power play - eddie/volt/reader
⋆syn: Eddie only has one rule: no fucking in the bar. And of course, he finds you and Volt breaking it. He can't have that.
⋆wc: 3.3k
⋆cw: m/m/afab threesome, light dom/sub undertones, erotic electrostimulation, mentions of alcohol consumption, blowjobs, finger fucking.
⋆notes: reader insert uses g/n pronouns and is not described with feminine attributes. AFAB genitalia, mention of breasts, terms used include hole, entrance, cunt and clit. no spoilers for any of the routes, I suppose, but it is a more established relationship. the first 65% of this is volt/reader, with eddie/volt/reader in the later half. e/v masterlist.
⋆snippet:
“What. The fuck. Are you doing?” Eddie’s voice is harsh, methodical, but level. He usually only sounds like this when he’s kicking out Kristof for starting a fight, or when he notices you doing something even mildly off-kilter when fixing up the club. It’s a dangerous tone.
Neither of you speak immediately. You can't even bring yourself to meet Volt’s eyes; you’re focused solely on Eddie, and how still, how charged he is.
“Are either of you going to fucking say anything?” His grip tightens on Volt’s hair, and Volt nearly stumbles back.
power play
“Does he have to perform every night, though?”
You’re wiping down the bar, Volt expertly throwing a shaker around before grabbing two glasses for the concoction he’s crafting. The liquid fills the tumblers, and he starts to pluck out some cherries from a bowl.
“We have an open-mic policy, darling,” Volt says as he pushes a glass in your direction. Nevermind that it pulls a few drops of spilled whiskey over where you’d just run your rag over.
You sigh, eyeing Volt with annoyance, but he ignores you in favor of having a long sip from his glass. “But it’s almost like you need a sign for him,” you say as you round the bar to sit. You punctuate your words with a wave of the hand, like you’re envisioning a marquee. “Johnny Splash: The Breaker Box Residency.”
Volt downs the whiskey sour, and you can’t help but catch a glance at how his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “After that disaster of his American Maestro audition,” he says, popping another cherry in his mouth, “I think he ought to still have somewhere he can feel comfortable performing, don’t you think?”
You nod, stealing a taste of your drink. “I just hope he’s not taking space from anyone else wanting to perform, is all.”
“Aww, spark,” Volt hums, shrugging off his overcoat and pushing his sleeves up like Eddie does for work. “What a darling thing you are.” He props his arms up against the bar, leaning towards you, mischief crackling in his white eyes.
You shrug as you swallow the cherry from your drink. “Don’t worry, I’m not going soft on you two.”
“I perish the thought.” He grins like a cat who’s finally cornered the canary. “I adore when you crackle around the edges like we do.”
You bite back a grin, and reach out to the bowl of cherries for another, when your hand is smacked away.
“Hey! I was -”
“I know, darling,” he breathes, impatience on his lips. You watch his long, silver fingers procure a cherry, and red juice drips down his thumb. “Allow me.”
His lightning brows quirk expectantly, and you fight back an eye roll as you open your mouth, protrude your tongue only a hint. When he places the cherry on your tongue, your lips wrap around his fingers, tingling your mouth. Daring a glance at his eyes, you run the tip of your tongue over his thumb, ensuring no juice is wasted, before pulling away with a lick of your lips.
The ends of Volt’s hair buzz and spark, and his eyes glisten.
(You’ve noticed, between your partners, their similarities and differences - where Eddie’s steel eyes will darken with want, Volt’s dial up their shine, like a lamp when you remove its shade. It’s noticeable enough even to an untrained, unknowing eye.)
“Enjoy that, live wire?” He rubs the pads of his thumb and finger together, making the smallest of sparks.
You say nothing, just take another sip without breaking his gaze.
“Hm,” he muses, standing upright again. “Shall I make you another cocktail?”
You blink in confusion, glancing down at the half-finished tumbler. “I haven’t finished yet.”
“No matter.”
His voice tells it is most certainly some sort of matter. “Volt -”
He turns, rummaging at a few bottles before deciding on a few, putting them to the side. When you finally catch a glimpse of his profile behind his shock of hair, his smile is saccharine.
“Yes, here we go,” he mutters to himself as bottles of simple syrup, bourbon, and lemon juice appear in front of you. No shakers, no strainers, just a grin that sends a shiver down your spine.
You gulp. You know that grin. You say again, a little harsher, “Volt -”
“Now now, live wire, no need for that. I’m just going to make you a cocktail, hm?” Volt cocks his head like he’s explaining a trick to a dog, trying as he might to play innocent.
“Yes but what do -”
Your voice stops with a gasp as, quick as lightning, Volt’s fingers find your jaw and press down on your cheeks to force your mouth open. The pressure is harsh, almost bordering on painful, and Volt’s palm rests fittingly under your chin. You find, almost instantly, your breath comes easier through your nose, and it’s unsteady when it comes out.
His hair is alive, bursts of light sparking close to your skin, and his eyes are wild. “Fear not, spark.” You see him reach for a bottle, his eyes not leaving your face. “I’m just making a cocktail.”
The tip of a bottle is cool on your lips, and sweetness flows into your mouth - but not too much, no no, just enough to cover your tongue.
“Very good, darling.” Volt coos, placing the bottle back on the bar and deftly grabbing the next. This one’s bourbon, you think, and the unmistakable scent wafts to your nostrils. It mixes with the syrup on your tongue, and this time, a few drops escape from the corners of your lips. You feel them, slowly, casually, journey down your chin, your neck, down the center of your chest and between your breasts, leaving a cool streak in their wake.
Volt chuckles approvingly as he allows a few drops of lemon juice to enter your mouth, resulting in even more spillover, and you moan, pleadingly, as your jaw starts to ache.
“Impatient, are we?” He licks his lips, leans forward across the bar so there’s only a hair of space between your lips and his. “You, live wire, look delectable.”
He cuts off your moan with his tongue, intruding on your rigidly held mouth, swiping long, hungry licks over the roof of your mouth, your tongue, lapping at the mixture of liquids he poured like a man parched. You whine, you moan, you plead with the only small sounds you can make. The taste is overwhelming, the liquid dribbles out of you rapidly now, and the combination of the droplets’ wet streaks and nearby electricity elicit goosebumps along your skin.
Volt’s fingers relax as he pulls away, releasing your jaw from his grip but keeping his hand on you (always on you). He sucks at your bottom lip, and you finally have enough control to swallow the remnants of the drink Volt missed. You whine again, still physically prevented from forming words.
He stops, and you swear you can hear the buzz of his charged eyes when they meet yours, white hot with lust. His thumb pets your chin, the tips of your noses kissing. “Did you want something, darling?”
Fuck this man.
Fuck this man.
Hm. That sounds like a good idea, actually.
You lunge forward, your whiskey-laced lips starving for Volt’s, and you grab at his vest with white-knuckled fists. He lets out a growl, a sound of pure want, and you feel his arms snake around you, encircle your waist, and you’re being hoisted forwards across the bar. The stool you sat in clatters to the ground, and you allow Volt to settle your ass on the bar, you lips never separating more than a breath.
Volt’s large hands singe at your waist, a delicious burn as he grips you tightly. You loosen your grip on his vest and wrap your arms around his neck at the same moment your legs lock around his hips, pressing his warm body to you. He rocks his hips between your thighs, and you gasp at how hard he already is, straining against his slacks.
“Fuck, Volt,” you sigh when his tongue journeys down your chin, your neck, licking up the trail of his “cocktail.” Your nails claw at the back of his neck, needing purchase wherever possible. He sucks at a spot at the base of your neck, and a shock surges from your spine straight to your clit. “Oh, oh, fuck…”
His voice reverberates in your neck when he hums in satisfaction. “Live wire,” he says, strained with lust, “I have to have you. Now.” As he says it, his hands deftly find the button of your pants and tug, and they’re gone in a lightning flash, your bare skin hitting the cold wood.
Yes, yes of course, who were you to say no to such need? You need him, needed this, right now, right here on the -
Bar.
Oh no.
You two were breaking Eddie’s one rule.
Your eyes fly open, and you try, feebly, to push Volt away. “Volt. Volt, the bar, Eddie -”
“Fuck Eddie.”
You groan, and you both love and hate that his voice makes you wetter. “He says no sex at the bar -”
“Last time I checked,” Volt’s hands palm the flesh of your thighs around his waist, sparks igniting at every inch they move, “this is our bar. And you, little spark, are ours as well. So, why shouldn’t I enjoy my share, hm?”
You weren’t going to win, you knew that, you rarely ever did with Volt, and the rational part of your brain had clocked out when you locked up after Johnny left. Because yeah, the boys were yours, and they always said the bar was just as much yours now too, so…
You’d just have to be extra attentive when you cleaned up, was all.
You swallow, trying to find whatever liquid courage might remain in your mouth, and start to grab at Volt’s belt. “Fuck it.”
Volt’s grin is tiger-like as he helps you free himself, and you unconsciously lick your lips at the sight of his cock, long and curved with the faintest tinge of blue. Amps sake, how lucky were you that both of your boyfriends had such pretty, pretty cocks?
You trail your fingers along his length, watching as a droplet of pre forms at the tip. Volt hisses, and he grabs your wrist suddenly, and you look up at his white eyes, scared you’ve done something wrong.
But no anger or hurt is evident on his face, just that familiar mischief. He pulls your wrist and hand close to your face, and looks expectantly at your open palm. “Spit.”
Your hole clenches at the word, and you fight back a whimper. You gather the spit in your mouth, letting the glob drop onto your hand.
“Again.”
You don’t think twice.
Satisfied, Volt leads your hand back to his cock, and you wrap your grip around him, glazing your spit over the hot skin, coating him as best you’re able as he maneuvers your wrist. He makes a hum of content after a moment, and you rest your hand on your waist when he releases you.
There’s hardly anymore preamble before the head of his cock is pressing at your entrance, but you know Volt, and you know -
Your jaw falls open in a silent cry as Volt enters you, white hot and slick and everything you need. He gives you a moment, just a moment, to relax into the fullness, before his hips snap, and he thrusts.
So. Fucking. Lucky.
Strings of moans, strings of “yes, yes, yes, fuck yes” fall from your lips each time Volt bottoms out, and you bury your face into his shoulder, the burning heat of his skin and the cool wood a beautiful contrast.
You can hear the sparks of Volt’s hair, feel the puffs of his breath, and you hang on to every curse, every “my spark, fuck, good little spark,” that he groans.
It’s maddening, almost, just how good he makes you feel, how they make you feel. You moan something incomprehensible when he bites your neck and lick the marks. “Volt, volt, yes -“
There’s a surge, a flicker, and you’re empty, and Volt’s weight is missing.
You open your eyes, suddenly terrified from the loss, and you think to scream -
But the sight that greets you isn’t one that’s… entirely unwelcome.
Eddie’s hand has a death grip on the currents of Volt’s hair, tugging hard enough to keep Volt’s chin tilted back, unmoving.
(You think, in the recesses of your fucked our mind, that you wish you could do that, but it seemed to be a skill reserved for literal electrical conduits personified.)
You blink, aligning yourself to this new situation, to this unexpected twist, because when did Eddie -
Eddie.
Eddie.
Uh oh.
“What. The fuck. Are you doing?” Eddie’s voice is harsh, methodical, but level. He usually only sounds like this when he’s kicking out Kristof for starting a fight, or when he notices you doing something even mildly off-kilter when fixing up the club. It’s a dangerous tone.
Neither of you speak immediately. You can't even bring yourself to meet Volt’s eyes; you’re focused solely on Eddie, and how still, how charged he is.
“Are either of you going to fucking say anything?” His grip tightens on Volt’s hair, and Volt nearly stumbles back.
“Eddie, my darling,” Volt finally offers, trying the voice he uses to introduce the next act. The listen-to-what-I’m-about-to-say voice. “My, did we miss you -”
“Volt,” his voice is clipped, and Volt doesn’t try again. “I have one fucking rule. And you know that.”
You haven’t seen the ice that’s in Eddie’s eyes in weeks, and now it’s your turn to try. “Eddie, it was my -”
“Absolutely not.” Titanium eyes stop your words in your throat, and Eddie points a finger at you. “You are not in a position where you wanna lie to me.”
He’s right, and you know it, and you close your legs in an effort to take up less space on the bar.
Eddie turns his attention back to Volt, flexing his grip and pulling his partner’s head closer to him, turning him so their eyes meet. You feel the hum, the charge in the air that flows between them. “No. Sex. In the bar, Volt.” Eddie cocks his head, studying Volt’s strained white gaze. “Or did you not learn the last time when I caught you with Amir?”
Volt’s laugh is shakey, raising his hands in surrender. “It was only a broken mirror, Eddie, and look at me now! We’re being very careful to -”
Eddie cuts him off with a kiss you can only describe as forceful, teeth tugging at Volt’s lips, and keeping him in place as he twists his hand in Volt’s hair. You swear you hear a growl from Eddie’s throat when he harshly tugs Volt away again, and there’s a flash of something in his steely gaze as you watch his free hand start to fumble with his pants zipper.
Sometimes, you’re almost certain there are times that Volt and Eddie don’t communicate with words, that there’s something deeper between them that lets them move in a singular, tandem pace, synchronized. As Eddie unzips, and Volt placidly drops to his knees before him, you think this is one of those times.
“You,” Eddie groans, when Volt, unprompted, places a chaste, quick kiss to Eddie’s thick, angry cock, “need to shut. up.”
He says nothing more, but on instinct, Volt’s jaw goes slack, and nearly his entire cock slips into Volt’s mouth with practiced ease.
Your body tremors as you watch them, notice with interest how a small fuck falls from Eddie’s lip, and he throws his head back, steeling his jaw with bared teeth. He’s so still, letting Volt do the work on his cock, and - and you can’t help it, your thighs press together, and your nails scrap along the wood as your hands turn to firsts.
Eddie notices.
Eddie always notices.
Eddie’s eyes are nearly black with lust, hunger, and barely controlled rage. “You,” he says, voice rough in his throat. “Open your legs.”
You do, and the air is cold where your slick hasn’t dried.
Eddie reaches out his hand, extends his ring and middle finger, and lays them at the very edge of the bar. Still. Waiting.
You blink, unsure, but you’re not sure if you’re allowed to speak.
“Fuck yourself or don’t, live wire, I don’t care,” he says. “He’s - fuck - in more trouble than you. He’s not getting off tonight.”
Lucky, lucky, lucky, your mind chants, and your heart might just explode from electrocution if you’re not careful.
You scoot yourself to the edge of the bar, position your legs under you, line your entrance over where his fingers are raised and waiting. You grip the curve of the wood to steady yourself, and lower yourself down onto Eddie’s fingers, as far as you can, and your mouth falls open in a curse at the feeling of fullness finally returned to you.
Eddie only watches, his fingers knotting in Volt’s hair, trying with his entire willpower not to fuck all his fingers into your cunt. You feel so hot, so slick, and the currents racing through his cock are already dangerously close to shorting if Volt keeps his pace. He knows if he so much as catches a glimpse of those white eyes that he’ll blow like a fuse. So, he watches you, bouncing up and down as best you can, trying to grind your clit on his thumb. Angry as he is at catching you two in the one place you shouldn’t be, he has to admit, he thrives off the power you and Volt are feeding him.
You’re close, so close, and you moan Eddie’s name in want and frustration. He makes no sound, but Volt hums around Eddie’s cock, and you can’t tell whose slick, depraved sounds are whose.
Volt moans again, his grip tighter on Eddie’s hips, and you somehow know he’s warning you that Eddie won’t last long. You quicken your place, angling to find how Eddie’s thumb hits your clit. It’s just right, and you close your eyes, white bolts of lightning behind your eyelids as you climb, higher, higher -
“Yes, yes, Eddie Eddie, fuck, Eddie!” You cry as your orgasm hits like a surge, tingling and coursing through all your limbs, and your legs quiver as you force yourself to slow.
Eddie hisses through his teeth, knowing he has only seconds, and Volt only speeds up. “Fuck,” he grunts, and finally flicks his eyes down to watch Volt work, if only for a moment, but the second those knowing, loving, burning eyes meet his -
He short circuits.
Volt sucks him dry as Eddie groans, curses through his climax, even swallows him down with his nose pressed to the coils above Eddie’s shaft. Doesn’t let a single drop spill, Volt, and Eddie loves him for it.
You all are finally, somehow, able to relax, as you extricate yourselves from your slightly incoherent, slightly precarious positions. Volt, back on his feet, pulls you into his arms, hoists you up as you wrap you legs around them - none of you trust them to hold you up.
Eddie rubs his hand over your back, presses adoring kisses to your shoulder. “You alright, little wire?” He asks, in the softest voice you’ve heard him use all night.
You nod, turning your head to find his face. “Of course, Eddie. Always.”
A corner of his lip tugs up into a smile. “Good.” He plants a warm kiss on your cheek and tucks a hair behind your ear. “Like I said, you’re not in trouble. I know how dangerous Volt’s tongue can be.”
“Hey,” Volt quips, his fingers pressing into your thighs. “A moment ago you liked my dangerous tongue.”
Eddie pays the jest no mind, but still looks up at him. “You’re on close for a week. Alone. And - nope - don’t you ‘Eddie’ me. Alone. One week.”
Volt groans, and you don’t have to see his face to know he rolled his eyes too. “You already didn't let me cum, so I get the message." He, too, presses a small kiss to the top of your head. "But who’s going to keep our spark busy then, hm?”
Eddie smiles, seeing the mischievous glint that just appeared in your gaze. “Well, luckily, they have more than one option, don’t they?”
Lucky, lucky, lucky.
