Freak's Wife✧⁠*°

Your older brother just laughed from the passenger seat, already half-reclined with his boots on the dash like the years hadn’t changed a damn thing. The three of you had done this dance since you were kids—your parents driving the family car, Eddie’s van trailing behind loaded with tents and coolers and that ridiculous boombox he refused to retire. Your brother and Eddie had moved out to Chicago last year and missed the trip. This year the parents had finally waved the white flag. We’re too old for this, they’d said. You three can keep the tradition if you want.

So here you were.

Four hours of highway, two gas-station pit stops, and one argument about whether Dio or Iron Maiden was the superior soundtrack later, the van rattled off the paved road onto the familiar dirt track that led into the state park. The trees closed in overhead, filtering the late-afternoon light into green-gold shafts. You felt the same low thrum in your chest you’d always felt when the campground came into view—half nostalgia, half something sharper that had only started humming under your skin three years ago.

Eddie killed the engine. Silence rushed in, broken only by the tick of cooling metal and the distant cry of a hawk.

He twisted in the driver’s seat to look at you in the back. His hair was longer than last summer, curls escaping the bandana he’d tied around his head. A thin silver chain glinted at his throat. He still looked like trouble. He still looked like the boy who’d once dared you to eat a raw cricket and then laughed until he cried when you actually did it.

“Home sweet temporary home,” he said, voice low. “You gonna help set up or are you gonna stand there looking at me like I owe you money?”

You shoved the side door open harder than necessary. “You do owe me money, idiot.”

“Oh don't worry. I'll pay you back— with interest.”

Your brother was already out and stretching, cracking his back with a groan. “You two are exhausting. I’m grabbing the cooler before one of you starts the inevitable screaming match.”

Eddie hopped out after him, landing lightly despite the height. He caught your eye across the open doors as you both reached for the same folded tarp. His fingers brushed yours. Neither of you pulled away immediately.

The air between you felt charged the way it always did now—like static before a storm, like the second before someone said something they couldn’t take back. You’d spent years pretending the dislike was pure. It was easier that way. Easier than admitting that every time he smirked at you or called you by that stupid nickname he’d invented when you were fourteen, something low and hot twisted in your stomach.

Eddie tilted his head, studying you the way he studied guitar tabs—slow, deliberate, like he was memorizing something he already knew by heart.

“You're quieter,” he said.

“You're louder.”

“Fair.” He tugged the tarp free and slung it over one shoulder. “C’mon. Sun’s gonna drop soon. Last thing I need is you bitching at me in the dark because we can’t find the tent poles.”

You followed him into the clearing you’d claimed for years, boots crunching over pine needles. Your brother was already staking out the flatter ground near the fire ring, whistling off-key. Eddie dropped the tarp and started unfolding the bigger tent with the easy efficiency of someone who’d done this a hundred times. You worked opposite him, feeding poles through sleeves, the familiar rhythm settling between you even as the unfamiliar tension hummed underneath.

Every so often your hands would meet again—passing a stake, smoothing a corner of fabric—and you’d both pause for half a second too long before pretending it hadn’t happened.

The sky was turning the color of bruised peaches by the time the tents were up and the cooler was cracked open. Your brother claimed the smaller tent without argument, already disappearing inside with a book and a beer. That left the bigger one for you and Eddie. Funny how life works out.

Eddie stood at the open flap, looking in at the two sleeping bags rolled side by side, then glanced over his shoulder at you. The fading light caught on the rings stacked on his fingers.

“You still snore?” he asked.

“You still talk in your sleep?”

A slow, crooked grin spread across his face. “Guess we’ll find out.”

He ducked inside without waiting for an answer, and the undercurrent between you pulsed once—hot, quiet, and very much awake.

The tent was dark and warm, the kind of close heat that only came from two bodies breathing the same recycled air. You’d fallen asleep facing the wall, sleeping bag zipped to your chin, determined to ignore the fact that Eddie was only a few feet away on the other side of the nylon floor.

Sometime past midnight you woke to the soft, rough sound of his voice.

Low. Thick with sleep. Your name. Almost a whisper.

“…not supposed to look at you like that… fuck… you're… goddamn…”

Your eyes snapped open. The words dissolved into an unintelligible mumble, then silence. You held perfectly still, heart thudding against your ribs, waiting to see if he’d say anything else. He didn’t. Just a quiet shift of fabric as he rolled over.

You stared at the dark ceiling for a long time after that, pulse still elevated, before forcing your eyes shut again and pretending you hadn’t heard a thing.

Morning came too bright and too early.

Your brother was already up and making noise outside, clattering the little propane stove. Eddie emerged from the tent looking like he’d lost a fight with his own hair, bandana shoved in his back pocket, last night’s black T-shirt wrinkled and riding up just enough to flash a strip of pale stomach when he stretched. He caught you looking and immediately smirked.

“Morning, princess. Sleep okay or did the spooky forest keep you up?”

You shoved past him toward the cooler. “Your talking kept me up.”

“I— I was talking last night?” Eddie looked like he'd seen a ghost— the color draining from his already pale face.

"Mhm. Big talk last night Munson."

"Unconscious me is not the same person as conscious me."

"Keep telling yourself that."

Your brother popped out of his tent looking just as rough as Eddie. "What'd he say this time?"

"This time?"

"Nothing. Fuck you guys— let's go do something."

The day unfolded the way these days always did with the three of you—sunlight, river, the easy rhythm of people who’d known each other too long. Kayaking came first. The three of you dragged the rented boats down to the water, your brother claiming the single and leaving you and Eddie to share the double. Of course.

Eddie took the back seat without asking, which meant he controlled the rudder and got the better view of everything in front of him. Including you.

“Try not to tip us,” he called as you pushed off. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

“Your reputation is already trash.”

“Rude. Chicago doesn't know my Hawkins reputation so… I'm like recycled trash now.”

"They should be warned."

The river was slow and glassy, edged with overhanging branches that scraped soft green fingers across the surface. You paddled in sync more out of muscle memory than cooperation, the kayak cutting clean lines through the current. Every so often Eddie would dig his paddle in harder on one side just to make the boat rock, laughing under his breath when you twisted around to glare at him. Water droplets clung to the dark curls escaping his bandana. His arms flexed with every stroke, veins standing out along the insides of his forearms. You hated that you noticed.

At one point he leaned forward, voice dropping so your brother—paddling ahead—couldn’t hear.

“You still do that thing where you bite your lip when you’re concentrating?”

You didn’t answer. Just paddled harder.

His quiet chuckle followed you down the river.

Softball happened in the open field near the campground after lunch. Your brother and Eddie claimed folding chairs and a cooler full of cheap beer like it was their sacred duty, while you ended up on a pickup team with a bunch of other campers. Eddie watched the entire time with the lazy intensity of a cat watching a bird. Every time you connected with the ball he’d holler something deliberately embarrassing—“That’s my girl!” or “Show ‘em how it’s done!”—loud enough that half the field turned to look. Your brother just shook his head and kept drinking.

By the time the game wrapped, the sun was sliding toward the treeline and the air had that golden, late-summer weight to it. People were already drifting toward the rec center at the far end of the campground. Strings of lights were being tested. A DJ was doing sound check.

You wiped sweat from your forehead with the hem of your shirt and found Eddie watching you again, beer bottle dangling from loose fingers.

“You gonna clean up for the dance or just show up looking like you lost a fight with a river?” he asked.

“You planning on actually dancing or just leaning against a post looking pretentious all night?”

He tipped the bottle toward you in a mock toast. “Depends. You planning on asking me?”

The words landed heavier than the teasing tone suggested. For a second neither of you looked away. The undercurrent that had been humming all day—ever since you’d woken up to the sound of your name in his sleeping mouth—tightened into something almost tangible.

Your brother clapped Eddie on the shoulder hard enough to make him sway. “If you two are done with the foreplay, I’m starving. Rec center’s got those shitty hot dogs and I want at least four before the music starts.”

Eddie finally broke the stare, flashing that crooked, dangerous grin.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes still half on you. “Wouldn’t want to miss the main event.”

The three of you headed back toward the tents to change as the first real notes of music drifted through the trees. The night was just getting started.

You changed in the tent with the flap zipped tight, the skimpy little dress clinging to your skin the second you pulled it over the bathing suit. The material was thin and soft, the kind that moved when you did, neckline low enough to make the heat feel intentional. Practical, you told yourself. If the night went the way these nights sometimes did—too many drinks, someone daring someone else—you could strip the dress and hit the water without a second thought. You’d done it before.

When you stepped out, the campground lights were already glowing through the trees.

Eddie was leaning against the side of the van with a fresh beer, one boot kicked up behind him. He took a long drink, eyes tracking you from the moment the tent flap opened. He didn’t even try to hide it. The look dragged slow—over the bare stretch of your thighs, the way the dress sat on your hips, the line of your collarbones—before he finally dragged his gaze up to your face and smirked like he’d caught you doing something illegal.

“Jesus Christ,” he said, voice low. “You trying to start a riot or just ruin my night?”

Your brother snorted from where he was tying his shoes on the picnic table. “She always looks like that. You’re just dramatic.”

Eddie didn’t look away from you. “I’m observant. There’s a difference.” He pushed off the van and circled you once, slow, like he was inspecting merchandise. "You’re gonna make the soccer moms clutch their pearls.”

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, adjusting the thin strap on your shoulder. “You look like you got dressed in a thrift store during a blackout.”

He grinned, all teeth. “And yet here you are, still looking.”

Your brother stood, clapping his hands together like the world’s most oblivious referee. “Alright, children. Rec center. Hot dogs. Bad music. Try not to kill each other before we get there.” He was already walking, completely missing the way Eddie’s eyes kept dropping to your mouth, your legs, the place where the dress ended.

The three of you cut through the trees toward the glow of the gazebo. Strings of bulb lights crisscrossed overhead, casting everything in warm gold. A DJ booth had been set up under the roof, speakers already thumping something upbeat and slightly too loud. Picnic tables had been pushed aside to make a dance floor, and the bar was stocked with drinks. The smell of grilled hotdogs and firewood permeated the air.

Eddie kept pace beside you, still talking.

“I’m just saying, if you trip in those shoes I’m not carrying you. I’ll point and laugh. Publicly.”

“You’ve carried me before.”

“That was different. You were twelve and had a scraped knee. Now you’re—” He gestured vaguely at all of you, words failing him for half a second. “Anyway. Don’t expect chivalry.”

Your brother laughed, already peeling off toward the bar. “He’s so full of shit. He once carried a drunk girl two miles because she lost a shoe. Remember that, Eds?”

“I remember you never shutting up about it,” Eddie muttered, but his eyes were still on you.

You reached the bar first. Ordered something with a fancy fruity name, and took a long swallow. The burn settled low in your stomach. Perfect.

Eddie opened his mouth—probably to say something else annoying, something that would sound like an insult and land like a touch—but you were already turning away.

“I’m dancing,” you said over your shoulder. “Try not to miss me too hard.”

You didn’t wait for an answer. Just slipped into the growing crowd under the lights, drink in hand, the skimpy dress brushing against your thighs with every step. Behind you, you could feel the weight of his stare like a hand on the back of your neck.

Your brother was already laughing about something. Eddie wasn’t saying a word.

You danced alone at first, letting the music pull you under the string lights. The beat was heavy enough to feel in your ribs, the kind of song that made hips move without permission. Your drink was already half gone. The skimpy dress clung and shifted with every turn, the bathing suit underneath a thin secret against your skin. People watched. You didn’t care.

Then a pair of hands settled lightly at your waist.

You glanced back. Tall. Broad shoulders. Easy smile. Dark hair falling into his eyes. Attractive in that clean, summer-camp way—nothing like the chaos you were used to. He didn’t ask. Just matched your rhythm, body slotting in behind yours like he’d been waiting for the invitation.

You let him.

It started casual. Then it wasn’t.

His hands slid lower, fingers spreading over your hips, guiding you back against him. You rolled with it, spine arching, the thin fabric of the dress the only thing between his chest and your back. The music thumped louder. Someone whooped nearby. His breath brushed the shell of your ear when he leaned in, and you tipped your head just enough to give him more space. Your bodies moved together—slow, dirty, deliberate. Thighs brushing. Ass grinding back against the hard line of him. Every shift of your hips made the hem of the dress ride a little higher.

Across the open floor, past the shifting bodies and the glow of the lights, Eddie stood frozen near the bar.

Your brother was already three drinks past functional, leaning heavily against the table and laughing at nothing, plastic cup waving in the air as he tried to tell a story to some poor stranger who kept nodding politely. He hadn’t even noticed you yet.

Eddie had.

His jaw was locked so tight the muscle jumped under the skin. One hand crushed the neck of his beer bottle; the other was shoved deep in the pocket of his jeans like he needed to keep it contained. He watched the stranger’s hands on your waist, watched the way you moved against him, watched the flush climbing your throat. His eyes were dark, almost black under the string lights, and the easy, mocking expression he usually wore had been scraped clean off his face.

He looked like he wanted to put his fist through something. Or someone.

You caught the stare over the random guy’s shoulder and held it for a second too long—just long enough to see the pure, boiling jealousy flash across Eddie’s features before you turned back into the dance. The stranger’s hand slid higher under the side of your dress, fingertips grazing the edge of your bathing suit bottoms, and you didn’t stop him.

Eddie’s bottle hit the bar top hard enough that your brother finally glanced over, still grinning drunk and clueless.

“Dude, you good?”

Eddie didn’t answer. He just kept staring at you like he was two seconds from crossing the floor and starting a fight.

Your brother swayed hard enough that he had to plant a hand on the nearest picnic table to stay upright.

“I’m done,” he announced, voice thick and cheerful. “Gonna pass out before I embarrass myself more. You two… don’t kill each other.” He pointed vaguely between you and Eddie, already turning toward the path that led back to the tents. “Love you, mean it, goodnight.”

Eddie moved before you could answer.

His hand locked around your upper arm—hard, fingers digging in just shy of bruising—and he yanked you away from the stranger mid-song. The guy made a confused noise, but Eddie didn’t even glance at him. He was already hauling you across the grass after your brother, jaw tight, boots loud against the packed dirt.

“Let go—”

“Shut up and walk,” he bit out.

You twisted in his grip. “Eddie—”

“Your brother’s hammered. We’re making sure he doesn’t face-plant in a ditch. Move.”

The walk back was silent except for your brother’s off-key humming and the occasional stumble that made Eddie’s grip on you tighten even more. By the time the tents came into view, your arm was throbbing under his fingers. Your brother crawled into the smaller tent without protest, mumbled something about breakfast, and was snoring within minutes.

The second the zipper closed, Eddie’s hand slid from your arm to your wrist. He didn’t let go. Instead he turned and started walking—fast, purposeful—toward the river path instead of the tent you were supposed to share.

“Where the hell are you—”

“Quiet.”

You dug your heels in. “Eddie, what the fuck is your problem?”

He spun on you so fast you nearly collided with his chest. Up close his eyes were wild, the jealousy still burning hot behind them. “My problem? My problem is watching some random asshole put his hands all over you like he had the right. My problem is you letting him.”

“I can dance with whoever I want—”

“Get in the kayak.”

You blinked. He’d already dragged one of the rental doubles halfway into the water, the plastic hull scraping against the pebbles. The river stretched black and quiet under the moonlight, the current lapping against the bank.

“Are you insane? It’s the middle of the night—”

“Get. In.”

You should have said no. You should have turned around, walked back to the tent, zipped yourself in and pretended none of this was happening. But the anger rolling off him was magnetic, thick enough to taste, and the curiosity that had been coiling low in your stomach all day flared hot. You’d never been good at smart decisions where Eddie Munson was concerned.

You stepped into the kayak.

He pushed off hard, climbing in behind you in one smooth motion, paddle already in his hands. The boat rocked once, then settled as the current caught it. Trees closed in on either side, blocking out the last of the campground lights. The only sound left was the soft dip of the paddle and Eddie’s heavy breathing at your back.

He didn’t speak again until the music and the lights were far behind you.

When he finally did, his voice was low and rough and right against your ear.

“You and me are gonna have a conversation. And you’re not getting out of this boat until I say so.”

The paddle cut through the black water in hard, angry strokes. You could feel every one of them in the way the kayak jerked forward.

“You’re being a fucking child,” you snapped over your shoulder, arms crossed tight under your chest. The dress stuck to your skin in the humid night air. “Dragging me out here like some jealous boyfriend when you’re not even—”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Eddie’s voice was low and sharp. “You don’t get to decide what I am right now.”

“Oh my God.” You twisted further, nearly tipping the boat. “You don’t get to manhandle me in front of half the campground because some guy danced with me. I can do whatever I want.”

“You were grinding on him.”

“So?”

“So I wanted to break his fucking hands.”

The words hung there, raw and honest. You faced forward again, jaw clenched, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction even as something hot twisted low in your stomach. The river narrowed. Trees leaned in closer on both sides, their branches forming a dark tunnel overhead. The current slowed. Up ahead the water opened into a small, secluded pool half-hidden by a curve of rock and thick underbrush—a private little grotto the three of you had found years ago and somehow never told anyone else about.

Eddie drove the kayak onto the muddy bank hard enough that the hull scraped loud in the quiet. He was out first, boots splashing, then turning to offer a hand you deliberately ignored. You climbed out on your own, nearly slipping, and stalked over to the old fallen log that had served as a bench for years. The wood was cool and damp under your thighs when you sat, arms still crossed, staring hard at the dark water instead of him.

Eddie dragged the kayak further up so it wouldn’t float away, then planted himself directly in front of you. Close. Blocking the moonlight.

“Look at me.”

You didn’t.

“I said look at me.”

You tipped your head back just enough to give him the most unimpressed stare you could manage. “What, Eddie? You dragged me all the way out here to lecture me about dancing? Congratulations. Message received. Can we go back now?”

His hands flexed at his sides. “You’re being a fucking brat.”

“And you’re being a controlling asshole. We’re even.”

He let out a short, disbelieving laugh that had zero humor in it. “You let him put his hands under your dress.”

“Barely.”

“I watched him.”

“Then maybe you should’ve danced with me instead of standing there looking at me like you had some moronic invisible claim over me.”

That landed. His eyes flashed. He took one step closer so his boots nearly touched yours, looming over where you sat on the log. The air between you felt thick, charged, like the second before lightning.

“You want me to dance with you?” he asked, voice dropping into something quieter and more dangerous. “That what this is about?”

You rolled your eyes and looked away again, pure brat, even as your pulse hammered in your throat. “I want you to stop acting like you own me when you don’t. That’s what this is about.”

Eddie exhaled hard through his nose. He didn’t move back. If anything he leaned in another inch, the scent of beer and sweat and the metal of his jewelry filling the small space between you.

“Keep pushing, sweetheart,” he murmured. “See what happens.”

You stood up from the log like he hadn’t just threatened you, like the air between you wasn’t thick enough to choke on.

“I’m swimming back,” you said flatly, already reaching for the hem of the dress. “You can sit here and be pissed by yourself.”

The thin fabric peeled up and over your head in one motion. You balled it up and tossed it into the kayak without looking, left standing in nothing but the little bikini you’d worn underneath. The night air kissed every newly bare inch of skin. You took one step toward the water.

Eddie moved faster.

“No the fuck you’re not.”

His hand shot out and caught you by the upper arm again—harder this time, fingers digging in as he yanked you back against him. The motion was rough, careless with anger, and his studded bracelet snagged the loose string at the back of your neck. The bow came undone with a soft, final slip. The triangle cups of the top fell forward instantly, baring your tits to the cool air and to him.

Everything stopped.

Eddie’s breath left him in a punched-out sound. His eyes dropped and stayed there, locked on the soft weight of your breasts, the tight peaks of your nipples already tightening under the sudden exposure and the heat of his stare. For one suspended second he just looked—hungry, furious, wrecked—before the last of his restraint snapped clean in half.

He hauled you fully against him and crushed his mouth to yours.

The kiss was all teeth and heat and years of denial. His tongue shoved past your lips like he was trying to punish you with it, one hand fisting in your hair to tilt your head exactly where he wanted while the other arm banded tight around your waist, pinning your bare chest to the front of his shirt. You could feel the metal of his rings cold against your spine, the hard line of his cock already pressing against your stomach through his jeans. He kissed like he hated how much he wanted it—deep, messy, wet—nipping at your bottom lip hard enough to sting before sucking it into his mouth.

“Fucking knew it,” he growled against your lips between kisses, voice wrecked. “Knew you’d taste like this. Knew you’d be this soft. Goddamn tease—”

His hand left your hair only long enough to shove the ruined bikini top the rest of the way off your arms, then he was back, palm dragging up your side to cup one bare breast, thumb scraping roughly over the nipple. The sound he made when you arched into the touch was pure filth, low and broken.

He walked you backward until your calves hit the log again, never breaking the kiss, never letting more than an inch of space exist between your bodies. When he finally tore his mouth away it was only to drag it down your jaw, teeth scraping the sensitive skin beneath your ear as he spoke right against it.

“You let that asshole put his hands on what’s been driving me crazy for three fucking years. You’re lucky I didn’t bend you over the bar right there.” His fingers pinched your nipple, sharp enough to make you gasp. “Still might bend you over. Keep being a brat and find out.”

You shoved at his chest even as your back hit the log again, still trying to keep the upper hand.

“Get off me—”

Eddie only laughed, low and mean, and used the grip he already had on you to force you down. One hard push at your shoulders and your knees hit the damp earth with a soft thud. He stepped in close, boots bracketing your thighs, and the sound of his belt buckle coming undone was obscenely loud in the quiet grotto. Zipper next. Then he shoved his jeans and boxers just low enough to free his cock.

It was already hard, thick, the head flushed dark and shining at the tip. He wrapped one hand around the base and tapped the heavy weight of it against your cheek, smearing a streak of precum across your skin.

“Open.”

You tipped your chin up and gave him the most venomous look you could manage from your knees. “I swear to God if you shove that in my mouth I’m biting it off.”

Eddie’s eyes flashed. His free hand tangled in your hair and yanked your head back just enough to make your scalp sting. “Do it. See what happens when you try.”

He didn’t wait for another threat. The blunt head of his cock dragged across your lips once, twice, then he pushed forward. You opened on a sharp inhale—half protest, half something hungier—and he slid over your tongue in one long, relentless stroke until the head bumped the back of your throat.

“Fuck—there it is,” he groaned, both hands now fisted in your hair. “Knew that smart mouth would feel perfect wrapped around me.”

He didn’t ease in. He fucked your throat like he’d been thinking about it for years—short, punishing thrusts that made wet, filthy sounds every time he bottomed out. Spit slicked down your chin. Your eyes watered. Every time you tried to pull back even an inch he held you tighter and pushed deeper, hips rolling with zero patience.

“Look at you,” he panted, staring down with dark, glassy eyes. “On your knees in the dirt for me after all that attitude. Letting some random fucker put his hands on you and now you’re choking on my cock like a good little slut. That what you needed? Someone to shut you up properly?”

You glared up at him through wet lashes, still trying to be defiant even with your lips stretched wide around him. The threat of your teeth was still there; he felt it, and it only made him groan louder and thrust harder.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he warned, voice rough. “You bite me and I’ll bend you over that log and spank your ass red before I fuck you. Try me. Please. I’ve been dying to.”

His hips snapped forward again, burying every inch. The wet heat of your mouth, the way your throat fluttered around him, the bratty fire still burning in your eyes—it all pulled a broken, filthy stream of words out of him as he used your mouth without mercy.

“God, you’re soaking the front of those little bottoms already, aren’t you? I can smell how wet you are from here. Fucking hate how bad I want you. Hate that I’ve jerked off thinking about this exact view for three goddamn years. Take it. Take every inch like the mouthy little bitch you are.”

Eddie’s rhythm turned short and brutal, hips snapping forward with no more pretense of control. His fingers tightened hard in your hair as the first pulse of his orgasm hit, thick and hot, flooding your tongue and the back of your throat.

“Fuck—swallow it—take it—”

You didn’t.

The second he started to pull back you dragged your teeth along the sensitive underside of his cock—not hard enough to break skin, but sharp enough to make him hiss and jerk. Then you shoved him the rest of the way out with your tongue and spit.

Everything he’d just pumped into your mouth landed wet and messy across the front of his jeans and the base of his still-twitching cock. A long, shiny strand connected your bottom lip to him for a second before it broke. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and looked up at him, eyes pure challenge.

“Oops.”

The sound Eddie made was almost a snarl.

He hauled you up by the hair and the arm so fast your knees left the ground. In two strides he was sitting on the log and you were face-down across his lap, the rough denim of his jeans scraping your bare stomach and the soft insides of your thighs. One of his hands pinned both of your wrists at the small of your back; the other yanked the soaking bikini bottoms down to mid-thigh, baring your ass completely to the night air.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” His voice was low, shaking with leftover pleasure and fresh fury. “Had to push. Had to spit my come all over me like a spoiled little brat who wants to get punished.”

The first slap cracked across your right cheek hard enough to make the sound echo off the water. The sting bloomed hot and immediate. You jerked, but his grip on your wrists only tightened.

“Count.”

You stayed silent on pure principle.

The second slap landed harder, lower, catching the sensitive crease where ass met thigh. Your breath punched out of you.

“I said count, sweetheart.”

“One,” you forced out through gritted teeth, still trying to sound defiant even as heat flooded between your legs.

“Good girl.” Another sharp crack. “That’s two. You’re gonna feel every single one of these when I finally fuck you. Going to remind you what happens when you act like you don’t belong to me.”

His palm came down again and again—steady, deliberate, spreading the burn across both cheeks until the skin felt swollen and throbbing. Between strikes he dragged his fingers through the mess of slick already coating your inner thighs, collecting it and smearing it higher, teasing your entrance without giving you anything.

“Look at this,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Dripping down my leg already. You did this on purpose. Wanted me to lose it. Wanted me to bend you over and make it hurt.”

Another slap, harder than the ones before. You couldn’t stop the broken sound that left your throat.

Eddie leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear while his hand soothed roughly over the hot, stinging skin he’d just punished.

“We’re not even close to done. You’re going to take everything I give you tonight. And you’re going to say thank you when I’m finished. You're mine now. Thought I didn't notice your little crush on me? Made it fuckin' obvious you brat.”

You twisted against the iron grip he still had on your wrists, cheek pressed to the rough bark of the log, ass burning. The words came out sharp and breathless.

“I don’t belong to you.”

Eddie’s hand stilled for half a second on the hot skin of your cheek.

“You’re just my brother’s annoying best friend. That’s all you’ve ever been. Some loud, chaotic asshole who made fun of me for years. Why the fuck do you think you get to act like you have some claim?”

He didn’t answer with words at first.

Two fingers slid between your thighs from behind, parting the slick folds of your pussy with zero warning. You were soaked—embarrassingly, shamelessly wet—and the sound his fingers made dragging through it was filthy in the quiet. He stroked slow, deliberate, gathering your wetness and spreading it up to circle your clit without ever giving you real pressure.

“You want to know why?” His voice was low, almost conversational, even as his fingers kept teasing—gliding, pressing, never quite pushing inside. “Because I’ve watched you grow up into the exact kind of trouble I can’t stay away from. Because every time I saw you, you got louder and meaner and hotter and I had to sit there pretending I didn’t want to bend you over the nearest flat surface.”

He finally pushed one finger into you, just to the first knuckle, then pulled it back out to smear more slick over your clit. Your hips jerked despite yourself.

“Because three years ago you turned eighteen and started looking at me like you wanted me to ruin you, and I started jerking off to the idea of it every single night. Because I hate how bad I want you. Hate that some random guy got to put his hands on you tonight while I stood there hard and furious. Hate that you’re still trying to pretend this—” he pushed two fingers into you in one smooth stroke, curling them just right, “—isn’t already mine.”

He fucked the fingers into you slow and deep while he talked, the wet sounds loud between every sentence. His thumb stayed on your clit, rubbing tight, mean circles that made your thighs shake.

“You’re my best friend’s little sister. You’re a fucking brat. You’re the last person I should want. And I still can’t stop. So yeah—I think I get to claim you. Because the second you opened that smart mouth for my cock you stopped being just his sister. You became mine to punish. Mine to tease. Mine to fuck until you stop lying about how much you want it.”

He scissored his fingers inside you, stretching, then curled them hard against that spot that made your whole body jolt.

“Keep telling yourself I’m just the annoying best friend. I’ll keep proving you wrong with every dripping inch of this pussy.”

“Fuck you.”

The words came out rough and breathless, half muffled against the bark.

Eddie laughed—low, dark, delighted.

“Already planning on it, sweetheart. Thanks for the invitation.”

He hauled you up off his lap like you weighed nothing. One second you were face-down across his thighs; the next he had you bent over the log proper, chest and cheek pressed to the cool wood, ass in the air, bikini bottoms still tangled around one thigh. He kicked your feet wider with his boot, shoved his jeans lower, and notched the thick head of his cock against your soaked entrance.

No more teasing.

He slammed in to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

The stretch burned—perfect, overwhelming—and the sound that tore out of you was pure punched-out need. Eddie groaned like he’d been stabbed, hands clamping hard on your hips hard enough to bruise.

“Jesus—fuck— so goddamn tight.” He pulled almost all the way out and drove back in harder. “This what you needed? My cock splitting you open after you spent all night acting like you didn’t want it?”

He set a relentless pace immediately, hips snapping forward with wet, filthy slaps that echoed off the water. Every thrust shoved you further up the log; every retreat left you clenching around nothing for half a second before he filled you again. His rings dug into the soft flesh of your hips. The metal of his belt buckle slapped against the back of your thigh with every stroke.

“Look at you taking it,” he snarled, one hand sliding up your spine to fist in your hair and yank your head back. “Bent over a log in the middle of nowhere, dripping down your thighs for your brother’s best friend. You hate me so fucking much, don’t you? Hate that I’m the one who gets to wreck this pussy.”

He changed the angle, folding over your back so his mouth was right at your ear, breath hot and ragged while he kept pounding into you.

“Feel how deep I am? That’s three years of wanting to shut you up just like this. Three years of watching you strut around in those little outfits, mouthing off, pretending the tension wasn’t eating us both alive. Now you’re stuffed full of me and still trying to act tough. Doesn’t work when you’re this wet, baby. Doesn’t work when your cunt keeps sucking me back in like it never wants me to leave.”

His free hand snaked around your hip and found your clit, rubbing tight, mean circles in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation made your knees buckle; only the log and his grip kept you upright.

“That’s it—take it. Take every fucking inch. Gonna fill this bratty little pussy up so full you feel me dripping out of you the whole ride back. Gonna make sure every time you sit down tomorrow you remember exactly who you belong to when you stop lying.”

He fucked you harder, faster, the wet sounds of your body taking him almost obscene. His voice never stopped—filthy, continuous, pouring into your ear while he used you like he’d been dying to for years.

“Fucking perfect. Fucking mine. Say it or don’t, I don’t care—your cunt already did.”

“I’m not—fuck—I’m not yours,” you managed between broken breaths, the words barely coherent with every brutal thrust still punching them out of you.

Eddie snarled and brought his open palm down hard across your already stinging ass.

“Say it.”

Another sharp slap. Then another. The wet sound of his hand meeting your skin mixed with the filthy slap of his hips.

“Say you’re mine.”

“No—”

He spanked you again, harder, the burn blooming white-hot just as he drove particularly deep. Your whole body clenched around him and he felt it—felt how close you were, how your cunt was starting to flutter and seize.

He pulled out completely.

The sudden emptiness made you cry out in pure frustrated rage, hips pushing back chasing him, empty and throbbing.

“What the fuck—”

“You don’t get to come yet.” Eddie’s voice was wrecked but steady, almost cruel with control. He stepped back just far enough to sit on the log, jeans still shoved down his thighs, cock slick and shining with your wetness, standing hard against his stomach. He looked at you like he had all the time in the world. “Not until I say. Not until I’m looking at your face while you fall apart on me.”

He patted his thigh once.

“Get over here and sit on it.”

You stayed where you were for a defiant second, chest heaving, ass burning, pussy aching and neglected. The refusal was still on your tongue.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, completely unimpressed by the brat act now.

“I wasn’t asking. Climb on my cock and ride it until you come. I want to watch every second of it. Want to see exactly what you look like when you finally stop pretending you hate this.”

He wrapped a hand around the base of himself and stroked once, slow, showing you how wet you’d left him.

“Now, sweetheart. Before I change my mind and leave you empty for the rest of the night.”

You glared at him for one more stubborn second, then gave in.

Climbing into his lap felt like surrender and you hated how much your body wanted it. You straddled his thighs, one hand on his shoulder for balance, and reached between you to line him up. The second the thick head of his cock nudged your entrance you sank down in one long, shaky slide until he was buried to the hilt again.

Eddie’s head tipped back on a deep, satisfied groan.

“There she is,” he murmured, hands settling on your waist like they’d always belonged there. “Knew you’d give in. Look at you—sitting on my cock like you were made for it after all that ‘I’m not yours’ bullshit.”

He didn’t give you time to adjust or to sass him. His boots dug into the dirt for leverage and he thrust up hard, burying himself even deeper from this new angle. The shift dragged the head of his cock directly across that perfect spot inside you and white sparks exploded behind your eyes. A broken, helpless sound tore out of your throat.

Eddie grinned like the devil.

“Ohhh. There it is.” He did it again—short, powerful upward snaps of his hips that punched the air out of your lungs every time. “Found the spot that makes the brat shut up, huh? Look at your face. You’re fucking melting.”

He kept the pace merciless, hands gripping your hips to pull you down to meet every thrust so you took him to the base again and again. The new angle was devastating. Every upward drive rubbed relentlessly against the place that made your thighs shake and your thoughts scatter. You tried to stay upright, tried to keep some scrap of defiance, but he could feel every flutter and clench of your cunt and he used it against you without mercy.

“That’s it—ride it. Use me. You’re soaking my jeans, dripping down my balls, and still trying to look pissed. Adorable.” His voice was pure smug heat. “You’re putty. Completely fucking ruined for anyone else after this. Gonna feel empty every time something that isn’t my cock tries to fill you.”

One hand slid up your spine and fisted in your hair, forcing your back to arch so he could watch your tits bounce with every hard thrust. His eyes were dark and triumphant, locked on your face, drinking in every broken expression he dragged out of you.

“Go on. Keep glaring at me while your cunt milks my cock like it never wants me to stop. I can do this all night. Can keep you right here, full and shaking, until you finally admit what we both already know.”

He thrust up particularly deep and ground against that spot until your vision went white at the edges.

“You’re mine when you’re on my cock, sweetheart. And right now you’re exactly where you belong.”

Eddie never slowed.

He kept driving up into you with that same punishing rhythm, the thick drag of his cock hitting that devastating spot over and over until your thighs trembled on either side of his hips. One hand left your waist and shoved between your bodies, fingers finding your swollen clit immediately. He rubbed tight, relentless circles—no teasing, no mercy—while the other hand slid up your chest and wrapped around your throat.

Not gentle.

His fingers flexed, cutting off just enough air to make every thrust feel sharper, deeper, more overwhelming. The pressure at your neck, the relentless friction on your clit, the heavy stretch of him filling you again and again—it all crashed together into something white-hot and unbearable.

“That’s it,” he growled, eyes locked on your face as your mouth fell open. “Take it princess."

Your body seized.

The orgasm ripped through you so hard your vision blanked. You clenched around him like a fist and then you were squirting—hot, uncontrollable pulses of wetness that soaked his cock, his jeans, his thighs. The sound was filthy, wet, unmistakable. You shook through it, choking on the air he allowed you, cunt spasming wildly around every deep thrust he kept forcing into you.

Eddie laughed, low and utterly wrecked with triumph.

“Holy shit—look at you. Fucking squirting all over me. Knew this bratty little cunt would make a mess the second I choked you properly.” He fucked you straight through it, never letting up, dragging the climax out until you were sobbing for breath and still clenching around him in helpless aftershocks. “So pretty when you come. So fucking loud. Everyone downriver probably heard what I do to you.”

His hand stayed on your throat, the other still working your oversensitive clit in mean little circles that made you jerk and whimper. He was close—you could feel it in the way his thrusts turned short and brutal, in the way his cock swelled even thicker inside you.

“Gonna fill you up,” he panted against your mouth, forehead pressed to yours. “Gonna pump you so full of me you’ll feel it leaking down your legs the whole way back to camp. Marking what’s mine. Every time you move tomorrow you’ll remember exactly who owned this pussy tonight.”

He slammed up one final time and came with a broken, guttural sound, burying himself to the hilt as he pulsed deep inside you. Hot, thick ropes of come flooded your cunt, overflowing around his cock with every residual throb. He kept you pinned there, hand still loosely around your throat, hips grinding in slow circles like he was trying to push it even deeper.

“Fuck… yes. Take it. Every drop.” His voice was pure satisfied filth. “That’s my come inside you now. No one else’s. Just mine.”

He didn’t pull out. Just stayed buried, breathing hard, thumb stroking almost absently over the side of your neck where his fingers had pressed while he watched your face with dark, cocky satisfaction.

Your legs barely held you when you pushed off his lap.

The second you stood, everything between your thighs felt swollen and oversensitive and wet—his come already starting to slip out of you and trickle down the inside of one leg. Your knees wobbled hard. You took one unsteady step and nearly pitched forward into the dirt.

Eddie caught you by the waist before you could fall, hauling you back against his chest with an arm banded tight around your middle.

“Get off me—”

“You’re gonna face-plant, genius—”

“I said get off.” You shoved at his arm until he let go, then spun on him, still half-naked, hair a mess, lips swollen, the evidence of everything he’d just done to you streaked down your thighs. The anger hit all at once, sharp and shaky and too big for the quiet little grotto.

“If you liked me for that long—three fucking years—why did it have to be like this?” Your voice cracked on the last word and you hated it. “Why couldn’t you just be normal about it? Talk to me like a person instead of acting like a jealous asshole and dragging me out here to—to punish me? You didn’t have to be mean. You didn’t have to be so fucking—”

Eddie stayed seated on the log, jeans still open, watching you with that same dark, unreadable expression. He didn’t look sorry. If anything he looked like he was fighting a smirk.

“You liked it.”

The simple, cocky certainty in his voice made your face burn hotter than the spanking had.

“I—yeah, but—” You stammered, caught between the truth and the residual fury still sparking under your skin. “That’s not the point, you dickhead. You didn’t have to do it like that. You could’ve just… said something. Instead of losing your shit and treating me like some toy you finally got to break.”

Eddie leaned forward, elbows on his knees, still looking up at you with that infuriating half-smile. A bead of sweat tracked down his temple. His voice came out quieter, but no less certain.

“You’re right. I could’ve been normal. Could’ve asked you out like a gentleman and taken you to dinner and held your hand.” He tilted his head. “But that’s not what either of us wanted, is it? You didn’t melt for polite. You melted when I was mean. When I made you take it. When I refused to let you keep pretending there was nothing here.”

He stood slowly, towering over you again, and reached out to tuck a tangled strand of hair behind your ear with surprising gentleness.

“I was jealous. I was angry. And you came so hard you soaked me to the skin. So maybe stop yelling at me for giving you exactly what you’ve been begging for with every look and every smart-ass comment for three years.”

“Just take me back to camp.”

Eddie looked at you for a long second, then simply nodded.

You both dressed in silence—your dress pulled back on over the still-damp bikini, his jeans tugged up and zipped with a wince. The kayak rocked as you climbed in first, settling on the front seat without looking at him. He pushed off the bank and started paddling, the only sounds the soft drip of water from the blade and the distant chorus of frogs.

He didn’t speak.

Neither did you.

Halfway back the river widened again, the current slow and glassy under a sky packed with stars. The campground lights were still a distant glow around the next bend. Eddie lifted the paddle out of the water and let the kayak drift. The sudden quiet felt heavier than the arguing had.

You glanced over your shoulder. He was staring up at the sky, profile silvered by moonlight, curls messy from your hands. When he finally spoke his voice was quieter than you’d heard it all night.

“Were you really mad at me?”

The question sat between you, stripped of the earlier swagger and heat.

You turned back around, watching the dark water slide past. “Kinda.”

Eddie exhaled. The paddle rested across his thighs. For a while the only movement was the gentle rock of the boat.

“I tried being nice,” he said eventually. “More than once. You never looked at me twice.”

You stayed quiet, letting him talk.

“First time was the summer you turned eighteen. I asked if you wanted to come with me to the record store in town. You said you already had plans and walked off. Called me a jackass. Next year I tried again—offered you the aux cord on the drive up, told you to put on whatever you wanted. You handed it straight to your brother and put your headphones in.” His laugh was soft and self-deprecating. “Every summer I found some stupid little way to be less of an asshole around you. And every summer you treated me exactly the same. Annoying. Loud. Your brother’s best friend. Background noise.”

He dipped the paddle once to keep the boat from spinning, then let it rest again.

“So yeah. I stopped trying to be normal. Being mean at least made you look at me. Made you fight back. Made you feel something. Even if it was just wanting to punch me in the face.” The water lapped quietly against the hull. “Guess I figured if I couldn’t get you to like me the regular way, I’d take whatever version of your attention I could get.”

The stars above the treeline were absurdly bright. The night air smelled like wet earth and pine. Somewhere far behind you the rec center music still thumped faintly, a whole different world.

Eddie waited, paddle still, giving you the space to answer or not.

You stared at the dark water for a long time before the words finally came out.

“I’ve liked you forever.”

The admission felt huge in the quiet. Behind you, Eddie went completely still.

“I just… always thought you were only being nice because of my brother. Like it was some obligation. Keep the little sister from feeling left out so everything was easy. You were always around, always loud, always there, and every time you did something decent I told myself it didn’t mean anything. That you were just stuck with me.” You let out a short, disbelieving breath. “So I kept you at arm’s length on purpose. Acted like I couldn’t stand you so it wouldn’t hurt when I was right.”

The kayak drifted another few feet. A soft breeze moved through the trees on the bank.

Eddie set the paddle down across the hull with a quiet clatter.

“Jesus Christ.”

You risked a glance over your shoulder. He was staring at you like you’d just rewritten the last several years of his life in one sentence. The cocky mask was gone. What was left looked almost young.

“You’ve liked me,” he repeated, slow, testing the words. “This whole time.”

“Yeah.”

“And I thought you couldn’t stand me.”

“I wanted to not stand you.”

Eddie dragged both hands down his face and let out a laugh that was half groan. “We’re idiots.”

“Complete idiots,” you agreed.

“I spent years being an asshole on purpose because I thought it was the only way you’d notice me, and you spent the same years freezing me out because you thought I was only nice out of pity.” He shook his head, curls bouncing. “Do you understand how stupid that is? We could’ve been doing this—” he gestured vaguely between the two of you, at the kayak, the river, the lingering ache between your legs, “—years ago.”

You turned fully on the seat so you could face him. The boat rocked. Moonlight caught the silver of his rings and the still-flushed look on his face.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “We really could’ve.”

Eddie held your gaze for a long moment. The anger and the heat from earlier were still there under the surface, but something softer sat on top of them now—wonder, maybe. Relief. A little bit of awe.

He picked the paddle back up, but he didn’t start rowing yet.

“For the record,” he said, voice low, “it was never because of your brother. Not once.”

The night felt different after that. Quieter. Fuller. The stars overhead seemed closer somehow, and the water carried you both forward without either of you needing to fill the silence right away.

The kayak scraped onto the shore near the campground docks. Eddie hopped out first and offered a hand; this time you took it. Your legs still felt a little unsteady, and the evidence of everything that had happened at the grotto was a secret, sticky reminder with every step.

The walk back through the trees started quiet, then cracked open into something lighter.

You bumped his shoulder with yours. “You’re still an asshole, for the record.”

“Yeah, but I’m your asshole now. Big promotion.”

You snorted. “Don’t push it.”

Eddie grinned sideways at you, the same crooked, troublemaking smile he’d worn for years, only now it landed differently. “I’m just saying. For someone who spent the whole night insisting she didn’t belong to me, you came awfully hard when I treated you like you did.”

“Shut up.”

“Made a mess all over me and everything. Very convincing ‘I hate you’ performance.”

You shoved him lightly in the ribs. He caught your wrist and didn’t let go, threading his fingers through yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. His rings were cool against your skin.

“I’m serious,” he said, voice dropping into that lower register again as the tents came into view. The smaller one was still zipped tight; your brother was clearly dead to the world. “We’re doing that again. Maybe not the dragging-you-into-the-woods part… or maybe exactly that part. Haven’t decided yet.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t pull your hand away. “You’re impossible.”

“And you like it.” He lifted your joined hands and pressed a quick, smug kiss to your knuckles. “Don’t pretend you don’t.”

The campground was quiet except for the distant leftover music from the rec center and the soft rush of the river behind you. Somewhere in the big tent your sleeping bags still waited on opposite sides of the floor.

Eddie glanced at them, then back at you, eyes warm and wicked under the string lights.

“C’mon,” he said, tugging you forward. “We’ve got a whole tradition to keep ruining.”

You followed him into the dark, still holding his hand, the night air cool against your flushed skin and the future suddenly looking a lot less like an argument and a lot more like trouble you actually wanted.

“I swear, I’m going to fall asleep on this couch,” you laugh tiredly as you take a seat at one of the plush armchairs, still feeling the heaviness from your full stomach after dinner.

Tommy chuckles, sitting across from you. He raises an eyebrow, looking amused. “You sure that espressos gonna help? You look like you’re about to pass out any second.”

You groan playfully. “It’s not my fault! I’m full from dinner, and I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Tommy grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You sure it’s not just the fact that you’re getting old and need a nap every five minutes?”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the smile creeping onto your face. “You’re one to talk. You’re barely keeping your eyes open yourself.”

He leans back in his chair, taking a slow sip of his coffee, still watching you with that teasing grin. “I don’t need a nap, though. I’m just here, enjoying the night… unlike some people.”

You sigh, leaning back and closing your eyes for a second, the hum of the shop and the soft chatter around you almost lulling you to sleep.

Tommy watches you with that soft, affectionate gaze, his smile fading a little as he realizes you really are tired. “Maybe I should’ve gotten you something with a little more kick. But you know, you’re cute when you’re tired.”

You snort. “Cute? I’m practically falling asleep in front of you, and normally I can’t sleep.”

“Baby, I know, but you look like a sleepy little kitten. It’s adorable.”

You try to stifle a yawn, but you can’t help it. “It’s not my fault, I swear. The coffee’s just not working fast enough.”

Tommy chuckles again, shaking his head. “I don’t know how you’re still tired after all that espresso. You should’ve seen yourself at dinner—so full and barely keeping your eyes open, then this.”

You laugh softly, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to push away the exhaustion. “It’s not just the food. I think I could fall asleep right here on this couch.”

Tommy leans forward, tapping your shoulder gently. “Well, if you’re that tired, go ahead and close your eyes for a bit. I’ll just keep watch, alright?”

You nod, curling into the armchair, feeling the weight of the evening finally catching up with you. You let your eyes flutter shut, the warmth of the coffee shop and Tommy’s presence beside you making you feel safe enough to drift off.

Tommy smiles at the sight of you so peacefully relaxed. He knows how easily you trust him, how comfortable you feel next to him. And even though he teases you about being tired, he would never wake you up. He’s happy to stay by your side, let you rest, and carry you home if he needs to.

X

Tommy Miller Blurbs

It has been 2 weeks and a half since Eddie's coma started, and he still hasn't woken up. You've found it incredibly difficult to leave his side. Thankfully, you have friends to help you when you eventually have to.

However, you're all still stumped. Trying to figure out where Henry is has felt damn near impossible.

Eddie's comedic relief has been missed amongst the group, especially with tensions rising. No one has any idea where Vecna went the night he disappeared. Even after the vigorous battle with him, none of that mattered.

"Where else would this mother fucker go?" Dustin asks Steve.

"I really wish I knew, Dustin."

You put yourself in Henry's shoes. What would you do if you needed to get away?

"He was still in the yard."

"How do you know?" Robin asks.

"If I needed to get away from a threat and I was injured, I would make it seem like I'm not there anymore. He could be playing a trick on us. But, we still don't know where he went afterwards."

"Maybe another childhood place of sanctuary to him?"

"My brother never really left the house. Explains why he was in there at first. I'm still starting to believe none of this makes any sense."

"What should we do…should we wait until Eddie's recovered?" Dustin asks.

"My brother needs to be stopped now. If anything, he's the reason Eddie's life randomly went to shit. He's the reason Chrissy died."

"Eddie was a crucial part, though. If he didn't play the music and take the fall, that swarm would've came and killed us." Steve says solemnly.

"He needs to know that we weren't just sitting around! Eddie could die, and if we don't stop Henry then all that we've done- all that he's done, is just a waste! Eddie needs to know that there was people who fought for him."

The room goes quiet as everyone takes in what you've just told them.

"We're going to find him. And kill him." Dustin seethes.

"For Eddie." You smile.

"For Eddie!"

After some persistent persuasion, Steve finally agrees to take you to see your father. The car ride consists of a gentle quiet with accompanied chatter here and there.

"I just want you to be prepared for anything. Nancy and Robin said he wasn't exactly easy to look at."

"I don't think anything phases me at this point."

Nothing could be worse than seeing the love of your life in a coma after he was drenched in his own blood.

The halls of the asylum would've terrified you if Steve wasn't being taken there by the front deskman alongside you.

"Alright. This is your stop. I will be back to check on you momentarily."

"Thank you." Steve says.

The worker dismisses himself, leaving you and Steve with Victor Creel.

"…Dad?" Your voice is frail.

He shifts just ever so slightly. Maybe he thinks you're just a dream.

"Dad?"

"Who are you?" His body is curled into a ball as his back is facing you.

You tell him your name.

"N- no, I'm dreaming again. Make it stop."

"I don't know what you look like now, or how long you've been here. But I miss you. And I miss Mom. Henry is a threat, and I'm going to stop him. I promise. He will pay for the suffering he's brought to us and many, many others. Including…my boyfriend. His name is Eddie. You always told me I would find someone who adores me someday. And he does. But because of Henry, he's on the edge of his life right now. I'm so sorry for everything that happened to you."

Victor shifts, curling himself further into a ball. He still thinks you're a dream his mind has created to torture him into getting closure.

"I love you." You whisper softly. You wipe your tears before taking an exhale and turning to Steve. "I think we should go to the library. There's got to be something about other dimensions. Henry's smart. He wouldn't return to the very place we found him."

Steve spins his keys before tossing them then catching them in his hand. "Let's go."

You sift through numerous books with Steve, trying your hardest to find something that matches with what your brain needs to recognize.

"You find anything?" Steve asks.

"Nope. Just bullshit, so far." You slam the book and place it back in it's rightful place.

Steve shoots you a look that you don't catch, because you're too busy looking at another book.

"Hey, I think you need a break."

You look at him. "What, why?"

"You just got done visiting your father who couldn't even talk to you, and now you're bullying every book like it personally did something to offend you. You need a break."

You close the book, and place it back.

"I want to do something for Eddie."

"You can start with calming yourself down. He'd throw a fit if he saw you like this." He grins.

"…I miss his little hissy fits. Maybe I do need a break."

"We'll pick up on this with the others. Right now…you need something else to do."

"…I suppose you're right."

Steve helped set you up with him and Robin to volunteer at the gym of Hawkins for post earthquake relief.

You're helping Robin in the food-making area with Vickie as Steve is over handling clothes.

You're trying hard to not let everything get to you. But it's difficult. Your biological family is turn apart. Your mother and sister are dead. Your boyfriend may awake, but not even remember you at all. He's still wanted. He could possibly not wake up from his coma. Vecna is still out there. You're sickened with guilt again for being a Creel. The knife you're holding is covered in blood instead of peanut butter. You drop it.

"Whoa, you okay?" Robin asks.

"I'm okay…I'm- shit, I need a minute."

"We can cover for you." Vickie says.

You thank her before heading towards the exit, ripping off your bonnet and food service gloves. You stop once you hear Dustin's voice. He appears to be talking to an older man, who's hair is completely gray. You carefully walk up to them.

"Hi. You know him, Dustin?"

"He's Eddie's uncle."

Wayne.

"Hi." You say softly, then tell him your name. "I'm Eddie's…girlfriend."

"Dustin just told me everything…were you there?" He asks gravelly.

Out of respect, you sit down next to him.

"Yes. I was with Dustin. We saw everything."

"That must've been hard."

"We're doing everything we can, hoping for the best."

"It's all we can do." Wayne says. "It's nice to meet you. How'd you find 'im?"

"He was hiding in a boathouse on Lovers Lake. I went there to get away from my thoughts. I startled him- and he was trembling. He was so scared. Like he expected me to be someone that was trying to kill him."

"I knew my nephew wouldn't ever kill that girl. This town is a damn fool, and I'm going to make sure everybody knows it."

"We will, too." You smile, wiping your tear.

"…You're wearin' his guitar pick." Wayne smiles.

You look down at your chest, clutching it wholeheartedly.

"You keep it. You're both his family, too."

You and Dustin exchange a smile.

"Thank you, Wayne. It means a lot."

You politely excuse yourself and begin heading back towards Robin when something from the corner of your eye immediately grasps your attention. One of Eddie's missing posters is vandalized, sending a bolt of anger through you. You rip it off the wall to tear it down the middle, before balling it up to toss it in the garbage. Your anger dissipates to the layer of sadness deep within at the realization that even though Eddie has risked his life, the town may still hate him after all of this.

People in this town may never understand just how truly selfless Eddie is. Everyone else is healthy and fine, especially Max who survived Vecna suspending her in the air and nearly injured her. Eddie's the one at the sharp end of the stick, and you don't care if strangers don't believe who Eddie truly is.

Steve takes you, Robin, and Dustin back to the hospital to visit Eddie. Simply seeing him may be able to give you a piece of mind. They're giving you your space at the moment to let you see him alone.

You've been following the doctor's advice on talking to Eddie as he's in his coma. Since you are a familiar voice, you may help with the neural activity in his hippocampus; the area of the brain responsible for memory.

You brush his hair out of his face with your fingers, and gently take his hand with your other.

"I- I miss you, you know. The jokes' over, and you can wake up now." You tease. Tears slowly begin dripping from your eyes, dripping onto the bed. "It's kind of cruel for you…to leave me with only Steve's jokes." You laugh softly. "And I met Wayne. He says I'm family, now. He's been hanging posters for you."

Your soul is stripped bare, and as much as you joke to cope, it rips you to shreds to see him like this.

"Eddie…I need you. We- we didn't even get much time together…you didn't even get to live. I'll…I'll make sure you never have to hide again. I- I need you to live a life where you aren't frightened. I- I love you, Eddie-"

You hear a beep from the monitors, then notice Eddie's chest beginning to rise and fall unsteadily. You jolt in surprise with a slight yelp when Eddie's hand clenches yours out of the blue as his body fights with itself.

"I need help, somebody!"

Doctors and ICU nurses rush in, prepared to help Eddie walk through his first coma awakening. His eyelids are just barely open, and his body has entered a state of fight or flight.

"Ma'am, we need you to leave for a few moments. Once he's stable, we will come back to get you."

"Whatever it takes." You respond.

You try to gently dismantle your hand from his, but due to himself entering semi-consciousness, he won't budge. His fingers are locked tightly with yours.

"Eddie? Eddie, I'll be right outside. I'll be back, I promise! It's okay!"

He doesn't let go. He wants you to stay.

"His brain is looking for a safe space, which is common in those waking up from a coma. We need to test his consciousness level." Doctor Sheridan says. "We need you to talk to him after we make sure he doesn't choke."

After a gut wrenching scene that you had to make yourself look away from, you follow the doctor's directions.

"Eddie?" She calls. But she receives nothing. Eddie's either confused, or completely lost his sense of self.

His hand is still gripping yours like a vice. Your hand however, is quaking with anxiety.

"Eddie?" You call softly.

He gives you a series of small whimpers, as if he's trying to tell you something.

The relief crashes you like a freight train.

Blonde, charming to the core, unfairly handsome, way smarter than he let on. Quite the hotshot. Literally. And infuriatingly interested in you the moment you stepped into the building.

Sue said he hadn’t set foot near her lab in months. Now he dropped by almost daily with flimsy excuses, snacks, oxygen checks, dumb questions about leaf colors, all paired with a flirty comment and that unfairly pretty smile.

You rolled your eyes. Every time.

You also got flustered. Every time.

And he noticed. Every time.

And as much as you tried to convince yourself not to fall for his charm, it was practically impossible when he showed up in the middle of the day with some chips and those pretty blue eyes, saying something about how your lab coat fit you particularly nicely that day. You swore you weren’t falling for it. Not for him. Because he flirted with everyone. That’s who he was.

Still, that didn’t stop your heart from skipping whenever he looked at you like you were the only person in the room.

Thankfully, he wasn’t around this time, so you could totally focus on your work with Sue.

"Okay! batch 5FA's tests are catalogued and processed, programming a check in tomorrow. Let's go with batch 5FB," Sue announced, storing the studied samples inside an isolated chamber.

"Batch 5FB is here. Thank you HERBIE," you smiled as the adorable robot placed a glass box with a metal base on the counter in front of you.

You were running a second round of tests on previously labeled specimens, checking for possible medicinal uses. You pressed the button on the base and the glass dome lifted in a soft hiss, releasing a small cloud of white fog from the chamber's interior.

Sue turned her attention to her tablet, scrolling through the database for any notes on these samples. But before she could find any, all the lights went out. All systems stopped working, including the heating.

"Not again," she groaned, setting the tablet down and standing up to head out, no doubt to scold her husband for running experiments during your lab hours.

She stormed off the room, using a soft glow of energy to guide her, leaving you alone in the dark.

Now where was Johnny Storm when you needed him?

If he weren't outside, probably absorbing flames from a burning building, you were sure he'd already be here. Flaming on with that smug smirk before Sue could even reach Reed's lab.

Maybe it was your imagination, but moments like this always felt colder when the golden sun who made it his mission to orbit you... wasn't there.

You lifted your arm to check the watch device on your wrist, one that Johnny had insisted you got 'in case of an emergency', but he just wanted you to have it to continue flirting with you when he wasn't around in the lab. This time being no exception, there was a message from him.

🔥: Will bring some snacks later, I’m sure you look delightful as always. Don’t miss me too much ;)

You rolled your eyes and shook your head amused, locking the watch before you got too caught up staring at the contact photo, set by him, obviously, when he prepared the device for you.

The lights suddenly flickered back on, and the heat kicked back in. Sue re entered the lab, looking proud of herself.

"The next time that happens, he's never hearing the end of it," she muttered, rolling her eyes with a smirk as she made her way back and you chuckled. "Now, shall we?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at the samples.

"I have a feeling this is a promising batch," you joked, eyeing the boring looking plants.

First mistake of the day.

You both got to work, moving in sync through the usual process. It was routine, nothing outside the ordinary, but for some reason ... you began feeling uneasy.

It started with your fingers, a soft, harmless tingle spreading up. You frowned, brushing the sudden sheen of sweat from your forehead with your sleeve.

Was the heating overcompensating? You could swear the room was warmer.

Before you could say anything to Sue, who was still calmly swabbing samples, a familiar scent hit you, making you freeze in place.

First, something intoxicatingly warm and smoky. Then, a devastatingly familiar cologne you knew too well who it belonged to.

Johnny?

Your head snapped around, expecting him to be standing right behind you. That would certainly explain the sudden heat increase, the scent. His scent.

But there was no one there.

"What the hell," you whispered, scanning the lab for any sign of him. Maybe it was another one of his dumb pranks?

Your heart skipped a beat, then started pounding. You turned around fully this time, eyes searching frantically across the room for a possible fire you could be missing.

The smell of smoke was too strong, so much that the air felt heavier. Johnny's crazy theory about the plants affecting the room's oxygen suddenly didn't feel so dumb anymore.

Oh, Johnny.

Those blue eyes. That stupid grin. Those hands. Those tight pants outlining his– wait.

What the actual hell was that thought?

And worse, why did it help?

You didn't get the chance to question your thoughts any further, because the door hissed open, and he walked in. Casual as ever, carrying two drinks and a bag of chips.

"Snack delivery," Johnny called out with a smile, tossing you a wink before turning his attention to HERBIE at the entrance. "Hey, little guy. Miss me?"

He placed the things on a counter next to the door, and crouched down beside the robot, scratching the top of the metal head affectionately. You heard Sue sighing annoyed beside you, but your complete focus was on him.

Because now you were watching him laugh, his eyes crinkling, his forearms flexing as he leaned casually on his knees, and you weren't just staring, you were obsessing. The way his fingers traced little circles into HERBIE's side. A deep red jacket hugging his frame. The outline of his toned chest under that fitted t-shirt. The way his jeans fit when he crouched like that.

Jesus Christ.

You blinked hard, turning away so fast you nearly knocked over a tray of samples.

What the hell was going on?

You weren't even looking at him anymore and still, you could feel him. Smell it. The smoke, and something warm and sweet and masculine. Something him. Stronger now, like it was clinging to the inside of your lungs. You inhaled slowly, carefully, biting your lips to keep a whine from coming out.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him stand stretching lazily, arms overhead, shirt riding up just a little too far. You stared at the plant in your hand like it was the most fascinating thing you'd ever seen, praying Sue wouldn't turn around and notice your soul leaving your body.

"I was right, you look absolutely delightful today," Johnny said casually, leaning over the counter by the door.

You dropped the sample.

Sue did turn around this time, raising an eyebrow as you fumbled to grab it. You knew he flirted like breathing, you got used to it. But not now. Not when this indescribable heat was pooling between your thighs.

"Thanks," you muttered, not trusting yourself to look at him. Because if you did, if you dared, you were about one compliment away from grabbing him by the collar and climbing him like a tree.

And apparently, your body agreed. You squeezed your thighs together, pulse hammering in your ears, because why did that compliment feel like he'd whispered it right against your skin?

"Here you go," his voice startled you when he appeared next to you, placing a can of soda and a bag of chips on the table.

And then he had the audacity to lean on the counter, tapping his long fingers rhythmically on some equipment as he peeked over your work.

It shouldn't be that hot. It's just fingers. It's just tapping.

But god, those hands...

"Did you–did you wear more cologne today?" you asked before you could stop yourself.

Dammit.

Johnny straightened up in his spot, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Actually no, I forgot it today," he said, then tilted his head with a smirk. "Why? Do I smell nice?"

"No–I mean, you don't smell bad. Or good. It's just... nothing," you shut yourself up before you could continue rambling.

"Uh-huh. You okay, doc?" he asked, a smirk on his face as he innocently chewed on a chip. "You look kind of sweaty."

You turned around halfway to the opposite side, facing Sue instead. Safety zone. Sue was safe. Science. Plants.

But even she was watching you with narrowed eyes now. Like she knew. Like she sensed the shift in the air, the pheromones steaming from your body.

"You're flushed," Sue said, leaning closer with a concerned frown. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," you blurted. "Totally fine. Just warm. The heating came back on really strong, right?"

"You can always take off that pretty lab coat, let us see that cute skirt of yours."

Fuck.

You were going to kill him. Or jump his bones. Or both. You turned your attention back to the plants, and you could feel both siblings' eyes drilling on the sides of your head.

"Don't look at me right now," you whispered, more to Johnny than Sue. "It's distracting, seriously. Don't–"

"Wait–am I making you nervous?" he teased, squinting playfully. "You usually want to kick me out, what's up with you?"

"Nothing. Leave."

"Oh, now you want me out? You're being weird today."

"You're weird every day," you snapped.

He didn't seem to be bothered by your attitude, if anything it made him want to try harder to see how much he could get on your nerves. Satisfied with your flustered reaction, he decided to walk across the lab to grab something from the spot he'd initially been in, but thankfully, got distracted by the robot again.

Sue narrowed her eyes at you the whole time, before turning back to her tablet. "I'm pulling the preliminary scans. Something feels off."

Something was definitely off. You were practically vibrating. If Johnny got any closer again you were not going to be responsible for your actions.

You forced yourself to focus on breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Ignore Johnny's stupid laugh and his stupid biceps as he played with herbie in the background.

"Oh no," Sue gasped, staring at her tablet, and your stomach dropped.

"What?" you whispered, trying to keep Johnny oblivious to it, stepping toward her. "What oh no?"

She turned the tablet just enough for you to read the highlighted results from batch 5B.

Pheromone compound found. Induces increased arousal in subjects, mental fixation on known desires, and irrational impulses toward selected partners. Triggered by sudden light and temperature changes. Potentially dangerous if not treated.

You blinked once. Then again.

"Did I just get hit with sex pollen?!" You whisper shouted. Sue just nodded, feeling sorry for you, at least her modified DNA kept her safe from it.

Suddenly it all made sense.

The heat. The way your skin was buzzing. The uncomfortable pressure building low in your stomach. And God help you, the way your brain couldn't stop fixating on Johnny Storm.

"What's with the whispering? Are you talking about me?" behind you, Johnny shouted from his spot, and you could hear the grin in his voice.

"Don't come over here!" You turned and pointed at him in panic. "We're ... working."

He raised both hands, amused and quite confused. "I was just gonna ask if you wanted the sour cream chips too–"

"Do not say cream right now!" you snapped, turning back to Sue like she was your lifeline. "Sue, get him out of here. Now."

"Why?"

"Because he's annoying, and I can't deal with that right now," you lied, straight in her face, because the reason you needed him gone was if he said one more thing about your skirt ...

"Right, okay." She nodded. After all, this wasn't the first time she needed to kick out Johnny for both of your sake's.

She stormed toward the other end of the lab, clapping her hands. "Johnny. Out. Now."

"What? Why?" he blinked, feigning hurt. "I was just ... HERBIE and I were having a bonding moment–"

"Out. We need to work in peace." She pointed to the door, glaring at him.

He raised his hands in surrender, but that smug grin never left his face.

"Alright, alright, I'm going, damn. Don't miss me too much." He winked as he walked backwards out the door. "But if you do, you know where to find–"

The door hissed shut on his face. You groaned, leaning against the counter.

"Sex pollen lasts around twelve hours. At least, as far as I know. But if it doesn't get solved, what happens?"

"Well..." she hesitated.

"Sue?"

"Your nervous system could crash. You're not just... horny, you're chemically overwhelmed. Your dopamine's probably through the roof. If it gets worse, you could faint. Or ...worse."

"Worse? Oh my god," you gulped. "So I just ... die?”

"It will only feel like that."

"Only? Oh my God. Oh my God."

"Don't panic!"

"Don't tell me not to panic!"

"Okay, okay, sorry," she apologized, scrolling through the information again. "Listen, the data says it gives you fixation on selected partners, so that's probably who you're being drawn to right now. You could get them to, you know ...help you."

You froze. No. It can't be happening. Not like this.

"You do have someone in mind, right?" She glanced up from her tablet, questioning.

You didn't answer. Her eyes narrowed.

"Wait ... who is it?"

No answer, again. But Sue Storm didn't need you to say it. All she had to do was study your state. Dilated pupils, the slight tremble of your hands, not being able to stay still. And the way all of that seemed to have gotten worse when her brother walked in the room.

Her jaw dropped with realization. "No," she said horrified, gaze drifting to the door.

"Yes," you whispered, mortified, hands covering your face from embarrassment. "It's not my fault! Everything he does makes me wanna–"

"Ew! Stop–stop talking!" She made a gagging motion. "Gross, that's my baby brother!"

"I know! Do you think I wanted this?" You groaned into your hands, and she sighed dramatically.

"I'm going to find Reed, he might be able to create a suppressant or something. But listen to me, this stuff can escalate fast, especially if you don't get any release. So maybe just... maybe just call him, okay?"

"What?" You stared at her in horror.

"Only if it gets worse! I'm not saying do anything, don't tell me if you do ... actually I don't want to know anything about it ever," she scowled, walking backwards to the door, making HERBIE follow her.

"Sue–"

"Bye! Good luck! Don't die!" And with a last apologetic smile, she was gone.

You were so fucked.

Not literally, unfortunately.

There was no one here to stop you from spiraling now. No one to distract you. Just the echo of Johnny's stupid laugh in your head and the phantom trace of his hand all over the lab's equipment.

You've been around him all week. He was always touching things, sometimes just to piss Sue off. Flicking paperclips while saying you looked pretty. Tapping those fingers of his on every damn surface before someone kicked him out.

Why were you so fixated on his hands?

"Known desires." Pft. As if. You groaned softly, pressing your thighs together like that was going to help.

It didn't.

"You've gotta be kidding me," you whispered to the empty lab, remembering what Sue told you about calling ... him.

Don't you dare. It's just fake heat. He's not yours. You can't call him because you're desperate.

You sat on the edge of your stool and gripped the edge of the counter, trying to stay grounded. Trying to breathe. Constantly shifting your hips against the leather in hopes of relief. It didn't help. Nothing helped.

Your body was screaming for him. Only for him.

Maybe you could relieve yourself.

First, you decided to get rid of your lab coat. Then, taking a deep breath, you slipped your free hand under the waistband of the skirt, gasping when your shaky fingers fumbled against your dripping folds. You gripped the table harder, nails hurting against the hard countertop, as the fingers inside you moved erratically.

Maybe if you just pretended it was him ...

He was all you could think about after all. The way his voice went lower when he said your name, the restraint he showed around you keeping his hands to himself, or the times he watched you from the corner of the lab, sat on a stool, legs spread wide in those unfairly tight pants waiting for you to sit on them.

Oh, Johnny.

What would you do to have him ask 'Where does it hurt?' and then kiss it better. To have him all over you. Touching you. Whispering something hot and stupid while his mouth kissed down your stomach. The way his hands would feel, how his warm grip would hold your thighs open and–

No.

Fantasies weren't enough. Your fingers weren't enough. It was getting worse, actually, the tension building up in your body made it more painful.

"Come on, this is not happening," you yanked your hand back, staring at the ceiling in utter defeat. "I'm not gonna sit here and finger myself over Johnny Storm like a lunatic."

You covered your face with both hands, groaning. You were dripping. Actually dripping. And no matter what you tried, it just made you want him more.

Twelve hours. You had twelve hours of this.

Unless ...

No.

The moment you saw him again you'd explode from shame and arousal at the same time.

You inevitably glanced over the watch on your wrist. The one Johnny himself synced to his, so you could instantly patch through no matter where he was in the world.

But right now, your salvation was probably no further than three floors down.

You knew he would come the second you called. God, he'd come running. He'd probably make a joke out of it. ‘What, you miss me that bad?’ and then he'd see it in your face.

The need. The desperation. The lack of self control.

And maybe, just maybe ... he'd understand.

"Please... I don't know what else to do, " your hesitant finger slowly reached the small screen, and hovered over Johnny Storm's name.

His contact picture made you press it instantly.

The device beeped only once, and then his voice came through.

"Miss me already?" His voice was light, amused. "Or did Sue set the lab on fire? ... see this is why I should always be there."

Your whole body twitched, relief and panic crashed over you in one brutal wave. He was joking. Of course he was. You could picture the smile in his voice, that stupid glint in his eyes.

It calmed you, only for a second. Like his voice was water in the middle of a dessert.

"Johnny... I need you here. Right now," you blurted, trying your best not to sound like you were dying.

He paused for a moment, and then his heavy footsteps echoed through the call.

"I'm coming," he said immediately, no hesitation, no further questions asked. The comm went silent.

Okay now what? There's no turning back, he's gonna be here. He's actually gonna be here.

You began pacing again. You couldn't think straight, and the heat was getting worse. Because now your brain painted images of him.

Johnny storming into the lab, hair tousled from how fast he walked there, with that smug smile and probably a damn stupid comment.

And you'll have to look him in the eye and tell him why you called. Tell him you were burning. That nothing helped. That you needed him or you would die.

How the fuck do you say that out loud?

'Hi Johnny, so I inhaled a plant's weird space pollen and now I'm gonna lose my mind if you don't rail me on this table?'

You shook your head. Forced yourself to straighten up. Smoothed your skirt, your blouse. Fingers shaking through your hair. If you could just act normal, or look normal, maybe you could buy time. Maybe Sue would come back before anything happened.

Maybe you wouldn't fall apart the second he looked at you.

But before you could control your breathing, the door slid open. And in walked Johnny, with that maddening, stupidly beautiful smirk already on his face.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, stepping inside. "Locked up alone in the lab, calling me back here in a hushed voice... you naughty thing. Couldn't even last an hour without me?"

You didn't move, taking in how much stronger his scent was now. He tilted his head at you, mischief lighting up his eyes as he strutted forward.

"So what, you finally decided I was irresistible? Wanted a private show?" He wiggled his fingers, letting small flames come to life. "Because I do take requests, you know. Fireman, sexy lab assistant–"

"Johnny," you snapped, voice cracking.

Something shifted in your posture then, like all the heat finally caught up with you. You backed away, pressing your hands flat against the cold edge of the counter like it could anchor you. Your breathing got more erratic, and your knees actually buckled before you forced yourself upright again.

Johnny's playful expression changed.

"Hey, hey–" he instantly crossed the space between you, reaching out to hold you but stopped when you flinched away from him. "What's wrong? What happened?"

You shook your head, trying to speak, but nothing came out. Just a helpless sound, a frustrated whimper. Johnny took a cautious step closer, still without touching you.

"Are you hurt, sweetheart?" His voice softened, laced with worry.

Sweetheart?

Your ovaries screamed.

"Johnny, something is wrong ... really wrong with me," you whispered, finally turning to look at him with glassy eyes.

He frowned, worried. His gaze scanned you, the way you could barely hold yourself upright but refused to let him hold you. So his eyes drifted to the table to find a possible reason, landing on the lit tablet, the screen still displaying the information.

"Johnny wait–"

Before you could stop him, he picked it up and scrolled through the content, eyes going wide. He paused, stared and read the entry again. And again. His mouth opened, trying to get a joke out of it, but the shock wouldn't let him.

"...it's pollen," he finally said, voice cracking like a boy hitting puberty again. "Sex pollen? You got hit with horny powder."

"Don't call it that," you groaned, covering your face with your hands from embarrassment.

Johnny looked down at your flushed skin, the sweat glistening on your collarbone, the way you couldn't even stand still anymore, and all of it clicked.

Holy shit. It was fucking sex pollen. He'd read about it before, but never thought he would have it in front of him.

That you would have it in front of him.

"Wait," he blurted, staring back at the tablet. "Wait wait wait–"

You peeked through your fingers, just in time to see him re reading the entry. His eyes went wide, in a mixture of surprise and something else.

"Known desires... selected partners," he mumbled the words, and then, he looked up at you with impossibly hopeful eyes and a grin on his face, “Me?"

You didn't answer him right away, you couldn't. You were sure this was the moment you fainted.

"I didn't know what to do," you whispered. "Sue left and I ... God, Johnny, I tried to fight it, I swear. But I couldn't think, and you were the only one I–"

"Hey," Johnny cut you softly, slowly closing the distance, your bodies barely grazing together. "Look at me."

You didn't.

"Come on," he coaxed, just a little softer. "You're okay. I got you."

Your eyes lifted to his, and the heat behind them made your stomach twist. He wasn't smirking anymore. No teasing, just him, very aware of what he was causing on you.

You hated that it only made things worse.

"I didn't know what to do," you whispered. "I can't think. I can't breathe."

He stared at you for a moment, hesitanting.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked, genuinely. His hands were still on his sides.

"God, I don't even know what I need," You let out a shaky laugh, half delirious, half desperate.

"Sure you do," he said quietly, like it was the easiest answer in the world. "You called me."

Your mouth parted, but no sound came out. So you nodded, because you did.

And then, just like that, his hand finally reached to your waist. Just his warm hand, barely even getting there, but your body snapped like he just sent electricity through your whole body.

You gasped, stumbling back, nearly knocking over the stool. Johnny quickly steadied you with both hands now, eyes wide.

"Okay, okay–that sensitive?" he chuckled breathlessly, still unable to wrap his head around what was happening. "Not that I'm complaining, but usually when I flirt with you, you roll your eyes and then you kick me out."

But you weren't rolling your eyes now. Not yet, at least.

"Yeah I'm just ..." you mumbled, breathless. Skin burning with the feeling of his hands on your waist, warm even through your clothes, staring up at him like he hung the stars. "I feel like I'm burning alive and you're the only one who can put it out."

For the first time in his life, Johnny didn't know what to say back.

It's not like his fantasy of having you spread over the lab counter was starting to become a reality. Only if you said it. If you wanted him to.

God, if you really asked him he would please you in any way possible.

"Johnny..." you whined to get his attention. Your pupils were blown wide, lashes fluttering, eyes glassy with unshed tears you couldn't stop at this point. "It hurts, do–do something ... anything."

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I said I got you–"

His hands cupped your face, impossibly warm even against your already overheated skin. You leaned into them like you needed it, like you've been starved of touch for hours.

His touch.

And you stared at him, he was beautiful and hot and close, and your whole body leaned forward like a magnet. And all you could see was him. The concern in his eyes. The way his thumbs traced your cheekbones so gently. The way he was so close and still not close enough.

You reached out with shaking fingers and grabbed the collar of his jacket, yanking him toward you until your chests collided, until all you could feel was his toned body on yours.

He stumbled forward, instinctively wrapping his arms around your back, pressing you tighter to him.

"...You're serious," he whispered, lost in the way you seemed to be devouring him with your eyes. "You're really not okay."

You nodded, fists clenching in his jacket.

And without even thinking about it, you rubbed against him. Your body moved slowly, needy. Instinctively.

It was just a subtle graze, your hips grinding against his body for friction, for anything. And for the first time in the day you felt some kind of relief.

"Shit, love," he cursed under his breath, almost groaning.

You made a soft, broken sound in your throat at the friction, at the way his thigh brushed yours, at the warmth of his skin through his clothes, at the scent of him everywhere.

Johnny choked on his own breath. He tightened his grip for a moment, just enough to keep you from moving further. You whined, at this point completely lost in the haze, but he kept you firmly in place.

"Sweetheart..." he started softly. "If we do this–if you really want this, I'm not walking away from you afterwards. I'm not pretending this didn't happen."

"Me neither," you answered, a little too rushed.

But you meant it. You were tired of pretending him strutting into the lab wasn't your favorite part of the day. Tired of pretending you didn't want him.

"Please Johnny," you begged, hands moving to play with his hair, "I want you. All of you, today and everyday."

He looked stunned for a second, that 'please' shattering every bit of restraint he had left . He'd been wanting you since day one.

"That's my girl," his hands cradled your face with such devastating tenderness, making you forget the chaos in your blood, the desperation clawing under your skin.

And then, in a sudden move, he spun you around, one arm wrapped around your waist as the other held the back of your head. He bent over your frame, tilting your body backwards, like being swept into a cliche movie kiss, and crashed his lips into yours. You gasped into his mouth as one of your feet left the ground, with your weight safe in his arms, and clenched your fists on his hair. He kissed you hungry, desperate, like this was the moment he'd been waiting his whole damn life for.

You clung to his body like oxygen, letting yourself get lost in the smoke, in the devastating warmth of his body, in the way his tongue dominated over yours. He groaned over your lips, like he could taste your urgency. Until none of you could breathe anymore.

"That's how you do a first kiss," he mumbled against your lips, breathless and still maddening cocky.

You pressed your forehead to his, panting, dizzy, holding on to him like he was the only thing keeping you alive.

"Now show me how you do me."

Yeah, you were going to be the death of Johnny Storm.

That was enough for him. He pulled you upright, spinning you to lift you over the counter. He kissed you again, rougher this time, and with one arm knocked over what was on the counter so you would have more space.

Metal tools clashed loudly against the floor, plant samples tilted over, dirt spilling on the ground, and something definitely shattered.

"Shit," he laughed into your lips. "Sue's gonna kill me."

"Don't care," you panted, tugging on his jacket so he could get rid of it.

"Eager, are we?" he smirked, but complied in taking it off, taking a step back to throw it across the room.

Your eyes raked through his body, biting your lip at the way that white shirt clung to this toned chest.

He placed himself between your legs again, palms laying on your skin, and started drumming his fingers absentmindedly. Like he didn't know exactly what he was doing to you. Like the casual tap of each warm fingertip against your thigh wasn't setting your whole body on fire.

Your breath shuddered watching his hands.

And he noticed. Of course he did, and his mouth curled into the softest, filthiest smile.

"Wait..." he said, mischief behind his eyes. "Hold on. Is it my hands? Is that what's doing it for you?

You swallowed hard, heart pumping in your chest. Your eyes darted to his fingers again, the ones teasing your skin a bit harder now. The ones you've thought about way too many times, in way too many ways.

His smirk grew when you didn't answer. He already knew.

Johnny's hand lifted behind your neck, coaxing your head back just enough so you were forced to meet his eyes, almost glowing golden fire with lust. The other trailed upward, knuckles brushing your chin before tracing the curve of your lips.

"Let me see that pretty mouth," he mumbled, and when your lips parted, he pushed two fingers inside, slow and steady.

You whimpered, eyes rolling back from tasting him. He just stared at you like he'd never seen anything hotter in his life.

"That's it... get them wet for you," Johnny breathed, thumb brushing your cheek as he watched you suck on them like a lifeline. "God, you're so hot."

He pulled his fingers free, glistening, and grinned like the absolute menace he was.

"Open your thighs for me."

You did, immediately, like your body belonged to ever command he made.

He slid his hand inside your skirt, the same one you just had in your mouth, reaching for your panties. You gasped when he finally touched you over the fabric, his fingers pressing between your legs, dragging slow and warm and perfect against your soaked underwear.

"Oh, fuck," he breathed. "Didn't even need it, you were already this wet for me, huh?"

You nodded, biting your lip. "I need you ... please,” the plea fell from your lips in a whisper. “Johnny … save me.”

Now he was staring at you like you hung the stars. Like having you wet, pleading, begging him to be your hero was a kink he never knew he had.

"Shit. Honey... I got you" he leaned in, like he couldn't get any closer. "I got you. I haven't even–fuck, I haven't even really started."

He slid your underwear aside and finally dipped his fingers into you, slow and gentle and so good you whimpered into his shoulder.

"There she is," he cooed. "God, you're so wet. So soft."

You clung to him, nails curling against the back of his neck. He groaned, obsessed with how desperate you were for him. You could barely breathe anymore, his slow pace was maddening, like he wanted to savor every reaction, every sound you made.

"So tight," he praised, kissing down your neck. "You feel so fucking good. You like that, baby?"

You moaned, a complete mess on top of that counter, and he grinned against your skin.

"Yeah you do. Look at you. Already a mess for me."

His other hand cradled your head again, keeping you close, anchoring you to him as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out, curling just right, his thumb starting to circle your clit, It was too much. But not enough.

"You were thinking about this, weren't you?" he teased, hot breath against your neck. "You wanted my fingers in you. Couldn't stop thinking about it."

He was right. He knows he was right.

"Don't worry," he groaned, licking a slow stripe along your throat. "They're all yours."

Every filthy sound of his wet fingers inside you, every whimper you made went straight to his bloodstream.

You were praying his name, over and over, until you fell apart on his hand, moaning, gasping, shaking, he kissed you through it, humming against your lips.

"That's it. Just like that, pretty girl. I got you."

You were breathless, clinging to him, and he didn't stop curling his fingers to feel how your walls clenched around him. He held you there, watching you come undone with pure adoration in his eyes, his free hand cupping your cheek, pressing kisses to your temple, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. Because even after wrecking you he was devastatingly tender.

"God, I could watch you fall apart all night," he cursed, watching your chest raise violently at your first release of the night.

He watched stunned, it was like he was bringing you back to life.

And it felt like that.

Your body yearned for more, but before you could speak again, he pulled his fingers out, and brought two to his mouth, slow and deliberate, sucking your wetness off them like he'd been starving for it. He groaned, like you were the best thing he'd ever tasted.

Your mouth parted, speechless, his eyes locked on yours as he licked them clean, and then slid those same fingers back inside you.

You gasped, back arching as he pumped a few more times, watching your body clench around him. Like he wanted more. Like you were his favorite experiment now.

"Here, you can have some too," he smirked, pulling them out and slipping them into your open mouth.

You moaned around his fingers, lashes fluttering, and Johnny swore nothing had ever wrecked him more than the sight of you, on top the counter, flushed and trembling, eyes wide and glassy, staring at him while you tasted yourself off his fingers.

"So good, isn't it?" He pulled his fingers from your mouth, but let his thumb drag over your bottom lip, pressing it down to see the way your pretty mouth stayed open for him, spreading some of your own cum in your chin.

Not a single sane thought left in your head at this point. You needed him now more than ever.

"Johnny."

"Yes, babe?"

"Fuck me. Fuck me right now."

Something shifted behind his eyes. The smirk stayed, but there was a new weight to it now, dark, focused, possessive.

"You want me to save you, huh?" he asked softly. His hand trailed down from your lip, past your throat, down your covered chest, your breasts, until it pressed flat against your stomach.

He slid you closer to the edge of the counter with a grunt, and you gasped when you felt his bulge, hot and heavy, pressing against your core through his pants.

"You don't know how long I've wanted you like this," he breathed against your lips, dragging his mouth down to your neck, sucking a mark just beneath your ear. "All spread out for me."

"You can have me, you can have all of me.”

"Yeah?" His lips curled into a smile against your throat. "You want it slow, baby, or do you want it how you begged for it?"

"Please, Johnny ..."

"Oh, sweetheart." He leaned back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and gleaming.. "You don't have to beg anymore."

He slid his shirt off with ease, showing off his chiseled golden body. His pants were next, hitting the floor in a quiet thud, and your shaky hands yanked his boxers down. His throbbing cock sprung up free, swollen, showing you how much your desperation had him painfully rock hard.

You had to fight every part of your being to not push him down and jump on his dick until you passed out from exhaustion. But before you could, he was already bunching up your skirt. You lifted your hips to slide it down, but he chuckled, pushing you down.

"No, no. The skirt stays on," he licked his lips. "Been dreaming about this for a while."

You gasped when he placed his tip on your entrance with one hand, giving it a few slaps like he was savoring every single second. And so were you.

He slid in slowly, inch by inch, mouth open against your shoulder, and he moaned. Johnny fucking Storm moaned. Because it was you. Because it was better than any dream he'd ever had. Better than he even imagined.

"Fuck," he groaned. "You feel so good–you're perfect, baby. You're perfect."

You cried out as he bottomed out, clinging to him, nails digging on his bare back, and he smiled, like he was trying to memorize every sound you made.

"That's it, let me hear you," he panted, slamming in so he could hear you yelp. "You sound so fucking good, baby. Look how you take me."

You buried your face in his neck, trembling as your legs lifted to wrap around his waist. To try and get him to go deeper.

"You've been driving me crazy for months," he grunted, slamming in again. "All those times you rolled your eyes at me? You have no idea what I was thinking."

It didn't take him longer to fuck into you, hard, immediately hitting that spot. You were already a moaning mess, fingers digging into his shoulders. With both hands he grabbed your blouse, and pulled to rip the fabric, snapping the buttons open. Next was your bra, like he finally decided he needed to see your boobs bouncing with every thrust.

"I've wanted you ... needed you" he breathed, diving in to get lost in your chest. "For so long..."

And he showed you how much. With the way he sucked your nipples. With the way his hips snapped forward to make you gasp. With the way his hands roamed all over your body. Or the way he groaned into your neck as he pushed himself balls deep into your soaked pussy.

"Fuck– Johnny," you panted, head dropping back, "you're so big ... feels so good."

"Yeah?" he smirked against your skin, "too much already?"

"Never," you shook your head. "Harder, Johnny. Fuck me harder."

Yeah, this was definitely better than any fantasy he's ever had.

He smiled, god he smiled. Looking devilishly sweet while wrecking your entire body. Completely undoing you.

He picked up the pace, driving into you just right, hands gripping your hips like he owned them. Every thrust knocked another moan from your lips, and every moan made him laugh softly, like he couldn't believe how lucky he was to be inside you like this.

Your breath started getting shorter, nails digging deeper into his skin, and he felt the way your body was crashing under him.

"C'mon, sweetheart, I got you. Let go for me. Let me feel you." He groaned, and that was it.

You fell apart in his arms for the second time with a cry, pulsing around him, and Johnny just lost it. He kissed you hard, hips stuttering as he came inside you with a low, broken groan. His cum filled you deep. So warm, warmer than anybody's ever was.

And it drove you insane.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, your body arching to meet his, and Johnny leaned back just enough to look at you, eyes scanning your flushed face, your swollen lips, the blissed out haze in your eyes.

"You're beautiful like this," he said, running his thumb softly over your skin. "You know that? Fucking stunning. Never letting you go."

Now it's you smiling, dazed, lost in his eyes as you tried to catch your breath.

"You're everything Johnny," you whispered, your hands cradling his face. "You're so good to me."

He smiled, then leaned forward, catching your lips in a soft kiss. Your mouths moved like they knew each other. Like they belonged. And god he was a good kisser, but the pollen in your body made you crave for more.

You didn't mean to lunge, really, but the next thing you knew was you surged forward. Caught off guard, he stumbled backwards, holding your waist, your body landing on top of him as his back touched the floor.

Johnny was still panting from his high, from the kiss, and now he was sprawled out on the floor, chest rising and falling in aftershocks when you climbed closed to his face.

He looked up at you, stunned for a second, then grinned.

"You're not done with me yet, huh?" he placed both hands behind his head, biceps flexing. "Okay, don't let me stop you."

You grinned, kissing down his jaw, over his throat, his collarbone, your hands dragging down his toned chest like you needed to feel every inch of him again. His skin hot, like always, matching the fire rolling under your skin now. Your hips rolled instinctively against his thigh and he groaned, head tipping back.

"Shit–" he hissed, eyes squeezing shut. "Baby, gimme a second to –"

"I can't," you pouted, breath hot against his skin. "It's still burning ... I need more of you, Johnny."

"Oh... well," he said, lips curling into a crooked smile, "when you put it like that–"

You kissed him before he could finish, grinding down against him with reckless need, and he groaned, his hands flying to your hips.

"Okay, okay, fuck–" he breathed, eyes fluttering shut as your body moved against his. "You're not just using me for my stamina, are you?"

"Maybe a little," you chucked against his mouth, and he laughed.

"Fair enough."

"It just ... it still hurts."

"I know," he muttered. "I know, sweetheart. Let me help, yeah?"

He propped himself up with his elbows, one hand on your back as he flipped you over and placed you gently on the floor.

"Let me take care of you, just relax for me," he whispered, pressing his hands to open your thighs again. "I wanna taste you first ... Gotta get my strength back somehow, right?"

He slid down your body slowly, kissing his way across your ribs, your hips, trailing open mouthed heat everywhere until his face was between your thighs. His hands cradled them, thumbs sweeping over your skin. He couldn't believe the way you whimpered when he was marking every inch of your skin.

"I know, sweetheart," he cooed, voice so soft, mouth ghosting over your skin. "I know you're sensitive. Just let me make it better."

He draped your legs over his shoulders like they belonged there, kissing up your inner thighs, tongue teasing so slowly you could cry. And when he finally pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss right where you needed it...

You shattered again.

"Johnny–"

You arched into him and he groaned like he was the one coming apart.

"You taste so good, baby," he praised as he began licking loudly. "So sweet ... fuck– I've wanted this for so long..."

His tongue moved swiftly, unrelenting and deliberate, while his hands pinned your hips down. You were a writhing mess, overstimulated and dripping for him, but still moaned his name over and over.

It wasn't just pleasure, every brush of his tongue was relief. Like he was cooling the fever from the inside out.

"That's what you needed, huh? All worked up and no one to help you ... what kind of man would I be if I left my girl like that?"

‘My girl.’

His girl.

"Johnny ... Please don't stop."

"I won't," he promised, smiling against your wetness. "Not until you feel safe again."

And he meant it. His lips worked you open, his tongue tracing lazy circles and long, aching strokes until you were gasping and crying out, trembling so hard your vision blurred.

He moaned against you like he was addicted. His nose brushed your clit with every pass, and it was torture, sweet, unbearable, perfect torture.

Your hands flew to his hair, tugging him closer, desperate, and he loved it, humming low as he flicked his tongue faster, coaxing another release from you, watching you fall apart all over again.

He blinked up at you, dazed and stunned and so fucking gone for you. "You're gonna kill me," he said, completely in awe. "What did I do to deserve this?"

You, spread in front of him, barely able to breathe anymore.

Body still begging for more.

He was ready for another round in no time.

You weren't sure how many rounds you ended up doing. Or how many places you begged him to fuck you on. All you remembered was begging 'one more time', "please Johnny, another one", "Johnny just one more".

It was never 'just one more'. You completely drained him after many hours, until the itch was finally gone.

Not that Johnny ever complained. If anything, he had fulfilled all of his ‘known desires on his preferred partner’ too.

Thank god for sex pollen.

You weren't sure how long you were out, your body gave in before your brain could catch up. The ache between your legs was evident but warm, the weight of Johnny's love still lingering on your skin. You woke up slowly, your cheek resting against a very toned chest, the faint scent of sweat and smoke clinging to him like a memory.

The lab was dark, save for the soft flickering light pulsing from a single, familiar source.

Johnny.

He was still beneath you, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other lazily raised. At the tip of his finger, a small flame danced, gentle, hot, nothing like the infernos he usually conjured. Just enough to light his face in amber glow.

You blinked up at him.

He wasn't looking at you, not at first. Just drawing slow circles on your back with his thumb, eyes were distant. Thoughtful.

Then he felt you stir.

"Hey," he rasped, smiling down at you.

You swallowed hard, everything flooded back. The lab. The counter. The floor. The workbench. Your hands in his hair, your name on his tongue, the way he held you like you were made for him.

And now... this.

Quiet. Intimate. Real.

"Sorry," you whispered, still sprawled half on top of him. "I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

He chuckled softly, his chest shaking under you.

"After everything that happened that's the last thing you should be apologizing for, sweetheart," he teased, lowering the flame a little. "Besides, it's not the worst way I've ever spent a night in the lab. I love having a very satisfied hot girl passed out on my chest."

You laughed softly, feeling that familiar heat creeping up your cheeks. But something made you doubt for a second.

'After everything that happened, that's the last thing you should be apologizing for.'

Guilt washed over you. The goddamn pollen.

"Johnny... earlier... I didn't mean–"

"Wait don't," he stopped you softly, sitting up a bit so he could see your face better. "Don't say you didn't mean it."

His expression shifted, firelight dancing in his eyes, but something in him doubted too. Like maybe it was the pollen after all.

That couldn't be farther from the truth.

"No, no that's not what I meant," you immediately corrected, and sighed. "I didn't mean to make you feel used, or... like I didn't care."

His gaze softened a little.

"You didn't," he mumbled, still holding his breath in case you sent him to hell after this.

You inhaled slowly, and everything you'd been holding back just tumbled out.

"What I said earlier... that you're everything? It wasn't just the pollen talking," you confessed. "You are, Johnny. I mean it."

His whole expression cracked open, surprised, glowing, like someone just handed him his heart back.

"Damn," he said softly, lips curling into a grin. "You're really gonna say that to me while I'm naked and emotionally compromised?"

You laughed, burying your face in his neck.

"Shut up," you mumbled, but you were smiling too.

He pulled you closer, his free hand trailing over your spine.

"Nah, too late," he grinned. "You're into me. Can't take it back now."

"Ugh, why did I say anything."

"Because you love me. Or at the very least, my hands."

You groaned. He laughed again, delighted, confident, soft. He lifted the flame again and watched the orange glow reflect on your skin.

"So what now?" you whispered.

"Now?" He shrugged. "You keep laying here. I keep lighting up the room. We do this again when you're not on a heat spiral."

"Johnny–"

"What?" he smirked. "You like my fingers, admit it."

You shook your head, "I wasn't that into them."

"No, no, don't even try to downplay it now," he accused, all smug. "You weren't just into my hands. You were like ... obsessed with them."

You groaned and buried your face in his chest like that would protect you from the embarrassment clawing up your throat.

"Johnny–"

"No, seriously," he continued with mock innocence. "I've never seen someone stare at my fingers like that. You were practically drooling. I thought I was gonna have to get a towel."

"Stooop," you whined, voice muffled, your whole body heating up again, and not from the pollen this time.

He laughed, wicked and loving all at once.

"But hey," he said, turning serious in the most unserious way, "you can have them now, you know. Anytime you need them."

"Yeah?" you asked, a glint of mischief in your eyes. "What about now?"

Little extra scene

⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆

you didn’t think much of it and neither did eddie. because steve fit. he fit so naturally into the spaces you’d already built together that nobody noticed it happening.

steve became part of your routines before he ever became part of your relationship.

he started showing up without knocking and helping himself to drinks from your fridge. he became familiar.

maybe that should have been your first warning.

one evening you walked into the living room to find eddie asleep on one side of the couch and steve asleep on the other.

your heart did something strange.

you ignored it because you already had eddie. you already had everything you wanted. didn’t you?

the problem was that steve never seemed to understand where the line was supposed to be. or maybe he understood it perfectly and just didn’t care.

because every time you mentioned needing something, it magically appeared. every time you were upset, steve somehow knew. every time you laughed, his entire face lit up like you’d handed him the greatest gift he’d ever received.

it got harder to ignore.

especially when eddie started noticing it too.

“he likes you.” your long haired boyfriend said.

you nearly dropped your drink.

“what?!”

eddie looked entirely too amused. “steve likes you, babe.”

“don’t be ridiculous, eds.” you scoff.

“baby.”

“eddie.”

“i’ve seen the way he looks at you.” he insists.

“he does not look at me differently, eddie. he’s just, steve…” you reply.

eddie stared, then laughed hard. “oh my god.”

“what?” you asked, not really understanding where his laugh came from.

“you’re serious.” eddie squints his eyes at you.

“yes…!”

“you genuinely don’t know?”

you hated when he got that look on his face. that look that said he knew something you didn’t.

“know what?” you question him.

“that man’s in love with you.” eddie simply mutters.

your stomach flipped immediately, violently.

“eddie.”

“i’m serious, babe. harrington looks at you like you hung the moon.”

“stop.” you shake your head.

“i’m not joking.” eddie smirks.

you looked away first, which told him everything.

eddie knew you better than anyone.

he saw the panic, the uncertainty, the tiny spark of something you’d been trying not to examine too closely.

and instead of getting jealous, instead of getting angry, he just smiled. soft and fond. dangerously understanding.

because the truth was that eddie had started loving steve a long time ago too.

he just hadn’t figured out what to do about it yet.

somehow, despite all the worrying, all the overthinking, all the conversations that stretched until three in the morning because nobody wanted to say the wrong thing and ruin everything, it worked.

it actually worked.

which was almost annoying because you’d spent weeks expecting everything to feel different, complicated and awkward.

instead, it felt like slipping into clothes you’d already owned for years.

the front door had barely clicked shut before eddie’s head lifted from where it was resting on your stomach.

“steve’s home.” he says.

“you say that like a dog hearing its owner pull into the driveway.” you laughed, not bothering to look up from your book.

“that’s because i love him.”

before you could answer, footsteps echoed down the hallway, followed by the familiar sound of keys being dropped onto the kitchen counter.

a few seconds later, steve appeared in the bedroom doorway. his tie was loose, his sleeves were rolled up, his hair was a mess from running his hands through it all day.

and the second his eyes landed on the two of you, something in his expression softened. gone was the exhausted look he’d walked through the door with.

“hi, sweetheart.” steve sighs with a smile.

the greeting was directed at the two of you, but he was already walking toward the bed.

eddie immediately reached a hand out dramatically. “don’t ignore me.”

steve rolled his eyes affectionately before leaning down.

eddie was already grinning before the kiss even happened.

steve reached up, curling his hand briefly around the side of eddie’s jaw before leaning in. the kiss was short and familiar, more instinct than thought, their lips brushing together for barely a second before steve pulled away again. eddie followed automatically, chasing the contact with a quiet smile already tugging at the corner of his mouth.

when steve pulled back, eddie looked entirely too pleased with himself.

“missed you.” eddie smiles.

“i was gone for eight hours.” steve replies.

“terrible eight hours.”

steve laughed, the sound warm and effortless.

then his attention shifted, immediately finding you like it always did.

you were still stretched across the bed in one of steve’s shirt and white lace panties, book forgotten somewhere beside you now.

watching them with a pleased smile.

and the second your eyes met, his entire expression softened all over again.

“hi, baby.” his voice was quieter this time, somehow more intimate despite being such a simple word.

“hi.” you whisper back with a soft smile.

he leaned over you, one hand braced against the mattress and kissed you, slow and gentle.

“i missed you too.” steve mutters against your lips.

“liar.” you roll your eyes jokingly.

you looked over. eddie was watching from his spot beside you.

before either of them could say another word, you slipped off the bed.

steve watched you curiously.

“where are you going?” he asked.

“nowhere.” you reply.

“that’s not an answer.”

you ignored him completely.

instead, your attention landed on the chair sitting in the corner of the room.

the one steve had dumped his jacket on moments earlier.

a smile tugged at your lips as you drag the chair over to the front of the bed.

“sit.” you say to steve.

steve blinked. “what?”

“sit.”

“baby, wha-”

“steve.” you mutter.

eddie immediately started giggling softly. “oh, this is gonna be good.”

you grabbed steve’s wrist before he could protest any further and gently tugged him toward the chair.

he followed surprisingly easily, mostly because he was curious and because he rarely denied you anything.

“you’re both being weird.” steve squinted his eyes.

“sit down, babe.” eddie smirks.

“i don’t trust either of you.” steve laughs.

you rolled your eyes at both of them.

steve sighed dramatically before finally dropping into the chair, leaning back with his arms crossed, trying and failing to look annoyed.

underneath it all, there was a smile threatening to break through.

“there.” you whisper, looking entirely too pleased with yourself.

steve narrowed his eyes. “okay. now what?”

you exchanged a glance with eddie. immediately, both of you started smirking.

and suddenly steve felt like he’d made a terrible mistake.

fuck.

eddie practically collapsed against the pillows still smirking.

you get up on the bed again, crawling on all fours towards eddie, your tiny thong and ass on full display for steve as your shirt rides up.

his eyes darken with lust and barely restrained desire. steve watches the enticing display of your barely-covered pussy intently, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“shit…” steve curses under his breath.

as you get closer to eddie, his smirk grows stronger on his lips.

eddie reaches out to stroke your hair as you approach. his other hand trails reverently down your back, fingertips grazing the lace trim of your thong.

“wanna give steve something to relax after his long day at work, baby?” eddie asks you directly.

you nod, causing a grin on eddie’s mouth as he gives your ass cheek a hard smack. you let out a little moan, turning your head back to look at steve.

he shifts in his seat, the growing bulge in his pants betraying his excitement despite his attempts to maintain composure. steve leans back, spreading his legs slightly as he continues to drink in the sight of you and eddie.

maintaining eye contact with steve, you straddle eddie’s lap, grinding your clothed cunt against him slowly.

“fuuuuck, baby.” eddie smirks, one hand behind his head while the other wraps around your ass cheek.

you giggle in response, a teasing smile playing in your lips as his own hips start to roll up to meet yours.

eddie gasps as he feels the heat of your core pressing insistently against his straining erection, even through the thin fabric of your thong. his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips, holding you in place as he grinds up against you.

“our girl looks so goddamn pretty.” eddie says to steve.

“fuck, yeah she does.” steve mumbles back, hand snaking down to his clothed cock that’s growing harder each second inside his work jeans.

you stop eddie’s hips from grinding on you and slide off to your side of the bed to slowly pull your panties down your legs.

eddie’s breath catches in his throat as he watches you slowly peel off your soaked thong, revealing your glistening folds. his pupils are blown wide with desire, a bead of sweat already rolling down his temple.

“god, babe... you're absolutely dripping for it, aren't you?” he rasps, his large hands coming up to cup and knead the globes of your ass.

“mhm.” you smirk up at eddie, giving his lips a soft kitten lick.

“take that off, baby.” steve demands from the chair, pointing to your shirt.

it’s safe to say that your shirt hits the floor mere seconds after his demand, leaving you bare.

eddie follows your moves, sitting up and reaching for the hem of his shirt, in one swift motion, he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside. next, he stands and quickly sheds his jeans and boxers, kicking them away until he's fully nude before you.

“so so beautiful for us…” eddie whispers, hands roaming your tits. “go show steve a bit of what he’s gonna be missing today, baby.”

your head turns to look over at steve again, his big hand still palming his cock through his jeans. you crawl over to him until you’re kneeling in front of the chair.

steve inhales sharply as your hands work at his belt, the sound of the buckle clinking seeming to echo in the charged air between you. he lifts his hips slightly, allowing you to tug his jeans and boxers down his thighs, freeing his swollen, massive dick.

“i hate the two of you…” steve hisses through clenched teeth.

“no you don’t.” you and eddie say in unison.

steve groans when your soft, wet tongue grazes slightly along his sensitive cock, the feather-light touches sending jolts of pleasure racing up his spine.

“oo-oh, fuck!” he whines, finding balance by holding on to the chair’s arm.

steve throws his head back with a loud moan as your hot mouth engulfs his cock, the sudden shift from teasing licks to deep suction.

“god- jesus, baby.”

eddie is definitely enjoying the show from the bed, his hand going up and down on his already hard dick, giving it slow and precise strokes with a grin on his lips.

but just as quickly as it began, the exquisite sensation steve felt, is gone, leaving him empty and aching for more. you back away, a string of saliva connects your lower lip to the engorged head of his cock.

eddie couldn’t help but smirk even more at the disappointed look on steve’s face the second your mouth left his cock.

“fuck, aghnnn-” steve groans.

steve watches you return to the bed, his breathing heavy and ragged.

as you approach, eddie reaches out immediately, his warm hands wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against his bare chest. the contrast of your smooth skin against his hard muscles makes him hiss through his teeth.

“come here, baby... making me so hard.” eddie murmurs, his voice dropping into that low, authoritative tone he uses whenever you fuck.

you giggle softly, the sound making steve’s cock twitch.

eddie pushes you back onto the mattress, hovering over you as he looms above your frame. his eyes are dark with pure want.

“since you're being such a tease for steve, i think you owe me some undivided attention, don't you?” he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent before nipping lightly at your skin.

“mhm.” you bite your lip slightly and nod your head, locking eyes with steve as you spread your legs wider for eddie.

eddie groans at the sight of your legs falling open, exposing your dripping cunt to his hungry gaze. he settles between your thighs, the heat of his body radiating against your sensitive skin.

“fuck, baby... you're drenched.” eddie groans, running a finger through your folds teasingly. “all this just for me, huh? or for steve?”

“all for you, eddie.” the confession comes out innocent, only your eyes are on steve the entire time you say it.

eddie smirks at your move and leans down to replace his finger with his tongue. he starts lapping at your pussy so softly, steve could swear he saw your eyes roll into your head.

“oh- my god, eddie!” you moan too loud, grabing his long hair and pushing his head deeper between your legs.

eddie’s hands slide under your thighs, pushing them further apart as he delves deeper, his nose brushing against your clit, hitting all the right spots.

steve watches you two with hooded eyes, his hand working steadily over his hard dick. the wet sounds of eddie eating you out fill the room, punctuated by your loud moans and eddie’s muffled groans of enjoyment.

“jesus.” steve whispers through clenched teeth.

eddie surges up your body, capturing your lips in a searing kiss and leaving you aching for his tongue. the taste of your arousal mingles with steve’s flavor, creating an intoxicating combination.

“that kiss was almost enough to make me jealous.” steve smirks, his cock looking swollen in his hand.

“i’ll take good care of her, harrington.” eddie smirked, his large hands roaming your curves possessively.

steve chuckles huskily, a wicked gleam in his eye as he watches eddie stake his claim.

eddie rapidly shifts to kneel beside your head on the bed. he fists his thick cock, giving it a few slow pumps as he aims it towards your parted lips. your eyes filled with lust looking up at him were enough to make a man cry.

“wrap those pretty lips around my cock, baby. show steve what he’s missing.” he urges, his other hand coming to rest gently on the back of your head.

the scent of his arousal fills your nostrils as the swollen head of his cock brushes against your bottom lip, smearing it with pearly beads of pre cum.

“gonna be so good to you, eds.” you murmur against the tip og his cock.

“yeah, baby?” he praises softly, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone with surprising tenderness despite the raw hunger in his eyes.

you nod in response.

your hand wraps around the base of his dick, your fingers barely able to encircle it. the slow kitten licks you give on the sensitive head of his cock were already enough to make him cum right there.

“ahh, fuck... yes, just like that, baby.” eddie groans, his head falling back.

steve leans forward, elbows on his knees as he watches you work eddie over with hooded eyes. “fuck…”

eddie lets out a strangled moan, his fingers tangling in your hair as you focus your attentions solely on the swollen head of his cock. the dual sensations of your soft lips wrapped around just the tip and your skilled tongue swirling over his most sensitive spots quickly drive him to the brink.

“oh god, baby... just like that. suck on the tip, yes... fuck, your mouth feels incredible.” he babbles, his hips rocking slowly, attempting to fit more of him in your mouth.

steve was going insane sitting on that chair. his hand wasn’t enough anymore but he knew better than to get up.

eddie’s breath hitches as you take him deeper, your plush lips stretching around his thick lenght. the wet, sloppy sounds of your sucking fill the room.

“holy shit, that’s it. gonna make me cum so fast.” he growls, his hips starting to move faster, fucking into the tight space of your throat.

your soft and free fingers find their way to eddie’s balls, tearing a loud cry from his throat.

“ahh, fuck! look at how well she sucks me, harrington.” eddie pants, eyes switching from you to steve almost constantly.

steve’s eyes blaze with approval as he watches you deepthroat eddie with such ease. “shit- yeah, she does.” he praises roughly, his hand speeding up on his own aching cock.

the added stimulation of your fingers proves too much, and with a final shuddering moan, eddie hits his peak. “fuck! babe, i’m... i’m gonna cum!” he warns, his cock pulsing urgently against your lips as thick ropes of his cum paint your tongue and the back of your throat.

the sudden move of eddie’s hips fucking into your mouth make you gag around him. the sound bringing steve close to his own release.

eddie slowly withdraws from your mouth, his softening cock slipping free with a wet pop. he collapses back onto the bed, chest heaving as he comes down from his high, a soft grin on his handsome face.

“you’re fucking amazing, babe.” eddie grins widely, grabbing your chin with one hand and smashing his lips against yours. “tell steve to come lay down next to us.” he whispers into your ear so steve doesn’t hear.

you smirk and shiver under his breath, head turning to completely face steve now.

“c’mere, stevie.” you pat the empty spot next to you on the bed.

steve looks around for eddie’s reaction to what you just said, only to be met by a lazy smirk playing in his face. steve raises an eyebrow.

he stands slowly, his impressive erection bobbing with the movement as he stalks towards the bed like a predator eyeing its prey.

“jesus fuckin’ christ-” steve purrs, settling onto the bed beside you. he stretches out languidly, propping himself up on one elbow to watch you.

you slowly make your way to steve, settling your weight onto his lap, your plush ass brushing against his erection. his hands flex at his sides, itching to grab your hips and grind you down onto his aching cock, but he restrains himself, determined to follow your rules...

“fuck, sweetheart. you’re killing me over here. both of you.” steve growls lowly, his voice rough.

“be still, stevie.” you give his slightly open mouth a gentle peck. “eddie’s gonna take care of me now.”

both of your hands lay on top of steve’s chest now, finding balance as you arch your back for eddie. he positions himself behind you, one hand gripping your hip possessively while the other lines up his hardening length with your dripping entrance.

eddie teases you, dragging the blunt head of his cock along your folds, coating himself in your arousal. “just begging to be stuffed full, babe.”

“please, eds.” you moan out, fingers caressing steve’s hairy chest.

one of eddie’s hands slides up your body to cup your breast, kneading the soft mound and rolling your nipple between his fingers. a bead of sweat trickles down steve’s temple as he fights the urge to buck his hips, to seek friction against your cunt.

eddie finally sinks into your wet hole with a low groan, his thick cock stretching you out as he hilts himself fully inside you in one smooth stroke. “ooooh, fuck. feels so fucking good inside our girl’s pussy.”

“o-oooh fuck, shit eddie!” your voice comes out almost in a whisper, hand grabbing onto the sheet of the bed.

eddue sighs, enjoying the grip of your walls fluttering around him. he remains still for a moment, letting you adjust to his size as his hands map the curves of your body reverently.

well, unnecessarily letting you adjust to his size, you didn’t need it right now, you just needed eddie to move.

“move, eds. please.” you pant desperately.

eddie lets out a shaky laugh, his eyes darkening. he grips your hips firmly, his knuckles turning white as he prepares to give you exactly what you want.

“yeah, baby… anything you say.” he whispers.

he begins to move, withdrawing almost entirely before thrusting back into you slowly but steady. each stroke is deliberate, hitting your sweet spot with punishing accuracy.

“oh, ngggff eddie!” you moan loudly through clenched teeth.

“yeah, is that how you wanted it, angel? fuck! you’re so tight f’me.” eddie grunts as his hips start moving faster.

steve’s composure is fraying rapidly.

the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, accompanied by the messy, wet noises of your pussy whenever eddie moves.

“eds is fucking me so good, steve, oh fuuuuuck.”

hearing your voice break with pleasure as you acknowledge how well eddie’s fucking you sends a jolt of pure, primal electricity straight to steve’s cock.

“i can see that, sweetheart... i can see exactly how much you're enjoying him.” steve growls, his voice vibrating through his chest where your hands rest.

“steve- oh my- fuck fuck, steve!” you moan his name despite him not being the one fucking you right now.

the way eddie is thrusting up into you is making your throat close, making it harder to even moan at this point.

“god, baby, you’re so loud.” eddie, fueled by your praise, lets out an animalistic grunt.

steve’s free hand comes up to caress your head while his eyes are still locked on your pussy and eddie’s cock thrusting up into it.

“lean back against steve, babe. arch that beautiful back and hold onto him. want you completely open for me.” eddie directed you.

eddie adjusts his grip on your hips, his fingers digging slightly into your flesh to guide your position.

as you lean back, your breasts brush against steve’s chest, and eddie’s pace becomes even more aggressive, his thrusts harder and deeper, aiming to bottom out inside you with every strike.

“that's it, babe...” he praises, letting out a low hiss as your pussy clamps down on him.

steve’s arms come up to wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest to steady you as eddie hammers into you. he doesn't touch your cunt, but he holds you firmly.

“‘s too much, eddie…” you cry out.

your nails dig into steve’s shoulder as the new angle allows eddie to hit even deeper.

“you’re going to mark me, sweetheart.” steve murmurs darkly against your ear, though there's absolutely no protest in his tone, only encouragement.

“nothing… i haven’t done before… harrington.” you try to reply clearly between hard thrusts. steve smirks at your answer.

you start bouncing back on eddie’s cock to help him with the pace, your head immediately falling back against steve’s shoulder.

eddie’s hands fly to your waist, his fingers bruising your skin as he helps guide your movements. he’s completely lost to the sensation, his head tossing back as he meets your hips with an upward surge of his own. the wet, slapping sounds of your bodies colliding not helping his case at all.

“oh fuck, i’m so close. harrington, help her.” eddie demands between loud pants.

a smirk curls steve’s lips at eddie’s words. the permission he's been waiting for finally arrives, and he doesn't hesitate.

his large, warm hand slides down from your waist, moving with purposeful intent until his fingers find your soaking wet pussy. he finds your swollen clit instantly, his thumb beginning to circle it with a firm pressure that contrasts perfectly with the rhythm of your bouncing.

“you feel so good. shit, i’m- i’m clo-se.” you don’t even know which one of them you’re talking to anymore, the mixed sensations are driving you closer and closer to cumming.

the sound of your moan breaking escapes both men simultaneously. eddie’s entire body goes rigid, his fingers digging painfully into your hips as he delivers several rapid, shallow thrusts.

he’s staring at you with a mixture of adoration and raw lust, his breath hitching in his throat. “that's it, baby... give it to us.”

steve doesn't miss a beat. sensing you're almost there, he increases the pressure of his thumb, circling your clit faster but softly, while his other hand slides up to grip your thigh, pinning it back to expose you even more to eddie’s relentless pounding.

steve leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his hot breath ghosting over your skin. “c’mon, sweetheart. come for us.”

“i’m cu-” you are too weak to even finish your sentence, your legs are almost giving out from the pleasure coming from both men.

steve’s hand continues its ruthless work on your clit, driving you toward the peak, while eddie’s thrusts become shorter, faster, and more desperate as he senses your orgasm approaching.

both men are watching your face, hungry to witness the exact moment your eyes roll back and you lose yourself to them.

your internal muscles clamp down on your boyfriend’s cock in a series of pulsing contractions that send him into his own orgasm.

“ahhhh! oh my god, nggghff-” your vision blurs, your back arches even further against steve’s chest, and a loud, broken cry tears from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you in waves.

“FUCK!” eddie groans, his own release triggered by the feeling of your climax squeezing him. he thrusts one last time, burying himself as deep as physically possible, and moans loudly as he spills himself inside you, his body shuddering violently against yours.

the sudden lack of movement leaves you both breathless and trembling. as your legs give out, you collapse forward, your weight pressing heavily against steve’s solid chest.

eds follows, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder, his chest heaving in sync with yours as he recovers from his explosive release. for a few moments, the only sound in the room is the synchronized, ragged gasping of three people pushed to their absolute limits.

steve catches both of you, his strong arms wrapping securely around your waists to ensure neither of you slips off his lap. he lets out a long exhale, his chin resting atop your head as he pulls you both closer, grounding you. his heart is thudding wildly against your cheek.

“easy… easy.” steve quietly reassures you both.

eddie slowly lifts his head from your shoulder, his face flushed and damp with sweat, a dazed smile tugging at his lips.

he reaches out a trembling hand to brush a stray lock of hair away from your forehead, his eyes shining with nothing but pure adoration.

“you were amazing, baby... so perfect.” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. he leans in to press a lingering, tender kiss to your temple.

you smile back at him, still not strong enough to speak up.

steve, meanwhile, remains the silent, sturdy pillar for you both. like he’s always been.

“so fucking perfect.” steve’s thumb traces a slow path along your jawline.

the bedroom is silent now, save for the heavy, synchronized breathing of the three of you.

you lie sandwiched between them, where it felt right. where it has been feeling right for the past few months. with eddie and steve.

note: ahhhhh tell me what you think in the comments, i’d love to know !! 😞

and btw, the requests are open so if you have any ideas, feel free to reach out to me ;)

tags;

@lostbilletsdoux <3