging for something in one of his jackets draped over the front seat. “Gotcha.” He lowers a small matchbox tin and his lighter, “You want some?” He slides the tin forward revealing a row of joints.
You nod, watching him tug one free, and light it up between his lips. “I’m bad for business.” You say, letting him place the joint between your knuckles to inhale it. “All this free weed.”
“True. I’m gunna start charging you double to make up for lost profit.” He plucks it from your hand, eyeing your face shift into some form of offense. “I’m kidding. The sex is a form of payment.” You whack him, making him cough and sputter out smoke into the van. “I was kidding again!”
You yank the joint from him. “You’re not funny.” You prop up on your elbow to stare down at him.
“I am hilarious.’ He reminds you, eyes flashing around your face as you take a drag. “I am, in fact, haunted by the sound of your laughter.” He squeezes your chin, “It follows me into my dreams. Sometimes I’m convinced you did drag me into the beer-filled lake and I’m simply drowning in it, in you.”
You exhale the smoke into his face. “You’re wasted behind a guitar, you should be focusing on theater with how dramatic you are.”
His grin spread wide. “I know right.” He takes the joint from you and you groan while trying to sit up cum sliding down your thighs. You pull your underwear up your legs and grab his jacket to pull around your body. “Did you bring your camera?” You shake your head, settling against the wall of his van watching him watch you. He pretends to frame you between his outstretched fingers, “I want that framed in my room. My girl, naked, in my jacket…It will keep me company while you’re gone.” He seems to have realized what he said after he had said it, and his features deflate clumsily handing the joint back to you.
“It’s not far.” You offer to fill in the awkward tension forming. “Only a few hours. You could…” You inhale deep hoping the drugs will make you braver. “You could come visit.”
Some light returns to his eyes, fingers brushes in an exchange of the joint, or maybe it’s just the faint orange glow when he takes a hit of it, “Chicago has a good music scene. I’ve always wanted to take a trip over there.” Smoke swirls heavy above your heads, a careless observer to this sad excuse of two people skating around something the other wants just as desperately. “Who knows, maybe I could weasel some hole-in-the-wall bar to let my band play, and somehow get signed…make it big.” Excitement lines his features, “You could be my band’s photographer! Like they’ll want to put us on Rolling Stone and want to use their hot shot photographer, but I’ll insist on you.” He straightens up more, “Or…or music videos! Since you said you were considering working more in film.” You hold out your hand for the joint, but he only grabs it and squeezes, “We could make the next Thriller.”
It was just the rambling dreams of a stoned man or the truth. “If anyone could, it would definitely be us.” You smile, genuinely, because his dreams sounded so beautiful as long as you were together.
“You know what…No. Hell no.” He shoves the joint in your hand and stumbles upward. “I need…” He digs through discarded clothes and blankets and pulls too hard on his jeans flying into the back wall of his van. You stifle your laugh, watching him struggle into them before he goes to the back doors.
“Eddie.” It’s half-warning, half-glee. “It’s raining.” He shoves the door open anyway, rain pouring down in buckets, but he jumps out into it. “Eddie!” You call out into the dark. You go to the edge of the van, clutching the metal frame, peering out into it all with furrowed brows. He’s lost to the storm and you’re quick to throw his jacket off and yank free the shirt and shorts you had been wearing.
A minute later the loud slapping noise of his feet comes back into focus and his dark figure is bounding back towards his van. “Here!” He shoves a haphazardly gathered bouquet of flowers and weeds. “I brought you flowers.”
It droops pathetically, bogged down by the heavy rain. “Why?” You breathe a small laugh, always caught off guard by the way his mind worked
He was soaked to the bone, and looks at you under drenched bangs. “Because…” He licks his lips as if it would stop the water from leaking into his mouth. “Because…” He shouts over the rain, “I should have made myself more clear.”
“Eddie.” You tilt your head affectionately.
“No, I-I like you. I really like you and I don’t want to go our separate ways in the fall.” He shuffles on his feet, “I know you said you only wanted to hook up, but I can’t pretend anymore like I don’t have feelings for you and I-!”
You cut him off by shooting forward and kissing him. His hands go to your waist, wetness seeping through your shirt where his body connects with yours. “I only said what I thought you wanted to hear.” You peer up at him, brushing wet hair off of his forehead. “I should have made myself clear.” You beam up at him, “I really like you too Eddie Munson. I think you might just be my dream boy.”
“Not Dallas Winston?”
You shake your head laughing. “Not Dallas Winston.”
He kisses you again, and you wrap your arms around his neck letting him tug you out into the rain, spinning you, wet petals dripping down your back. “Thank the gods for Jonathan’s broken AC.”
“Thank that worthless current on Lover’s Lake.” You slide back onto your feet.
“I’ll get you real flowers.”
You reach for his hand, grabbing the sopping stems to toss into the trunk of the van. “No, I want those.” You turn back to cup his face, “I want you.”
His mouth consumes yours, tongues melting together as rain streams down around you. “You’re stuck with me now, little siren.” His brown eyes flare with excitement, “I might just have to follow you to Chicago now.”
“Good. I was worried it would be a messy custody battle for Osbourne.” You chuckle, feeling him searching for your hands to place on his shoulders.
He does the same to his own hands on your own body, settling them on your waist, suddenly swaying with you in the rain. You realize he’s trying to dance with you. “It will be tough but-!”
“We’ll make it work.” You lay your head on his chest, your best friend's reassurance flowing through you. “We’ll make it.”
Rain cascaded around you, thunder occasionally echoing in storm clouds, but Eddie had started humming, the noise of it heard deep in his chest under your ear swaying slowly in each other's arms. You can’t tell what song, it’s slow, not his typical beat of heavy metal. “Baby, I would rather, I would rather be blind boy than to see you walk away, see you walk away from me.” He sings it barely above a whisper, barely above the rain. You didn’t know her well, but it sounded like something Eddie’s mom would have liked to play. Maybe if you dug again through his music collection you’d find the name of it buried there under flimsy plastic.
Some days you still expect to wake up from this dream, some days you think this is an alternate dimension, like something from Eddie’s fantasy game where you’re still floating weightless and lonely in dark waters. Some days Jonathan bugs you because no relationship is that blissful and you only make fun of him for being the jealous one now.
Some days you know you’re just lucky the summer heat ran you into cool waters and now Eddie Munson was yours, and you were his favorite girl.
end notes: this was fun. came to me in the car and i wrote it all out in one go. hope ya'll enjoyed
the hat rule (n.): you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.
summary: when eddie dresses up as a cowboy to a night out with friends, you decide to steal his hat.
pairings: eddie munson x fem!reader
warnings: reader is described to be wearing a dress. reader is also dressed up as a black cat. premise is everyone is wearing 'slutty' costumes. overuse of pet names. public teasing, unprotected sex, choking kink, oral (f receiving), ass slapping. 18+.
wc: 13.3k+
happy early valentine's day, babes. shout out to @hellfire--cult for beta reading, as well as @andvys for giving me this idea to begin with.
If someone had told you last week that you’d be attending a slutty costume themed night at a club tonight, you would have laughed in their face.
And yet here you were, at Steve Harrington’s apartment, donned in a black cat costume that shows more skin than you have in years.
The elaborate plan had sparked on a random day after Steve encountered a flyer for the event. It was a nightclub your group had attended before, and one look at the line free drinks for participants had Steve running down your entire group to insist that you all needed to dress up, to participate in this, for the luxury of free Tito’s.
He’d never considered that the ad might not be targeted towards the male population. And now, you were all gathering at his apartment to pregame, ‘slutted out’ as Robin had so kindly put it – men included.
Nancy pulled out some sort of angel costume she claims she had bought but certainly not worn a few years back, Robin had conglomerated an alluring pirate attire from items you hadn’t even been aware were in her closet. Jonathan arrived in his erotic yet pensive writer’s costume (you’d hardly understood it, but he seemed confident, so you all went with it), Argyle in tow donning some sort of seductive surfer costume, in which you certainly recognized the unbuttoned shirt and cargo shorts that had had a pocket knife taken to them to disregard a few inches. Steve even stuck to his own demands, going all out – a sensual bunny costume.
And then, there was Eddie.
Eddie fuckin’ Munson.
“Pick your jaw up off the ground, sweetheart,” he teases as he shuffles around you in the kitchen to grab a drink, “Gonna start catching flies otherwise.”
“There’s a joke in there somewhere about how sweet I am, right?” you blandly reply, keeping your eyes on your room temp cocktail that Steve had so graciously mixed for you upon your arrival, “Something where you call me honey or sugar, yeah?”
Eddie pauses, bottle of vodka in hand, looking at you with big eyes lined in coal, “Oh, baby, you know me so well.”
“Cut the pet names, Munson.”
You try to scowl. You really do. But you don’t mean a damn word you say.
Sweetheart. Baby. Hell, even honey would have done it for you when he was wearing that costume.
Tight leather pants, flared at the ankle. Worn leather boots that certainly had to have been thrifted, clicking with each of his steps. A cow print vest, and just a vest, over what looked to be an oiled chest.
And that fucking hat smashing down his curls, adding a shadow across his face that only built into the illusion.
You hate him. You hate this stupid party. You hate Steve for ever suggesting this.
“You don’t mean that,” he sing-songs as he pours his own drink into a red solo cup. The vodka mixes with cranberry juice, you think, before he’s dropping a few ice cubes out of the freezer. “Or maybe you do, and I should try saying them with a southern drawl,” Fuck, he does a good southern accent. Slow and syrupy sweet, molasses down the throat as he flutters his lashes at you, “That better, darlin’?”
You pluck the thin black straw that had been added to your cup for flare, probably stolen from a hotel at some point by Steve and positively meant for drinks of the coffee variety, and flick it in his direction without hesitation.
“Terrible,” you flatly lie, “Cowboys aren’t even from the south, idiot. They’re from the West.”
You have no desire to hear Eddie’s Western accent. No desire to hear Texan twang on those lips, putting on his best John Wayne impression. In fact, the faster you can get away from him, the quicker you can get yourself under control.
It had always been this way between you and Eddie. Push and pull. Will they, won’t they. A game of cosmic shores as the two of you toed at each other’s orbits and bantered effortlessly. Flirtatious threats, inappropriate compliments, lewd innuendos – you had done it all, specifically with Eddie.
That’s just how the friendship worked.
The friendship.
Friend. Nothing more, nothing less.
Eddie won’t leave you alone, though, choosing to lean up against the counter beside you, forcing his way into your peripherals, “Damn. You’re right. Wayne would kill me if he knew I mixed that up.”
“Oh, I think he has plenty of reasons to knock some sense into you.”
“Yeah?” he leans forward, tauntingly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, “Why don’t you do it for him? I think I’d like a slap more coming from you, honestly.”
He’s acting like he always does. This is normal. The fact that his entire torso is on show and you can’t stop staring at the way his tattoo on his peck is shimmering doesn’t change that.
You play the role, knowing your part well as you lean in as well, forcing a smile right back at him, “Wanna kiss my knuckles before I do it, or am I gonna have to do all the hard work here?”
“Oh, trust me, you’d never have to do all the work with me, ba-”
“Can you two get a fucking room?” Robin interrupts as she enters the room, clearly coming in for a refill but getting more than she bargained for.
You’re aflame with the shame and embarrassment, feeling it lick from your ankles up to your throat, as Eddie only chuckles lowly.
“Sorry, Robs,” Eddie chirps, not sounding apologetic at all, “I promise I’ll behave myself the rest of the night.”
And yet, despite the words you’re hearing him say out loud, he does the exact opposite.
There’s no real need for him to do it. There’s plenty of space amongst the kitchen for him to maneuver his way out without laying a single hand on you – and yet he still fucking does.
His palm is shockingly warm when it curls around your hip, his other hand occupied with a drink, encouraging you to move a step forward so that he can brush behind you far too close for comfort. You nearly stumble over himself as he does it. The feeling of his barren chest barely bumping your bare shoulder blades sends your mind reeling, and his staple rings that have incorporated into his costume press right through the thin fabric of your dress.
Your breathing stops entirely as he pauses, the slightest bit of skin still brushing against yours, and leans in with a boyish grin, “We’ll both be on our best behavior tonight – right, kitty?”
Something clicks in your mind. The way the nickname rolls off his tongue as he’s looking at you with eyes flaming with mischief, hand lingering on your hip for far too long.
Your eyes flicker up to the hat on his head, and you smile slowly, meeting his toying gaze, “Right, cowboy.”
Best behavior, your ass. Tonight, you have decided, ends the will they, won’t they of it all.
It’s about to either be the best night of your life, or the worst.
—
Another shot with Nancy. Another smoke with Argyle. Another adjusting of Steve’s corset when he complains he can’t breathe (he certainly can, but you’re starting to think he just likes the attention). The pregaming continues on as more of Steve’s friends from work show up, the apartment slowly beginning to buzz with the chatter of more strangers than you can count on one hand.
You’re not even at the club yet and you’re already regretting your revealing attire.
Eddie stays mostly preoccupied with his own devices, and only gets scolded a handful of times by Nancy. You can hear every lewd joke he makes, of course. At some point, you make a private drinking game out of it; a sip for every time he makes the stereotypical joke of ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy’.
Well, it was a sip the first time. A slightly larger gulp the second time. A chugging of half your drink the third time.
“There’s no fucking way,” Steve laments at the table the boys as well as a few guests you don’t recognize have taken over for a game of strip poker, “Jonathan is cheating. Or counting cards.”
“I concur,” Eddie mutters around his cigarette, scowling at his losing hand.
“You’re also cheating, asshole. This is the first round you’ve lost the entire game.”
“Or maybe I’m just really good at cards, Harrington.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, maybe I’m really good at-”
“He’s not cheating,” Nancy interrupts with a sigh from the couch, lounging as she’s served as a referee of sorts for the group. Her entire body weight is draped against Robin, and you’re certainly not going to comment on Robin’s hands toying with her permed locks, “Stop being a sore loser and just strip.”
You get why Steve was the most upset. He was down to his underwear and socks, corset tossed somewhere far behind him and bunny ears placed on Robin’s head in place of her pirate hat that she had claimed became too warm.
“I think Steve should trade both socks and put back on the bunny ears,” she quips as she reaches up for the headband, flicking at one of the floppy ears, “He’d look cuter that way.”
“Fuck off,” he snaps, throwing up a middle finger as Argyle finally loses his shirt.
When your attention has drifted, you know he did exactly that, though.
The game had been boring you half to death, honestly. Watching Steve strip without fail every round, hearing the loud cheers from Argyle when he managed to win a few rounds in a row and exclaimed it was a turkey (it had taken a ten minute intermission to explain to him that was bowling, not poker), watching a few of the girls that Steve had invited fawn over him as they carefully removed boots and gloves when they lost – none of it sparked your interest. The only saving grace had been every smug look Eddie offered as he’d win, time and time again. So far, he’d only lost his boots.
He was hot when he was cocky. There was no way around it.
And now, as he carefully pondered as to which part of his precious costume to part with, you were on the edge of your seat. He was lovely and enticing when he was excited, when he was jubilant with victory, but as a sore loser?
Dear God, Eddie Munson was a gorgeous specimen with a pout on his lips.
“Trying to decide what to take off, Munson?” Jonathan notices the way Eddie is hesitating, even through the offset of conversations that had sparked up in the brief pause amongst the growing group.
You lean forward on the couch, almost subconsciously.
You don’t care what Stacy from Steve’s job thinks of their manager or the latest drama ongoing there, and Steve would probably agree with you if it weren’t for Stacy’s all-red, latex Devil costume.
Eddie scoffs, waving a hand over his attire, “Obviously. You know, it’s not easy to choose when you have a costume as damn good as mine.”
“What? Don’t think you’ll be as pretty without your hat?” you decide to contribute to the teasing, shocking yourself in the process.
The last thing you should do when you’re staring him down in this way, is bring attention to yourself. And yet you were, like some fucking idiot with a death wish.
“You think I’m pretty?”
It’s the fluttering of his lashes as he says it that gives you the courage. They match all that fluttering in your stomach, all that buzzing across your nerves. Because – yeah, you thought he was real fucking pretty. You’d spent the last half hour imagining how pretty he’d look in all sorts of places, too, especially between your sheets and between your thighs.
You’re up off the couch, taking confident steps towards where he’s seated at the ground on the other side of the coffee table. It’s a little inconvenient now, but it had been a blessing in disguise for most of the game as you’d had a front row seat to the sight of him.
“Oh, don’t get ahead of yourself,” you tease, entirely ignoring that lightheaded feeling you get anytime Eddie looks up at you this way. Half-lidded eyes, crooked grin. He’s dangerous and he doesn’t even know it, “I only meant you were pretty with the hat.”
“You wound me,” he gasps, dropping back on his hands dramatically, his pout now for dramatics rather than genuine, “Gonna stand there and tell me I’m not pretty when I dressed up just for you?”
You have to take a deep breath to compose yourself, cross your arms to steady your guard, “Just for me?”
He was playing that same old, tired game of yours. The same dance the two of you had memorized the steps to – and something inside of you has grown restless of it. You don’t want to keep skirting around each other with double-meaning jokes, you don’t want to keep painting humor over your flirtatious remarks. You want a damn answer to the age old question of will they, won’t they?
And you want that answer to be will they – terribly, terribly so.
His eyes trail along the room slowly, not avoiding you but trying to draw out the anticipation in you as he sucks in a breath, “Okay, and maybe for Steve. And Nancy. And Argyle. And Jonathan. And- Well, I’d say Robin, but I don’t think she’s looked twice in my direction all night.”
“I haven’t,” the brunette chirps happily from the couch, still letting the weight of Nancy comfortably dig into her.
You have no idea how she’s tuned into the conversation, given the way most of everyone else around the room was entirely ignoring the two of you.
“So,” you all but purr, leaning down to be more level with Eddie. You already know where his focus wanders when his eyes don’t meet yours, “Not just for me, cowboy.”
He’s distracted, staring at your chest as you notice him slip up in his brave facade for a second. Almost as though you’ve gone too far, pushed the limits a bit too hard. Good. You want to break this. You want to shatter whatever cage the two of you have built.
In one smooth movement, your hand reaches out and snatches the hat right off his head.
He lets out a yelp and tries to grab it away from you, but you have the advantage as you stand up straight once more. Your free hand reaches up and tears off the cat ears you had donned, and in their place, the hat is deposited.
It fits you a little big, and you nearly make a joke about the size of Eddie’s head.
“Hey!” he argues, moving as though he might stand up and put up more of a fight, “I didn’t say the hat is what I wanted to take off.”
“Took too long,” you shrug innocently.
“Yeah, well, just carefully add it to the pile,” he jabs his thumb over his shoulder, towards his boots, as he relaxes back into his recline.
You should probably behave yourself.
“No.”
But this is more fun.
Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up in shot, disappearing behind the bangs that are flattened far more than usual. The entire crown of his head is absolutely crushed. No sign of his usual frizzy roots and unruly volume, “No?”
“No,” you confirm a second time.
And you’re done with this game of back and forth.
The hat’s staying on your head. It smells ever so faintly of his shampoo, the slightest whiff of his cologne even, and it’s staying on your head for the exact reason he believes is about to be a gotcha! moment.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he’s just tipsy enough that he’s not putting on any specific accent. Instead, his natural Appalachian accent inherited from his uncle begins to break the surface, “Surely you know about the hat rule.”
Damn right, you know about the hat rule.
You cross your arms, huff a little, tilt the hat for effect, “The hat rule? Please, enlighten me.”
“You wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.”
Perfect.
You don’t even attempt any sort of surprised act. No exaggerated gasps, no fumbling to remove the hat. You knew all about this rule, and it had been one of the first things to come to mind when you’d seen him enter this damn party with the hat on.
“Yeah?” you question, mocking raising your eyebrows at best, “Hm. What a shame.”
And then you turn on your heel, not awaiting a single response from Eddie as you escape to the kitchen.
You almost wish you would have stayed an extra second to properly witness his reaction. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s gone pretty and pink, a flustered mess for at least a second as low laughter sounds from the rest of your friends. A tell-tale snort from Robin, and a silent cackle from Nancy. You swear you even pick up on one of the extra guests muttering a confused what just happened? that goes entirely unanswered.
Strip poker doesn’t continue on for long after that.
You refill your drink, this time sans the alcohol, and return to find Steve has officially begun to call for cabs to the club. He busies away on his phone as everyone debates who’s riding with who, the entire party slowly coming to life as everyone stands to prepare to leave for the main attraction.
When you meet Eddie’s gaze from across the room, the shadow of the brim of his hat cutting into your vision a little, his cheeks match the cranberry juice in your cup.
Good.
—
The ride to the club is a blur, and all that really stands out to you is that Eddie makes sure he does not ride in the same cab as you.
Which is fine. Really. It doesn’t cause a single spark of panic in your chest. Not one.
You’re definitely not working yourself up over the thought that your plan is crumbling right before your eyes, that you’ve gone too far and entirely misinterpreted everything Eddie has ever done during your entire friendship. You’re not mulling over every dirty joke, not dissecting every single line that felt like he was flirting with you and attempting to look at it with fresh eyes. No, the entire ride to the club, you are definitely not beating a dead horse dead.
Maybe you should have set off to ride the dead horse and not the cowboy. Maybe, then, Eddie would have gotten into the fucking cab with you.
Your anxieties only worsen once you get inside the club. Pulsing beneath your skin, right in rhythm with the music. Your entire group had each been handed a drink ticket on your way in, and you had noted the fact that the girls of the group were slipped extra tickets.
Nancy had given all her tickets to Robin, and Steve had given his singular ticket to Stacy.
“So,” Robin runs up to your side, Nancy not far behind, “Do we waste our drink tickets on shots or real drinks?”
“Real drinks,” you immediately reply, eyes scanning the bouncing crowd for a certain head of curly hair, “Shots are… well, they can be cheap. We can just avoid the top-shelf shit.”
Was Eddie really going to ignore you the entire night?
He needed his hat. He couldn’t ignore you the entire night.
“You’re right,” Robin shuffles the drink tickets in her hands, turning to Nancy, “On a scale of one to ten, how bad would it be me to ask you to flirt with men to get me-”
“Give me ten minutes and I’ll have us a round.”
Nancy’s smile is sweet, courteous, as she gives Robin’s shoulder a squeeze on her way past her.
Where the fuck is Eddie?
“Did you see where the guys ran off to?” you blurt out. Most of the guys, aside from Steve, took the same cab.
Robin also joins you in a quick survey of the club, lifting onto her tippy toes to squint over the current light show, “Honestly? I have no idea.”
Fuck.
As she drops back down onto her heels, Robin looks at you knowingly, eyes flicking up between your twisted expression and the hat on your head.
“Trying to find a certain cowboy?”
“What?” you look at her, already defensive, even if it was stupid at this point. Who cares if everyone knows you have a crush on Eddie? Who cares if everyone finds out the very foundations of your friendship with him were built upon quite a bit of truth? “I mean- yeah, he kind of needs his hat to complete his outfit.”
“Should have just given him your ears for an even trade,” Robin shrugs, clinging to your elbow to avoid getting separated as a few bodies push past the two of you, “I’m sure he’ll pop up soon enough, though. Besides, I don’t think anyone’s too focused on what everyone’s costumes are as long as they’re… well…”
“Slutted out,” you finish for her flatly, trying to not get jealous as your eyes look across the sweaty crowd, stomach churning as you wonder how many other sexy black cats in the crowd would be approaching your cowboy.
You fucked up. You shouldn’t have taken his hat.
“Exactly!” she’s excited, unaware of your crisis, already moving along from the topic as she spots Nancy somewhere near the bar top, “Look, free shots!”
The free shots don’t do much to quell your unease, but free alcohol is always nice.
You take the liquid down, burn and all, more than willingly. And then again, not even five minutes later when Nancy has caught the attention of another random man at the end of the bar. You almost partake in a third, but you finally hear a familiar voice saying a far too familiar joke.
“You know what they say,” he’s flirting – he’s using a tone of voice that he has never used with you, and it’s clear he’s fucking flirting, “Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”
Instead of continuing your drinking game from Steve’s apartment, you slam the shot back down and mutter some sorry excuse of being right back to Robin and Nancy before taking off in the direction of Eddie.
He’s stood a few stools down at the bar, hands leaning against the worn wood as his arms bracket a pretty blonde. It almost looks as if the line might be working on her.
“If you’re a cowboy,” she giggles, and you almost stop dead in your tracks, “Then where’s your hat?”
Well, that’s as good of a queue for your arrival if any.
“Good question,” you pipe up as you take a few brave steps towards him, “Where is your hat, cowboy?”
You’d expected him to be angry, or startled, or possibly even immediately take off running in the opposite direction of you. He doesn’t.
He slowly turns, and his flirtatious smile has turned into more of a salacious grin as he faces you, “Well, well, well. Nice of you to join us, Kitty.”
The blonde looks between you two a few times before shimmying down off her stool, “I think…. I’m gonna go. Nice to meet you, cowboy.”
You expect Eddie to react, but he hardly does. A quick glance in her direction, a pathetic wave.
You’ve just trampled over one of his chances of getting properly lucky tonight, and he isn’t even phased.
“Been lookin’ for you,” you mumble, looking over him. His hair seems to have been unstuck from his scalp a little, at least. As though he may have been running his hands through it repeatedly, “Thought you might have gone home without your hat.”
“Not a chance. I haven’t forgotten about the rule, you know.”
Something twists in you, deep in your gut, between your hips.
“No?” you hold your breath as he leans in a bit closer to you to be able to hear over the music, “Good thing I haven’t either.”
He tilts his head, eyes glittering in the multi-colored lights, “You haven’t? Then that means you’ll be giving it back, right?”
Over my dead body.
You’re on a mission tonight. You’ll either be ending this night in sore disappointment, drinking away your sorrows of rejection, or you’ll be ending up in a bed with Eddie. It’s up to him.
You lift a hand to the worn rim, tugging it a bit more securely onto your head, “Not a chance, Munson. You know where to find me once you’re done playing around.”
As soon as your fingers leave the rim, holding tense eye contact with him, his own hand is coming up. You tense, worried he’s about to steal the hat back now, but he doesn’t. Instead, his fingers pinch the same spot yours just had, slow tracing over the rim as his tongue darts out to carefully wet his bottom lip.
From the front point, around to the side. When he reaches the bit above your ear, his touch drops to your cheek and tucks back some of the baby hairs sticking to your skin with sweat.
“I do, don’t I?” he hums, voice dropping a bit lower, focused entirely on you. “I don’t think I’m the one playing around right now, though, Kitty.”
Does he think you’re joking? Does he actually, genuinely think this is all a game to you?
You nearly make the decision to grab him right there, right at this moment, and shatter all the tension. Get his lips on yours and drag him into the darkest corner just to prove to him how serious you truly were.
Suddenly, his hand drops away from you entirely, and you almost want to whine. You miss that warmth, that feathery caress, until it aches. “It’s okay, though. Always knew cats were playful things.”
Is there a dark corner somewhere near you two? Is there a dark hallway to drag him into? Just enough shadow to cover all the sins you’re desperate to commit, just enough light to see that blush rise across his cheeks again.
“I’m not playing,” you whisper, eyes drifting down to his hand cradling a glass. Something deep and russet, just like his eyes. Likely whiskey. You wonder if you’d be able to taste it all over his tongue before you had him putting it to work where you need him most right now. “Whenever you get that through your big head, come find me.”
“Big head?” he throws his head back in a laugh, and the tension mists away in seconds. “Who says I have a big head?”
“I do, as the one wearing your hat,” you readjust it for emphasis.
You thought the tension had misted away until he’s smirking, tsking a little, “Oh, thought you meant the other one.”
It’s a replay of the scene in Steve’s apartment, but this time, the roles are reversed. You’re the one left in shock, mouth agape, as Eddie spins around and walks away, leaving you to sit with what he’s just said.
“Bastard,” you breathe out as you watch him disappear in the crowd, eyes locked on his broad shoulders until one too many bodies separate the two of you.
A bastard you want awfully, terribly, bad.
—
You wish you could say you threw back drink, after drink, after drink. You wish you could say you danced with a hundred different beautiful strangers, and each one strayed your mind farther from Eddie.
You wish you could say you did anything but what the reality of your night had been.
A few men had approached you, only to be turned down repeatedly. Most of your night was spent all but moping at the bar, eyes diligently scanning the bouncing crowd for a certain curly haired figure that seemed to escape you. One moment, you’d catch him pressed against a flirty stranger, hands holding onto whatever bare skin was available to him. And then, his eyes would find yours, and there would be a spark; a wink, a smile, a whisper across a bustling room daring you to come out and play with him.
You never did. You’d look away, take a sip of your plain coke, and wait a few seconds until it was safe to look back and find him seemingly vanished.
That in itself had started to become a game. Just like the hat, weighing heavy on your head.
You’re starting to accept that maybe you had just been a bit too brave. You’d jumped the gun, flown feet first into cold and ragged waters you weren’t prepared to navigate. You knew you wanted a change with Eddie, but were you ready? If you had been, you would have accepted one of his various invites. Would have strode across the room, shoved away whatever man or woman he was dancing with, and slotted yourself into their place. You would have been swaying your hips in rhythm with his rather than allowing him to cycle through strangers, and you’d be reminding him that you wore his hat.
You’d be the one bringing up the hat rule to him consistently, not him to you.
When the night begins to wane, you’ve already talked yourself out of it all.
“I’m heading out,” you announce to Robin when she finally returns back to where you’ve sat at the bar to babysit their drinks, hopping down from the stool before she could argue, “I’m getting way too tired.”
“What?” your friend gasps, face pink from the heat of being in the crowd, a shimmering sheen of sweat across her forehead, “No! Stay! We can take turns watching the drinks, or just-”
“Robs,” you smile as sweetly as possible, patting yourself down to make sure you have all your belongings. A whistle sounds from a group down the way at the bar, and you ignore them, “It’s seriously okay. You’re having fun! I’m just a senior citizen who needs some sleep. My bedtime was like…. An hour ago.”
You highly doubt you’ll be getting any rest when you return to your apartment. Maybe some confidence can be built out of fantasies, letting your hands wander and sheets catch fire with all that could have been if you hadn’t talked yourself out of your perfect plan.
Maybe, imagining Eddie’s hot hands on you rather than getting to properly feel them will light a damn fire under your ass for the next opportunity that arises.
“I…” she sighs, glancing over her shoulder in the general direction of Nancy, “Okay, fine. But do we want to do brunch or something tomorrow?”
Not a chance, you think rather quickly, eyes scanning once more for the metal-head-turned-cowboy. Not if Eddie’s going to be there.
“Sure,” you lie, already knowing he will be there, “Just text me.”
With that, you make your grand escape.
Borrowed hat on head, phone in hand, you push your way out of the club with a newfound determination. You want to get home and take off this uncomfortable dress, finally do away with the thigh highs that have been rolling down at the most inconvenient of times, driving you insane the entire night. Trade the sexy attire for something comfy – stay true to the cat essence as you curl up beneath your blankets for the night. Hang that damn cowboy hat on your door as a cursed reminder-
“Where do you think you’re going, Kitty?”
You stop a few feet short of the curb, a cab ordered as you turn to find that bastard leaning against the wall. Cigarette smoke is still clinging to the air around him as he looks at you curiously.
“Home,” you shrug, trying to ignore your pounding heart. You’d figured you wouldn’t see him again tonight, that your fate had been sealed. “What are you doing out here?”
“Smoke break,” he lifts his hand with the cigarette pinched between two fingers casually, pushing off the wall to come closer, “It’s hard work, keeping you entertained all night.”
You scoff, falling back into what’s almost a normal rhythm for you two, “You were not the one keeping me entertained all night.”
“I hardly saw you dance with anyone at all.”
“I did!” you try to defend yourself, deciding this could be fine. Some casual conversation as you wait for your ride, a way to pass the time. This is fine. “Robin dragged me out into the crowd at least twice.”
“I watched you swat a guy’s hands away not once, but three times.”
“Unsolicited touching isn’t a compliment. He should have taken the hint the first time.”
Eddie nods in eager agreement, taking another drag of his cigarette, “Damn right. If he had gone in for a fourth try, I was considering dragging him out here for an early smoke break.”
“Why do I highly doubt it would just be a smoke break?” you question, glancing at him with a smile. Scandalous plans aside for the night, embarrassment swallowed down whole, it’s nice to remember that Eddie is a friend. Albeit a bit flirty, and capable of driving you fucking insane, but he’s a friend.
And maybe that isn’t the worst thing in the world.
“Oh, no, yeah. You’d be posting my bail.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’ve got my hat, ” he reaches out and flicks the brim with his free hand, and you freeze up a little. You had hoped he wouldn’t mention it again, “Kind of makes me your problem until the end of the night. Speaking of….”
You already know what he’s about to request as he trails off. This is it. You either give up the bit, hand the hat back over, and go home for the night – or you make one final attempt to get what you had wanted.
Eddie. You wanted Eddie, as more than a friend.
“I’m gonna need that back, sweetheart.”
At least he’s asking politely, you consider, before it hits you why he’s asking rather than taking.
The looks across the room. The way he’d been unbothered by the girl he’d been flirting with running off at your appearance. The way he never just took back that fucking hat when he’d been provided ample opportunity.
He thinks it’s a game for you, and keeps bringing it up, because it isn’t for him. He’s giving you one last chance to back out, or to stand your ground. To say you really want this.
And fuck, you really want this.
“Nope,” you lean into his space, pressing closer, fully committed. Your phone dings with the notification of your ride approaching, and you fully ignore it. “My hat now, cowboy.”
He quirks an eyebrow, and you hear the crunch of gravel behind you. Your ride. “Is that so?”
“Yep.”
Another ding, another buzz of your phone.
Go ahead. Bring up the hat rule.
“That your ride?” he asks, tilting his chin in the direction of the car.
You glance over your shoulder, “Pretty sure it is, yeah.”
“And you remember the hat rule?”
Your stomach twists with excitement. Your previous pity party is long forgotten – you’re still hoping to get out of this dress, but you highly doubt you’ll be slipping anything on after it. “I do.”
“Great,” those hot hands you’d been fantasizing about the entire night suddenly reach out to you, gripping your hips tightly as he tugs you into his body. You collide with his chest as he leans down and whispers in your ear, “In that case, that’s my pussy now.”
His lips linger against the shell of your ear an extra second, warm breath sending chills up your spine before he’s keeping an arm around your shoulders as he guides you to the car. His cologne and the scent of tobacco is suffocating, and you crave to drown in it. You want him to consume you; you want him to take over every breath you breathe, every move you make, to finally get those hot hands and lips everywhere you’ve only dreamt of.
You barely hear him confirm with the driver that it is in fact your ride – you can only focus on that hand on your lower back, palm heavy on you as his thumb traces arcs that nearly spend you spiraling.
“After you, kitty,” he murmurs, motioning for you to slide into the backseat first.
In that case, that’s my pussy now.
You hope he ruins you.
In the backseat of the ride, it’s all polite distance and hands to yourself. You can’t even make eye contact with the driver, terrified he might be able to mindread and see all the filthy thoughts racing through your head.
Eddie between your thighs, mouthing at your hips.
Eddie hovering over you, pulling your knees to your chest as he stretches you out.
Eddie, proving that your pussy is in fact his for the night. That it was made for him, sculpted out to fit the curvature and every single vein of him.
Eddie simply fucking your brains out.
Some polite conversation is exchanged, mostly between Eddie and the driver. The classic questioning of how the night has gone, small talk that buzzes in your ears mindlessly.
The entire time, you can see Eddie’s hand in the space between you two, fingers tapping away at dark leather incessantly. His rings shimmer like a siren calling to you.
It’s a small movement, when your own hand drops near his. You keep your eyes trained forward once you begin your mission, inching your pinky closer and closer until it finally collides with his. You swear, you feel him fully jump out of his seat.
Slowly warming the water, you start off simple – playing with his fingers. Gentle caresses over his knuckles, little pricks to the pads of his fingers. He tries to capture your hand in his, but you have bigger plans at play here.
You’ve spent the entire fucking night waiting for this. You’re going to have fun with it.
He huffs after you deter his second attempt at properly holding hands, his knees falling apart a little further. You twist at the ring on his middle finger, a clunky skull you’ve always admired. It has minimal signs of wear, probably pure silver if you had to guess, and you can only imagine how cold it’s going to feel against your skin.
You can only imagine the imprints it’ll leave if he grabs your hips just right.
“You know,” the driver hums mindlessly over the low volume of the radio, “You guys are my first ride of the night, surprisingly. Thought it might be busier with all the parties and clubs, but I think it’s just barely picking up now.”
“Yeah?” Eddie asks politely, nodding as he looks out his window. Perfect, “I think you’re right. It is getting pretty late-”
He’s entirely distracted, your hand out of his line of sight as it moves in on its target.
His thigh.
Just a few inches above his knee, your hand grips at what is clearly sensitive flesh. You watch his entire body turn to stone when you do it, and he moves his head quickly to look in your direction.
You’re looking straight ahead.
There had been a time, a few weeks ago, where you’d learned Eddie had… sensitive knees. You’d been joking around about one thing or another, and when your palms had gripped at them through the torn fabric of ripped jeans, he’d nearly launched himself across the room. He just kept insisting they were ticklish, that that skin was just delicate.
You’d seen the tent in his jeans then. You’d just been a bit more polite, a bit better behaved that day.
“What are you doing?” he hisses in a whisper, reaching for your hand, but you’re quick to slide it even higher.
His hips jump a little, and the driver is none the wiser.
“Nothing,” you innocently say, still looking ahead, watching the passing streetlights with intense interest. “Absolutely nothing at all.”
The entire ride, at every red light, your hand inches higher.
And every time, you relish the way he squirms in your peripherals.
By the time you’re five minutes out from your place, you’ve riled him up to impossible heights. Every little noise has him on edge, constant twitching and shifting in his seat as he tries to get you to just look at him. You know he’s catching every sly smile that attempts to creep up on your lips – you’re pathetically failing at every turn to cover them up.
You think you have him like putty in your palms as you give yet another squeeze to his thigh, fingers starting to dance up even higher. When your eyes flicker to his crotch for just a second, you see him straining against that tight leather.
And then he flips the script.
You’re so focused on your own goals, you never see that ringed hand creep to your own thigh. It’s not until cool metal nips at you, briefly, before you feel the warmth of his hand overtake, that you realize the predicament you’ve gotten into.
Just as your hand was beginning to skim over his crotch, Eddie’s hand found solace between the meat of your thighs. Even as you try to clench them together, deny him the access he was seeking out, he finds his way in. Scandalous fingers dipping under the hem of your dress, fighting fire with fire when he lets his middle finger brush across the fabric of your underwear.
Your touch from him nearly retracts entirely.
“What?” he leans in closer to you, the driver still focused on the road, “Don’t like a taste of your own medicine?”
As he says it, his fingers dip lower. Hovering right over your protected clit, making your entire abdomen clench.
You swallow hard, a bit of your jagged pride somewhere amongst the spit as you turn your head to look at him, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Still playing games I see.”
In sync, the two of you lock eyes as you continue to test waters. You apply pressure with your palm and note the way his breathing hitches, and he draws a feather-light circle around the wet patch forming in your underwear. You can feel your bottom lip quiver as you try to refuse to give him any satisfaction, but when he’s this close, it’s a hopeless battle.
When had he gotten so near you? What happened to all that static distance from when you’d first crawled into the backseat?
You’re trying to only focus on your own hand. Eyes darting to guarantee the driver is still oblivious as you roll the heel of your hand harder against the seam of his pants, and biting your lip to hold back a successful grin when he has to cover a gasp with a cough. It’s all fun and games until the action is rewarded with his payback; his knuckle curling up against your cunt through your panties, pressing in hard before slowly sliding his way up, up, up.
He deliberately stops when he catches on your clit, and you’re the one coughing now.
“Had enough?” he mutters under his breath, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. He looks good in this lighting, flashes of the streetlights bathing him in soft yellow, headlights of other cars fluttering in through the windshield as they hit his brown eyes just right to bronze them.
“Never.”
You almost think you’ve won when his knuckle pulls back.
But suddenly, his entire hand is cupping your cunt, two fingers pressing against your fluttering hole as another drags up your slit slowly once more. This time, when he reaches your clit, he continues moving in small circles.
You have to bite your lip to hold back any noises, eyes closing for just a second as you hear him huff out a laugh.
The final damnation is when he brings his lips to your bare shoulder, merely grazing your skin with them as he mumbles, “You sure about that, Kitty?”
You clench around nothing, and you know when he feels it from where his fingers remain pressed against you. His own hand twitches as the finger circling your clit stutters for a moment.
“I-”
“We’re here!” the driver says, not having looked into the backseat yet as he finds a safe place to pull the car into. In an instant, you and Eddie remove your hands from each other. You’re both visibly flustered – you can feel how warm your cheeks have gotten, and you can see clouds of pink splattering over Eddie’s chest and neck.
“Thanks,” Eddie is the one to speak up as the car comes to a halt, not even waiting for the driver to put the vehicle in park as he throws the door open.
A bit rushed, but still polite as ever before he’s grabbing you by your bicep to pull you out of the cramped space right along with him.
You can hardly muster a weak wave to the man as Eddie is dragging you towards your apartment building, knees still a bit weak and mind still blank after getting a taste of your own medicine, as Eddie had put it.
He doesn’t let go of you until you’re at your front door, those cursed shaking hands of yours fumbling with your key ring.
“Here, let me-” he starts to offer, reaching for the keys that continue to clank together, just as you find the one you’re looking for.
“I’ve got it-” you try to cut him off, just as you drop the fucking keys in your haste. “Shit.”
You quickly drop to the ground to grab them, pausing once you have the metal digging into your palms once more. There’s no real reason for you to do it, but you do – you take a second to look up at Eddie from this position, and nearly drool at the sight of it.
Him, standing over you, still a bit flushed and still visibly uncomfortable in his pants. Pretty curls a mess and lips darkening from how much he’s been biting them.
You want him to ruin you. You want him to absolutely, entirely and utterly destroy you.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he laughs, chest heaving a bit as he watches you carefully, pupils slowly growing in the dim light of your building’s hallway.
You can see his bare torso clenching, the twitch of his hands at his sides – the same fingers that had just been caressing you over your underwear in the backseat of a stranger’s car.
“Like what?” you’re dragging out the moment, taking time to appreciate the sight of him.
“Like you want me to just press you up against the wall and fuck you out here, for everyone to see.”
That’s a new one. That’s a vision that hadn’t come to you in all your dirtiest dreams of the night.
It sends your clit throbbing.
You rise slowly, pushing the hat back a bit to see him better, keeping your voice quiet so your neighbors won’t hear as you ask, “Would you? If I asked nicely?”
He doesn’t let out a laugh, but a breath of air, like you’ve just sucked all of the oxygen out of his lungs.
No need to say it – you know he would. You probably wouldn’t even have to ask nicely.
You’re staring at him when he finally moves, one hand snatching your keys out of your hand and the other gripping you around the waist. Back to pulling you, man-handling you to get you right where he wants you – where he needs you.
One second, you’re pressed against his body in the hallway. The next, he’s managed to unlock your front door and throw you both into the safety of your apartment.
Hidden from the world, and you’re still reeling as you wonder what it’d be like for the entire building to witness you calling out his name. Or him calling out your name.
Here within these four walls, Eddie has put some space between the two of you, staring with blown out eyes and a shaking chest as he breathes out, “Sweetheart.”
A few seconds pass, the two of you just standing there, the click of the front door’s lock being the only thing echoing in the silence. If you focused over the roar of the blood pounding in your ears, you might catch every single gasp of his as he stares in awe – but your focus is elsewhere. Far away and out of grasp for the time being. You can only think of one thing, and one thing only.
Your body isn’t your own as you move to get exactly what you want; you drop to your knees hard enough that you should cringe at the thought of the pain that will linger, possibly for days, but it doesn’t even cross your mind as your hands begin to fumble with Eddie’s pants. The oversized, gaudy belt buckle is in your way, glinting at you as if mocking the way your shaking hands can’t undo it fast enough. You’re about to give up and just start unzipping the leather pants, desperate to get your hands, and your mouth, and your eyes on him properly, when he stops you.
“Hey,” he sounds breathless - he is breathless - as his own hands quiver a bit and grab onto yours, “Hey, hey, hey. Slow down.”
Those hands let go of your wrists and reach for the hat, and you’re quick to try and swat them away only for him to grab at you, surprisingly gentle, as he drags you back up to your feet.
“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy – right?” you insist, chin held high, your gaze refusing to waver from his.
His slow and buttery grin makes you lightheaded, his low chuckle sends shakes through every nerve and bone. “That’s right, but maybe the cowboy wants to take his time. Ever think of that, hm?”
Were you moving too fast? Were you going to scare him off?
Small, baby steps are taken by Eddie, the click of his heels shattering against your wooden floors until his hips are flush with yours.
And - oh.
Oh.
That surely didn’t feel like you were scaring him off.
You could feel the outline of his cock, hard against your hip, as he gives a little roll. He catches his bottom lip between his teeth, nostrils flaring with a hard breath, and the fear leaves as quickly as it had arrived.
He wants this. You want him.
“I’m not a very patient person,” you murmur, eyes glued to his lips now as his head leans in closer, and his hands begin to explore your body. Taking their time as they travel down your arms from where he’d held onto your biceps, slowing as they reach your wrists. Even the press of his thumb against the sensitive inner skin there sends jolts up your spine, little gasps attempting to escape your mouth.
His fingers tangle loosely with your own for a few moments before his palms find your hips, and he continues his journey.
“That’s okay,” he whispers back, close enough now that his lips have begun to brush against your own. His nose bumps yours as his hands skate up over your ribcage, thumb sweeping out over the hill of your breast and intentionally avoiding your nipple, “I can teach you, baby.”
Your mouth finally collides with him at the words, nearly going limp in his arms at the words.
You’ve thought about kissing Eddie for a while now. Every time a snarky remark fell from his lips, you’d wonder how his tongue might taste afterwards. Every time he’d pout his lips at one of your comebacks, or blow a kiss teasingly in your direction from across a room, you’d wonder how hard you might have to bite down to make him bleed. Every drag of a cigarette you’d witnessed, every hard gasp in faux offense, every breathless chuckle at a joke he didn’t want to find funny but did – you had spent a lot of time wondering what it might be like to steal all the air from his lungs, to kiss him until the two of you were both blue in the face.
“Can’t the lesson wait until tomorrow?” you mumble against him as his mouth, your own fists now gripping onto the lapels of his vest. His hands have reached your shoulders, memorizing the outlines of the curve of your neck where it meets your collarbones, the slope of your chest as you take hot and heavy breaths.
“Nope,” he insists, pulling back from the kiss, a little bit of spit on his pink lips, “But it’s nice to know you’re thinking about tomorrow.”
A hand finally finds your chin and pinches it carefully between his thumb and fingers, a careful grip on you to angle you just right so he can all but devour you. Lips, tongues, teeth – it’s a messy ordeal, and you almost make a smart-ass remark that this kiss doesn’t feel very patient.
But you can’t. Eddie’s taken away all your breaths, all your words, as he starts to guide you backwards.
Your knees hit the cushions of your sofa, making you jump back from him with a gasp, palms going flat against his chest.
He feels good. Tender skin soft to the touch beneath your hand, tattoos tempting to trace the outline of. Later.
“Figured you might want a more comfortable ride,” he laughs against you, breath smelling ever so faintly of mint and whiskey washing over you, before he dips to mouth away at your neck.
You drop back onto the sofa, bite your tongue on a comment about how this cheap piece of furniture most definitely wasn’t the most comfortable option, simply eager at the fact he was letting this move along.
You want him, you need him, and you have no time for patience.
His exploration of touches have lit you aflame, and you’re growing a bit desperate at this point. It might be pathetic, it should be embarrassing, but you really don’t care.
“By all means,” you break out of his hold entirely, catching the way his hand holding your chin lingers a few extra seconds, reluctant to let you go, “Take your seat, Cowboy.”
He joins you on the couch, eyes never leaving yours even as he throws himself down. Knees spread wide, inviting lap on show, cock still straining against his pants.
The best seat in the house, as far as you’re concerned.
“You just gonna keep starin’,” he mocks lightly, looking you over slowly. Taking his time, you suppose, “Or you gonna get over here?”
His words are all you need. You’re quick to climb onto his lap, swinging your legs so that each thigh brackets his hips, your cunt pressing down on crotch carelessly. You love the way it feels – the outline of him hard against you, the cooling effect of the leather, the sharp edges of the zipper catching just right.
“There,” he huffs out, grabbing onto you when you give the slightest roll of your hips, “Now we’re both in our seats.”
When you go to press down harder, guiding yourself over his lap, hands steadying you by gripping his shoulders, he surprises you by his hips jumping up to meet your slow rhythm.
“What happened to being patient?” you try to tease him right back as your forehead meets his, hat comically struggling to stay on between the two of you, “Thought you were gonna take your time with me-”
“Between you and me, I’m not gonna last,” he pants out, hands finding your hips. Those rings you’d been fantasizing of leaving an imprint on you are doing just that as he guides you, “Been dreaming of you too long, sweetheart. Wanted this for so long.”
Your heart nearly stops. Your hips stutter, pausing as his words rush over you.
“What?”
Your head lifts away from his completely, grip on his shoulders tightening.
He’s wanted this, too? This entire time?
Eddie takes your pause as a bad thing, a terrible omen as his face pales, “I mean- I just-”
“Munson,” you say lowly, narrowing your eyes at him, “You’re telling me, this entire time, you’ve been flirting with me?”
Had that tone he used with the girl at the bar been flirting as you’d thought, or simple for show? You’d so cluelessly assumed he’d never used that tone with you because he’d never genuinely flirted with you – and yet, it seems, he’d never used that tone because he’d been genuinely flirting with you.
“I-” his cheeks are brilliant red, and the wide eyes are from something different than lust now, “Maybe?”
“Maybe?” you almost laugh, throwing your head back. The hat falls off, but Eddie is quick to retrieve it, “My God, we’re fucking idiots.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who stole my hat-”
“I like you, dumb ass,” you state plainly, “I wanted this for a while, too.”
He pauses, one arm outstretched as his hand grips onto the hat, “What?”
“Been thinking about this, too,” your voice drops a little, almost a whisper, even though you two are the only ones in the room. For all you know, you two might be the only two people left in the world with the way he’s looking at you, “Thinking about you and your lips. Thinking ‘bout your hands and the places they’d go,” as you point out every detail, his body seemingly reacts. A lick of his lips, a squeeze of his hand still on your hip, “Thought about your fingers and tongue a lot, too. How good they’d feel inside me.”
His hips thrust up at that, and suddenly, he’s placing his hat back atop your head.
That, it seems, was all the encouragement Eddie needed.
He deals with that belt buckle that had given you hell, bouncing you a bit on his lap as he fumbles with yanking the entire belt off and tossing it to the side. One hand busies with undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, as the other starts to bunch your dress.
“Nice and slow,” he insists, looking up at you, absolutely vibrant. Somewhere between the tightness between your hips, all the throbbing between your thighs and in your chest, you feel a sort of bubbly delight creeping up along your spine. “Got it, kitty?”
You nod once. Twice. On the third nod, he cuts you off with a kiss.
Your dress is up to your waist, and you don’t know how, but he manages to shimmy off his pants without throwing you off his lap entirely. It’s impressive, really. Probably a symptom of him having thought about this, dreamt about this. He’d probably thought up every scenario possible, and was prepared.
“Oh, and these?” his fingers find the waistband of your panties, tsking a little as he pulls at the elastic and lets it slap back against your skin, “Those definitely have to come off.”
“Whatever you say, cowboy.”
You take your time sliding off his lap, making sure to grind against him before you properly lift away. He throws his head back in a groan, Adam’s apple bobbing as you stand up straight. You take that moment to just admire him, capturing the clench of his jaw to memory, the way his eyes screw shut in pleasure at your influence.
He’s fucking perfect. You’re sure there’s others who disagree, but you’d pay them no mind. He’s perfect, and he’s all yours.
You make a show of taking off your panties only once he’s properly looking at you once more, craving his eyes on you as you keep all your movements fluid and steady. No rush, exuding all that patience he’d prattled on about.
You want to see his face when you gently toss the black lacey piece in his direction, watch him fumble with his own desperation to catch them.
“Seems a bit unfair that I’m the only one undressing,” you hum as you go a step further and begin to shimmy out of the dress.
“Yeah, well,” he grins cheekily at you, fisting your panties, a hand trailing down to the waistband of his boxers as he eyes you, “One of us was showing a bit more skin than the other.”
“Take off the vest, Eddie.”
Your command is velvet, and he’s quick to obey. His hand stubbornly refuses to let go of your panties as he rushes to shrug out of the thin fabric over his shoulders, tossing the vest to join his pants and your dress on the floor.
“And the boxers.”
You stand there, in nothing but his cowboy hat, as you wait pretty and patient for him to listen. And listen he does.
The moment his boxers are discarded, his cock is standing at attention, leaking from the tip and deep shade of pink that matches his kiss-bitten lips. You think it might be the prettiest color you’ve ever laid eyes on as you watch a drop of precum slip down his shaft.
He’s pretty, even in the fucking pants.
Girthy, thick enough you almost arch your back before you’ve even sunk down on him. All veins and soft skin, a sensitive tip that you’d trace your tongue over for hours if he let you.
“Gonna just stand there, or are you going to ride your cowboy?”
He surely meant to sound more cocky, but the words come out as more of a whine as you watch him twitch under your stare.
He’s right though, and you’d rather get him inside you than spend another second gawking. There will be time to pay more attention to him and his pretty cock tomorrow. Right now, you need to finish this god-forsaken mission.
Your thighs find his hips just as his hands find yours, choosing to grip the couch rather than his shoulders as you steady yourself.
Nice and slow, his words echo in your mind.
You could have prepared yourself more, but you’d already made it clear to Eddie that you are not a patient person. The fact that you even take your time as you sink down on him, going as far as to grab him by his base and guide his tip to smear precum across your clit, is impressive.
The stretch is a bit painful. A bit much. A bit dizzying. But you refuse to stop as your jaw drops, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy.
“Fuck,” you breathe out softly as you feel him fill you, “Fuck, Eddie.”
“Feel good, baby?” he questions, reaching up to grab your chin just as he had before. Forcing you closer to him, forcing you to look him in the eyes just as he bottoms out.
You don’t answer him as you both moan out.
You stay there for a second, unmoving as you swim in the feeling. Feeling him press into the depths of you, the overwhelming warmth and the coil in your abdomen tightening ever so slightly.
It’s better than you had imagined it. No daydreams could compare to the feeling of Eddie’s cock finally, finally filling you. Stretching you out, making you his.
“Go ahead,” he grits out, entire body tense, clearly holding out on you, “Ride your cowboy, kitty. Don’t make me ask twice.”
Nice. And. Slow.
Three little words that ricochet through your mind as you start to slowly bounce on him. Lifting ever so slightly, dropping back down, aching to feel him even deeper inside of you. Feeling the quiver of his thighs to match yours as you repeat the action, gasps and whimpers falling from both your lips. You’re about to try and kiss him, try and swallow all those delicate noises from him, when he stops you.
“No, no, no,” he’s chuckling, giving your hips a few squeezes before his palms rub down your thighs, the friction sending you on edge, “C’mon, now. We both know that’s not how you ride.”
His hands rake over your skin, down to your knees, lighting scratching and squeezing along their entire pathway until they make their way back up to your waist and hips.
“Do it like this, sweetheart.”
He guides you, no longer allowing you to lift up. You sink all the way down on his cock, whining out at the fullness, before he starts the pattern.
Back and forth. Gentle circles amidst the rocking. Your clit grazes his pubes, and the coil in between your hips has never tightened more quickly.
The motion feels familiar - like riding a bull.
This feels right. You still press down, still clench down on him hard enough to make you both slip out obscenities, but it’s getting you there.
At some point, Eddie’s grip on your hips slips, but it’s fine – you’ve got the rhythm down perfectly. Slow, intermittent figure eights between the rolls of your hips, his occasionally slamming upward to reward you with that deepness you need. You can feel him in your stomach, in your chest, in your throat.
You get a bit daring, and take one hand to his shoulders, as the other reaches up for the top of the hat on your head.
Just like a cowboy.
“Like this?” you pant out between harsher rolls, eliciting curses that continue to grow louder from Eddie.
“Fuck, baby, yes,” he groans out, head thrown back, mouth open in gratification, “Just like that. Keep- keep going just,” he thrusts up, “Like,” another thrust, “That.”
You nearly lose balance, falling forward a bit, too stubborn to let go of the hat. There’s a grin glimmering at the corners of your mouth, and it fully blooms when Eddie throws up a hand to catch you .
A hand on your throat.
He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t cut off blood flow or breathing. He keeps that warm palm there at the base of your neck, cradling you, holding you. A reminder that he could squeeze if he wanted, that he held you in the palm of his hands currently, but he won’t.
“You like that?” his eyes shine as he looks up at you, the sight of his rings decorating your neck.
You nod.
“Tell me with your words,” he commands.
“I like it,” you whimper, looking up further, stretching more of your neck to be vulnerable to Eddie. “I like it so much, baby.”
When the pet name falls from your lips, you can feel him twitch inside of you. The sudden jut of his hips, the sharp intake of breath.
“You like that,” you laugh breathlessly, your hand atop the hat the only thing keeping it from falling as you lean your head fully back, eyes beginning to roll back into your head. “Wanna be my baby, Munson?”
“Always have,” he grunts, the hand on your throat slipping up to cup your face to drag you towards him, “Since the fucking moment I met you, sweetheart.”
When he kisses you, it tastes like the closest to Heaven you might ever get. Soft, plump lips, and an eager tongue. All the wasted time hiding behind jokes and teasing, playing pretend like the flirting was never serious.
It was serious. And if you’d just come clean sooner, you would have had this long ago.
Your hips are still rolling as your hands begin to roam. You’ve found your balance again, lips pressed to Eddie, and it’s your turn to explore all he has to give you. Your nails graze his stomach when your clit catches once more on that rough thatch of hair against the base of his cock. Your fingers dig into flesh wherever they can find it – his chest, his arms, his hips. At some point, you throw a hand out behind you, grasping for his knee. Learning every curve and every point of his body as he had done for you.
You wanna memorize the roadmap of him. Take a snapshot in your mind so that next time, none of it is unfamiliar territory.
Your touch is driving him insane; it doesn’t take a genius to pick up on the way his hips falter to meet your movements, or how he keeps breaking the kiss to gasp, letting his jaw fall slack when he hits a particular deep spot within you.
It’s when your lips finally trail down the stubble sprouting across his jawline, mouth sucking on the soft skin below his ear, that he’s finally a goner.
“‘M close,” he gasps out, almost sounding drunk as he slurs through his pants, “Ah, fuck, I’m gonna-”
“Cum for me, Eddie.”
Maybe it’s the way you had been touching him, or the way your cunt had been fluttering around him, or the persistent rolling of your hips that had become so focused on his pleasure. Maybe it was the sight of you in his hat, looking at him like that. Maybe it was the way his name sounded on your tongue.
Either way, when Eddie Munson comes undone, he’s beautiful.
Your own movements slow involuntarily as you gaze starry eyed, watching the way his face scrunches and feeling his grip on you tighten impossibly. Leaving their mark, making you his in yet another way. Warmth fills your cunt and every curse word under the summer sun is falling from his lips.
Your name, curses, prayers, gratitude – a jumbled mess, and it sounds fucking fantastic when it’s said in Eddie’s desperate tone.
“Shit,” he gasps out, finally coming back down to Earth, “Shit.”
You sit still on his lap, skin sticky with sweat, lips spread thin in a cheeky grin, “Sounds like I get to keep your hat, cowboy.”
His eyes shoot open, and for a second, you’re terrified.
Those aren’t the eyes of someone satisfied.
“You didn’t cum.”
“What?”
“You,” he says, stressing the word as he shifts you off his lap. You don’t miss the way he winces, clearly a bit sensitive, “Did not cum.”
You hadn’t really noticed, too wrapped up in him to notice your high slipping away from you. You’d been too focused on Eddie: on feeling him cum inside you, on watching him break apart, on tracing the outline of the blood rushing to his cheeks with your eyes and that fresh burst of violet on his neck in the shape of your lips.
“It’s fine,” you start to argue, feeling the warmth of him leaking down your thighs. You should be a lot more worried about making a mess all over your sofa. You should be, but you aren’t. “I can-”
“You’re not keeping that fucking hat until you cum for me, sweetheart.”
And, oh, maybe your own orgasm wasn’t racing as far away from you as you’d believed, because those words nearly push you over the edge for him.
“Get on all fours for me, baby.”
Yeah. You definitely could still be close. For him.
When you don’t move to follow his command immediately, he’s using those gentle hands to guide you. Encouraging a twist of your hips from how you’re reclining back across the couch, letting you press your cheek down against the cushion.
You open your mouth to argue, to insist it was fine, to say anything, but you’re cut silent when a sudden slap lands on your ass.
A silent command this time, and you’re finally listening.
You lift your ass up for him on shaky knees, elbows digging into the cushion now instead of your face. The hat on your head is lopsided, and you almost reach up to fix it when-
“I’ll be taking that,” For the first time since you’d stolen his hat, Eddie takes it back. Right off your head, too fast for you to protest. When you dig your chin into your shoulder to look back at him, he’s smiling, hat back in its rightful place atop his curls, “You can have it back after you cum for me, at least once.”
“At least once?” you mean to laugh, to sound cocky, but it comes out as more of a squeak.
He shrugs, leaning forward, his bare chest pressing against the skin of your bare ass – right where an imprint of his hand still sings, “At least. By all means, if you feel the need, don’t hesitate to give me a few. God knows you’ve earned it.”
You don’t have time to banter back; he retracts before bring his mouth down to your cunt, and your elbows quickly give out at the first long stride of his tongue.
“Gotta get you cleaned up,” he murmurs, a bit muffled, against your cunt.
Another stride, and this time, his tongue spends an extra second at your clit, circling it salaciously.
“Oh, God,” you moan out into a mouthful of couch cushion, tempted to bite down to hide all the noises creeping up your throat when his tongue draws yet another circle, tip of his nose pressed to your sensitive hole.
He brings his tongue back to that space, that hole that feels gaping without him filling you now, and you try to bury your cheek only to earn another slap on the ass.
“Don’t be shy now, kitty. Let me hear you.”
And let him hear you, you do.
Each lick, short and timid or long and confident, is dredging up obscene mewls from you. When he enters you with it, curling it and pressing as deep as he can, truly cleaning you up as he had said, you’re chanting his name.
“Fuck, Eddie,” you cry softly, rocking your body back against his mouth, “Your fingers. P-Please, use your fingers.”
Your wish is his command as he brings his hand up between your legs, breaking from having his tongue buried inside of you and using a calloused pad of his finger to trace over your clit before he begs, “Say my name again.”
You do. Over, and over, and over as his mouth and his fingers begin to work against you. Careful focus is placed on your clit, and his mouth runs amok between your cunt and thighs. You feel what will no doubt be hickies along the curve of your ass, nips of teeth against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he presses two fingers into you. With every thrust of his hand, your hips are rocking back to match his rhythm, wanting more.
More, more, more.
There’s nothing nice and slow about this. You’re chasing after a high, and Eddie is listening to you every step of the way.
Your thighs begin to shake terribly right around the time your vision blurs, unable to contain the whines that have grown to echoing volumes. Surely, your neighbors can hear. Probably confused as to who Eddie is, probably considering how embarrassing it would be to knock down your door and complain about the noises.
You really, really don’t give a fuck when white speckles flood your vision, even with your eyes screwed shut, and that tension between your hips threatens to snap.
Right before your knees give out, your entire body trembling, Eddie pulls back and grabs your hips. You cry out, so close yet so far, until he’s flipping you back over.
You get one glimpse of him before he goes to work to bring you over that edge – lips and chin slick with you, hair frizzing beneath his hat, a determined glint in his eyes that have your thighs clenching around his ears.
You were right. Eddie Munson looks damn good between your thighs.
He quickly returns to his mitigations, and this time, it’s all a bit more strategic. Lips suctioned around your clit and three fingers curling deep within you, a beckoning motion as he urges you to let go for him.
The white returns behind your eyelids. Your back arches up off the sofa. Your ankles lock as they cross behind Eddie’s back, almost effectively trapping him in place.
You cum hard for him.
You’re entirely unaware if you scream his name in the process, but you hope you do. As that relief, that ecstasy, floods your system, you hope you make sure everyone within a five mile radius knows who’s responsible. Your entire body continues to shake for far longer than you believe it ever has before. Your hips had lifted, begging for Eddie to keep going even as it all grew painful.
He does. He keeps going, sucking you dry for every drop you have to give him, until you’re physically having to shove him away.
Your hands are weak as you sink down into the cushion, eyes still closed as you hear him chuckle before you feel him crawl his way back up your body.
“There,” you don’t even need to see his face to see that smug satisfaction – his voice is dripping in it. “Now you can keep the hat.”
One of your hands blindly throws itself through the air to smack him, missing entirely as you drift through the afterglow of it all.
“I’m not sure I’ve earned it,” you mumble as he catches your wrist, limp in the air, “Pretty sure I didn’t break you when I made you cum.”
“Oh, you did,” he notes, hand curling around your wrist. You watch as he slowly brings it to his lips, peppering a few chaste kisses on the soft skin, “Just in a different way.”
You raise your eyebrows, smiling at the tingling feeling left behind on your skin in the wake of his mouth, “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He tugs you to sit up despite your groan of protest, somehow smoothly maneuvering the two of you so that he’s now the one beneath you, letting the full weight of you bear down on his chest as you lay on top of him. The hand wrapped around your wrist brings it back up for more kisses, more repetitive gentle pecks of affection, as his other arm is quick to wrap around you. Holding you in place, as though he’s scared you might disappear.
“Well,” you whisper against the bare skin of his chest, nearly shivering when his free hand starts to trail slowly up and down your spine, “Good.”
Your cheek feels the vibrations of his chuckle, “That’s all you have to say?”
“Give me a few minutes to recover,” you insist, all but nuzzling into him, “I’m sure I’ll have a smartass comeback for you once I’m…” you trail off, heavy eyes looking up at him, the words lost on your tongue and in the air.
The gentle curve of his cupid’s bow. The roundness at the end of his nose, still a fading hue of pink. The freckle beneath his right eye. The way the phantom of the dimple of his left cheek never quite leaves his face.
All the things you’ve dreamt of seeing so up close, never knowing it could have been a reality.
He lets go of your wrist, smiling softly with a shake of his head, “Can’t believe you’re gonna fall asleep on me.”
“Am not,” you nearly say under your breath, sighing in content.
“Am too,” he mocks, a certain docility to all his teasing before he sighs as well, “It’s okay. You can. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”
You hum, eyes fluttering shut as you hear some rustling, “Promise, cowboy?”
“Absolutely, kitty. You said something about tomorrow, remember?”
You both laugh in sync as your couch suddenly becomes the most comfortable place in the world.
Just before losing consciousness, right as you feel Eddie’s breathing even out along with your own, you decide to open your eyes one last time to catch sight of the cowboy hat perched carefully on your coffee table.
Tomorrow. You hope for a thousand tomorrows as you decide that that hat is definitely yours now.
In which Steve is just trying to love his girlfriend but he forgot he asked for six children.
fem reader, bikini, make out, smut p in v at the end, language, not proof read
The first occurrence was on all accounts, an accident. An annoying one.
"What'd you say, movie, me, you, tonight?" Steve expressed his desire for a date night, leaning over the counter that was splattered with butter and a variation of soda's.
"Steve, baby, you do realise I work at the movie theatres?" you asked, boxing up popcorn for someone who had brought tickets.
"Yeah, and I work at family videos, still wanna see you."
You had to admit, with the both of you in between jobs and babysitting gigs you somehow always got roped into it had been hard to get alone time together. But date night at the place you worked wasn't your idea of magic.
But Steve had turned up, his family video vest still hanging on only half an hour or something after his shift because he wanted to spend a night with you.
It was also humanly impossible to say no to Steve. "Fine. Weekend at Bernie's is on tonight at seven and that's one I haven't actually seen yet."
"Perfect," he grinned. "I'll pick you up when you're done here, drop you off at yours so you can get ready then I'll pick you up for six-thirty."
"Steve, that's too much driving, I can get the bus back."
"The bus?" he gasped dramatically. "I'd never have my girl on a bus." Steve pushed himself over the counter, pecking your sweet and salty lips from the popcorn you swiped between customers.
So at seven on the dot the two of you were walking through the cinema. The perks of working there was the tickets and treats you got on discount that Steve still insisted on paying for. He had Reeses and Boppers while you had the largest box of popcorn that Steve wasn't even sure was an option for regular customers.
You settled into your seats in the rather packed cinema and Steve threw an arm around you as the previews started.
"See, this is nice," he uttered to you. "Just you and me, date night."
Even if this was a room you swept more than fives times a day even you could admit, it all felt different with Steve.
You laid your head back on his arm. "Yeah."
Steve admire you. "I love you."
His lips were as soft as always as they kissed you, not daring to go any further while sitting in the middle of the cinema. If it was the back row, on the other hand-
"Shit, shit, I can't see,"
"Dustin, just move,"
"I am, geez, I just paid for this popcorn I am not spilling it,"
"You're walking like a grandma,"
"Grandma Henderson is spry for her age, asshole!"
Steve's nose brushed yours as he pulled back, dread marking his features. "It can't be."
Your heart sank. "No."
"Holy shit, hey guys!" said Dustin Henderson.
There was a chorus of surprise from them all: Dustin, Lucas, Max and Will. They piled in, pushing and shoving each other on the row below you.
"Huh, what are the chances?" Dustin grinned.
Steve laughed through clenched teeth. "Ha ha, tell me about it."
Lucas frowned at you. "Hey, I thought you worked here."
"I do."
"So don't you see movies on shift? You know, for free?"
"Woah, genius, I hadn't thought about that."
Max rolled her eyes, tugging on Lucas's arm. "They're on a date, leave them alone."
"Oh- oh!" said Dustin in loud exclamation. He apologised to those around him. "Sorry, sorry. We'll just take our seats, don't worry, you two carry on, you won't even know we're here."
Steve and you were not convinced even before they sat down. They sat down right on front of the two of you, the curls of Dustin bouncing as he tried to situate himself with his large soda and even larger popcorn.
Lucas and Max were arguing over who sat where while Will took the seat on the end, quietly munching on his popcorn and watching the preview intently.
"He's my favourite kid," said Steve to you.
Dustin's head turned back. "Sorry, what were you saying?"
Steve pushed his head around. "I wasn't talking to you."
"Oh right, yeah," Dustin apologised. "Not even here, we're not even here."
The movie started and they seemed on their best behaviour for all of five minuets. It was really Steve that started it, un-able to stop himself when he saw Lucas yawn and dramatically stretch out his arms until one of the laid across Max's shoulders. He couldn't not lean in to tell you that was his move.
"It's a classic," he whispered to you. "I've taught all of them that but Lucas executes it flawlessly."
Lucas looked back to the two of you and Steve threw a very proud thumbs up.
The quiet of the cinema room was interrupted when Will opened a large pack of chips. A collective 'shh' came from every party in the room.
Will lit up in red. "Sorry," he whispered.
"Hey, Will," Dustin tried to call as quiet as possible which for Dustin was not quiet enough. Another round of 'shh' started. "Shh yourselves."
"Dustin," you lectured.
"What? I just want some chips!"
Will took some before passing along the bag, letting Lucas take a generous hand full before handing it over to Dustin. The crinkle of the bag as he dove in was louder than the movie.
Dustin turned around to the two of you. "Any for yourselves?"
"No," said Steve. "Turn around."
"Alright, alright, was just asking!"
The rest of the movie went more like that. A passing of snacks and whispers that led to glares from everyone trying to watch the film. Every time you and Steve tried to settle in with each other, his arm around your shoulder or you leaning into his side, Dustin would turn to look at the both of you, seeing if you guys were laughing at the right times or Lucas poking you in the knee to have some popcorn.
It turned into just a regular baby-sitting gig.
When the movie finished everyone seemed happy to be up from their seats.
The four were ahead of you and Steve, talking about their best parts and throwing the last of their snacks away.
"Can't escape them for two hours, huh?" said Steve, fingers entwining with yours as he swung your arms back and forth.
"No, I guess not."
"Hey," he tugged at your arm, stopping you. "I'm sorry about them, we'll get a quiet night, I promise. How about my place, Friday? My parents won't be home."
You grinned. "I guess it's a date."
Steve's lips curled up as he kissed you, hand sliding to the back of your neck to keep you there, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip practically begging for enterance-
"Ew, gross!" Will complained.
"Steve, c'mon!"
Max huffed. "Leave them alone!"
"Steve, can give us a lift home!"
Steve pulled away, his hand curling in on itself on the back of your neck but his thumb was still loose to sooth you. "Shitheads-"
You couldn't help but chuckle. For all the complaining he might give you knew Steve loved those kids like they were his own. Just as you did. You couldn't really be angry at them if you tried. "Take them home, I'll go see Stacy, she'll be finishing up. I'll hitch a ride with her."
"What? No, no, no what kind of boyfriend would I be? Those little a-holes can bike home," he said, hands running up and down your arms.
"Steve," you said. "You'll be a great boyfriend- and even better one- if you take them home. Please, for me." It never did sit right with you that the kids were fine biking home in the dark. What with all the monsters you've already faced.
Steve couldn't say no to you so he decided he wouldn't even try. "Okay, fine but take this-"
The kids awed and cooed as they watched Steve peel of his jacket and drape it over your shoulders.
You rolled your eyes. "Steve-"
"The walk to the car will be cold." He draw you in, pulling at his jacket to do so to kiss your popcorn lips.
"Steve!" Dustin yelled.
"I'm gonna kill him, I swear," your boyfriend mumbled against your lips. He pecked them once and fetched the keys from his pocket before pulling it closer around you. "Call me when you get home, I love you!" he called, trotting back to the kids.
"I love you!" you called after him.
Max turned back, winking. "Yeah, love you too!"
You held your middle finger up to her, with affection.
Lucas clasped his hands over his chest as Steve pushed the kids ahead. "Oh Steve, I love you so much, mwah mwah-"
Dustin and Will laughed, the former making obscene kissing noises while rubbing his arms up and down himself.
"Cut it out!" Steve whacked him on the back of the head.
Really, after all this time, should the kids have been surprised at how the two of you were?
The next Friday came around with sweltering heat. Steve had turned on all the fans he could in his house but he had something better.
A swimming pool.
You'd stripped to your bikini almost immediately, sliding into the water that instantly cooled your body while Steve was upstairs trying to find his trunks and if you knew him getting distracted by his hair in the mirror for an extra ten minutes.
You swam a lap or two before relaxing on the side, arms slung out and head tilted back, letting the droplets of water slide down your neck. The pool stilled, the sun beamed-
"Cannonball!"
Before you could react Steve bombed into the pool splashing you in the process and sending shock waves through the water.
"Steve!"
He popped back up to the surface, shaking his hair out like a dog and wiping down his face. "Oh, now that feels good!"
You laughed. "You're ridiculous."
Steve found you once all the water was out of his eyes, heading your way. "You're beautiful," he said, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in. "So beautiful, sexy-"
"Steve-" he kissed along your shoulder, playfully nipping at the skin.
"-mine."
You hummed when he kissed you eagerly, as if he hadn't greeted you the same way when you walked through the door. It had been a hassle enough to get to the pool without Steve un-dressing you then and there.
You wrapped your arms around his waist as Steve's hands cupped your backside, fingers digging into the flesh as if there were no bikini bottoms there. The two of you moved back through the water until you gently hit the wall of the pool.
You gasped at the feel of the tile.
Steve broke away at once. "You okay, baby?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Your legs squeezed around him, bringing him in until his lips were on yours again, starving.
His hands sort out your back, travelling the expanse and toying with the straps of your bikini top-
When the sound of his backdoor closing alerted you both, followed by the sound of six voices struggling.
"I told you Steve would have ice, you didn't need to bring a bag!"
"Well shit Mike, it's for the cooler."
"Maybe Steve's got some beer for us?"
"He has nice wine," said Max. "y/n told me he has nice wine."
The two of you were still practically entwined at the edge of the pool.
"Please tell me I'm not gonna turn and see what I think I'm gonna see," said Steve, pulling away enough so you could hear him.
The kids, that being all of them, waved at the two of you when Steve turned to look.
Dustin was already throwing an inflatable bed thing into the pool while Max, El and Mike were setting down bags on the lounge chairs Steve had, Mike helping El out with lying out her towel.
"Lucas?" Max called over, clearly wondering if he was gonna make sure she was comfortable.
Lucas was already filling up water balloons with Will's help.
It was as if they hadn't even realised you and Steve were there... at his pool.
"Hey!" he yelled. "What the hell are you doing?"
Dustin grinned. "Hey Steve!"
The rest of them copied his grin at the two of you, waving and greeting you.
Stunned, you held your hand up in a wave.
"I repeat- what are you doing here?" Steve asked.
"You gave us a key!" said Dustin.
"Yeah, for emergencies!"
"This was an emergency!"
"What?" you asked, immediately jumping into action. You pushed yourself out the water, grabbing a towel that wasn't too far and started to dry yourself off. They were all too calm in the face of an 'emergency' "What emergency? Is everything ok?"
"No," said Lucas.
"Well what, what is it?"
"None of us have pools in our back yards."
You deflated.
"Are you serious?" asked Steve, sending a splash of water over to Lucas and Will.
"Hey."
"You can't just waltz in here and make yourselves at home!" argued Steve, reaching out to you to try and pull you back in the pool as you got to your feet.
"It's hot!" said Dustin.
"So hot," added Mike.
"And we needed to cool down!" said Max.
"We were almost dying," said El, "it was really sad."
You smirked to yourself, knowing that if Max and El pulled out the pouted lips and puppy dog eyes, he was done for. The girls were his weakness.
"Yeah... well..." Steve wasn't even trying to argue when he looked up at you.
The red bikini that framed your curves perfectly, the little droplets of water that slid down your body. He tracked each one doing down, rolling down your sternum and further down your legs-
"Steve!" yelled Dustin.
"Wh-what?" he reluctantly forced his gaze away from you to look at him.
Dustin gestured to the floaty that was drifting from him. "Hold it steady!"
"My god," he grumbled.
You had your towel, patting yourself down and sitting with Max and El as Mike went to join Lucas and Will's efforts. You sat with them in the shade.
"Nice suit," said Max. "Pretty sure Steve's eyes were about to jump out his sockets."
"Oh, ha ha," you rolled your eyes. "You guys got swim suits?"
El nodded. "We went shopping."
"Show me!"
Steve was, once again distracted by you. Sure, it was annoying not getting a spare second alone with you. Really he should have pulled you into his room and made it quick before getting in the pool. But the kids meant best... he hoped and the way you were with them, especially Max and El who deserved kindness more than most, warmed his heart.
He could just picture you with the children he hoped to have with you one day. The care that you had, the love. And of course the way of making babies was not lost on him-
"Okay, okay," said Dustin as he stood at the edge of the pool, clearly thinking of the best ways to get onto the float. "Hold it steady... hold it steady..."
"I'm holding- I'm holding it steady!" said Steve.
"Steady!" yelled Dustin.
Steve held it for him but at the last second- when he realised Dustin was going to jump on it- he moved it, sending Dustin crashing into the pool.
The group of them were left laughing as he broke through the water, paddling around. 'Shit! Shit!'
After that you and Steve got busy. It was summer break, so people wanted films all the time and ran Steve off his feet, his days dragging. By the time he picked you up from your shift (which he insisted on) he could sneak a kiss before dropping you off, or sometimes you'd stay with him but the two of you were always too tired for anything. A quiet meal, watch a show then go to bed to do it all again.
Any small moment was special, Steve just wished they'd last.
One day he was at work, fixing up messy shelves and updating the posters at the windows when the door opened.
"Hey Steve!" El and Max called, rushing to two different sections.
El to romance and comedy.
Max to action but Steve knew she'd watch any romance El wanted.
He smiled and was ready to greet them when you practically fell through the door next, arms overflowing with bags.
"Hey!" you smiled, breathless.
"Hey, hey," Steve was in front of you at once, kissing your cheeks and looking down at all the bags. "What's this? You finally moving in with me?"
"Girls day."
Girls day had ran you dry, clearly. You were leaning on the door, feet aching.
"Shopping, snacks and now a film," you said. "And I wanted to see you."
Steve grinned. "Well isn't that sweet." He kissed you deep and slow, dragging the moment out to last.
"Oh gag me!" Robin called from behind the counter. "Porno's are over there, people!"
El peeked up from a shelf. "What's a por-no?"
Max went red in the face, laughing wildly as she turned to you and Steve. "Yeah guys, what's a porno?"
Steve blushed and stuttered.
"Nothing, El, hurry up and get a movie, we need to catch the bus back."
Steve turned back to you. "Bus?"
"Not again," you rolled your eyes.
Steve didn't have an aversion to the bus. He had an aversion of you getting a bus when he could've been using that time to spend a few extra precious minutes with you. "No, no, tell you what, we're almost done here-"
"No we're not!" said Robin.
"Well, we'll close up and I can take you all back and we can all enjoy girls night, how about that?" he asked, inviting himself and Robin along.
Your cheeks ached with the smile Steve brough to you.
Max thought less so. "No, no, no, this is a girl's night, Steve. No boys allowed."
"Yeah, no boys," Said El, joining her friends side.
"Guys c'mon, it's Steve," you argued.
"I couldn't bring Mike," said El.
Steve cringed. "Mike's Mike."
El's brows furrowed in thought. "Mike is... Mike?"
You turned to Max, batting your lashes. "Please..."
Max didn't want to be the 'bad cop' but she also wanted a girls night. And perhaps she was worried, after all, besides Steve she didn't have that much of a positive out look on 'man'.
Lucas wasn't there yet.
Steve jutted out his bottom lip.
Max crossed her arms over her chest and looked away.
Steve knew Max, knew her well. It had come with the years of looking out for each of them. "Okay, how about I get us all a tub of each others favourites ice cream? Vanilla and sprinkles for El, Mint choc-ship for Robbin and strawberry for you?"
It worked a treat, you could practically see Max's body melting at the suggestion.
"Fine," she said, still feigning her annoyance. "But you don't get to pick the movie!" she said, rushing off.
Steve scoffed. "Please, I work with movies," he leant down to your ear. "I cannot watch pretty in pink again, please."
You shrugged as Steve's hands ghosted yours. "Tough luck, babe. That's what happens when you invite yourself to girls night."
He shrugged. "Just spend time with my girl, and hey, if you can't beat them, join 'em." His eyes wondered down to your lips before he kissed you again, slower.
"Earth to Dingus's!" called Robin. "You're blocking the door from actual customers!"
The two of you shuffled away from the door, abashed and apologising as a customer awkwardly made their way in.
"Okay, we've chosen," said Max as El signed out her movie with Robin. "So let's go!"
El joined Max's side after sliding the tape into one of your bags, leaving you stumbling with the bags.
Steve was conflicted. If he were with you he would have taken the bags from you in an instant but clearly you were carrying them for the girls so they would be free.
Max's eyes lit up in mischief. "Oh, if only you had a car, y/n. Then we wouldn't have to walk so far," she pouted.
"With such heavy bags," El added, eyes downcast.
You gave the girls a look but it wasn't enough to stop them.
Steve's eyes rolled and he dug into his pockets before you could tell him no. They had him wrapped around their finger. Never mind El could move things with her mind, she get Steve to do just about anything she wanted. Steve looked at you. "Take my car-"
"Thanks!" Max plucked the keys from him instantly, rushing out with El.
Steve followed her, poking his head out the store. "You're not driving!"
You chuckled and stood tall to peck Steve's cheek. "They have you whipped."
His eyes rolled, mocking you. "Drive safe."
And though Steve wished you could have stayed, or he could have gone with you, at least he'd wormed his way into 'girls night'.
Finally, Steve received the invite he was waiting for. Your family out of town, your house all alone... just you and him.
It wasn't like he'd never been alone in your home with you but it had certainly been so long. Your house was warmer than his, sign that a family might love you whereas his parents didn't know he was in another dimension half the time.
He had a little night bag in the back of the car for the weekend you would have together. Your favourite sweater of his, along with sweatpants and an extra pair of his clothes for you. Snacks, a film and.... a box of condoms. Steve had big plans.
He sped away from work, not even caring if he hadn't clocked out right and trusting Robin would correct it or berate him for it- either way it could wait. He drove quick through Hawkins but took roads that wouldn't take him by Lucas's house in case he got roped in giving Lucas or Erica a ride. He avoided town in case Mike and El had gone on a date and spotted him. At one point he saw a kid with curls on a bike and he swerved, trying to duck in case it was Dustin.
They were great kids. But the only thing greater than them was getting time alone with you.
Finally, after an extra half an hour de-tour of Hawkins he parked up in front of your house, checking over his shoulder in case one of them popped up.
Steve rattled his knuckles on the door.
It took a moment but you swung it open, breathless. "Hey!"
"Hey," Steve stepped in, hands on your shoulders and pecking your cheek. "I'm sorry I'm late, I took the long way, I didn't want to risk the kids-"
"They're here," you said.
Steve frowned. Was your family back? Was their a maintenance guy around. "What? Who's here?"
"The kids."
At your word there was a crash from your kitchen.
Your head whipped around. "Shit- shit-shit- no, no, no!"
Steve was hot on your heels.
Lucas and Dustin stood over a pie that now laid in pieces along with the dish it was in.
"Oh, come on!" Steve deflated against the wall with all his hopes and dreams.
"Sorry," said Lucas.
"It's fine," you sighed, reacting quickly when Dustin went to clean it. "Careful, you'll cut your hands!"
Steve surveyed the area. Max and Mike were having an argument about... well, with them it could have been anything. On the sofa Will was watching the film with El who painted her nails on the coffee table. "Are you serious right now?"
Dustin and Lucas went back to searching through your cupboards, assuming it's for a snack.
Steve knelt next to you, helping you clean the shards and crumbs up. "How did this happen?"
"I don't know," you whispered. "I knew El was coming around for some nail polish but I didn't think she'd bring Max and then Lucas followed her and he radioed Mike who was with Dustin and Will-"
"And you answered the door every time?"
"It was that or they break a window climbing in!"
"Y/n!" Max called.
Your head sagged but you quickly perked up when Max and Mike stood in front of you.
"Can you please tell Mike that Jean Grey is obviously more powerful than the Scarlet Witch!"
Mike spluttered. "What? Wanda Maximoff is literally a Nexus being and can warp the minds and reality around. She created children with nothing but her mind-"
"Jean Grey has the Phoenix force!"
"Like that means shit!"
Their argument started up again and Steve pulled you up, tugging you back into the corridor while everyone was distracted in their own chaos.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you rambled at once. "I wanted it to just be us, I did, but then El started to paint her nails and Max starting opening up about how hard things have been and I've been trying to get her to open up and then Lucas appeared and you know things have been tough between them and then the others came and I couldn't throw them out without kicking them all and they're good kids and-"
Steve grasped your cheeks and kissed you. Only partly to stop your rambling, and the other because he'd been wanting to kiss you all day. He let himself indulge a moment too long before pulling away. "It's fine. We babysit tonight and then tomorrow, we're not leaving your bed, deal?"
You licked your lips of the taste of him and smiled. "Deal."
Steve pressed a kiss to your forehead as the stairs creaked.
"Oh hey Steve," greeted Robin as she casually walked down the stairs as if he hadn't left her at Family Video not long ago. "I didn't know you were coming tonight too." She pat his back and moved past him.
Steve wondered if Jonathon and Nancy were lurking somewhere in the garden. It seemed half of Hawkins knew you had the place to yourself.
"Oh fuck, Steve!"
"Yeah, yeah baby, you like that?"
Steve had made sure of his promise.
The night ended at midnight exact when Steve realised you had fallen asleep on the sofa. He draped a blanket over you and quietly but urgently shoved all the kids away, putting them on their bikes or cars (their parents collecting them) and sending them on their way.
Steve didn't want to wake you so he carried you upstairs and fell asleep with you.
The next morning you were up early to make breakfast, dressed only in one of Steve's flannels and panties. Just to drive him mad. You were half way through pancakes when Steve's arms wrapped around your middle and all but threw you on the sofa, flattening you there.
That's how you both ended up naked on your parents sofa, you in his lap, his cock stretching inside of you and moans bouncing off the walls.
You mewl into his shoulder, nails digging into his shoulders.
Steve rocked his hips into yours as you continuously grinded down on him. "Wanted you so long, baby, was- was going mad."
"I know, I know!" You groaned, pulling back and holding his face in your hands, laying your head against him.
The two of you bodies sweat together, the cushions on the sofa already fallen off the floor and your clothes thrown anywhere other than around you.
Steve meant what he said. He kissed you, all tongue and teeth, desperate to get as deep inside of you as possible and then some more.
You pulled back, Steve's lips dragging down your neck, collecting your sweat and pulse. "Ah, St-Steve!"
His hand held the small of your back, pushing you deeper into him leaving you biting down on your lip to stop screaming out. "You feel me there, huh? Feel me deep?" he all but whined.
You nodded. Your back arched, cunt squeezing him harder as you leant back, hand on his thigh to steady yourself. "Steve- Steve- I'm gonna-"
There was a sudden pounding at the door.
Your whined but not in the way Steve wanted as he felt your climax escaping him.
"No, no, no baby, focus," he cupped your chin, forcing your gaze on him. "Focus on me baby, let them knock."
You both had already guessed who it was.
Steve's eyes screwed shut as he rutted into you quick but the knocking was just as insistent.
"Steve! Y/N, we know you're in there!" Dustin called.
Steve shook his head, rocking you against him. "They-they don't- arg-"
"Steve! We can see your car outside!" added Lucas.
You sat up on him, a hand on the back of the sofa and another on Steve's shoulder. "Steve-"
You both knew you'd never have the day to yourself if they were there, knocking at the door every time you were going to finish.
Steve looked at the door and back to you.
"Maybe there's a spare key?" suggested Will.
"That's it!" Gently Steve helped you off him and almost regretted it at once at the sound of your small whine and the sight of his hard cock leaking and everything coming out of you-
Quickly, Steve grabbed a blanket and tied it around his waist, brushing his hair back as you picked up another discarded on the floor to cover yourself.
He kicked his jogging bottoms out the way as he went and swung open the door, catching the gang of them scrambling for a spare key under the flower pots.
Dustin noticed the hair on his chest and the sweat first, chuckling. "Damn, Steve, all that hair got you stressing-" he realised half way through just why he was sweating and standing there in only a blanket.
"No!" he said. "You cannot have either of us today!"
Will had the decency to blush and look away, Max's jaw was on the floor at what they'd clearly interrupted.
"We just want-" Mike tried.
"No! Nop! None! Zero! We are closed today!"
"Well, actually you seem pretty open-"
"You want to finish that sentence, Sinclair?" Said Steve. "All I want is a day alone, of peace with my girlfriend, and yes that means doing adult things."
El frowned. "Adult?"
Sometimes he forget El didn't know all the ins and outs of the world.
And sadly they'd caught Steve on the precipice of bursting (literally).
"Sex! Yes, that is what happy and loving couples do, that is what we have been trying to do but we keep getting interrupted! So, no, you cannot come in and no you cannot go to my house to eat snacks or go in the pool cause guess what? We're gonna do it there to!" he actually had no plans for that but he just might. "So please, please just move along and let us get to it!"
Lucas chuckled.
Dustin cleared his throat, his voice stuck in a higher pitch. "Okay. We'll er... we'll just... move on."
"Yes, thank you!" Steve waited at the door, waving them down and watching them go all the way down the street. Every time one of them looked back, he waved. He saw El leaning into Mike and his ears going red but he decided he'd let Mike deal with that one.
When he was sure they'd got far enough, Steve slammed the door, locked it and put a chain on for good measure.
You were laughing, face hidden in the blanket when he returned, standing over you with his hands on his hips. "I cannot believe you just did that."
"Oh," said Steve, dropping the blanket as he fell to his knees, pushing up your blanket and pulling apart your legs. "It was a long time coming. And speaking of coming..."
pairing: coach!steve harrington x teacher!reader
summary: your extremely professional relationship with coach steve may be under investigation by one (1) very observant six-year-old.
warnings: pure fluff, slightly suggestive, steve is just absolutely smitten, secret relationship, children being adorable, mention of marriage, post-s5 (2.3k)
. * ✦ . ˚ ✦ .
Little Eli Parker is zooming down the hallway on a Very, Very Important Mission.
Six years old, sandy curls bouncing wildly with every step, he's panting hard through the wide gap between his two front teeth. One of the Velcro straps on his sneaker has come undone, flapping wildly as he skids to a stop just outside your classroom door.
5B
He doesn’t come all the way in. Just peeks around the frame, fingers gripping the edge as he rocks back and forth on his heels.
You pause mid-sentence, lowering the book you’ve been reading aloud. A few students crane their necks to look.
Eli’s bright blue mesh pinnie hangs crooked over his T-shirt, smudged with chalk dust and tiny white handprints—making it very clear which class he’s just sprinted away from. His cheeks are flushed, chest heaving like he’d forgotten the ‘no running in the halls’ rule until the very last second.
“Hey, Eli,” you call out gently. “You okay, honey?”
He sucks in a much-needed breath, eyes wide. “Um… miss you haveta come with me. Coach Steve says you need to!”
You tilt your head. “Coach Steve?”
He nods solemnly. “He said it’s a ‘mer-gency.’”
A ripple of whispers spreads through your fifth-grade classroom.
You blink, already pushing your chair back. “Did he say what kind of emergency?”
Eli shakes his head, serious as anything. “No. He just said we need to hurry.”
Your stomach gives a small, uneasy flip.
Eli isn’t the type to exaggerate. He’s sweet, careful. Reminds everyone when it’s time to line up after recess and always volunteers to erase the board without being asked. He's the sort of kid teachers trust without thinking twice.
If he’s the messenger, it’s because of something important.
“Alright, everyone,” you call to the class. “Keep reading quietly. I’ll be right back.”
A chorus of shuffling follows as you reach for your cardigan.
“Hurry, hurry,” Eli bounces on his heels, voice small but insistent.
Before you can answer, he reaches for your hand. His grip is tiny, warm, a little sticky—surprisingly strong. You find yourself getting dragged by his bouncy, determined steps, weaving past rows of lockers, dodging a cluster of kids heading to recess. He zigzags through the main hallway, past the water fountain, the art room, taking the shortcut through the library until you arrive at the wide, double doors leading into the gym.
The moment you push them open, chaos erupts.
Bright rubber dodgeballs zing through the air. Sneakers squeak across the glossy, lacquered floor. Laughter and triumphant shrieks ricochet off the walls, punctuated by the occasional, “Yes! Got you!” from victorious first graders.
Coach Steve's leaned casually against the far wall, clipboard tucked under one arm, whistle hanging loose around his neck. He’s sipping from a blue ceramic mug that reads World’s Best Teacher in chipped white lettering.
Only five months into the job, yet he’s already something of a legend here at Hawkins Elementary. The younger kids adore him—dodgeball days and ridiculous warm-up games where he pretends to be a shark, stalking the gym with dramatic dun-dun noises until they’re all shrieking with laughter. Older kids trust him in quieter ways, lingering after sex ed to ask questions they’re not brave enough to bring home.
Despite the nerves you remember from his first day, Steve has settled into teaching like it’s been waiting for him all along.
Right now, though, he’s fully in coach mode. Brow furrowed, stance wide, eyes tracking the game like it’s a championship match instead of a bunch of kids still learning how to throw straight.
“Out of bounds! That one doesn’t count.”
“Woah—no head shots, Jacob! C’mon, we talked about that.”
“You okay, Alex? I got you. Here, try it like this. Yeah, there ya go bud!”
Eli, who had been clutching your hand the entire walk across school, suddenly lets go and races toward his favorite teacher.
“Coach Steve! I did it! I got her!”
Steve looks up. Sees you.
And the grin that breaks across his face is so immediate, so fond, it'd be enough to give you both away if anyone was paying the tiniest bit of attention.
“Hey!” he laughs, stepping forward. “Nice work, buddy. Thanks for the help.”
You watch, eyes narrowed in confusion as he ruffles Eli’s curls and slaps a high five against his tiny palm.
Eli puffs up with pride and pivots to sprint back to the game.
“Whoa—hang on, pal.”
Steve drops to his knees, setting the clipboard aside as he reaches for the loose strap on Eli’s shoe. He fastens it with careful, practiced fingers, giving it a quick tug to make sure it’ll hold.
Your stomach melts a little at the sight of him crouched like that: focused, patient, so gentle with this kid who’s staring at him like he hung the moon.
“There we go, champ,” he grins, giving Eli's sneaker a little pat. “Good as new. Now go have fun, alright? Your team missed you.”
Eli nods hard, then rockets back into the game without another word.
Steve straightens and finally turns to you, eyes warm, smile soft—and just a touch guilty.
“Mr. Harrington,” you say, crossing your arms carefully, “what exactly is the emergency you pulled me out of class for?”
His mouth quirks sheepishly, hands slipping into his pockets.
“Well, I just…” He steps closer, dropping his voice. “Haven’t seen you all morning. I missed you.”
You blink.
“You—” A breathy laugh slips out before you can stop it. “You sent poor Eli to fetch me because you missed me?”
He nods like it’s the most logical thing in the world. “Yeah. He's my fastest kid.”
“No, that's not the...” you trail off, turning your head, failing completely to hide your smile.
Steve steps closer, angling the clipboard between you so that, to anyone looking in, it would look like you’re addressing some very concerning issues with the class roster.
Well, except for the part where his eyes are glued to your face.
There’s this soft intensity in his gaze that makes your breath hitch, just by holding it. You find yourself staring back, unable to look away, appreciating the faint creases around his temples, how they deepen with his smile, the plush curve of his bottom lip and the rounded apples of his cheeks as they get pushed upward.
“That’s better,” he murmurs, voice all deep and honey-warm. “Just needed to look at you for a second.”
You shake your head, cheeks warming despite yourself.
There’s a reason you’ve been keeping this thing with Steve a secret.
You both realized, pretty early on, that acting normal in a building full of nosy children and nosier adults was a losing battle. You had to learn to bend with it, catching tiny, fleeting moments in the spaces between, holding onto each one as tightly as you can.
It wasn’t perfect. Mrs. Kline, the school secretary, has definitely noticed the two of you laughing a little too freely by the copier. One of your students will occasionally squint at you during silent reading time, wondering why a tiny scrap of paper left on your table at lunch leaves you grinning for the rest of the day.
Still, you make it work.
A shared coffee in the teachers’ lounge before the morning bell. Standing side-by-side near the parking lot fence as the buses roll in. A granola bar tucked under your desk with a note folded impossibly small.
you look beautiful today ◡̈
He repeats the message to you now, even as you roll your eyes and try to look away.
“Seriously, I mean it," he murmurs, tracing your face with his eyes—the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheek—before lingering, unmistakably, on your mouth. “Want to kiss you so bad right now.”
You snort, nudging the sleeve of his sweatshirt with a finger. It’s soft, heather-gray, the Hawkins Elementary mascot faint and cracked across the chest.
“That’s deeply unprofessional of you, Mr. Harrington.”
He groans under his breath, brow creasing as he tips his head back. “God, I love it when you say it like that. Say it one more time?”
“Jesus—Steve!” you hiss, half-laughing, eyes darting toward the gym floor like the kids might suddenly develop super-hearing over the screech of sneakers and flying dodgeballs.
Instead of stepping back, he leans in closer, lips parted in that familiar half-pout, eyes full of mock agony. “Can’t help it, honey. You’re fucking killing me over here.”
“Language,” you warn him, simply out of pure habit.
He smirks, lips twitching.
From the far end of the gym, a group of kids cheer triumphantly, “Yes! Coach Steve! We won!”
You both jump back like you’ve been caught doing something much worse than grinning at each other like idiots.
“Uh—great! Great job, gang!” Steve calls, clapping his hands. “Let's get all the balls in the cart and then grab some water, yeah? Five-minute break.”
Then he leans back in, brows raised. “See? Total professional. I’m telling you.”
You shake your head. “You’re unbelievable.”
You’re still smiling when he pivots, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one’s paying attention. Satisfied, he turns back to you, brows drawn into a hopeful, pleading slant.
"C'mon," he murmurs, lifting the clipboard up like a partition. "I’ll get another game going. The kids won’t even notice. Just you... me...” He gestures between you, then toward the double doors leading outside. “Five minutes?”
You press your lips together, schooling your expression back into something stern. “Steve Harrington. I am not fucking you behind the school gym.”
"Language!" He gasps, mimicking your tone. “And jeez, who said anything about that? I was just gonna, you know, have a very professional conversation with you… about teaching.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh, c’mon, bab—"
“Coach Steve?”
Both of your heads snap down at the same time.
Eli stands there, chin tipped up, hands clasped neatly behind his back like he’s been waiting for his turn to speak. He’s rocking gently on his heels, eyes bright with curiosity as he looks between the two of you.
“Heyyy, buddy!” Steve laughs nervously, voice jumping up an octave. “What’s up? You okay?”
Eli nods.
Then, completely matter-of-fact, he asks:
“Coach Steve, when you marry her, can I come?”
Steve chokes on absolutely nothing.
“When—what?”
“When you get married,” Eli repeats patiently, like Steve’s just being a little slow today. “I wanna come.”
Steve squats down so fast he almost drops the clipboard.
“Eli,” he says carefully, “why do you think we’re getting married?”
Eli shrugs, unfazed. “’Cause you’re prac-tis married.”
“Practice… practice married?”
“Yeah. Like my Auntie Jen and her friend Mark at Thanksgiving.”
Steve blinks. “Okay, and what's... why do you think we’re practice married?”
Eli doesn’t hesitate. He points toward the front of the gym, in the general direction of your classroom. “’Cause you always wait for her outside her door.”
Steve opens his mouth. Closes it.
“And you bring her coffee. But you don’t bring us coffee.”
“Well,” Steve murmurs faintly, “that’s ‘cause you’re six.”
Eli shrugs again. “And you talk to her really soft. Like this,” he cups his hand around his mouth to demonstrate, whispering loudly. “Also, you always save her a chair at ass-em-blee.”
Steve rubs a hand down his face, glancing up at you before looking back at Eli. “That’s, uh… very observant of you, buddy.”
Eli isn’t done.
“And you make funny faces at her in the hallway. Oh! And you fixed her pencil sharpener. And, and, there was one time you looked at her, and you didn’t look away for one... two... three...” He glances down at his fingers and starts counting under his breath. “five... six... seven... eigh—”
“Okay!” Steve laughs loudly, holding up his hands. “Okay, buddy, I get it. That’s... that’s a long time.”
Eli nods, clearly pleased with himself. “Auntie Jen and Mark, they used to go everywhere together. And Mark fixed all the stuff around her house. Then later they got married for real.”
He looks between the two of you, satisfied.
“So. I think you’re practice married.”
You bite the inside of your cheek and crouch beside Steve. “Well... I think that’s a pretty solid theory, Eli.”
“Mm-hm, thanks,” he nods confidently. Then he spins back to Steve. “So, when you do the real one, can I come? I’m really good at sitting still. And my mom says when people get married they always eat cake. I love cake.” He spreads his arms wide. “Auntie Jen’s was this big!”
Steve presses his lips together, letting out a short, incredulous snort. “You know what, pal? Sure. Whe—if we get married, you’re more than welcome to come. And we’ll get the biggest cake we can find, okay?”
Eli beams. “Okay!”
He starts to run back to the group, then skids to a stop and turns around.
“Hey, Coach Steve?”
“Yeah?”
“You should ask her nicely,” Eli says, serious as anything. “With flowers. Mark did that.”
And then he’s gone.
Steve stays crouched, staring after him, jaw slack.
“…Did a six-year-old just give me relationship advice?”
“Mm, seems like it.”
He stands slowly, running a hand through his hair, eyes still following Eli as he rejoins the others.
“You think he spotted it before we did?” he asks quietly. “Back when... you know, we were still trying to figure out what we were doing?”
You smile. “Probably way before then.”
Steve's still distracted when you put your hand on his shoulder, quickly checking to see that no one’s watching before pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to his cheek.
He blinks, stunned. “Wha—no, wait, shit—”
He reaches for you a full second too late; you’re already headed for the door.
“Language. Have a good rest of your class, Mr. Harrington.”
Steve watches you go, hand frozen at his cheek.
Across the gym, Eli spots you and waves enthusiastically, completely unaware of just how accurate his little theory was.
The proof?
A small velvet box, tucked away in Steve’s bedside drawer, waiting patiently for the right moment.
. * ✦ . ˚ ✦ .
No, no sé de quién sea la culpa, pero yo siento que es suya. Es su culpa definitivamente que me haya enamorado de ella. Porque cuando pienso que ya la olvido y que no la sufro ni la guardo en mí corazón por momentos y también en mí cabeza como destellos, vuelvo a verla y cobra vida en cada parte de mí cuerpo, inmediatamente me genera todo lo que llegue a sentir como desde el primer momento que la vi, por más que me resista, es como verla por primera vez y sentir exactamente lo mismo pero cada vez más fuerte.
Para que negarlo si a veces siento que soy suyo, todo completo, nada de un poco ni por partes, todo completo de ella. No lo dudo un segundo porque nunca me sentí así por nadie. Con solo hablarme, un simple hola o escucharla pronunciar mí nombre basta para ponerme a temblar como un adolescente y sobra para querer tenerla cerca toda la vida de la mano sola para mí.
Cómo se lo hago entender y decírselo sin asustarla. Quisiera plantarme en frente y anunciarle, para ella sería toda una sorpresa cuando para mí no es ni novedad, que la amo y creo que siempre lo hice incluso antes de conocerla y poder detallar su rostro o conocer su voz y sus ojos. Siempre soñé con alguien como ella y me enamoraba de detalles de las personas que tienen su rastros, sus fragmentos, así que vivía enamorado de partes que la componían hasta conocerla y entender porque me gustaba todo eso. Porque se le parecían, a ella.
A veces pienso como hubiese sido mí vida sin saber de su existencia, seguro sería miserable y no lo sabía, pero ahora lo sé, y no pienso ni quiero dejarla ir. Jamás podría cansarme, incluso la encuentro bella en su supuesta imperfección a su parecer, según yo cada parte buena y mala de ella la hacen preciosa en algún punto porque siempre logra sorprenderme cuando creo que ya la tengo estudiada de principio a fin y de pies a cabeza. Siempre me hace ver qué estoy equivocado y que tengo más que aprender, más partes que ver, y muchas más que amar sobre como es. Y me deja sin palabras la mayor parte del tiempo porque me calla a besos y los recuerdo como si fuese ayer, como si me quemase la piel haciéndome ver qué es inolvidable, intachable en mí.
Si ya la llevo en el alma más que simplemente en el corazón y ya es tarde querer buscarla en otras si nadie se le parece y yo ya que estoy coladisímo/colapsado por ella como perdido o tarado.
No quiero parecerle intenso ni que se canse de mí o que no le interese como ella a mí, ni mucho menos parecerle aburrido o hablar de más y arruinarlo todo. Así que simplemente me quedo callado y la miro, la miro pasar, verla mirandome y pensar si también me deseara. Cómo si fuese prohibido hacerle ver lo que me pasa cuando la tengo enfrente o a unos estúpidos pasos, como lejana pero tan metida adentro mío a la vez.
Todos estos pensamientos me invadían mientras estaba sentado en el sillón de la sala y Lina cerca en el comedor. No quería distraerla de sus estudios pero no podía no mirarla y quedar bobo por lucía tan concentrada y bonita sumida en esa hoja, que debía decir para que la mirada así de confundida pero tan bonita.
--No me entra en la cabeza, odio esto--dijo al aire frustrada y enojada al mismo tiempo. Solté una risita e inmediatamente me miró, uy.
--¿Qué te parece gracioso?-- me dijo con cara de indignación.
--No nada, verte confundida, no se, no te enojes, me pareces tierna--dije así torpemente para apaciguarla.
--¿Tierna estando así enojada? que tonto que sos Felipe, no hay nada de ternura en eso.
--Es que me lo pareces, vos no lo ves y si soy tonto es por tu culpa-- le dije mirandola desde mí celular.
No me respondió, me miró mal y siguió leyendo. La dejé porque sino se iba a enojar de verdad conmigo. Así que hice lo mejor que podría haber hecho en esta situación y me metí en el cuarto para dejarla sola y tranquila para que pudiera estudiar.
Me dedique a prender la computadora para poder editar unas fotos que había sacado hacía unas semanas en una escapada a las sierras con los chicos. Pase las fotos y les dedique mí mejor perspectiva para mostrar lo que había visto de potencial desde el momento que puse el ojo en la cámara para mortalizar lo que ahora son las fotos que tengo enfrente. Pare de pasarlas porque una llamo mí atención y no pude no sonreír, está foto, a diferente de las demás, no la había sacado yo, por eso era más especial. Estaba yo en la foto, dormido de espalda porque estaba durmiendo boca abajo abrazando a Lina que apenas se veía en la foto, parecía que la había agarrado de rehén y no la quería soltar por como la rodeaba, solo aparecían su boca con una pequeña sonrisa y yo de costado pegado a su cara durmiendo. Esa foto definitivamente iba a estar encuadrada en la sala.
Recuerdo que ese día volví re cansado de un viaje y apenas llegue de suerte me bañe pero porque fui obligado, porque lo hice tan rápido que apenas salí fui a decirle:
--Vení a la cama-- recordé como le dije tirando del elástico de su pantalón para traerla.
--No comiste nada.
--¿Y? no me importa eso ahora, no me hables de boludeces, como mañana. Estuve dos semanas afuera, me muero por dormir cerca tuyo, te remplazo una almohada todos estos días y no te hace justicia ni ahí... Dalee-- dije suplicándole con un puchero metiéndole las manos por debajo del pantalón para acariciarle la cadera y pegarla a mí.
Más tarde me había hecho caso y apenas toco la cama me le tiré encima y me quedé dormido apenas la toque, estaba por mostrarle las fotos del viaje pero no me aguante y caí rendido encima de ella. Y de ahí la foto.
La edite y la imprimí en papel de foto en un tamaño que valiera la pena ver y la puse en un cuadro. La lleve al mueble donde dejamos algunas fotos y las llaves cuando llegamos a casa. La mire satisfecho y contento, nos veíamos perfectos así entre las colchas blancas.
Ver esa foto me hizo recordar como la había conocido, fui incapaz de no permitirle a ese recuerdo repetirse en mí mente.
Ese día llegué a tiempo al colectivo que me llevaría a mí destino en Barcelona. Casi todos los asientos estaban ocupados, en los de adelante había un señor bastante grande y no quería estar incómodo hasta la mañana y arrepentirme de mi decisión de compañero de asiento. Así que continué caminando y vi un asiento vacío dos asientos más atrás, cuando llegue había una chica joven como yo con auriculares, un libro sobre las piernas y miraba a la ventana distraída, yo la observe y era hermosa, pero no dije nada por supuesto. Notó mí presencia y la miré con duda y asintió con una amable sonrisa en los labios. Me senté ante su respuesta secreta y me acomode dejando mí bolso arriba y bajando mis auriculares y mí teléfono.
No sabía si saludar o que hacer, estaba nervioso y ni la conocía, que ridículo me dije a mí mismo.
--Felipe-- solté extendiéndole la mano-- ¿el tuyo?.
Me miró sacándose un auricular
-- ¿Felipe dijiste?-- su voz iba con ella y me encantó. Asentí con la cabeza.
--Un gusto, Lina.
--Es bueno que sepas mí nombre si vamos a ser compañeros de asiento hasta mañana.
Me invadieron más los recuerdos era imposible no acordarme cuando se quedo dormida y cayó sobre mí hombro lentamente, yo me quede bien quieto sin saber que hacer pero ahí la dejé, me relaje al rato de saber que estaba dormida profundamente y que ignoraba nuestra cercanía.
Su libro reposaba entre sus piernas y lo tome en mis manos para ver de qué trataba, leí la contratapa, parecía interesante así que leí un poco. Sentí que la invadia así que ignore las reflexiones que anotaba en los bordes de las páginas pero al mismo tiempo me era imposible ignorar el amor que le dedicaba a este libro, como susbrayaba y respetaba los colores, lo que elegía tocar con color llamaba especialmente mí atención:
"Un amor que te lleve en alma ya que el corazón algún día dejará de latir" susbrayó. Cerré el libro cuando la sentí moverse en mí hombro. Se estiró confusa y me miró.
--Pense que si te dejaba dormir en mí hombro no te molestaría que leyera un poco de tu libro-- la mire honesto y me sonrió media dormida.
--Léelo todo si no te molesta que te use un poco de almohada--bromeó.
--Para nada, a tu disposición, eso hacen los compañeros de asiento, te toco uno simpático después de todo.
Se rió y se acurrucó en mí cuello y hombro-- ¿Estás cómodo?-- me preguntó.
--Sí...--dije algo quieto porque sentía su respiración sobre mí piel y me pareció en cierto modo graciosa la situación de que fuésemos desconocidos y estuvieramos así, y tierno al mismo tiempo.
Un movimiento inquietante sacudió en el colectivo ese día y me desperté instantáneamente sin darme cuanta cuando me quedé dormido sobre su cabeza y ella acurrucada como si nos conoceremos de toda la vida, mire la forma en que estábamos y vi que la estaba abrazando, ¿en qué momento?, quiete el brazo y nuevamente el colectivo doblo sacudiendonos un poco y se apretó más a mí brazo y la sentí respirar en mí piel. Bueno esto me estaba haciendo sentir cosas, pero no sabía que exactamente, al menos no entonces. Porque después de ese momento, semanas más tarde me habría enamorado luego de pedirle el número con la excusa de que no conocía a nadie en Barcelona y salir a dar paseos, sacar fotos, merendar y conocernos. Un año después de eso le pedí ser su novio y lo soy hasta el día de hoy.
lina:
No podía concentrarme estudiando, ya de tanto leer desde la mañana no me entraba más un concepto en la cabeza, rendía en dos días, volver a la realidad de la universidad luego de tantos meses de viaje era algo que pegaba fuerte. Y me invadieron los recuerdos de aquellos días y mis pensamientos para aquel entonces:
Que podía decir de mi para que entiendan mí parecer ante semejante hombre a mis ojos, nunca me sentí deseada o mirada con otros ojos, en mí mente solo corría el pensamiento de ser deseada alguna vez desde que tuve edad para darme cuenta de lo que el amor significaba, el desear a otra persona y quererla cerca constantemente anhelando que se deseara lo mismo de mí.
Por eso estaba desconcertada cuando Felipe me invitó a cenar a un lugar elegante, y como usualmente, lo vi con la cámara en el hombro cuando lo encontré dónde quedamos. Desconcertada porque no era un plan que hacíamos, era más real y ahora entiendo porque, porque esa noche me pidió ser su novia y le dije que no.
--¿No?, ¿porque no?... ¿No te gusto, es eso?.
--No no es eso Pipe, si me encantas.
--¿Y entonces, que puede ser? si nos gustamos.
-- Es que no te creo.
--Dale, ¿no te vas a dar cuenta?, si te quiero ver todos los días, te escribo para contarte boludeces o para invitarte a algún lado y mis últimas fotos son sobre vos, y por supuesto, -- recurrió a la ironía-- me vestí elegante y vine a un lugar al que no vengo ni en ocasiones especiales solamente para pasar el rato porque tenía ganas de ser tu amigo. No me jodas Lina, date cuenta como te miro.
Y recordé por lo inquieto que estaba diciéndome esto cuando lo conocí, lo dulce que me pareció cuando me quedé dormida sobre él y sentir su respiración erizandome la piel del cuello, sintiendo también lo inquieto pero extrañamente cómodo que estaba ante mí gesto en ese momento en que pensaba que me encontraba dormida. Lo cierto es que me pareció lindo cuando lo vi caminando distraído por el pasillo buscando un asiento libre, rogando que viera el asiento libre el asiento a mí lado.
Sentí aquella sensación que me trajo el recuerdo como una señal, el darme cuenta que él también se sintió igual por mí desde el primer momento y ver que no mentía al pedirme ser su novia.
Mirándolo bien a los ojos, vi el deseo por mí respuesta.
-- ¿En que pensas?-- me trajo de nuevo a la realidad.
-- En que ahora tengo novio-- le dije mirándolo con picardía y una sonrisa.
--No lo puedo creer, que difícil que sos eh, pero no me importa, lo mejor hace que te esfuerces.
Y hace casi un año de eso que seguimos siendo novios. Nos volvimos a Argentina y conocí a sus amigos y él a los míos, nos hicimos más íntimos, nos enamoramos más todavía como cada día y seguimos viajando y perdiendonos algunos días por ahí como el día que nos conocimos y el resto de ellos.
Sentí que era real porque sabía que su corazón latía igual que el mío, que me miraba con sus ojos que delataban que su alma existía así como la mía y fue tan místico.
Acaricié sus labios sin razón alguna con la excusa de que tenía restos del helado en ellos, pero no era cierto, necesitaba sentir sus labios aunque fuera solo una caricia con los dedos. El no dejo de mirarme cuando lo acariciaba con mis dedos como si tuviese una mancha pero era una necesidad, eran suaves, cálidos y quería darle mis besos. Note que el también lo deseaba por como me miraba pero aún así ninguno dijo nada. En el ambiente flotaba la tensión entre nosotros y crecía cada vez más cuando el semáforo se anunciaba en amarillo entre él y yo, cada vez más cerca parecía imposible separar los ojos del otro hasta que unas leves bocinas nos avisaban del verde del semáforo sacándonos de aquella fantasía. Ambos nos necesitabamos pero las palabras parecían sobrar.
Luego ninguno volvió a mencionar el tema o a acercarse más de la cuenta, tenía la sensación de que si alguno se lo hacía aunque fuese una leve caricia, ninguno iba a poder parar. Todo se sentía correcto, y aunque parecíamos extraños me sentía total, profunda y sumidamente cálida a su alrededor como si nos amasemos desde siempre pero el deseo y la necesidad por el otro era como de unos prematuros enamorados.
No fue hasta la noche que luego de una siesta a su lado y una charla confortante dónde él amor flotaba en nuestras miradas, yo sentía que lo amaba desde lo más interno de mí ser y me hacía sentir amada; que fue que al llegar la noche sentí la necesidad vibrante en todo mí cuerpo por su cercanía. Fue entonces que camine hacia él con los ojos bien fijos hacia los suyos que le dije te amo y así paso a paso llegue hasta su lugar y lo mire como si fuese todo un acontecimiento y con un leve impulso le rodee los hombros con mis brazos y le di un abrazo. Al instante sentí su corazón tan emocionado como seguro estaba el mío. Me alzó entre sus brazos rodeandome la cintura y la espalda y yo no pude resistirme a profundizar aquel abrazo que tanto necesitaba, rodeandole a él con las piernas. Me sentí tan acogida como quien duerme en una grande, suave y cálida manta cuando más tiene frío. Parecía ser mutuo cuando hundió su cabeza en el hueco de mí hombro y cuello, podía sentir su respiración ponerme la piel de gallina pero no me incomodaba, mientras que yo le depositaba suaves besos desde su mejilla hasta su cuello, no podía parar porque incluso cuando me obligue a hacerlo él me miró suplicante por más, y así fue. Lo llené de besos resistiendome a su boca como si fuese prohibido.
Me miraba con hambre, y sediento por más caricias y más besos, "quiero que me acaricies de nuevo los labios, pero esta vez con los tuyos" me dijo al oído.
El suprimiá toda mí soledad y me hacía suya solo con besos, caricias y súplicas, no se cómo lograba hacerme sentir así pero era magnético e hipnotizante, con él me dejaba llevar, y quería darle mí amor como él hace conmigo.
Hacer el amor no está solo en lo físico, va más allá de eso cuando el amor está vivo entre dos personas. Juntos hacíamos el amor casi todo el tiempo, con la mirada, solo con besos, abrazos, cuando dormíamos tan juntos, cuando íbamos de la mano, cuando a mitad de un beso sentía su sonrisa, cada vez que lo miraba y sentía su amor, cuando lo encontraba mirándome y se le escapaba la sonrisa más dulce que había visto o cuando acariciaba mí pelo y me tranquilizaba.
"Te amo" me dijo casi en un suspiro por la falta de aire que nos quitaban los besos. Seguía en sus brazos, no se cómo con tanto lío que hicimos logro llevarnos al cuarto, claramente luego de chocar con algunas paredes y presionarme entre ellas y él frenando a intensificar los besos. Abrió la puerta y caímos en la cama, yo estaba encima suyo y él no dejaba de presionar mis caderas hacia su cuerpo, no me dejaba mí conciencia tranquila y se me dificultaba pensar claramente, pero también me sentía como igual. Bajo a mí cuello, mientras que comencé a intentar desabrocharle el cinturón y fue entonces que me dio un leve mordisco como respuesta. Le ayude a quitarse el suéter y el a mí con mí remera, ambos quedándonos respirando agitadamente mientras a centímetros nos mirábamos con deseo. Un beso desesperado surgió como si los miles anteriores no fuesen suficientes, fueron muchos besos cortos y otros no tanto pero termino de quitarse su ropa quedando solo en su ropa interior y lo mismo hizo conmigo, en ningún momento me opuse a eso.
Al ser invierno la calefacción encendida hacia que todo fuese más cálido y a la vez nos encendiera las mejillas y enrojeciendo mí nariz. Fue entonces que sucedió que toda esa previa le dio diversión a este momento esperado que no sabíamos que llegaría, el amor se cello de una manera que nunca me había pasado con nadie más, y todo parecía encajar correctamente como piezas hechas a la medida, yo tan delgada y él tan acoplado a mí alrededor haciéndome sentir cómoda. Bajo desde mis clavículas, hasta mis pechos y desde ahí en la línea de mí abdomen hasta la cadera donde concluyó su rastro de besos para darme otra atención haciéndome sentir que tocaba el cielo.
Dos horas más tarde ya nos encontrábamos cubiertos por las mantas olvidándonos del mundo y presentes en nuestro ahora, felices y satisfechos. El cansancio nos invadió y caímos en un profundo sueño mientras yo le acariciaba el pelo, su respiración comenzó a sonar calmada resonando sobre mí mejilla y así fue que cerré los ojos y me dormí sobre él, abrazados.
Nueve horas más tarde mí sed me despertó, el me rodeaba con los brazos, una sonrisa se me escapó al recordar todo. Me escabullí entre sus brazos para no despertarlo y me reemplace con una almohada la cual apretaba fuerte, pobre de mí si fuese esa almohada. Me puse una remera, tome agua y fui a ducharme con agua caliente por el frío. Tenía el pelo hecho un desastre de la noche anterior, me tomé mí tiempo porque sabía que aún era temprano y el baño era solo para mí.
Hoy quería dedicarme un día completo lleno de productividad, aunque cuando estamos juntos sentia la necesidad tirante de tenerlo cerca, necesitaba comportarme y darme tiempo para mí misma, después de todo es sano.
No hay nada mejor que salir de la ducha toda limpita, fresca como una fruta y con un enloquecedor y dulce aroma de pies a cabeza. Me puse mí bata, me peine y arme mis rulos dejándolos caer en las puntas y luego de cepillarme bien los dientes realice mi skincare finalizando con el gua Sha y un agua de rosas sobre mí piel.
Me vestí y fui a desayunar con un café que me devolvió a la vida. Mientras veía mí serie y preparaba las tostadas un dormilon caminaba hacia mí espalda. Apoyo sus brazos a mis lados en la mesada acorralándome, hundiendo su cabeza en mí cuello inspiro "Me vuelve loco tu aroma, sos riquísima" malvado sabe lo que hace porque me pone nerviosa, no iba a dejarlo jugar así nomás. Me pegue a él, di la vuelta y quedamos frente a frente, lo mire por un segundo y con un suspiro me acerque a su oído, "¿que tan rica?" le dije mientras con una mano le acariciaba lentamente su nuca.
Su mirada parecía oscurecerse por como me miraba cuando me separé "Demasiado rica" me dijo acercándose más a mí y susurro "justo como a mí me gusta". Sentía que iba a rendirme en cualquier momento porque es tan hermoso que me debilita las piernas pero aún así le corte cuando quiso acercarse para besarme y se lo impedí poniendo mis dedos sobre su boca "Ah no, así no" le dije y se mostró más confundido al rechazarle su beso. "¿Ahora no vas a dejarme besarte después de lo que hicimos anoche? Te bese más de una vez... Y te recuerdo que no solo en la boca" Me dijo con una sonrisa pícara pegándome a él, negué con la cabeza decidida, quería probar mí autocontrol y a la vez saber cuánto aguantaría él, admito que me divertía saber. Vi pintado en su cara el deseo reprimido cuando bese mis dedos y luego con ellos toque su boca "quiero ver cuanto podes resistirte a mi" y sonreí triunfante, sin embargo él no parecía tan divertido.
Desayunamos callados viendo una serie, note que me miraba cada tanto de reojo, quise tentarlo un poco aprovechándo nuestra cercanía poniendo una pierna entre las suyas, le acaricie con el pie su pierna, lo mire, parecía incómodo como aguantandose y yo me divertía más. Se aclaró la garganta y se alejo un poco quitando mí pierna... "¿No te gustan mis caricias?" Silencio. "N-no...no es eso" me dijo. Jugando más con él me acerque lentamente mientras el se quedaba expectante y quieto ante mí, me subí arriba suyo sentándome en él, una pierna de cada lado y lo mire "¿y que es?" Respiraba pesadamente mientras le acariciaba con un dedo la mandíbula.
"Es el desearte tanto a cada rato y no saber si puedo parar" me dijo.
romaincrisis
stormborns
gummygunk
turnnoffyourmind
titsay
ellievsbear
andulkaphoto
