Summary: It’s just sex, right? There’s no room for messy, unrequited feelings, or spiralling negative thoughts. Right??
WC: ~1k
POV: Eddie
C/W: 18+ NSFW MDNI! Mentions of sex and drug use, feelings denial, longing, hurt/no comfort (in this one), open ending
A/N: You know I hate to hurt my blorbos, so there will be resolution, I promise
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
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Eddie’s known for a long time that he has to safeguard his emotions. The rockstar lifestyle doesn’t exactly lend itself to the formulation and nurturing of healthy, well-balanced relationships. Which is what he tells himself every time you visit, whenever he’s in town in his serviced apartment for long enough to make the call.
He’d never tell you that he looks forward to your visits more and more each time. That he longs for the end of every tour sooner and sooner now, because of you.
He’d never tell you that thinking of you is what keeps him going on the long nights away. That his mind substitutes the visages of nameless groupies for yours. That he replaces the bitterness of the cocaine rubbed into his gums with the taste of you on his tongue.
He’d never tell you that the last ballad he wrote was all about you.
He’d never admit that there's a pair of your ruined panties balled up in the bottom of his dresser. The ones he tore from you that time you hadn't seen each other in months.
He’d never admit that in the same drawer is the shirt of his that you threw on that time his takeout arrived earlier than expected. When he’d oh so casually asked whether you’d want to join him (in fact, he’d been terrified). It still holds the faintest scent of your perfume, and yeah, perhaps a little post-coital perspiration, from where you’d kept it on as you ate, and he delights in it. He replays on a loop the giggles, gasps and ridiculous stories that erupted from both of you as you’d unexpectedly shared that meal; actions so simple and wholesome and not very rockstar, but for which he yearns for more.
He’d never admit that sometimes at night he retrieves these stolen treasures, inhaling your aroma as he recalls the beautiful noises you make when he caresses your tits, squeezes your hips, slides into you. When he uses that secret move and tilts his pelvis just so, connecting him with the electric core of you. And he'd never admit that sometimes, as he curls up in bed, he just... holds them.
So what if he wants you to stay? Longs for you to spend an entire weekend with him, kissing and fucking and talking, and then fucking some more. Shutting out the world and everyone in it, creating a haven for you two, alone.
So what if you’re easily the most stunning creature he’s ever had in his bed, or anywhere else? That your perfect, tender breasts feel so good in his hands, in his mouth, pressed against his chest. That you have the most gloriously delicious pussy that he’s ever had the privilege of being anywhere near. Or that yours is the most radiant smile he’s ever fucking seen. Or that your sense of humour fills his heart with joy, and generates a warmth within him that he thought he'd forgotten.
And so what if it’s those innocent, ordinary things that make him smile the most…
It doesn’t matter that you have a life that stretches way beyond him. A job, friends, probably a partner, maybe partners plural, who are perfect in every other way but can't quite satisfy you physically like he can. That you have an entire existence that’s rich and full, one that doesn’t involve him.
It doesn’t matter that you just want an occasional, albeit mind blowing, fuck from a semi-famous rockstar whenever he happens to be in town. That the best and most important thing he has to offer you is his dick...
It doesn’t matter that, for the first time in his life, he wants more. That he wants to be around you, to spend time with you, just… being. He wants to watch silly movies, play stupid games, talk about nothing and everything, and not talk at all.
It doesn’t mean anything when, as you're about to fall apart, he looks into your eyes and sees swirling galaxies, and his own soul reflected back at him.
It doesn’t mean anything that the feeling of you sharing his breaths and his moans as you wrap around his cock and suck him in is, for years, the closest thing he’s felt to anything resembling… home.
It doesn’t mean anything that with you, straight, sober and devoid of any frills and trappings, he has the most intense and intimate sex he’s ever had. That he’s never come so ferociously with anyone else. That he’s never before looked forward to the aftercare as much as the fucking. Sometimes even more so.
It doesn’t mean anything…
Who cares if the time you leave keeps getting later and later? You’re probably just avoiding going back to your ordinary life, and prolonging the exotic nature of your forays with him, storing the memories of ‘rockstar sex’ away in your mind to mull over when he’s out of town, or to compare against your other lays. You're probably busy with your normal, everyday life. Because there's no way in hell that you’ll be thinking about him.
Who cares if you're becoming dramatically languid about getting dressed, and you keep crawling back over to him for one last peck? Okay, just one more. No really, this is definitely the last one…
Who cares if each time you’re about to leave you pause, glancing over your shoulder, giving him a small smile and what he’s deluded himself into imagining is a fond look? So what if it sometimes, almost, maybe, possibly looks like you might be waiting, perhaps even hoping, for him to say something. And who cares if he doesn't?
Maybe one day he’ll ask you about your life, what you do. What else you enjoy other than the feeling of various parts of him against or inside various parts of you.
Maybe one day he’ll muster enough courage to tell you how he feels.
Maybe one day he’ll ask you to stay longer. Maybe see if you want to go out, somewhere nice. Maybe even somewhere public.
Maybe today, as you’re about to leave, he’ll sit up, reach for you, grasp at the cooling air where there’s already an unbearable chasm between you, and bravely whisper,
Wait...
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Thanks so much for reading! There’s going to be more parts, posted over the course of this week, because I can’t leave it like this - let me know if you’d like to see them! My general taglist is opennnn…
ok, this time I'm warning you ahead of time that I will be stopping time and changing the laws of physics to give you an instant, pleasure filled, handjob blowjob combo. Don't overcorrect, just enjoy.
Here's Part 2 of my 3-Part Memorial Day Jamzuli art!😃 Jamie and Lapis are having a cook-out! Lapis really loves Jamie's cooking! Hope you Jamzuli-ers love it!❤️ (By the way, MEMORIAL DAY IS TOMORROW!!😃😃🎉)
