use me
pairing: sub! eddie munson x reader
w/c: 7581
summary: when you and your best friend eddie finally move in together you discover a particular kink of his that youre more than happy to explore with him
warnings/tags: smut, praise kink, worship. sub! eddie, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, aftercare
masterlist // part 2
divider by @strangergraphics
The key stuck for a second before the lock gave with a soft click. You pushed the door open and stepped into the apartment- your apartment now. It smelled like fresh paint, old wood, and the faint trace of whatever cleaner they used. Small. A little beat-up. Perfect.
Eddie Munson followed right behind you, two heavy boxes balanced in his arms like they weighed nothing. His wild curls were already sticking to his temples, damp from the July heat outside. The faded Metallica tee he’d thrown on that morning clung to his chest and the lean lines of his shoulders, dark patches of sweat spreading under his arms and down the center of his back. Those silver rings on his fingers caught the light as he set the boxes down exactly where you pointed.
“By the window?” he asked, voice a little rough from the stairs.
“Yeah. Right there. Perfect.”
He straightened up and wiped his forearm across his brow, flashing you that shy, crooked smile- the same one he’d worn since you were fourteen and he was the weird kid in the back of the classroom with the loud music and the bigger heart than anyone ever gave him credit for. You’d never cared what anyone else said about him. Not once. And somewhere along the way, the two of you had fallen into this quiet, aching thing neither of you had ever named.
You felt it every time he looked at you too long. Every time his hand brushed yours and stayed. Every late night phone call that ended with both of you pretending you didn’t want to say more.
Now you were moving in together. Best friends. Roommates. What could go wrong?
The afternoon stretched out in cardboard and sweat and the low creak of furniture being dragged across old floors. Eddie did most of the heavy lifting without complaint, muscles shifting under that thin black tee every time he hoisted another box or piece of furniture. You handled the directions- where things went, how they should be angled, what came next.
And that’s when you started to notice.
It began small.
“Eddie, grab the box labeled ‘kitchen’ and put it on the counter for me?”
He was already moving before you finished the sentence. “On it.” He set it down carefully, then looked back at you, waiting.
You tilted your head. “A little more to the left. Yeah… there. Good.”
His ears went pink. He swallowed, throat working, and shifted his weight from one combat boot to the other. One hand dropped casually in front of his jeans, adjusting. You caught the motion but didn’t think much of it. Heat. Heavy lifting. Normal.
Then came the bookshelf.
“Slide it against the far wall,” you said, stepping back to watch. “All the way. A little more. Right there- perfect.”
Eddie did exactly as you told him, long fingers gripping the sides, rings flashing as he pushed. When it was in place he stayed bent over for a second, breathing harder than the effort really called for. When he stood, his cheeks were flushed dark, and the front of his ripped black jeans… wasn’t lying flat anymore.
Your stomach flipped.
You tested it again with the couch, voice steady even as your pulse started to climb.
“Grab that end. On three- lift. Good. Now back it up slow. Stop. Angle it a little to your left. Yeah. Push it in more. Right there.”
Every word landed like a touch. Eddie followed them like gospel, grunting softly with effort, but there was something else in the sound now- something tight and needy. When the couch was finally in place he stayed bent over it longer than necessary, head down, curls hiding his face. When he straightened, the bulge in his jeans was unmistakable. Thick. Obvious. Pressing hard against the worn denim.
He turned slightly, trying to angle his body away from you, but it was too late. You’d seen.
Your own body answered before your brain could catch up- heat pooling low and heavy between your legs, nipples tightening under your thin tank top, a slick throb that had nothing to do with the temperature outside.
Holy shit.
He was getting hard from this. From you telling him what to do. From following your directions like they were the only thing that mattered.
You kept going, voice a little lower now, curious. Testing.
“Bedroom next. Help me with the mattress. Center it on the frame. Make sure it’s straight.”
Eddie nodded fast- too fast- and disappeared into the small bedroom. You followed, leaning in the doorway as he wrestled the heavy mattress into place. Every adjustment you called out made his movements sharper, more focused.
“A little higher on the left. Shift it toward the headboard. There. Good.”
His breathing was ragged. When he glanced at you across the bed, his pupils were blown wide, dark eyes flicking down to your mouth and back up like he couldn’t help it. You watched the way his hands trembled just slightly when he tucked the fitted sheet at your instruction.
“Tighter on your side. Yeah. Pull it firm. Perfect.”
The word perfect made him shudder. Actually shudder. He bit his full bottom lip hard enough to leave a mark and kept his eyes on the mattress like it was the only safe thing in the room.
You stepped closer to help with the top sheet, both of you on opposite sides of the bed. The space felt smaller suddenly. Hotter. Every time your hands brushed his across the fabric, electricity snapped between you.
Eddie’s voice came out hoarse. “Like this?”
“Yeah,” you said softly. “Just like that.”
He made a small, broken sound- half groan, half something else- and quickly turned away again, but not before you caught the way his cock twitched visibly in his jeans.
The air between you was thick now. Charged. All those years of careful distance, of pretending the feelings weren’t there, and one afternoon of moving furniture had cracked it wide open. You could see it in the way he kept stealing glances at you, in the flush that had spread down his neck and under the collar of his tee, in the way he was failing to hide how turned on he was by every single direction that left your mouth.
You felt it too. The power of it. The way he responded to your voice like it was touching him. The old ache in your chest had twisted into something hotter, hungrier.
Eddie ran both hands through his curls, messing them up worse, and let out a shaky laugh that didn’t quite cover the roughness in his throat.
“So… uh. What’s next, boss?”
The word boss landed heavy between you. His eyes met yours across the half-made bed- dark, nervous, and so fucking turned on it made your knees feel weak.
You smiled slowly, heart hammering against your ribs.
This was only the first day.
And you were both already in trouble.
A couple of weeks had slipped by in that easy, familiar rhythm you and Eddie had always had- except for one very specific, very new pattern.
Every time you asked him for anything- “Eddie, can you pass me the remote?” “Hey, can you grab the mail on your way in?” “Would you mind moving that speaker?”- he did it instantly. No eye-rolls, no teasing, just that quick nod and a soft “Yeah, of course,” like your voice flipped a switch in him. And every single time, you watched the same thing happen- the tips of his ears going pink, the way he’d bite the inside of his cheek, the subtle shift of his hips like he was trying to hide exactly how much he liked being told what to do.
You hadn’t talked about it. Not yet. But it was there, humming under everything like a live wire.
Tonight the apartment was loud with laughter and the low thrum of music from Eddie’s old stereo. The whole crew had crammed in- Robin sprawled across the armchair with her legs dangling over the side, Steve and Nancy sharing the couch with Jonathan perched on the armrest next to her, Gareth and Jeff taking up the floor with a half-finished game of cards and a growing pile of bottle caps between them. Empty beer bottles and a couple of takeout containers littered the coffee table. It felt good. Lived-in. Like home.
Eddie was in the kitchen grabbing another round when you called out from your spot on the couch, voice easy and casual.
“Eddie? Can you grab me another beer while you’re in there?”
The effect was instant.
He froze for half a second, back to the group, then turned with that same eager little nod he’d been giving you for weeks now. “Yeah. Yeah, got it.”
When he came back a moment later, bottle in hand, his cheeks were flushed a warm, obvious pink that had nothing to do with the alcohol. His curls were a little messy from running his hands through them, and he wouldn’t quite meet your eyes as he handed the beer over- but the second your fingers brushed his, you felt the tiny tremor that ran through him.
Robin clocked it immediately.
She sat up straighter in the armchair, squinting at Eddie with a wicked little grin spreading across her face.
“Whoa, hold up.” She pointed the neck of her bottle at him. “Munson. Are you blushing right now?”
The room went quiet for half a beat, then erupted in laughter.
Eddie’s ears went from pink to full-on red. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying for his usual cocky smirk and missing by a mile. “What? No. It’s hot in here. You guys are like a bunch of space heaters.”
“Uh-huh.” Steve leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyebrows raised in pure delight. “Sure, man. That’s why you practically sprinted to the fridge the second she asked. Real subtle.”
Gareth snorted into his drink. “Dude’s got it bad. We’ve been saying it for years.”
Jeff just shook his head, grinning. “Told you living together would break him.”
Nancy was smiling behind her hand, Jonathan chuckling quietly beside her. Robin, though- Robin was relentless, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“I’m just saying,” she continued, waving her bottle for emphasis, “I’ve known Eddie Munson since high school and I have never seen him move that fast for anyone. Not even when there’s free pizza involved. But you ask for a beer and suddenly he’s the Flash with a savior complex.”
Eddie dropped onto the arm of the couch next to you- close enough that his thigh pressed warm against your shoulder- and tried to hide behind his own bottle. “You’re all assholes,” he muttered, but there was no heat in it. Just that flustered, fond exasperation he only ever got around this group.
You took a slow sip of your beer, fighting your own smile. Under the table, your knee brushed his. He didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned into it a fraction, like he couldn’t help himself.
The teasing rolled on for another minute- Steve making whipped noises, Robin doing an exaggerated impression of Eddie’s eager nod- but it was all in good fun. The kind of ribbing that only happens when everyone already knows the truth and loves you both enough to say it out loud.
Still… there was something else in the air.
Every time you glanced at Eddie, he was already looking at you. Quick, heated little looks that he tried to play off as casual. His fingers kept drumming restlessly on his thigh, rings catching the low light. And when the laughter died down and the conversation drifted back to whatever story Gareth was telling, Eddie’s hand dropped- casual as anything- to rest on the back of the couch behind your head. Not quite touching you. But close enough that you could feel the warmth of his arm.
Robin caught that too. Her eyes flicked between the two of you, something knowing and a little softer in her expression now. She didn’t say anything else. Just raised her bottle in a tiny, private toast in your direction before turning back to the group.
The night kept going- more drinks, more stories, more laughter- but that underlying feeling never quite left. It sat low in your stomach every time Eddie shifted closer, every time he got up without you even asking to grab someone else a drink and still checked with you first, silent question in his eyes.
You need anything?
You didn’t say it out loud. But the way he kept looking at you said he already knew the answer.
And judging by the way his cheeks stayed faintly pink for the rest of the night, so did everyone else.
It was a completely normal night.
The apartment was dim, lit only by the blue glow of the TV and the little lamp in the corner you’d both forgotten to turn off. Some movie was playing- neither of you were really watching it anymore. You were curled up on one end of the couch in an oversized t-shirt and soft cotton shorts, legs tucked under a shared blanket. Eddie was on the other end, one arm slung along the back of the couch, wearing those loose gray sweatpants he always wore during lazy nights and a faded Dio tank top that had seen better days. His curls were messy from running his hands through them, and every so often his foot would nudge yours under the blanket like he couldn’t help staying connected.
It felt easy. Like it had always been meant to be this way.
You shifted, stretching your arms above your head with a quiet groan. “God, I’m thirsty. My mouth is so dry.”
Eddie didn’t even hesitate.
He was up and moving before the words had fully left your mouth, blanket sliding off his lap as he padded into the kitchen. You heard the fridge open, the clink of ice, the sound of water pouring. Thirty seconds later he was back, handing you a glass without a word- just that same quiet, eager look he’d been wearing for weeks now every time you asked for anything.
You took it, fingers brushing his. “Thanks.”
He dropped back onto the couch, closer this time. The movie kept playing, forgotten.
You took a slow sip, then set the glass on the coffee table. When you looked at him again, something warm and reckless settled in your chest.
“Good boy.”
The words left your mouth soft and deliberate.
Eddie froze.
A full-body flush ripped through him so fast you could see it- starting at his ears, flooding down his neck and across his chest where the tank top didn’t cover. His lips parted on a sharp, shaky inhale. And then you saw it- the way his cock twitched hard and obvious against the thin gray fabric of his sweatpants, thickening right there in front of you, the outline growing thick and heavy in seconds.
He made a small, helpless sound and pulled the blanket to his lap like he could hide it. Too late. You’d already seen the way he was getting hard just from those two words.
His breathing had gone ragged. He wouldn’t look at you, staring hard at the TV like it could save him, but his hips shifted restlessly and that flush kept spreading, down his throat, across his collarbones. The blanket was starting to tent now, and he was so visibly turned on it made heat pool low and aching between your own legs.
You didn’t look away.
Instead you leaned in a little, voice quieter but steady.
“Eddie.”
He swallowed hard. Still wouldn’t meet your eyes.
“Does me telling you what to do turn you on?”
The silence stretched. The movie kept playing in the background but it might as well have been on another planet.
Eddie’s hands clenched in the fabric of the blanket. His chest rose and fell too fast. You could see the war happening behind his eyes- the shyness, the years of keeping this locked down, the fear of ruining everything… and the way his body was betraying him completely.
Finally, he let out a shaky breath and nodded once, small and jerky.
“Yeah,” he whispered, voice rough and low. “It… it does.”
He still wouldn’t look at you, but the admission hung between you like a live wire. His cheeks were burning. His rings clicked together as his fingers twisted in the blanket.
You could see how much it cost him to say it out loud. How long he must’ve been carrying this.
But he said it.
The word hung in the air between you.
Eddie’s chest was still heaving, that deep flush permanently staining his skin. He looked wrecked already and you hadn't even touched him.
You didn’t let the silence stretch.
“Look at me.”
His eyes snapped up to yours instantly. Wide. Dark. Nervous and so fucking turned on you could feel your soaked pussy clinging to the fabric of your underwear.
You leaned in a little closer on the couch, voice low and steady.
“Say it again. Tell me the truth.”
Eddie swallowed hard. He shifted his hips like he was trying to get comfortable and only made it worse- his cock twitched visibly.
“I… yeah,” he rasped. “It turns me on. When you tell me what to do. It’s- fuck, it’s been like this for weeks.”
You tilted your head, studying him. The way his breath hitched every time your voice dropped.
“Since moving day?”
He nodded, quick and jerky. “Since before that, probably. But that day… when you were telling me where to put everything. How to move the couch. The bed.” His voice cracked a little. “Every time you said ‘good’ or ‘right there’ I got hard so fast I thought I was gonna lose it. I had to keep turning away so you wouldn’t see.”
A slow, pleased smile curved your mouth.
“Good boy.”
The effect was instant and devastating.
Eddie let out a broken little moan- quiet, like he couldn’t stop it- and his hips jerked. His cock twitched hard. His thighs trembled.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “You can’t just- say that. It’s too much.”
You ignored the protest, eyes locked on his.
“Take the blanket off your lap.”
He hesitated for half a second- just long enough for you to see the war in his eyes- then pushed it aside with shaking hands. Now there was nothing hiding him. The thick line of his cock was on full display, straining against the soft fabric, the head pressing insistently against it. He was so hard it had to hurt.
You let your gaze drag over him slowly, then met his eyes again.
“Tell me more. How long have you wanted me to talk to you like this?”
Eddie’s hands flexed on his thighs. He looked like he wanted to hide his face but couldn’t stop staring at you.
“Since… since we were kids, I think,” he admitted, voice low and shaky. “Not like this exactly. But I always liked when you bossed me around a little. When you told me what to do. It made me feel… safe. And then it started turning me on and I didn’t know what to do with it.” He laughed once, breathless and embarrassed. “I thought I was gonna ruin everything if I ever said anything. So I just… kept it quiet. But then we moved in and you kept giving me directions and I couldn’t hide it anymore.”
You reached out slowly and rested your hand on his knee. Just that. Nothing more. He still jolted like you’d touched him somewhere much more sensitive.
“Does it make you this hard every time?” you asked, voice soft but firm. “Every time I ask you for something?”
“Yeah,” he breathed. His cock twitched again at the question. “Every single time. Even when it’s small. Like getting you water or moving something. My brain just… goes quiet and all I can think about is being good for you. Making you happy.” His cheeks burned darker. “And then I get so turned on I can’t think straight.”
You squeezed his knee gently.
“Spread your legs a little.”
He did it without hesitation this time, thighs parting on the couch. The movement made his cock shift and strain even more obviously. The wet spot was bigger now.
You let the silence sit for a moment, just watching him squirm under your gaze, breathing hard, curls falling into his eyes.
Then you asked the next question, quiet and direct.
“Do you want me to keep telling you what to do, Eddie?”
His answer came out in a rush, like he couldn’t hold it back anymore.
“Yes. Fuck, yes. I want it so bad.” His voice cracked again. “I’ve been going crazy. Every time you say my name in that voice I get hard. Every time you tell me ‘good boy’ I feel like I’m gonna come in my fucking pants. I don’t even care how pathetic that sounds. I just- I like it. I like being yours like that.”
He was panting now. His hands had moved to grip the couch cushions on either side of his hips, like he was physically holding himself back from touching.
You could see how close he was already- just from talking, from obeying, from finally being honest.
The movie kept playing, forgotten.
The only thing that mattered was the way Eddie was looking at you now- desperate, flushed, hard and leaking and completely at your mercy.
And the way his voice dropped even lower when he spoke again.
“…What do you want me to do?”
You let the question hang for a moment, watching the way Eddie’s chest heaved and his cock throbbed visibly against the damp front of his sweatpants. He was already a mess- curls wild, cheeks flushed dark, lips parted around shaky breaths- and you hadn’t even touched him.
You leaned back against the arm of the couch, getting comfortable, and let your voice drop into that same calm, commanding tone that made his whole body react.
“Take your cock out.”
Eddie’s eyes went wide. For a second he just stared at you, breathing hard, like he needed to make sure he’d heard you right. Then his hands moved- trembling- and he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants and pushed them down just enough. His cock sprang free, thick and long, already leaking steadily from the slit. It curved up toward his stomach, twitching the second the cool air hit it.
He didn’t cover himself. Just sat there, exposed, waiting for your next word like it was the only thing keeping him together.
You let your gaze drag over him slowly, then met his eyes again.
“Stroke it. Slow. And while you do, tell me what you’ve been thinking about. Every filthy thought you’ve had.”
Eddie wrapped his hand around himself with a shaky groan. The first slow stroke made his hips jerk and a thick bead of precum spill over his fingers. He started talking, voice rough and broken.
“I- fuck- I think about you telling me what to do all the time,” he admitted, eyes locked on yours like you’d ordered him to keep them there. “Every morning when you ask me to make coffee. Every time you tell me to grab something from the top shelf. I get hard in the middle of the fucking day just remembering your voice.” His hand moved in slow, desperate strokes, precum making everything slick. “I’ve jerked off in the shower thinking about you calling me good boy. About you making me kneel while you tell me exactly how you want me to touch you. About-”
He cut off with a whimper when you spoke again.
“Faster.”
He obeyed instantly, hand speeding up. His thighs were shaking now.
“Keep going,” you said. “Tell me more.”
Eddie’s head tipped back for a second before he forced himself to look at you again. His voice was wrecked.
“I think about you using me,” he confessed, the words tumbling out like he couldn’t stop them now. “Not just for sex. For everything. I want you to tell me how to make you feel good. I want to be the one who knows exactly what you need before you even ask. I’ve been going crazy wanting to take care of you like that. And the dirtier it gets the more I-” His hand stuttered on a particularly hard stroke and he moaned. “The more I like it. I want you to own me with your voice. I want you to ruin me with it.”
You watched him fall apart for a few more seconds- the way his stomach clenched, the way more precum drooled deliciously from the head of his cock, the way he was clearly fighting not to come just from talking and obeying.
Then you gave the next command.
“Stop touching yourself.”
Eddie whined- actually whined- but his hand froze immediately, gripping the base of his cock like he was physically holding himself back. His whole body was trembling.
“Please,” he breathed, voice cracking. “Please, I need- I need to make you feel good. Let me. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll use my mouth, my hands, whatever you tell me. Just- fuck, just let me take care of you. I’ve been dying to. Every night I’ve laid in my bed thinking about how good you’d sound if I was between your legs doing exactly what you told me to do.”
He was panting now, eyes glassy and desperate, cock still twitching and leaking untouched against his stomach.
“I want to be good for you,” he whispered, raw and honest. “I want to make you come so many times you forget your own name. I want you to tell me how. I want you to use me until you’re satisfied. Please. Please let me make you feel good. I’ll beg if you want me to. I’ll get on my knees right now. Just say the word.”
His voice broke on the last word. He looked completely wrecked and still waiting for your next command like it was the only thing that mattered.
The movie had long since ended. The apartment was quiet except for his ragged breathing and the low thrum of whatever was playing on the TV now.
Eddie swallowed hard, eyes never leaving yours.
You let the silence stretch, watching him tremble and leak and beg.
Then you spoke again, calm and clear.
“Get on your knees on the floor. Right in front of me.”
Eddie moved like the command was the only thing holding him together. He let go of his cock- it slapped wetly against his stomach- and slid off the couch. The rug was soft but still rough enough that you heard the quiet thud of his knees hitting it. He winced a little at the impact but didn’t complain. Now he was kneeling between your spread legs, looking up at you with those wrecked, hopeful eyes. His cock hung heavy and flushed between his thighs, still dripping onto the rug in little shiny droplets. The position made it hang lower, the head shiny and wet, a thin string of precum connecting it to the floor.
He was breathing through his mouth, lips parted, curls messy and damp.
“I’m here,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “I’m on my knees for you. Tell me what to do. Please. I’ll be so good.”
His hands rested on his own thighs, rings glinting, fingers twitching with the effort of not reaching for you. His cock twitched every time you shifted even slightly. The smell of his arousal was stronger now, thick in the air between you.
You could feel your own body answering- the hot, slick ache between your legs, the way your shorts were sticking to you.
Eddie swallowed again, eyes flicking down to your lap and back up.
You reached down and ran your fingers through his hair once, slow and possessive, before gripping it lightly and tilting his head back so he had to look at you.
“Listen carefully,” you said, voice low and steady. “I’m going to tell you exactly how I want your mouth.”
He shivered, a soft whine escaping before he could stop it.
“Start over my shorts,” you continued. “Use your tongue flat and slow. I want to feel the heat of your mouth and the wet drag of your tongue through the fabric. Press in enough that I can feel it on my clit. Suck gently- not hard, just enough to pull the cloth against me. I want to feel how soaked the shorts are getting from your mouth and from me.”
Eddie’s breath hitched. His cock twitched hard, a fresh string of precum dripping from the tip onto the rug.
“Yes,” he whispered, already leaning in. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be good.”
He pressed his face between your thighs. The first touch of his tongue was hot and wet even through the thin cotton of your shorts. He dragged it slow and flat from bottom to top, exactly like you told him, the fabric growing darker and slicker with every pass. You could feel the heat of his mouth, the pressure of his tongue pushing the damp cloth against your clit, the way he sealed his lips and sucked gently- soft, rhythmic pulls that made the wet fabric cling and rub in the most teasing way.
A low, desperate moan vibrated against you. He was already lost in it.
You kept your hand in his hair, guiding him.
“Again. Slower. I want to feel every inch of your tongue.”
He obeyed instantly, tongue flattening and dragging with deliberate pressure. The wet sounds were filthy- the slick drag of fabric, the soft suck of his mouth, his own quiet whimpers. Your shorts were soaked now, both from his spit and the growing wetness between your legs. Every time he sucked, you felt it pull against your swollen clit.
Eddie’s hips were rocking helplessly in the air, his neglected cock bobbing and leaking. You could hear how worked up he was- the shaky exhales through his nose, the way his fingers flexed and clenched on his own thighs because you hadn’t told him he could touch you yet.
After a minute of that slow, torturous attention, he pulled back just enough to speak, voice hoarse and wrecked against your inner thigh.
“Please,” he begged, lips shiny and wet. “Please let me pull them down. Or to the side. I need- I need to taste you for real. It’s not enough. I can smell how wet you are and it’s driving me crazy. Please. I’ll still do it exactly how you say, I swear. Just let me feel your skin on my tongue. Please.”
You let him beg for another long moment, watching him tremble and leak and nuzzle desperately against the soaked fabric.
Then you gave the next command.
“Pull my shorts to the side. Now.”
His hands shook as he reached up, fingers careful as he hooked the fabric and tugged it aside, exposing you completely. The cool air hit your slick folds for only a second before his mouth was on you- hot, eager, and so fucking grateful.
A broken, overwhelmed sound tore out of him the second his tongue touched bare skin. He licked a long, slow stripe from your entrance up to your clit, tasting you properly for the first time. His moan was deep and filthy, vibrating right against you.
“Fuck- you taste so good,” he gasped against your pussy, voice thick with tears and arousal. “Thank you. Thank you for letting me- oh my god-”
You tightened your grip in his hair.
“Slow circles on my clit. Then suck. Exactly like before, but now on my skin.”
He followed every word like it was gospel. His tongue moved in slow, firm circles exactly where you wanted, then sealed his lips around your clit and sucked with that same gentle, rhythmic pressure. The wet sounds were louder now- the obscene slick of his tongue, the soft suction, his own desperate little moans. His face was already messy, chin and lips shiny with you. Every time he sucked, you felt the pull all the way through your body.
He kept thanking you between licks, voice muffled and worshipful.
“Thank you- thank you for letting me taste you- you’re so wet- so fucking sweet- please tell me if I’m doing it right- I’ll do it better- I’ll do anything-”
You could feel the orgasm building fast- the tight coil low in your belly, the way your thighs started to tremble around his head, the way his tongue and the filthy wet sounds and his desperate gratitude were pushing you right to the edge.
When it hit, it crashed hard.
Your back arched off the couch as you came, a gush of wetness flooding his mouth. You squirted against his tongue and lips, the hot rush of it making him moan so loudly it vibrated through your whole body. He didn’t pull away- if anything he pressed closer, licking and swallowing like he was starving for it, messy and grateful and overwhelmed.
“Thank you- thank you- fuck, thank you-” he kept chanting between frantic licks, voice cracking, tears slipping down his cheeks as he drank you down. “Thank you for letting me have it- for letting me taste you when you come- you’re so good to me- thank you, thank you, thank you-”
He kept licking through it, slower now, gentle and reverent, cleaning you up with soft strokes of his tongue while he murmured broken thanks against your sensitive skin. His face was completely soaked, chin dripping, curls sticking to your thighs. His cock was still untouched and leaking steadily onto the rug, twitching every time you pulsed against his mouth.
Eventually he rested his cheek against your inner thigh, breathing hard, eyes closed, lips shiny and swollen.
He looked completely wrecked.
And still he whispered, soft and hoarse against your skin,
“…Thank you. For letting me make you feel good. I’ll do it again whenever you want. Just tell me. I’m yours.”
His cock gave another helpless twitch, still hard and aching between his legs.
He didn’t ask for anything for himself.
He just stayed on his knees, waiting for your next word.
“You were such a good boy for me,” you said softly, fingers stroking through his hair. “You deserve a reward.”
Eddie’s breath caught. His cock gave a hard, visible twitch.
You stood, took his hand, and pulled him up. He followed instantly, legs a little unsteady. You guided him back onto the couch and pushed gently at his chest until he was lying back against the cushions, legs spread, cock lying heavy and wet against his stomach. The tank top was rucked up under his arms, exposing his flushed chest and the rapid rise and fall of it.
You climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. You were still soaked- your own arousal and his spit making everything slick. You reached down, wrapped your hand around his cock, and lined him up. Then you sank down in one slow, smooth motion.
The stretch was perfect. He was so hard, so hot, and he’d been leaking for so long that he slid in easily, but the tight, wet heat of you still punched the air out of his lungs.
“Oh- fuck- oh my god-” Eddie’s head slammed back against the couch. His hands flew to your hips, fingers digging in, rings pressing into your skin. “You’re so wet- so fucking tight- I can feel everything- thank you- fuck sweetheart- ”
You started to move.
Slow rolls of your hips at first, grinding down so your clit dragged against him with every pass. The wet sounds were shameless- the slick slide of you riding him, the filthy squelch every time you sank down. His cock was twitching inside you already, pulsing like it was trying to come from the first stroke.
Eddie was gone.
“You feel so good- I’m not gonna last- I’m sorry- I’m so sorry but you’re so warm and wet and I’ve been so hard for so long-” His voice was already cracking, words tumbling out between broken moans. “Thank you for using me- you’re so perfect- I love how you feel around me- I love being inside you- please don’t stop- please- I’ll be good- I’ll be your good boy-”
You picked up the pace, bouncing on him now, the couch creaking under you. Every time you dropped down he made the most desperate, overwhelmed sounds- high little whimpers and shaky gasps. His hands were shaking on your hips. Sweat was rolling down his temples and chest. His curls were a wild mess against the cushion.
“I can feel you clenching- fuck- you’re gonna make me come- I’m trying to hold it- I’m trying so hard but you feel too good-” His eyes were glassy, unfocused, locked on where you were joined. “You’re dripping down my cock- I can feel it- thank you for letting me have this- I’ll give you everything- anything you want-”
You could feel him throbbing harder, getting closer with every roll of your hips. His stomach was clenching, thighs shaking beneath you. He was babbling nonstop now, voice hoarse and breaking.
“I love you- I love being yours like this- I love when you use me- when you tell me what to do- when you ride me like I’m just here for you to feel good on- thank you- thank you for my reward- thank you for letting me come- I’m gonna- ah- I’m gonna-”
He came with a broken, sobbing moan, hips jerking up helplessly as he spilled deep inside you. Thick pulses of come flooded you, hot and endless, while he kept babbling through it, voice cracking and wet.
“Thank you- thank you- oh fuck- thank you for letting me come inside you- I’m still coming- I can’t stop- you feel too good- I love you- I love you so much-”
His whole body was shaking beneath you, eyes squeezed shut, tears slipping from the corners as the orgasm ripped through him. He kept twitching and pulsing inside you long after he should have stopped, overstimulated and overwhelmed, still whispering ragged thanks against your skin.
When it finally eased, he went boneless under you, chest heaving, face flushed and tear-streaked, lips parted around shaky breaths. His cock was still half-hard inside you, sensitive and twitching with every tiny movement you made.
Eddie looked completely wrecked.
And you loved every second of it.
You leaned down, kissed the tears off his cheek, and whispered against his mouth,
“Good boy.”
He whimpered again, soft and broken, and nuzzled into your hand like he could live there forever.
You stayed on top of him for a long moment, both of you breathing hard, his cock still twitching weakly inside you as the last aftershocks rolled through him. His come was already starting to leak out around where you were joined, warm and slick, making everything messy between your thighs. Eddie’s hands were still loosely gripping your hips, but his grip had gone soft and shaky.
You leaned down and kissed his forehead, then the corner of his eye where a tear had slipped free.
“Shh… I’ve got you,” you whispered.
Carefully, you lifted off him. He made a small, broken sound at the loss, but you didn’t go far. You grabbed the soft throw blanket from the back of the couch and guided him to lie down properly, then crawled in beside him, pulling the blanket over both of you. The couch was narrow, so you ended up half on top of him anyway- your head on his chest, one leg thrown over his, your hand resting right over his racing heart.
Eddie immediately curled into you like he was afraid you’d disappear. His arms came around you, strong but trembling, and he buried his face in your hair. You could feel how hard he was still breathing, the rapid thump of his heart under your cheek, the way little aftershocks kept making his stomach jump.
For a while, neither of you spoke. You just held him. Your fingers stroked slowly through his damp curls, untangling them gently. You traced the shell of his ear, the line of his jaw, the sweat cooling on his neck. Every so often you pressed a soft kiss to his chest, right over his heart.
Eventually his breathing started to slow. His grip on you loosened from desperate to something softer, more trusting.
You felt him swallow before he whispered, voice hoarse and small against your hair,
“…I’ve been in love with you since we were fifteen.”
The words came out shaky, like he’d been holding them in for years and they were finally too heavy to keep.
You lifted your head just enough to look at him. His eyes were red-rimmed, lashes still wet, but he met your gaze without looking away.
“I used to tell myself it was just a crush,” he continued, barely above a whisper. “That it would go away. But it never did. Every time you smiled at me like I wasn’t the weird kid… every time you let me ramble about stupid shit no one else cared about… I fell a little harder. And then we moved in here and you started telling me what to do and it felt like something in my brain just… clicked. Like I’d been waiting my whole life for you to take control and I didn’t even know it.”
His voice cracked. He pressed his face into your neck for a second, breathing you in.
“I was so scared I’d ruin everything if I said anything. That you’d think I was gross or pathetic for wanting you to boss me around. For wanting to be good for you like that.” He let out a wet little laugh. “Turns out I’m both of those things and you still let me have you. I don’t know what I did to deserve that.”
You tightened your arms around him, one hand sliding down to rest on the small of his back, skin warm and damp under your palm.
“You’ve always been good for me, Eddie,” you whispered back. “Even before tonight. You’ve been my best friend. My safe place. And tonight…” You kissed the corner of his mouth, soft and slow. “Tonight you were perfect. I loved every second of it.”
He made a soft, overwhelmed sound and tucked his face into your neck again. You felt him press a shaky kiss there.
“I want this,” he whispered. “All of it. The bossing me around. The making me come so hard I cry. The holding me after. I want to be yours like this. Not just tonight. I want… I want to keep being your good boy. If you’ll have me.”
You pulled back just far enough to cup his face, thumbs brushing away the fresh tears that had slipped free. His eyes were so open, so vulnerable, it made your chest ache in the best way.
“I want that too,” you told him, voice steady and sure. “I’ve wanted you for a long time, Eddie. Life with you is easy. This- this is easy. The way you fall apart when I tell you what to do. The way you look at me like I hung the fucking moon when I call you good boy.” You smiled, soft and a little teasing. “I love taking care of you. I love that you trust me enough to let go like that.”
He let out a shaky breath that sounded like relief and pressed his forehead to yours.
“I trust you with everything,” he whispered. “Always have.”
You stayed like that for a long time- tangled under the blanket, skin cooling, hearts slowing down together. Every so often one of you would murmur something soft. You told him how beautiful he looked when he came, how proud you were of him for being so honest. He told you how safe he felt in your hands, how he’d never felt anything like this with anyone else, how he wanted to learn exactly what you liked so he could be even better for you.
At some point you got up just long enough to grab a warm, damp cloth from the bathroom. You cleaned him gently- between his legs, the mess on his stomach, the tear tracks on his face- while he watched you with soft, sleepy eyes. Then you cleaned yourself and climbed right back into his arms.
He pulled the blanket tighter around both of you and tucked your head under his chin.
“Can we stay like this for a while?” he asked quietly. “Just… hold each other? I don’t think I’m ready to move yet.”
You smiled against his chest.
“Yeah,” you whispered. “We can stay right here as long as you want.”
His arms tightened around you. One of his hands found yours under the blanket and laced your fingers together.
“I love you,” he said again, even softer this time, like a secret just for the two of you.
You squeezed his hand and pressed a kiss right over his heart.
“I love you too, Eddie.”
yes theres going to be more of these two hehe
