𝒋𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔 ⋆˚࿔

In a reality where you fought inter-dimensional monsters and befriended a young girl with telekinesis, you would think there’s nothing worse than dealing with that.

But it’s pretty easy to say going through a breakup with Steve Harrington is infinitely worse.

You’re standing behind the counter of Family Video, eyes fixated on a small piece of fuzz swirling around the air. You’re trying really hard to ignore the customer flirting with your ex boyfriend ten feet away from you.

You’re grateful he doesn’t seem to be reciprocating her advances, but its probably because you’re nearby. Steve really grew out of being an asshole and flirting with her in front of you would put him right back at the top of the official asshole list.

It’s been a month since your breakup and just know whenever someone says it gets easier with time, they’re lying. The first week was spent on Nancy’s couch, surrounded by tissues and a family sized tub of ice cream. You called in sick from work the whole week and cried enough tears to fill an entire ocean.

The second week, she forced you to socialize more. She was considerate enough to start small – an invitation to have breakfast with her and Jonathan. The opportunity to take Mike and El to the new skating rink. Max spent some time with you too but she didn’t push you to talk about it, she just sat with you through four different movies. All horror, there was absolutely no room for romance or comedy.

By the third week, you really had to pull it together. There was no word from Steve and it was probably better that way. Eddie, Mike and Lucas did all the work to get your things from Steve’s house and pack it up to bring to Nancy’s. You really didn’t want to move into her apartment but it was a stepping stone after leaving Steve’s.

Looking back on it now, the breakup was .. well, it was stupid. It was a cumulation of arguing and stress and lack of space all in one. Petty arguments over chores and snide remarks about each others habits. It was something that should’ve been solved with one conversation but you were both equally stubborn and when you angrily shouted maybe you needed space, he didn’t argue.

Still, you missed him. You really fucking missed him.

And the worst part is he seemed to be doing perfectly fine.

Dustin swore he wasn’t taking sides but you haven’t seen much of him these past couple weeks. Whenever the kids hung around you, he and Robin were both missing and Mike let it slip they were at Steve’s. It’s not like you blamed them, you were all friends but Steve was their best friend.

Now, it’s day 34 without him and you’re wishing the ground will swallow you whole and save you from hearing this girl drape herself all over him.

“It’s just so good to see you, Steve,” She says. She wears a wide smile on her face, one palm resting on his bicep. Steve doesn’t seem to mind, he just fiddles with the tape in his hand and smiles back.

“Yeah, you too, Stacey,” He responds.

Stacey.

He never mentioned a Stacey when you two were together and now suddenly they’re a pair of good friends who wish they kept up with each other over the years.

You try not to stare but then she grabs his forearm and snags the pen he had clipped to his vest. Your stomach twists when she begins to write on the skin of his arm. Steve watches her, his brows pulled together and when she finishes, she raises his arm to her mouth – she presses her red lipstick covered lips against his skin, flicking her eyes back up to his and leaves a kiss mark.

You physically feel sick.

She removes her mouth, a quiet pop sound fills the store. You can see now she’s written her phone number on him, the kiss mark a cute little signature. Her thumb brushes over the lipstick stain and smiles up at him again.

“Call me tonight,” Her voice is low and sultry. Steve glances at you and when he sees you already looking, he swallows hard.

You can feel your eyes prick with tears and tear your gaze away from him. Your throat feels tight, you clench your jaw to keep yourself from crying.

Thankfully, a different customer approaches the counter with their own tapes to check out. You clear your throat and take a deep breath, then plaster on the best customer service smile you can muster.

“Find everything okay, Mrs. Langston?” You ask, typing in her information as you complete her sale. The older woman is easy to talk to and maybe for a few seconds, you’re able to forget all about Steve and Stacey.

You’re unsure how the conversation ends but when you hand the receipt to her, Stacey’s gone and Steve is carefully approaching the counter opposite of you.

You bid your goodbyes to Mrs. Langston and busy yourself with cleaning up the papers near the register. There’s nobody left in the store except you and him. Tension fills the air quickly and you can feel him looking at you.

You hope he doesn’t try to make conversation about Stacey. Aside from things related to work, you haven’t spoken since the night you broke up. If he tries now, you’re almost certain you’d burst into tears.

If he’s moving on – even though it’s only been 34 days – you won’t stop him, and you definitely won’t beg him not to.

“Hey, uh listen,” Steve’s voice breaks the awkward silence. “About Stacey, I just want you to know -,”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” You cut him off quickly. Your back is still turned to him and you’ve re-piled  the same stack of papers four times now to look busy.

“I know, but I want to.”

You freeze then. Steve notices and you hear the sound of his footsteps coming closer. He approaches you carefully, like he knows you’re seconds away from running away, and stops a few steps behind you. He’s close enough you can feel the warmth from his body.

He says your name softly but you still don’t turn. “I’m sorry you saw that,”

Sorry you saw that.

He’s apologizing it for happening in front of you, not that it happened in the first place. Because he’s not sorry. Clearly, the breakup and space has been good for him and while you’ve been a walking zombie, he’s been moving on.

You swallow hard and bite your lip. “It’s fine, Steve.”

He moves again. This time to stand beside you and his head bends to try and catch your eyes. You keep your eyes trained on the stack of papers and pray he’ll drop it.

Before he has a chance to say anything, the bell at the top of the door sings and the door swings up. You’re more than thankful for the distraction and you look up to greet the customer but you’re met with Eddie, Max and El.

Max and El are talking amongst themselves but Eddie’s eyes are stuck on you. You don’t miss the mischievous glint in his eyes as he looks between you and Steve.

“Look at my two favorite Family Video employees,” He sings and approaches the counter. Max and El follow.

“Hey guys,” Steve greets them, but you can feel his eyes still on you. Eddie clearly notices as well and smirks at you.

“We’re here to pick up the tapes Robin put on hold yesterday. Y’know, movie night and all,”

“Right, I’ll go get those,” You say quickly, taking any opportunity to get as far away from Steve as possible. You miss the way his eyes sadden but he doesn’t stop you.

As you scurry to the break room, Max and El trail behind you.

“You’re coming tonight, right?” Max asks suspiciously. You send her a sideways glance as you fish around the room for where Robin hid the tapes.

You already know your answer – no, you will not be going because movie night is always held at Steve’s house and you can’t bear the thought of being there again so soon. But you haven’t told anybody you weren’t going. Honestly, you planned to just skip out on the whole thing without a word. Clearly, Max knows you well enough to know that’s exactly what you intended.

“I don’t think so, Max. I’m not feeling great today,”

She sees right through you. “Bullshit.”

You scowl at her. “Language, Mayfield.”

“You feel fine, you just don’t want to be around Steve,”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You wave her off, and kneel to the ground in front of a crate of old tapes.

“Why don’t you two get back together?” El asks. You look up from where you’re shuffling through tapes. “Max and Lucas break up and get back together all the time. Even me and Mike have done it before. He still likes you,”

Her oblivious nature is cute and you can feel yourself soften. “Steve and I are a little different from you guys, El. And I don’t think he wants to get back together.”

“That’s bullshit again!” Max exclaims.

“Max!” You groan and finally find the tapes Robin hid. Rising to your feet, you head back up to the front. “It’s just movie night, it’s not a big deal, alright?”

You push through the beaded curtain, the girls following suit and nobody misses Max’s sour face.

“It is a big deal! Eddie, will you tell her it’s a big deal?”

Eddie pulls himself away from the conversation with Steve and looks at you three. “What’s a big deal?”

“Nothing.” You say.

“She doesn’t wanna come tonight,” Max says at the same time.

Eddie makes a face. “Why not? It’s the third time you’ve bailed on movie night.”

Max gasps, realization dawning on her. “It is the third time!” 

You glare at him. Damn him for keeping count.

“Can you two relax? I just feel sick today,” You grumble, punching in Robin’s phone number into the computer.

“Bull.Shit.”

“Maxine Mayfield, I’m gonna wash your mouth out with soap!” You threaten, a finger pointed in her direction. She rolls her eyes but before she can respond, Steve speaks up.

“What’s wrong? Is it your head?” He asks. You look up at him and immediately regret it. He’s looking down at you with those chocolate brown eyes and they’re swirling with concern. “Have you been sleeping okay?”

You still for a moment because no, you haven’t been sleeping okay. Actually, you haven’t been sleeping at all.

“I’m fine,” You say quickly. “Can all of you relax? It’s just movie night,”

Steve ignores you. “But you said you were sick. What’s bothering you?”

“See?” El speaks up. “I told you he still liked -,”

“Okay, I’ll go!” You cut her off. She was one word away from completely embarrassing you. “Can everybody lay off now?”

Max and El look pleased enough, Eddie as well but Steve’s look of concern doesn’t disappear. Still, he doesn’t press you on it and you’re grateful.

The rest of your shift is spent carefully avoiding Steve and taking every opportunity to help a customer or stock shelves. You’re painfully aware of how he keeps an eye on you the whole time but he seems to respect your wishes to not talk.

By the time 8PM rolls around, the store is cleaned and ready to be locked up. Steve waits behind you as you lock the door before you both make your way through the parking lot. Three steps into the same direction, you realize he parked right next to you.

Thick tension surrounds you, and you’re silently wishing the birds chirping will be loud enough to make him not talk.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” Steve’s voice is low and hesitant. Your heart pinches at that soft tone he carries – it’s something you got so used to but have been deprived of for the last month.

You nod without looking up at him, and pull the strap of your bag closer to your chest. “Everything’s fine,”

He looks torn between asking again or being quiet completely, and he chooses to be quiet.

This is the most you’ve spoken to him since the breakup and it’s even harder than you thought it would be. It’s taking every ounce of self control not to throw yourself into his arms and beg him to hold you. To come back to you and make everything better.

Your ego wins the battle. He didn’t fight for you to stay and hasn’t fought to bring you back either. If anything, he’s proving he prefers being apart from you.

You’ll get there, with time. Hopefully.

You make it to your car and surprising to you, Steve jogs ahead of you to open your car door. You finally look up at him and see him already looking down at you – he has one hand clutched around the handle and the other resting atop the door.

It’s hard looking at him, especially doing something to gentle like opening your door for no reason. Based on the look in his eyes, you’re sure he can see the pain in your eyes.

“Thanks.” You mumble softly and slide into the seat. He doesn’t shut it right away, so you glance up at him.

He takes a deep breath and moves to stand between the car and the open door. Carefully, he bends down to kneel so he’s eye level with you.

Gently, he says your name. “I don’t want you to miss out on things because of me,” He says and your heart sinks.

“I’m not,” You say instinctively. It was a lie and he sees right through you.

“If you’re uncomfortable being around me, I’ll skip out on tonight,”

You sit up, ready to argue that it’s his house and they’re his friends – he shouldn’t have to worry about your feelings. It’s not his responsibility anymore.

But he continues before you have a chance.

“I can find something else to do, it’s really not a problem.”

You frown at his words and your mind immediately goes back to Stacey.

He didn’t say he’d try to be around you, or that he won’t let it get weird – he was offering to leave completely. Maybe this was his way of finding an excuse to go out with her.

Your eyes flick to his arm and you see the faint trace of her phone number still on his skin. He follows your gaze and drops his arm from where it rests on your door.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He says quickly, almost defensively.

Maybe he didn’t. Or maybe he did.

Truthfully, there was no way for you to know. And it wasn’t like you had the right to know either. He wasn’t yours anymore.

When you look back up at him, your face is blank, eyes void.

“You can do whatever you’d like, I won’t make it awkward.” You say simply and Steve’s eyes sadden.

He can tell exactly what you’re doing – steeling yourself off from him and he hates it.

Before he gets the chance, you turn away from him. After sliding the key into the ignition, your hands curl around the steering wheel and you look straight ahead. “I already promised Max and El. I don’t want to let them down,”

He looks at you while you avoid looking at him again. From beside you, you see him nod before standing upright and shutting your door softly.

You don’t waste a second before you’re peeling out of the lot and making your way home, all without even glancing at him again.

Whatever he chooses to do will be on him and has nothing to do with you.

You want to cry – you can feel it about to happen – but you’re so tired of it. Crying and wallowing hasn’t helped you these past few weeks and it’s not about to start now.

Even then, you’re debating just breaking your promise to the girls and staying home. At least then you wouldn’t know if Steve decides to stay home or go do whatever he has planned with whoever.

But you miss your friends, and you’re tired of sitting on Nancy’s couch alone all night and tormenting yourself with your own thoughts.

When you make it home – Nancy’s home – you drag yourself into her apartment and avoid all her questions about how your day was, how it was seeing Steve, if you’re okay.

You give short and simple answers, making sure to skip over the Stacey incident, and tell her you’re going to shower before you leave. She’s happy you’re at least going tonight.

By the time you finish, you showered and changed into more comfortable clothes. You managed to talk yourself off the metaphorical cliff – you’ll stay for one movie and drive separately so you can make an early escape.

You haven’t figured out a way to feel normal once you step back inside his house and when you park on the curb, that feeling of dread consumes you.

You turn the car off but stay sitting for a few seconds as you stare at the house. A month ago, it was your house – your home. Now you’re knocking for someone to let you in. It’s a saddening difference and it just makes you regret coming even more.

You’re five seconds from starting the car and leaving before Nancy knocks on your window, Jonathan next to her. She urges you to get out and you can see the look on her face – the one that’s reading into your every move and it’s obvious she’s worried.

So you gather your things and pull yourself together.

Robin is the one to let you guys in and you glance behind you to see if Steve’s car was in the driveway.

Relief sits heavy in your chest when you see the maroon car.

You follow behind Nancy wordlessly but when you see El peak her head around the corner, Mike lingering next to her, it’s hard to fight your smile – because you really did miss them.

She rushes to you, practically dragging you further into the house and to where she claimed her spot on the floor.

Max and Lucas have their own setup next to El and Mike’s and they’re completely engrossed in their own conversation. Dustin has taken over the recliner on the other side of the room, and Eddie takes the end of the couch closest to him.

Nancy and Jonathan settle into the longer couch, and Robin sits on the obnoxiously big beanbag chair she begged Steve to buy her for Christmas last year.

You still haven’t seen Steve, and you wonder if he did choose to skip out and hide in his room.

You take the chance to look further around the living room. It almost looks like nothing has changed. The furniture is still set up the same way, the color palette is still warm and full.

The posed family pictures he once had with his parents are still replaced with pictures of the group across the room. But when you continue looking around, your heart sinks.

Because all the pictures he had of just you and him are still there.

A picture of you and him at the beach sits on the coffee table. One of you two hugging at graduation hangs on the wall beside the TV. Another one of just you, smiling up at the camera at your birthday two years ago is sitting front and center on the fireplace.

Your throat burns and you feel it begin to tighten. You never really let yourself think of the possibility that he hasn’t moved on either. Leaving of group photos was one thing, but the ones of you both? The one of only you?

It’s all too much and it’s slowly breaking your resolve. It’s only proving the fact that the breakup was all for nothing and if you weren’t so damn prideful, you could’ve fixed it.

Suddenly, Steve emerges from the kitchen with his hands full. He’s holding three different bowls of popcorn and bags of chips and candy tucked into his arms.

Your eyes meet and for just a second, he halts. He looks surprised you actually showed and you don’t blame him. Still, he gives you a half smile and you try your best to mirror it.

Dustin jumps from his spot on the seat and makes grabby hands at the snacks Steve holds. Eddie leans up and helps pass them out and you watch Steve swat Dustin’s hands away as he tries to steal everything.

Beside you, El talks your ear off and you’re eager to welcome the distraction. Otherwise, you would’ve spent the whole night staring at Steve.

Before long, Robin starts the movie and Mike begins to argue with Dustin about being quiet. There’s bickering, and laughing, and food being thrown but it feels nice. Happy even.

Steve ends up settling almost directly behind you on the couch. His elbow sits on the arm rest to his left and your back is directly against the foot of the couch. His legs are almost touching your shoulder. Neither of you say anything.

But even though you’re having a good time and aren’t completely regretting coming, you’re painfully aware of how close Steve is. You can feel the warmth radiating from his skin, the smell of his cologne is almost all you can focus on. Your hand twitches in your lap – begging you to hold onto his ankle and lean your head onto his thigh.

And as you watch the movie, your eyes keep finding the picture of you two at graduation. Steve has you pulled back into his chest, his arms iron clad around you. He’s resting his chin on your shoulder and you’re holding both your diplomas up at the camera. Your shared smiles gleam back at you and it’s enough to make you smile in real time.

It’s also enough to make you sad all over again.

Because it’s not your reality anymore, and you’re not sure it ever will be.

Somehow you end up staying through three movies. By the time credits roll on the last one, everyone is asleep. Mike’s leaning against the wall, his neck bent in a way that’ll leave him with a cramp in the morning, and El’s head resting in his lap.

Max and Lucas are sprawled along the floor across from them, one of his arms tucked under her head. Dustin has his face smushed into a pillow, one arm and one leg hanging off the side of the chair. Eddie is slumped beside him, drool pooling at his mouth.

Robin is curled into a ball on her beanbag chair, quietly snoring. Nancy and Jonathan are curled into each other on their side of the couch. You’re too scared to turn and look at Steve, but he hasn’t moved a muscle in an hour so you’re sure he’s asleep too.

It’s the perfect time to slip out undetected.

Carefully, you push yourself off the floor. It’s a mess around the room and even in a rush, you feel bad just leaving things the way they are. So you grab the bowls and snacks from the coffee table and move towards the kitchen.

“Let me help,”

Steve’s voice startles you so much that you drop the bags of candy to the floor, your palm covering your mouth to minimize the scream ready to slip out.

His eyes widen and he smiles. “Sorry, sorry,”

You exhale and it’s hard not to smile back.

He doesn’t look like he’d been asleep at all, which means he probably just sat there thinking the same thing you were. His hair is a little messy, a few pieces covering his forehead and you’re itching to fix it.

He leans down to pick up the bags and you go back to picking up the cups and bowls. You’re both careful not to wake anyone else as you carry everything to the kitchen.

It’s domestic – the way you fall back into rhythm of cleaning. Steve takes care of the dirty dishes and you begin putting the snacks back into the pantry.

When everything is cleaned, you’re unsure what to do next. At first, you figured you’d clean and leave without having to talk to anyone but now, you’re left alone with only him and he’s looking at you like that again and it’s hard to think properly.

You stand in the middle of the kitchen, facing each other. He has one hand resting on the counter, tapping his finger on the granite. Your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth.

“I, uh, I should go,” You finally say.

“You don’t have to,” He replies easily. “It’s late, you shouldn’t be driving right now,”

You glance at the clock on the stove and it reads back 2:19AM.

He was sweet for offering but it wasn’t far and the last thing you wanted was to prolong the inevitable awkwardness that would come in the morning.

Steve notices your apprehension easily. “You can take the guest room and leave first thing in the morning,”

Your head is screaming at you to say no thank you. To bid him a farewell and get home as quickly as possible. Your heart, however, is begging you to accept and take the chance to be close to him – even just for one night.

And you’re sick of sleeping on Nancy’s couch.

“Okay,” You nod.

His face lights up, a smile covering his mouth. “Okay.” He repeats.

Quietly, he shuts off the lights and TV before setting off upstairs. You follow behind him and when you make it down the hall, you both stop in front of his bedroom door. He turns around to face you.

“Uh, guest rooms right there,” He points at the door across the hall. “Bathroom is just down the hall. Second door on the -,”

“I know,” You cut him off and he nods quickly.

“Right, yeah. Of course,”

It’s awkward to say the least, but it’s not unkind. It’s nice to hear him talk again, even if it’s just telling you where things were.

You stare at each other for a moment. The clock in the hall ticks loudly and you wonder if he can hear how loud your heart is beating.

You break first. “Goodnight, Steve.”

He gives you a soft smile. “Goodnight.”

You enter the room and seconds later, hear his bedroom door click shut.

The guest bedroom is dull. There’s no pictures along the wall, only a painting of a red Cadillac from the 70s. There’s beige curtains covering the window and a matching beige bedspread on the mattress. There’s a small lamp on the bedside table and a desk on the opposite wall.

It’s a drastic contrast from Steve’s bedroom – especially after you helped get rid of his matching striped curtains and wallpaper.

It feels cold and lonely.

But you climb into bed anyway and do your best to stop thinking about how much better you’d sleep with him next to you.

On the other side of the wall, Steve lays on his own bed and feels the same way. His room hasn’t felt like his room since the day you left and now that he knows you’re so close, he’s using all his strength not to climb into bed with you.

He’s spent the last month trying to convince himself if he let you have some space, things would get better and you’d come back to him. To him, it was never a breakup – just a stupid stepping stone in your relationship.

But as the days passed, you pulled further away from him, and next thing he knew, the boys were coming over and packing up your things. He wanted to fight them on it, actually he tried – but then Mike said it was your idea and suddenly everything felt too real.

Maybe he fucked up so bad you were fed up. He thought about showing up to Nancy’s, thought about begging you to come home, but he didn’t want you to feel cornered. So he backed off.

But then he saw the way you reacted when you saw him with Stacey.

It’s not like it meant anything – it took her writing her number on him to realize she was flirting with him, all because he couldn’t stop staring at you. After he tried to talk to you about it, he spent ten minutes in the bathroom trying to scrub it off his skin. And you saw the remnants stained onto his arm later that night.

He didn’t want you to feel jealous or upset over it, he didn’t plan on ever calling her, but a small part inside of him felt relieved you did feel like that. At least you still felt something for him.

And he knew what you were thinking all night as he watched your eyes filter back to the pictures of you two. He didn’t leave them up to prove something, he just couldn’t stand the thought of taking them down. You would always be his, no matter what.

Still, the argument escalated so quickly because of him and he had to make sure if – when – you came back to him, it was on your terms. He wouldn’t rush you.

So he offered the guest room and hoped that would be the first step into forgiveness.

It’s maybe an hour after he’s climbed into bed when he hears the faint sound of .. crying?  

His ears perk up and he leans up on his elbows, turning his head towards the door. He listens for a moment but all he hears is the ticking of the clock.

He thinks he must have imagined it until he hears it again.

It’s still quiet, and easy to miss if he wasn’t already awake, but he can hear it – and it’s familiar.

It’s you.

It’s a cry he’s heard a hundred times over the years. It’s soft, and not the same one that comes from you during a sad movie - it’s fear.

He knows what’s causing it – your nightmares used to be overwhelming but ever since you moved in with him two years ago, they’ve become less frequent. Having him next to you was enough to tether you to reality and comfort you.

But now he hasn’t been there. Have you been dealing with them ever since you left? All the while he’s been making you feel like you should be gone.

His feet are moving before he even has a chance to think – like his body was made with a built in magnetic connected to you. He pulls his door open and pads directly across the hall to your door.

He presses his ear to the door and can hear your crying more clearly. They’re still quiet but they sound more intense now. His hand curls around the handle but then he hesitates.

Should he be the one to comfort you? Should he get Nancy to instead? Would you want him?

When he hears you cry out again, this time louder, he pushes the door open. The light from the hall shines through the doorway and he finds her curled in on yourself, sheets skewed across the bed. He can see you shivering, your brows pulled tight, creasing the beautiful skin of your forehead. He sees your skin is flushed red and your cheeks are stained with tears.

Guilt sits in his chest and without thinking, he’s climbing into bed with you. The mattress dips below his weight and he slides one arm under your head and pulls you from your fetal position so you’re facing him instead. He pulls you into his chest, an arm curled around your shoulders and the other cupping your cheek.

His warmth transfers to you, and as if you were searching for him the entire time, your body instantly relaxes in his hold. Your shaking stops, a soft sigh escapes past your lips, and your hand raises to clutch the fabric of his t-shirt.

You watches the way you bury your face into his chest, the crease between your brows disappears, and he hears the soft melody of your voice.

“Steve..” You don’t say his name as a question – he’s pretty sure you’re still not even awake. It’s relief. Even unconscious, you were given comfort again and you knew with absolute certainty, that comfort was him.

He feels his heart contract in his chest and he tightens his hold on you. “It’s me, baby,” He says softly, lips touching your hairline. “You’re safe, I got you.”

As he holds you in his arms, he knows without an ounce of doubt, he’s never letting go again. Nothing is completely fixed and won’t be overnight but when morning comes, he’s going to tell you exactly this.

He won’t ever let you forget how much he loves you.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re practically shackled to the bed by Steve’s arms. They’re wrapped tightly around your waist and his cheek is resting against the top of your head.

Confusion takes hold of you immediately, but you don’t pull away from his hold. If anything, you burrow yourself deeper into his head but it’s enough to make him stir and groan quietly.

Internally, you’re cursing at yourself for moving even an inch but then his hold tightens around you – if that was even possible. You can feel his head lift from where it rested atop of yours and you hold your breath.

“Hey, you awake?” His morning voice is gruff and it makes your stomach swirl. You hesitate for a second before giving him a timid nod.

“Mhm..”

He pulls his arms apart but only enough to spread his palms over your arms, his thumbs brushing back and forth over your skin.

Silence settles over the room, only the sound of your  breathing and the sound of his heart beating in your ear. It feels normal again.

“You were having a nightmare,” Steve says suddenly and your stomach drops. “Last night. That’s why I came in,”

You sigh softly, eyes squeezing shut from embarrassment.

“I’m-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up,”

Steve shakes his head quickly. “No, don’t apologize. Seriously.” His tone leaves no room for arguing.

You’re both blanketed in silence again but for the first time in weeks, it’s not uncomfortable. The feeling of his arms around you again, your body tucked perfectly against his – it feels warm and safe and grounding.

“Thank you,” You say quietly, fingers tracing shapes over his shirt covered chest.

“You don’t need to thank me either, baby,”

The pet name slips out so casually and your heart splits in two, but you grip his shirt even tighter. Steve picks up on your reaction and gently cups your face, encouraging you to look up at him.

You’re more than sure you look disgusting – bags under your eyes, and they’re probably puffy from crying in your sleep, cheeks flushed pink, hair a tousled mess – but he doesn’t look at you like you do, even for a second.

Steve looks down at you like you hung the fucking moon and stars. It’s intense enough to have you nearly shying away but he holds you firmly in place.

“I’m sorry about everything,” He says and you blink up at him. “This past month without you has been fucking hell. And seeing you last night, I don’t ever want you to deal with that alone.”

Tears well in your eyes almost immediately and when one slips down your cheek, he swipes it away gently.

“I love you so much and I don’t want to spend even another  second without –.” Steve makes a surprise sound when you cut him off by pressing your lips to his.

He recovers quickly, arms pulling you tighter into his chest and kissing you back just as hard. Every ounce of emotion you’ve kept bottled up are poured into this kiss and as he keeps kissing you, he’s gently wiping away the tears falling from your eyes.

When you finally pull away for air, you don’t go far – you rest your forehead against his and smile.

“I don’t want to be without you either.” You whisper softly.

Steve’s smile is bright and he quickly tosses you onto your back before he hovers over you, sweetly attacking your face with more kisses.

The first time you ever saw Steve Harrington will forever stick out in your mind. 

You hadn’t been looking for anyone relationship wise, choosing to spend your energy focusing on your health. Those first few months were hard on their own between battling cravings and sweating buckets at the gym, you didn’t have the time nor energy to focus on anything let alone dating.

Your doctor had recommended trying some exercises in the pool to alleviate some of the stresses working out was putting on your joints so you gave it a try, all be it a bit shakily as you kept a towel secured around you as you scooted shyly into the pool area. 

There were a few other people doing a workout of their own along with other members in the outer lanes diving in before swimming the length of the pool. 

That’s where you first laid eyes on this Adonis of a man on the opposite side, his amber irises zeroed in just as he took his pose and splashed into the water, swimming faster than you had ever seen anyone to the other side and utilized his muscular arms to push himself out on to the concrete.

Absently, he reached for his towel and ran it along his face as your own irises took him in now that he was beside you. The man’s frame was rather lean with a soft stomach that made you melt, accentuated by his swim trunks that were hanging just so on his hips. 

When he maneuvered his towel around to the back of his head, you were able to get a good look at his strong jaw and gorgeous eyes when they met yours briefly. 

You blushed immediately, shifting your gaze to the floor just as you felt him walk behind you to grab his things and head towards the locker room. 

After that, you began feeling like you saw him everywhere within the gym. 

In his handsome suit when he sauntered to the locker room to change or a few machines down from where you had been walking on the treadmill. Sometimes while you were stretching, you would see him lifting barbells with this slightly disgruntled look on his features that you couldn’t help but smile at. 

About a month after your first encounter with him, you finally heard him speak wishing, however, it was under different circumstances.

You had steadily begun lifting weights yourself, starting small like your doctor suggested but still struggling immensely. After a while you heard snickering, glancing in the mirror in front of you to see a couple of boys behind you pointing your way. 

Your confidence fell and all you wanted to do was get out of there. 

Just as you placed the weights back on their shelf, you noticed a tall figure walk with purpose behind you, your eyes shifting back to their reflection to see Steve placing himself in front of them to block you from their view. 

“Fuck off. Now.”

“Oh, come on. We were just messing around.”, one of the boys tried to defend before his large hand took hold of one of their arms and shoved them to the side. 

“That’s why she’s actually getting somewhere and you’re still here being and doing nothing. Now fuck off and if you ever make fun of her again, I’ll make sure you regret it. I have pull everywhere, gentlemen.”

What always amused you about that encounter was the fact that physically those boys could probably overpower him with the biceps that protruded from their obnoxiously tight short sleeve shirts but Steve himself had been much more intimidating; not just in his presence but the way he spoke and commanded attention. 

He made his threat and they believed it, immediately backing down. 

You decided then that you’d start going to the gym later in the evening when less people were there which was a double edge sword because you weren’t able to ogle your gym crush anymore. 

After a couple of weeks, however, while you were working out in the pool the man himself suddenly sauntered from the locker room into the area. You tried to contain your shock but failed when your jaw not so subtly dropped. 

Steve continued to do his thing while you did yours, silently swimming back and forth till you gradually realized… he was slowing down so his pace matched yours. 

When his luscious head of hair breached the water, he hastily pushed it back with his fingers before his eyes opened to meet your smirking face eliciting a cheeky smile from him. 

“You should try kicking your legs a bit more. Sometimes about mid-way, you use only your arms which can slow you down.”

“Oh.”, you muse as you nod, feeling his gaze take you in. “I feel like I look a bit silly sometimes kicking my feet like a toddler.”

“Naw, you don’t look silly. Plus, even if you did, who cares how you look.”

“Said the guy who has probably never looked bad a day in his life.”

“Said the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” You head snaps in his direction, eyes locking on his as his smile grows showing off all his teeth. “How about this? How about I race you to the other side of the pool and if I win…I get to buy you dinner.”

“Oh, ok.”, you giggle. “What if I win?”

“If you win then… you have to let me buy you dinner.”, he teases making you laugh harder. 

“You don’t even know my name.”

Water splashes slightly around you both as he extends his hand towards you. 

“I’m Steve Harrington.”

“Y/N Y/L/N.”, you relay, shaking his palm with your own. 

“It’s nice to meet you, honey.”

That night you let him buy you dinner, the smile never leaving your face as he pulled out your chair and held open the door. The two of you talked for hours, his charming demeanor never faltering for a second. 

“Yeah, my dad wanted me to get into corporate America but…that’s never been for me…”, he sighed. “I love teaching those kids, you know, and getting to coach them. It’s much more fun than some cubicle job.”

“I can imagine.”, you chuckle, a thought suddenly hitting you right at that moment. “Hang on. If you’re a teacher; don’t you have to like get up early in the morning?”

“During the weekdays, yeah.”

“Oh my God, then why are you working out so late then? I’d be so exhausted!”

As you laugh, the man in front of you laughs with you as he leans forward against the table on his elbows. 

“Yeah, I used to go right after work but this girl I have a crush on suddenly stopped going at that time.” Your eyes meet his glowing ones and you do everything you can to contain the shy smile that wants to break free. “At first I thought maybe she was going in the morning instead so I set my alarm the next day to this ungodly hour but when I showed up she didn’t. I was even almost late for work because I lagged behind a bit hoping to run into her.”

“She probably thought there would be less aggressive ‘gym bros’ if she went at night.”

“That was my next thought. It took me awhile though because its baseball season and my team had a few games. The first chance I was able to though I went to that gym a little after normal hours and there she was…swimming in the pool…not kicking her legs.”

Steve smiles when you giggle, waiting for you patiently to respond as his eyes drink you in. 

“I’m a bit introverted so I try to keep to myself. Them laughing at me…kind of shook me…”

Unfolding his crossed arms, his palm reaches out to take yours in his grasp. 

“I know. I wish I had caught them sooner but…the only reason I noticed was because I saw that heartbroken look on your face. I didn’t know I was capable of feeling an anger like that…I got this like intense need to protect you.” His thumb caresses your skin and you wonder if he can feel your body tremble at his words. “Sorry, I, um, sometimes my mouth moves before my brain. Probably not the thing to say on a first date.”

Abruptly, you rise a bit out of your chair, lean over the table, and plant your lips on his before falling back down in your seat with a grin. 

“It’s ok, so does mine.”

Your relationship with him moved fairly quickly from that point on. 

You both had begun working out together, stealing kisses and flirty touches where you could with Steve usually being the instigator. The more intimate you two became the more aware you were about certain perceived flaws when it came to your body. 

“Holy shit.”, Steve panted as his fingers curled tighter in your hair, his eyes quickly assessing the gym parking lot to make sure no one was coming as your head bobbed lower down his throbbing cock. “Atta girl. Don’t—Don’t overwhelm yourself. I know I’m big.”

His free hand rubbed your back to your ass making you groan as you pushed him further into your mouth.

“Goddamn, baby, just like that.” Steve can’t help but grunt as your pace hastens. “Honey, Honey, you have to slow down or else…I’m gonna cum.” The moment one of your hands begins massaging his balls he knows he’s done for. “Y/N…wait-wait-wait, oh f-fuck.”

His grip on you tightens as a cute little whine escapes from his lips and he spills down your throat. 

“Fuck, that was…”, he murmurs softly with a smirk, guiding your lips to his. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I like the way you taste.”, you swoon, giggling when his kisses trail to your cheek to the side of your neck. 

“Yeah? Even though I’m all sweaty from our workout?”

“I didn’t even notice.”

“Hmmm…how about we go back to my apartment…and we can work on some sets in my…comfy bed…”

As his words effortlessly flow between kisses, your mind begins to race. You had just worked out so your bra and panties weren’t exactly “sexy”. You didn’t look or smell nearly as good as he did after a workout since being a bigger girl you definitely sweat more and in many crevices. Add in other factors about your body…

“I, um, I should actually…”, you start as you back away, his surprised expression hitting your heart. “I have to go home and do that thing for work and then, um, you have to grade papers and I don’t want to distract you.”

His brain finally seems to catch up with your actions, him adjusting his shorts as he opens his car door and runs around to catch you before you can scurry away. 

“You never distract me.”, he replies earnestly, noticing your face fall but unsure of the reason why. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. You can come over, I can make us dinner, and we can watch some tv or something.”

You wanted nothing more than to spend more time with him but your insecurities were winning the battle within your mind. 

“Let’s…Let’s do something next weekend, ok?”

Steve blinked as he leaned against the hood of his BMW.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“Nothing—"

“Cause you know you can talk to me about anything.”

“I said nothing is wrong, Steve!”, you shout, eyes meeting his before he nods and folds his arms across his chest. 

“Ok, text me when you get home so I know you got there safely.”

You nod, preparing to walk to your car but your instincts take over as you turn and tackle your arms around his waist; the boy not even hesitating as his own limbs circle around you and he rests his chin on top of your head. 

“I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“It’s ok. I just don’t want you to think that’s all I care about…sex and stuff.”, he quickly clarifies. “I like you a lot, Y/N.”

“I like you a lot to.”

Steve chuckles at your muffled response, gently tilting your head back to kiss your lips. 

You knew at some point you were going to have tell him your concerns and after a long day at work having an internal debate with yourself, you got in your car and sped to his apartment, banging your fist on his door a bit harder than you meant to. 

The moment he opens it, an unintentional, breathy moan escapes you as your eyes take him in. Usually on Friday’s he told you he spent his evenings grading papers so he could enjoy the weekend so you imagined he would be dressed casually. 

When he answered your knock, however, he was still donning what you assumed he wore to class that day; a pair of black slacks and a matching button up shirt that was tucked in perfectly with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

And the cherry on top?

The glasses on his face you had never seen him wear until now.

“Y/N? What’s going on? Is everything ok?”, Steve asked, his voice filled with concern.

The dam broke in your mind then and you allowed the words to flow as you pushed passed him to place yourself in his living room. 

“Of course. Of course, you look fucking sexy right now. Is there ever a time where you don’t look fucking delicious?!”

“Um—”

“No, wait. Let me get this out before I talk myself out of it. I don’t know if you ever saw me when I first started going to the gym but I was a lot heavier than I am now and I haven’t been in a relationship since I started getting healthier.” 

While you continued to ramble, the man before you came around to lean against the arm of his sofa, taking off his glasses as he gave you his attention. 

“Mostly because I needed to focus all my energy there but then I saw you swimming at the pool and I thought to myself ‘I can look. It’s ok. It’s not like a guy like him would want a girl like me— ‘”

“Define guy like me.”, he interjects, throwing you off slightly as your eyes find his own and you shrug. 

“I don’t know, Steven! A fucking hot…probably was prom king in school…had all the cheerleaders wanting to marry him…popular, you know?” When all he does is pout out his lips sarcastically and nod, you continue. “Someone who…probably wouldn’t have defended me in school…but you did, Steve, and then we talked and you’re so fucking sweet and adorable and perfect…”

The man’s head tilts slightly as he watches the confidence you flew in with slowly leave your frame; the same way it had when those boys were mocking you. 

“I’m—I’m proud of the weight I lost and how healthy I’m becoming but my body…it’s still kind of a work in progress. I sweat more than you do, part of my body chaffs especially in the thigh area here.” You pause as you gesture towards said area. “When I go home, my bathroom turns into that scene in Edward Scissor hands where he’s making ice sculptures because it’s like snowing powder I have to put in areas because it rubs and it hurts and it leaves marks… I have hanging flab in places you don’t see because it’s covered by my clothes… and then I get worried about my downstairs because what if it’s all gross now to like everything else?”

Again you pause, hugging your arms around yourself. 

“I meant what I said, Steve, I like you a lot but I’m terrified that when you see ME…you won’t want me anymore.” Steve blinks at your words, nodding his head a bit as his eyes shift to the void of the floor. “Ok…that’s, um, that’s it. That’s what I, um, came here to say.”

The silence between you two is deafening and anxiety gives your legs momentum as you start to head for his front door before his arm shoots out to the side to take hold of your bicep stopping you in your tracks. 

“You’re right. I was the popular kid…I didn’t make prom king but snowball king for sure. It was our small-town version of a homecoming dance.”, he explained when your flashed him a questioning look. “I was a fucking asshole. I made fun of people I thought were ‘beneath’ me and acted like a total dumbass.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel more comfortable or…?”

The man beside you smiles as he readjusts himself to face you more, taking your other hand in his. 

 “My dad always said my looks were all I had since I wasn’t exactly excelling in the brains department. My grades were trash and anytime I wanted to express myself I thought people would hear me and realize how dumb I actually was so I wanted to bring them down to ‘my level’.”

“I don’t think your dumb.”

“Thank you.”, he murmurs as his thumb caresses your skin. “I just…I’m not great at expressing my thoughts but I’m going to do my best here.” Anxiety once again flows through your system as your mind races through every possible painful outcome his next words will lead to. “I meant what I said the first time I spoke to you at the pool. You, Y/N, are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Not just physically but… before I actually met you I watched you come into the gym every day and give your all and it just inspired me, you know?

I remember there was this one day you were on the treadmill reading and when I walked by I realized it was one of the novels I teach my class—.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. What I’m trying to say is there’s more to you then what’s under here.”, he grins, lightly tugging on the bottom of your shirt. “I’m one to talk. I’ve been kinda nervous about you seeing me.”

“Steve…”, you giggle as you roll your eyes and playfully push his shoulder. 

“I’m serious!”

“I’ve seen you! You swim without your shirt on AND I’ve had you in my mouth a couple of times.” The man’s eyebrows quirk up flirtatiously making you laugh harder just as his palms come up to cup your cheeks and bring your lips to his. “To me everything about you is perfect.”

“To me everything about YOU is perfect.”, he mimes back. 

You kiss him once more, allowing them to grow my passionate as his tongue gently dances with your own. Firmly squeezing his shoulders, you silently signal for him to let you go which he does and you take a couple of steps away from him before sliding out of your shoes, pushing them to the side.

Unbuttoning your jeans, you shimmy your hips to grant you freedom from the denim eliciting a cute chuckle from him as you playfully kick them away. Steve’s gentle smile remains as your eyes glue to his and you gradually lift your shirt over your head. 

Your fingers nervously push your hair back as you dance on the balls of your feet allowing his honey irises to glide from your lips, along your chest to your stomach and around to your curvy hips. 

“I’m, um, it’s gotten a bit better. The crunches and weight training has helped with the lose skin here.” Even as you speak, he doesn’t move and you panic. “Say something please…Steve?...Come on, I’m freakin’ out here—”

Abruptly, he rises and crashes his lips to yours, his arms circling tightly around you. 

“You thought I wouldn’t want you? I should throw you over my knee and spank this sexy ass. Are you kidding me?”

At his husky, lust filled threat, you wrapped your arms around his neck and without missing a beat his large hands took hold of the back of your thighs. 

“Jump.”, Steve commanded and you listened, him catching you and adjusting you effortlessly in his grasp to carry you to his bedroom. 

You hissed slightly at the feeling of something cold when he placed you on his mattress but before you could process what it was, the former jock had began pushing all his papers and folders to the floor. 

Your own hands roamed his form, pulling desperately at the buttons of his shirt while his mouth kissed and sucked on your neck, humming against your skin as your palm ran rubbed along his warm, hairy chest around to his back pushing him as close to you as possible. 

His own fingers found their way behind you and expertly unhooked your bra, throwing it to the floor blindly as his lips immediately took one of your nipples into his mouth and his tongue flicked the bud. 

“Fuck, Steve.”, you mewled, hooking your legs tighter around his waist to grind your lower half against his own. 

You weren’t sure how long he lingered around your belly but you definitely didn’t mind when his tongue and mouth ran along your body; parts you were insecure about. After removing his shirt, Steve fell to his side, shifting his gaze to meet yours.

“I want to taste you, Y/N. Is that ok?”, he whispered, kissing your lips when you nodded. “Can you say it?”

“I want you to taste me.” 

Placing himself between your legs, his eyes remain on yours, slowly pulling your panties down and tenderly kissing your limbs along his decent. 

“Open your legs for me.” Pushing up onto your elbows, you do as he asks, biting your bottom lip when his eyelids flutter. “Fuck, baby, you’re so wet. Just, um, if you need me to stop—fuck, baby, I’m so fucking hard for you right now—if you need me to stop just tell me, ok?”

“Ok, I promise.”, you whimper, desperate for him to finally place his mouth where you need him most.

The moment his wide, flat tongue licks a long stripe through your folds you know you won’t last long. 

“Oh my god, Steve.”

“Jesus, sweetheart, you taste like heaven.” With a firm grip on your thigh, the man holds you in place as he devours you, making so many obscene noises that you struggled to keep still. “Shit, baby, that’s it. Those sounds you make are driving me crazy.”

Your fingers reach down to thread through his hair, a grunt of approval vibrating through as his eyes flick up to meet yours. 

“M-More—fuck—please…”, you beg and he instantly obliges, using his own fingers to spread your pussy lips wider as his tongue flicks against your bundle of nerves. 

Your eyes roll closed and your back falls flat against his mattress as your hips grind back against him. Your body trembles as he pushes you over the edge, pulling away for just a moment to allow his fingers to replace the appendage between his teeth. 

Climbing up your frame, his lips meet yours. 

“See? Nothing wrong with your…what did you call it?...Downstairs?”, Steve teases, smiling at your lop-sided grin. Lazily lifting one of your hands, you glide your fingertips along his skin and down his stomach, unbuttoning his jeans before finding your way under the waistband of his boxers. “You feel what you do to me?”, he whispers. “How hard you make me?”

“Can I feel you, Steve?”

“You think this little pussy can handle me?” At his words, his fingers inside of you curled making you whimper as your back arched. “She can barely handle my fingers.”

“I want to feel you inside me, baby, please.”

“Maybe I should make you wait. Watch you squirm and beg for making me wait.” After pulling his hand out from between your legs, his body fell flat on yours and he rolled his hips against your palm, groaning as his forehead pressed to yours. “I thought about what you would feel like constantly, Y/N. I’d lay right here with my hand around my dick and wonder. Even before we started dating.”

With his breathy words, you felt your core flutter with need as his face scrunched with pleasure. 

“How tight you’d be or how warm pussy would be. How your body would feel against mine. What you would sound like moaning my name.”

“Steve.”

“Fuck me… The noises and faces you’d make when my cock is stretching you open. How deep your body would let me go…pressing down on your stomach to feel it…”

“Please… I want that. I NEED that.”

“Fuck, Y/N…I-I didn’t expect you tonight. I don’t have any condoms and I can’t promise I can pull out in time. The thought of coming inside you just…” His hips press down hard against your palm and he grunts at the feeling.

“You can cum inside me, Steve. I want you to.” 

Lifting his head slightly, his gorgeous irises search your face and you nod your assurance eliciting his adorable needy whine you had come to love before watching as he bounces away from you to hurriedly pull off everything below his waist. 

Positioning himself between your legs once more, the man takes hold of his shaft and you both release a gentle moan as his drags his tip a couple of times between your folds, collecting your slick. 

“Just breathe for me, baby, ok?” 

“Okay.”

The moment the word left your lips, Steve gradually began pressing into your core and your stomach tightened as you couldn’t help but hold your breath at the unexpected stretch. 

“Breathe, honey.”, he instructed, his eyes zeroing in on where you two connected, slowly thrusting in every little delicious inch. “I know, beautiful, I know but you’re doing so good for me.”

Licking your fingertips, you reached down to massage your clit and he mewled as your body relaxed a bit more allowing him to push deeper inside you. 

“Goddamn, Y/N, you feel so fucking good. I’m almost all the way in.”

“Steve.”

As you whimpered his name, he felt caution and control begin to leave his body as need began to consume him. 

“Fuck, I’ve never felt a pussy this tight. You were made for me, pretty girl.”

Tilting towards him, your palms cupped his cheeks to kiss his lips, guiding him fully on top of you as your circle your legs around his waist, sheathing him fully inside you. 

“You were right.”, you whisper, breathlessly. “I can feel you—fuck—right here.”

His eyes remain on yours but he feels your palm glide between you both to your lower stomach.

“Yeah, baby? Right here?” 

Pulling back slightly, Steve rolled his hips roughly and smirked as your eyes rolled shut. Setting a steady pace, he continued to thrust his cock into that spongey spot inside you, the sound of skin hitting skin filling his room mixed in with the grunts and moans of pleasure from you both that were so loud you were sure his neighbors were going to complain. 

“Steve…fuck…”

“I gotcha, baby. I’m right here.”

“Harder…Please…”

“Like this?”, he asks, pounding into you so hard that his headboard begins to hit the wall. “Yeah, just like that. Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum on my cock.” He barely gets the command out before your frame trembles beneath him and the coil snaps. “Ah, fuck.”

Fully collapsing on top of you, Steve fucks you through your high while chasing his own as you repeatedly chant his name, your fingers tangling in his slightly damp hair so you could press his head into the side of your neck. 

With a few more sloppy thrusts and that cute little whine, you felt his spend paint your walls. 

“Holy shit.”, he exhales, his heavy pants warming the nook between your neck and shoulder as you place tender kisses along his skin. “Are—Are you ok?”

“Yeah, just go slow.”, you whisper, both your heads tilting between your bodies as Steve pushes up onto his palms to slowly pull his softening cock out of your now aching entrance. “Ah…ow…”

“I know, honey. That’s my good girl.”, he praises, lightly laughing when he feels your cunt flutter around him at the sound. “Fuck, Y/N, you can’t do that when I’m trying to be careful here.” 

“I’m sorry.”, you giggle along with him. “I guess I like being praised.”

“You guess?”, Steve inquires as he rises to his feet and takes hold of your hand to guide you to his bathroom. 

“I don’t get praised or complimented very much.”

The boy’s soft irises meet yours, fingers catching your chin just as you begin to hang your head. 

“I can’t believe that. Gorgeous girl like you?”

Your face heats up at his words as you bit your bottom lip to try and contain your grin. After a lengthy shower filled with tender words and gentle kisses along your body, Steve effortlessly dries you before jogging to his closet to find you something to wear. 

“I don’t think any of your clothes are going to fit me, baby. Not right now anyway.”

Tossing you a playful smirk, he returns to your side and hands you a shirt, insisting when you shake your head. To your surprise when you pull it over your noggin, it actually fits perfectly along with his shorts that hug your tummy. 

“When I’m done at the gym especially after swimming, I like to shower and then wear the most loose-fitting clothes possible. Hell, even after work because dressing ‘work appropriate’ is so suffocating.”, the man explains as you watch him pull on a pair of sweats and a white tank. “Add in that after a long run, clothes touching my body just hurts…the chaffing right here and here.”

When he gestures along his chest and between his legs, you can’t help but beam up at him.

“Now, if you’re up to it, I would like to make you something to eat. I imagine with how fast you flew in here you haven’t had dinner yet.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Well then…”

Steve’s strong arms lift you off your feet, carrying you to his kitchen where he sets you down on the counter and places a quick kiss on your lips.

“Thank you for telling me what was going on in here.”, he murmurs gently, his fingers lightly tapping your forehead. “You never have to be afraid to tell me that stuff. I know our bodies are different but as a coach and man who’s been working out since he was like 15, I know it’s never as easy as doing the exercises and then going home. There’s a lot more to it than that and whenever you’re comfortable I’d like you to tell me more about how you do aftercare after a workout. It helps me understand and take care of you to.”

“You don’t…you don’t have to do that, Steve…”

The boy before you smiles shyly in a way you had never seen from him before causing your own grin to grow. 

“I want to. I like the idea of looking after you and making sure your safe and comfortable. I saw those fuckers being dicks to you and this feeling overwhelmed me like…how dare you disrespect her. Then you disappeared and I panicked. I thought I lost you.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you hold him to you as you kiss him again. 

“I’m not great at letting people in when it comes to this kind of stuff or letting go and letting people take care of me but I promise to try.”

“That’s all I ask, honey.”

################

Steve Masterlist Here

so they’re very close. very. loyal and devoted and completely obsessed with each other. as much as steve’s sweet girl loves to dote on him and take care of him, it’s more so her stevie’s self-assigned job to care for his baby.

and so steve buys her flowers, takes her on cute dates, is always looking out for her and can’t help his casual dominance, tying her shoes and carrying her places sometimes and brushing her hair and treating her like a little doll, his little doll. slowly acclimates her to what being in a relationship is like, he’s so so patient.

but he’s so hungry for her, it drives him insane how oblivious she is to the affect she has on him, how fucking adorable and clueless she is but also so very eager to please— because that’s all she wants, to be stevie’s good girl, to make him feel safe and loved and cared for, to make him feel good. but she gets greedy easily now… now that steve has ingrained in her mind that he truly wants her and loves her, that he’s all hers, that he wants to spoil her, marry her and make her his little wife, and spend his entire life with her!!!!!! her! his best friend! his person! they’re soulmates after all!!!!!!

her shyness stays, it’s just who she is (and steve finds it so fucking cute he has to constantly hold himself back from cooing at her all the time), but she’s just so horny for her stevie and doesn’t know how to say it ‘cause she’s so embarrassed and flustered and unsure and finds it hard to voice her needs and wants, so it manifests into tears. whenever she wants something from her stevie she gets all soft and small and pouty, grabbing at him and whining and holding his fingers to get his attention, and steve coos at her, can’t help it, his sweet angel girl so needy, and he always wants to give her the world, right? that’s his baby! she deserves to be spoiled! but her stevie is very clear in his rules— you have to speak up, tell him what you want, communicate. that’s very important to him.

and yeah, in theory his angel thinks it’s perfect, the communication and attention and how safe it makes her feel, but she physically can’t speak up when her stevie is making her feel all these sweet, intense, pretty feelings that she’s never felt before, even though she knows her stevie, her daddy, will always give her whatever she wants 😖 she just gets so pouty and teary-eyed and huffs and puffs, crossing her arms or stomping her foot like a spoiled brat until she’s so desperate bc her stevie is adamant she has to tell him what she wants before he does anything, that he’ll give her whatever she wants if she asks for it, that she whines and mumbles and asks him “pretty please, daddy” and steve is gone.

when her perfect, incredible, dreamy stevie is playing around with her, after she teases him or mocks him or they pretend-fight, or when they’re joking around, he’ll tickle her ‘cause she has the cutest little giggles, even though her laugh is kind of weird— sometimes loud, sometimes silent, sometimes she’ll fall down from laughing so hard. still, he loves it. it’s his favorite sound in the world, along with her little needy noises. it’s always different and funny and steve loves finding out what kind of laugh he’ll get out of his sweet girl that day, so he tickles. and if there’s one thing about his angel is that she loves using him as a weighted blanket, loves his weight on her, pressing her down and molding their bodies together, so that coupled with how his hands are all over her body, fingers gripping her and poking at her, his bulge rubbing against her, she gets needy. wet. very greedy. but if her stevie gets up or pulls away or sits back????? away from her????? she’ll turn into such a crybaby, like it’s the most insulting thing he could ever do, to pull away.

and steve knows. he knows how much she’s taken to steve being all over her, making her feel good, letting her explore and learn what they both like, being the only one to touch her and her him, but she still carries this air of innocence and softness and inexperience that drives him up the wall. the little looks she gives him and the shy smiles and the eagerness. she’ll be the horniest little minx, crawling up his lap and rubbing her cunt against his thigh, but will also hide her face and whimper and get all shy even if steve is balls deep inside her.

Because he was. 

Steve Harrington, Mr. Perfect Hair himself, asshole turned part time hero, was the guy who got to hold your hand in public. Eddie didn’t hate him. Not really. He wanted to, wanted it bad sometimes, when the jealousy itched too deep to scratch. 

He’d hated him at some point, when Dustin wouldn't shut up about how incredible his friend was. But alas, after everything they’d been through last year and Steve being the one who got him out of that hellhole, he really couldn’t hate him anymore. 

So, he hated the sun. Because he couldn't have it.

Eddie also hated himself for not speaking up sooner. For watching you fall in love with someone else while he sat in the background. And maybe that was his punishment. Maybe that was the price for every time he chickened out, every time he saw you in the hallway in that little cherry red jacket and panicked, ducking behind his locker like a coward.

Maybe if he hadn’t been, you would be wearing his jacket now. 

“Dude, wipe your face. You’re one drool away from filling the bucket,” came a voice from beside him, and undoubtedly by the tone–it had to be Henderson’s. 

Eddie snapped out of his trance by the sharp nudge of Dustin’s elbow. Shit. He hadn’t even realized he was watching. 

“I’m not,” he lied, even as he tilted his head just enough to catch another glimpse of you, this time laughing as Steve tried to sneak a kiss and Robin dramatically fake gagged next to you.

Jesus, Eddie was about to gag for real. 

“You’re staring again,” Dustin chuckled, walking away after patting him condescendingly on the back. 

Eddie shot him a glare but didn’t argue back. Because what was the point? 

All he could do was fantasize when it came to you. You would never look at him the same way you look at Steve. 

You just looked at him like he was funny. Your metalhead friend. And Eddie? Eddie looked at you like you hung the goddamn stars.

Things were finally looking up for Eddie. For once. 

Aside from his not so little crush situation, everything else seemed to be getting better. 

After almost dying being devoured by supernatural creatures–which, in his opinion would’ve been a very metal death–his uncle’s trailer had gotten split in half, and he’d gotten piles and piles of medical bills from his long recovery. Which led to him having to find a part time job as a mechanic besides his little dealing business. 

Oh! And how could he forget? The police department was still investigating him about the murders from last year. 

Between that, his job, the incessant crawls every week, and his therapy–both physical and psychological–he had absolutely no time to host hellfire anymore. Dustin had tried to keep it alive, but bless his soul, no one compares to Eddie Munson when it comes to being DM. 

But last week, by some miracle, he’d finally, finally been cleared as “innocent” due to lack of evidence and was able to start living a normal life again. His therapy sessions had been reduced to once every two weeks, and he’d also repaired a few fancy cars that earned him a pretty juicy commission. 

So yeah. Things were finally looking up for him after whatever the hell ‘86 was. 

So, with a pep in his step, he walked through the doors of the WSQK headquarters holding a cardboard box with all his stuff for that day’s campaign. Robin had told him they had a spare room on the back, and Steve said he could go earlier to set everything up. He even whistled as he strolled through the empty hallways of the radio station.

He saw two doors at the end, figuring he’d open both and find out which one he was supposed to settle in. 

But as all Munsons tend to run out of luck at some point, it seems like the curse finally hit him again when he opened the wrong one and changed the course of his entire fucking life. 

Because what he didn’t expect, what absolutely no one warned him about, was that you and Steve liked to use the storage closet to fuck like bunnies before anyone arrived at the station. 

He froze at the door, the box in his hand hanging on for dear life as he took in the scene in front of him. 

There you were. 

Propped up on a stack of cardboard boxes with Steve between your legs, your skirt was bunched around your hips, and your knees high on his waist. Your face was flushed, hair a mess and you were letting out choked little gasps because you couldn’t form words anymore.

Eddie’s heart stopped. He might’ve as well died for real this time. 

You let out a startled sound, grabbing Steve’s shoulders to hide yourself the second you saw Eddie standing there. Steve just glanced back over his shoulder, not even bothering to stop. 

“Dude. Do you mind?” 

Eddie slammed the door shut.

He walked out of WSQK like he’d seen a ghost. Didn’t even say a word to Dustin, who was just pulling up on his bike. 

He just got in his van, and drove straight into the woods far enough to be alone. And for the next ten minutes, the only sound in that van was the furious pumping of his hard cock into his hand and his broken, desperate moans repeating something.

Your name. Again. And again.

And again.

Then, after going back and giving a poor excuse to his boys as to why he couldn’t host that day and had to leave immediately (one that actually meant sorry guys! Gotta jerk off like 10 more times!) He went to repeat the same routine back at the small place Wayne managed to rent after the “earthquakes” had destroyed his trailer. 

He turned off the lights of the room he called his now. Lit a blunt just for something to do with his free hand. Threw on a loud tape to drown out the grunts and the pathetic moaning, and his fist went to town–again–to the memory of you.

The way you looked in that closet.

The arch of your back against the boxes. The sound of your voice breaking as you moaned his name–not Eddie’s, no, the one you belonged to. Steve. The way your fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him closer, as if he wasn’t deep enough. And your face…

God. Your fucking face.

Blissed out and flushed, swollen lips parted, eyes half-lidded and completely lost in it. No cheap porn film he’d ever watched compared to that. No–you were the most obscene thing Eddie had ever seen in his life and it was burned into him now. Engraved into the insides of his lids. No amount of blinking could unsee it. 

No amount of jerking off could erase it. 

(He tried. Many times.)

People had sex all the time. This shouldn’t be on his head 24/7. But…Eddie couldn’t believe that was you. 

He’d always seen you as soft. As the sweet girl giggling at Steve’s dumb jokes while playing with his stupid perfect hair. As the one who would mediate when a crawl meeting got too heated when someone didn’t agree with the plan. As the one who always listened to everyone…even him. 

You even called him Eds once, so softly, that he’d walked around with chest pain for a full day like a goddamn lovesick teenager. 

But now?

Now he couldn’t stop imagining how your voice sounded when it wasn't innocent. Couldn’t stop remembering how your legs looked parted open, how your thighs shook as Steve thrusted harshly into you. 

He should’ve known better though, that was on him. He should’ve known that someone who once held the title of “King Steve” would be the one to corrupt a girl like you. 

Who wouldn’t want to? 

He couldn’t stop wondering what it’d feel like to be the one between your legs. To have you whimpering like that. To see you fall apart and know he did that. That he got you that high, that far gone…that wrecked.

He was fucking haunted by the fantasy. And it wasn’t lust, it was worse than that. It was curiosity, obsession, need.

The need to be the one who fucks the sweetness out of you. 

But now you were probably curled up in Steve’s bed, fast asleep on his hairy chest, wearing one of his shirts and dreaming about getting fucked by him, while Eddie dreamt of you after he didn’t have anything left to milk out.

He dreamt of your hand in his curls. Your thighs around his waist. Your voice in his ear breaking with his name over and over and…over. 

Eddie tried to be normal after that. God, he tried. 

At least you seemed to be normal. You walked into Thursday movie night at Nancy’s like nothing had happened, dropping onto the couch next to Steve with a bag of popcorn, listening to whatever Robin said, still sweet and smiley and wearing one of Steve’s jackets. 

He told himself not to stare. Repeated it like a goddamn mantra.

Don’t look, Munson. Don’t fucking look. You’ll just embarrass yourself. You’ll make it weird. 

But then your eyes met, and you smiled at him, and…Eddie forgot his own name.

His mouth opened, but no words came out. Just a squeak that could’ve been the start of a sentence, or a heart attack. He pretended to cough into his fist and buried himself deeper into the armchair. 

And Steve? Oh he noticed. 

Not just Eddie’s reaction, but all of it. The way Eddie’s eyes had locked onto you from the moment you walked in. The way they dropped lower every time you shifted. The way his fingers gripped the armrest. 

And the weird part? Steve didn’t get mad. He just smirked, knowingly, even amused by the whole thing. 

The next time something altered Eddie’s brain chemistry, was at the diner. 

He’d arrived late, mainly because he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to go in the first place, but the thought of seeing your smile was enough to convince him to walk through that door, and soon it was just him, Robin, and the perfect couple. 

Eddie looked at you from across the booth, wearing an outfit that he was sure would ruin his life later when he was alone back in his room. You were sipping from your milkshake, the pink straw pressed between your lips, as you let out a hum of contempt at the sweet taste. All Eddie could think was that could be something else.

Thank God for Robin’s need to ramble about everything that happened on her date with Vicky that weekend, that you and Steve were focused on her and not on Eddie’s anxious leg bouncing under the table. 

Or at least that’s what he thought. 

“Eds, take some fries,” you offered sweetly when Robin ran out of air, pushing the plate you’d been eating from with Steve toward him. 

Eddie hadn’t ordered anything, he wasn’t hungry–at least not for actual food–and of course you’d noticed and offered him some of your own. 

“Yeah man, go ahead,” Steve chimed in with a smile that was enough to freak him out. “I don’t mind sharing,” he added with a shrug, placing an arm around your shoulders, hazel eyes piercing into Eddie’s with a devilish glint. 

The implication left Eddie frozen in place, hand hovering over the fries as you began talking with Robin again, unaware of the way your boyfriend’s comment had left Eddie stunned. 

Steve didn’t say anything else. Just kept looking at him, head tilted, like he knew something. Like he felt it now. 

The shift. 

Eddie almost got up and left, but then he caught Steve’s eyes, and the bastard just winked.

Jesus Christ. 

You’re still breathless when Steve flips you onto your back again, mind stuck somewhere between heaven and passing out as your sore body still feels every inch of him buried deep inside you. 

He drapes you across his chest knowing you can’t hold yourself up anymore, bare skin sticky with sweat, your cheek pressed over his heartbeat. Steve's hand goes to your thigh, fingers brushing softly where he’d held you down minutes ago. 

You don’t want to move. You never want to after he’s done with you. So you just cling tightly to him, letting out a dreamy sigh and nuzzling closer, planting a soft kiss over his racing heart.

Steve smiles, shifting just enough to see your blissed out face. “You okay over there?”

“Mmhm,” you hum. “Can’t feel my soul. Congratulations, Harrington.”

That makes him chuckle. He kisses the top of your head. “Anytime, baby.” 

As his room settles into silence and you begin drifting off in his arms before he can drag you into taking a shower, Steve’s chest vibrates against your skin when he speaks again. 

“Hey,” he whispers, absentmindedly playing with your hair which doesn’t help your heavy eyelids closing. 

“Hmm?” 

“Do you ever notice the way Eddie looks at you?”

Your eyes blink open immediately. 

You don’t say anything at first. Just start tracing lazy little circles on a particular scar on his ribs, pretending to think about it, but you already know the answer. 

“Yeah,” you smile, “I’ve noticed.”

Steve hums, hand still resting on your thigh.

“It’s probably just a silly little crush,” you add, as if you didn’t know how Eddie’s voice breaks every time you spare a glance at him. Or the way his hands shake when you ask him to hand you a drink on movie night. “He’s just… traumatized from the time he caught us back at the station,” you chuckle. 

“Oh, baby. You should’ve seen his face in that closet.” Steve snorts. “You were extra loud that day, you really put on a show for him–the lucky bastard.” 

“What?” You ask, straightening up on his chest. “You knew he was going to get there earlier?”

“I was hoping he got there earlier."

You smack his arm with your mouth wide open, but a smile tugs at your lips. He grins like the bastard he is, shifting to ease you again into his embrace. 

“Don’t worry baby, I might have a way to fix him right back up,” he says smugly, those impossible hazel eyes glinting with mischief. “…Remember that talk we had a while back? Couple months ago. About maybe…bringing in a third?”

Your heart thumps so fast against your chest that you’re sure Steve can feel it on his. 

“…Yeah,” you say. “I remember.”

“What if…it was him?” He shrugs, like he’s discussing what movie to watch. “I’m just saying, we’ve both noticed. And maybe…” His hand drifts lower down your thigh, finding that place where you’re still sensitive. “Maybe it’s fun to imagine what he’d do if we invited him.”

His fingers press against your wet folds, easily sliding in and drawing a gasp out of you. His eyebrows shoot up, like he’d managed exactly what he wanted. 

“See? Don't you want to show him again how pretty you sound?”

Maybe it’s the overstimulation of Steve fingers pumping in and out of your pussy like he hadn’t absolutely wrecked it minutes prior, that the word comes out of your mouth before you can stop it. 

“Yes,” you exhale in a shaky moan. 

The thought alone thrills you. Because the truth is, you’ve been feeling it as much as Steve has. You've been wanting it as much as Steve has. 

The forbidden. 

Because it is fun to imagine. You guiding Eddie’s hand. Steve watching and telling you what to do. You crying out between the two of them.

God. 

“So…Eddie?” You pant, unsure if you’re asking or you're moaning out his name just to try it out on your lips. 

Steve just smirks. 

“Yeah,” he says, pumping faster. “Eddie.”

The moment that sealed Eddie’s fate was a random Thursday. 

He should’ve known better. 

The second you said movie night was at your place, he should’ve backed out. Should’ve faked a headache or a gig or even a freak accident involving his uncle.

Anything.

But–like the fucking idiot he was–he’d walked right through your front door that night. 

You’d picked a shitty movie on purpose. Something slow without any action scenes, full of long silences and artistic shots that made Robin snore into the couch cushion, with Nancy and Jonathan falling right behind. 

Steve sat beside you the whole time, like always, hand on your thigh, like always. Looking casual, almost innocent.

Eddie was on the floor, sitting too close to the TV just so he wouldn’t look at you. 

He’d been too busy picking at the skin of his thumb and lost into the mazes of his head, that he didn’t notice you’d disappeared with Steve until he glanced over to the couches and only found the girls and Jonathan dead to the world. 

He sat there for a few more minutes pretending to care about the stupid movie, but then–like a fucking idiot, again–he decided to get up, quietly leaving the room like he was going to the kitchen.

He took a hard left to the stairs instead. 

Eddie knew where your bedroom was. He’d been there before when you’d asked him to bring more blankets on movie night a few months ago. He still remembers the cute little nightlight plugged into the wall. 

As he tiptoed to the top of the stairs like a freak, the hall was dark, but a sliver of light came out of your room through the slightly open door. 

Eddie dragged his feet on the carpet, guided by shushing voices and a noise of what he was sure was the creak of a bed. Once he reached, he braced himself for the scene he was about to encounter as he peeked through the door, but no amount of breathing techniques could have ever prepared him for the image before his eyes. 

Oh, fuck.

You were on your stomach, face pressed into the mattress, Steve standing behind you with both hands gripping your hips. Your ass–god, your ass–lifted high to meet every thrust. 

Your skirt was bunched around your waist, panties pushed to the side, but nothing really hid you from the pervert on the door. Not even Steve’s body blocked the view of him disappearing into your dripping pussy, filling you so deep Eddie could see it, see the way your walls opened for him. 

The nightlight glowed behind you, casting just enough light to make it worse. 

Pink and soft and obscene.

Eddie’s eyes went over the curve of your spine. The shake of your thighs. Your fingers twisting in the floral sheets, holding on for dear life as your body kept being pushed forward. 

And the sounds. Jesus Christ, the sounds.

“Steve,” you gasped, “please–more–don’t stop.”

“Shhh baby, I know,” Steve cooed behind you, doing the exact opposite of what you asked and stopped. “But you gotta keep it down, don’t want to wake up your guests do you?” 

The fucking hypocrite then slammed back into you so hard the headboard bumped the wall. You moaned–no, cried out, trying to muffle it against the sheets as Eddie bit down his fist just to keep himself from making a sound. 

“Oh baby, you wanna be loud?” Steve chuckled, as he kept thrusting hard. “Go on then, I want to hear you.” 

“I–fuck–I love your cock, Steve” you choked the words out. “‘S–s’ so deep.”

Eddie froze at the crack of the door, heart pounding out of his chest as he watched you getting fucked within an inch of your life. 

The sweet girl. The sun. The angel he thought he knew. Gripping her sheets like a sinner. Moaning filth like she wanted the guests to hear.

Maybe you wanted him to hear. 

Eddie’s hand slipped inside his jeans, he couldn't stop himself. Not after that. He stroked himself fast and hard and desperate, watching your body take it, and your mouth beg for it. 

It didn’t take long for Eddie to come harder than he’d ever had in his life. He made a mess in his hand, his pants, and he was sure some of his cum dripped onto the carpet below, but he was too high and too far gone to care. 

He nearly collapsed against the stairs wall as he rushed back down, panting, already half hard again within seconds. 

The movie was still rolling, the guys were still fast asleep, but he had been changed forever–once again. 

Seriously, who the hell leaves the door open? Or unlocked? For two people who seemed to fuck like bunnies none of it made sense. 

Unless…you’d wanted him to watch. 

Eddie was in the middle of jerking off when someone started pounding on his front door. 

Of course.

He’d found his rhythm, music blasting, hips grinding into his palm, eyes squeezed shut and in his head, his filthy, freaky little head, you kept running your dirty mouth over and over. 

He’d been at it for twenty minutes. Maybe more. His dick was red and raw but he didn’t care because the only thing worse than jerking off to the memory of you was not jerking off to it.

Bang, bang, bang.

“Jesus–fuck,” he curses, pulling up his briefs with a groan, finding a pair of jeans from the floor as the knocking continues.

“EDDIE!!” A familiar voice calls over the music. 

Oh no. 

Eddie walks out of his room shirtless, crosses the hall in dragged strides, and opens the door wide enough to peek out, and yeah, there he is.

Steve fucking Harrington.

The absolute last person on earth he wanted to catch him red handed with his dick in his hand fantasizing about his girlfriend.

“Hey, man,” Eddie manages, clearing his throat when his voice cracks a little. “Uh…what’s up?” 

“Hey!” Steve beams, that preppy boy smile spreading wide on his face. “Mind if I come in?”

Eddie hesitates only for a second, then opens the door wider and steps back. Steve walks in, glances around, his gaze landing on Eddie’s bedroom. More specifically, on the bottle of lotion on his nightstand and the constellation of crumpled paper tissues on the floor next to his bed. 

Steve chuckles. “Sorry man, didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

“Wh–what?”

“You know. That thing you were doing.” Steve smirks, nodding his head toward the room. “Thinking about my girl?”

Eddie’s whole face goes red. “Dude, what the fuck–”

“You like her,” Steve says plainly, not as a question, not mad, not teasing. Just a matter of fact. “I know you’ve always liked her. But now you’ve seen her like I have. And now you can’t stop thinking about her.”

Eddie stands frozen in the middle of the living room, unsure of what he’s supposed to say to save his case. Although, given the evidence, there isn’t much to hope for. 

“Is this the part where you punch me?” Eddie asks, almost bracing for the impact. 

But Steve just laughs in his face. 

“No, man. No punches.” He shakes his head, amused. “You know…she likes it when you stare.”

You like it when he stares? You know he stares? 

“Alright Harrington, if you wanna hit me, just do it. Don’t fuck with me.” Eddie chuckles bitterly, already wishing he could just go back to his little twisted fantasies instead of hearing this bullshit. 

“Don’t you get what I’m saying Eddie?”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “No…?”

Steve sighs, then steps closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m saying…she wants you to fuck her.”

There’s a moment of deafening silence where Eddie questions if he actually speaks the English language, because there’s no fucking way in the world he heard that right. 

“...What??” 

“She does,” Steve repeats, then chuckles again, “Hell, even I want you to fuck her.”

“You’re not being serious,” Eddie accuses, backing off from Steve’s grasp to pace in circles with his hands on his hips. 

“Fucking hell man,” Steve groans. “Look–I’ve seen the way you look at her. And I get it, okay? She’s a dream, I know.” He laughs, but Eddie keeps pacing like a madman, shaking his head. “Dude–you ever wonder what she tastes like when she’s already come twice?”

That makes him stop right in his tracks. He turns to Steve in disbelief, but once again he doesn’t see anger, or teasing. He’s genuinely asking him if he fantasizes about his girlfriend. 

“Man, I wonder about everything,” Eddie finally blurts out, exhaling like he just lifted a weight off his chest that’s been dragging him down for weeks. 

Steve grins. 

“I wouldn’t offer you this if I didn’t trust you with her.” 

He walks closer to Eddie–again–but this time he doesn’t place his hand on his shoulder, just looks at him dead in the eye as his grin turns darker. 

“You’d be gentle with her, wouldn’t you, Eddie?” He asks, pupils taking over the hazel of his eyes. “You wouldn’t fuck her too hard the first time, right? She’s too sensitive after–and trust me, you’re gonna want her to keep going.”

Eddie is speechless for the 124378th time in that month. Which should be an achievement, considering he likes to talk as much as Robin does. 

“I’m not gonna say it twice, Munson.” Steve lifts a hand to clap him on the shoulder. “But she really wants it. So are you in?”

Eddie doesn’t even think anymore. He just nods frantically. 

Oh, he’s so in.

Oh, he’s so having a full blown existential crisis. 

He hadn’t slept the night before. Who could sleep after that conversation? Steve, poster boy for everything Eddie is not, just casually walked into his place, dropping that line like it was no big deal: 

She wants you to fuck her.

Which is how he ended up now, standing outside your goddamn house, sweating through his jacket and wondering if he’d actually never woken up from the demobats attack and this was all a coma dream. 

Because now you apparently wanted him.

In your house. In your bed.

On those stupidly adorable floral sheets he couldn’t stop thinking about. That’s what he came thinking about. That’s what he dreamed about every night. 

Steve’d said to just “roll by tonight.” Well, tonight is here, and Eddie stands outside the door contemplating his options. 

Does he knock? Does he just open it and walk into a fucking orgy?

Jesus. 

He adjusts his jacket, runs a hand through his curly hair, and tells himself it’s going to be fine. He’s already been through things someone his age should never have to in their entire lifetime. Strange things. He can handle a little threesome.

Right?

He rings the doorbell before he chickens out like he’s done his whole life. 

Eddie hears footsteps approaching the front door. He expects you, for some reason, but instead it’s Steve who opens it, shirtless, barefoot, only wearing some sweatpants, and smiling bright as if he’d just invited Eddie over to watch some sports game.

“Hey, dude! Glad you made it,” he beams, stepping aside.

Eddie walks through the threshold, and stops in the middle of the entrance hall pressing his lips tight. 

“You want water or something?” Steve offers casually, noticing Eddie’s looking around nervously. “She’s upstairs. All ready.”

“She’s what?”

“All ready,” Steve repeats with a grin. “You know, for you.”

Steve laughs at Eddie’s loss for words, claps him reassuringly on the back, and gestures toward the stairs.

 “Come on, man. Don’t leave her waiting.”

He walks up the stairs with Steve trailing behind. Eddie’s already hard under his ripped jeans, stopping right outside your door thinking what on earth does ready for me mean?

Are you naked? Are you touching yourself? Do you know how hard he is? Can you feel him on the other side of the door?

He can even see the damn nightlight is on behind it. His hand hovers over the doorknob, but for one second, the doubt comes crawling back in.

What if this is a joke? What if he opens the door and all your friends are inside pointing at him and laughing like “Look who actually believed it! You’re a pervert, Eddie!”

Wouldn’t be the first time someone pulls a cruel prank on him–or calls him that. Wouldn’t even be the worst. But–

“You gonna open it, Eddie? Or are you too scared of my girl?” Steve’s teasing voice cuts off his spiraling thoughts. 

Eddie takes a deep breath, finally twists the knob, and he swears time slows down when he sees you there. 

You’re sitting–no, half kneeling on the bed in the center of the room. Those floral sheets are bunched under your knees. And you’re wearing a little dainty lace set. The fabric is barely there, but the little bows on the straps make it sweet enough for Eddie’s mouth to go dry. Your exposed skin looks soft under the warm pink glow the nightlight casts against the walls. 

You’re all ready for him. 

Eddie nearly fucking dies. Again. 

You smile when you see him. It’s soft and warm and welcoming, like always. Except–nearly naked. Not like he hadn’t seen your guts getting rearranged about two times too much these past weeks anyways. 

“Hi, Eds,” you say, waving your hand as if you aren’t currently rewiring his entire nervous system.

He stands frozen in the doorway as Steve brushes past him, casual as hell. He walks straight up to you, bends down just enough to pet your chin with two fingers, making you laugh softly. 

“Hi again, baby,” Steve whispers sweetly. “Let’s give him a warm welcome, hm?”

You hum in agreement, watching Steve walk away and drop onto the puff in the corner of the room, manspreading like a king waiting for his entertainment to start. 

But Eddie…Eddie’s still standing by the door like 🧍🏻

“So uh…what–what are the rules?” He stammers. “Or, like boundaries? Or–fuck, I don’t know, a safe word?”

He means it for him, of course. 

You cover your mouth to stifle a laugh. “Oh my god. Eddie, you're adorable.”

Steve is not as delicate as you, “Dude,” he snorts. “You can’t be serious. Relax. No one's handing out instructions.” 

Eddie shifts anxiously on his feet. “I–there should be instructions.”

When the hell has ever cared about those? 

“You’re here to make her feel good, that’s it.” Steve says quite harshly, crossing his arms over his chest, then looks at you and everything in him softens. “You decide how far he goes, baby.” 

You melt. Right there on the bed. Blow him a kiss and then turn your full attention to the very shy boy at your doorstep. 

“It’s okay, Eddie. Can you come closer?” You ask, extending your arm and gesturing toward the bed. 

Eddie gives one step, that’s all he manages.

You smile wider, just enough to coax him. “Closer, Eddie. Please.”

Fuck.

He takes another step, then another, until he’s right by the edge of the bed, so close he can see the pattern of the fine lace of your lingerie, the way your chest rises when you breathe, the way you’re giving him the most deadly case of bedroom eyes he’s ever seen in his entire life. 

You don’t look shy, or unsure, you look…eager. 

Before he can overthink it, you slide off the bed to round him, and gently push his chest to sit down. Eddie falls easily, his body already knowing it’s not in charge anymore. The mattress dips under his weight, bouncing softly along with the curls in his head. 

“Kick those shoes off,” you say. 

He obeys. Oh–he obeys. A little clumsily, but they’re off in less than three seconds.

Only then you climb onto his lap. Eddie’s breath comes out in a shaky exhale when your ass lands on his thighs. His hands hover uselessly at his sides. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t really dare yet. He doesn’t even know where to look. His eyes dart from your shoulder to the wall to Steve, who has now thrown his arms behind his head like he’s watching his favorite movie.

“Well, don’t mind me,” he says. “Just enjoying the show.”

You cradle Eddie’s face to get his attention back to you. All he can think is your hands are warm, and too soft for his own good. Your thumbs brush his cheeks in such a normal, easy way, that still feels deeply intimate. 

“Pretty boy,” you whisper, smiling at him. “Such pretty eyes.”

Eddie’s heart does an entire somersault routine. He can feel the little feet of the people inside his head running around to process the compliment. 

We’re starting already???

He doesn’t even finish that line of thought when you lean in and kiss him. The kiss is slow and unrushed, but so so passionate. Your soft lips move against his, showing him you know exactly what you’re doing. Eddie melts into it instantly. He kisses you back desperately, starving, because he’d been feeling withdrawal for something he never had, and now–holy shit now he’s finally getting his fix.

Still, he doesn’t touch. Not until you take his wrists and guide them yourself, first on your waist, but then trailing down, lower, to where the lace sits and barely covers anything. His hands pinch your skin when he realizes what he’s touching. 

You.

“Oh,” he breathes in to the kiss, and had you known Eddie let out those pretty little sounds, you'd have brought him in sooner. 

You smile against his mouth and roll your hips, just a little, just to get more out. Grabbing him by the collar of his jacket, you grind down on him. Slow at first, just gentle little moves that made Eddie’s head tip back, and a symphony of broken sounds left his throat. Every grind of your body made his cock throb harder against his jeans. His eyes went between your chest, your mouth and the way your lashes fluttered when you finally found the spot. 

“Jesus–fuck yes, use me angel.” 

He didn’t even realize he’d said it out loud until you let out a little whimper at the pet name, and picked up the pace. 

You are used to terms of endearment from Steve, he’s the sweetest with you, but never in the years of your relationship has he ever called you something so divine as angel.  

Alas, your boyfriend still knows you better than anyone. You keep moving on top of Eddie, and even though his hard cock under the jeans is already making you see stars, there’s something…missing. By this point Steve’s fingers would already be deep inside you without even having to ask. 

Across the room, he watches your frantic moves and hears your moans getting needier. Eddie doesn't notice at first, but he does.

“Hey man,” he calls casually. “Play with her.”

Eddie, too lost in the way you keep rolling your hips, blinks like he misheard. “–What?”

Steve chuckles, “She’s used to it. Go on, don’t make her wait.”

Eddie turns back to you, but you don’t say anything, just look at him, chest rising faster, lips parted, a thin sheen of sweat starting to gather at your temples. And when his eyes search yours for permission, you nod.

That’s all it takes. Eddie’s hand slides down your stomach, dipping lower and lower, until he finds the paradise between your legs.

Oh fuck. 

“Baby–you’re soaking through my jeans,” he groans, trailing the wet patch seeping through your panties. 

You giggle, but the second his fingers go past the lace and brush over your clit, you let out the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. A little gasp of surprise, hips bucking slightly since you've been waiting for him to touch you right there all night.

Eddie almost comes in his pants. “Jesus–you’re perfect.”

He doesn't slide his fingers in yet, he doesn't need to, your slick is already dripping onto his jeans, smearing over his rings. You just grind into his hand, chasing your high. Every sound you make goes straight to his dick, every breath, every flutter of your lashes, every soft whimper of his name. He’s about to put a finger in when–

“Stop.”

Eddie freezes at your firm voice, his hand stills as panic takes over his chest. “Did I–did I do something wrong?”

Steve’s already standing from the couch, ready to lift you off Eddie’s lap if you need him to. But you just let out a sweet little laugh and shake your head. 

“No, you’re perfect. I want you to take your shirt off first,” you shrug, as if you hadn't caused both men a near heart attack. 

Steve exhales, muttering something about “always testing him” as he plops back onto the puff. You smile at him apologetically, he just shakes his head pretending to be annoyed but you see the smile tugging at his lips. 

“Oh,” Eddie says, blinking a few times before actually breathing again. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that, sweetheart.”

He fumbles a little, taking off his vest first, then his jacket, then–he hesitates for a second. It’s not that he’s insecure about his chest, but his tattoos now have fresh new roommates in the shape of multiple scars scattered across his skin from where he’d been attacked. And he doesn’t know how you’ll react to them.

You notice the doubt flashing across his eyes as his hands stop reaching for the shirt. “Are you okay, Eddie?” You ask, and now you’re the one wondering if you did something wrong.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, trying to not sound too pathetic. “It’s just–my…my scars,” he says, avoiding your gaze. 

You hum softly, “Steve has them too.”

Eddie’s head perks up at that, and his eyes go to the shirtless man on the couch. 

“Yeah man,” Steve breathes, straightening up, pointing at the lovely little bite marks the bats had left on his skin. 

Eddie squints and sees them washed in the glow of the nightlamp. He’d been so busy freaking the hell out when he arrived that he hadn’t even noticed that Steve’s chest indeed had marks. But not as many as him, and at least the hair around it makes up for it, he’s not sure his pale chest–

“Eddie…” You cup his face to gently guide it towards you. “You can keep your shirt on if you feel more comfortable that way, but know that I don’t care about what’s under there. I just want to feel your skin closer,” you reassure.

Eddie almost proposes right there and then. 

Okay–maybe he’s getting ahead of himself. But shit. He decides it’s wiser to just nod, and peels off his shirt in one rough pull. You look him in the eyes before looking down, and he nods again. Your eyes go down his bare chest, pale as you expected, not as filled out as Steve’s, and not nearly as hairy–but the tattoos and the scars make him the most badass rockstar you’d ever seen.

Eddie’s breath stills as you look at him like you like what you see. Like he’s the prettiest thing in the room. And then you make sure he hears it. 

“You’re so pretty, Eddie,” you smile, pulling him in for another kiss. Your hands smooth over his skin, fingers tracing the tattoos on his chest, the scars down his sides, the happy trail leading to a happier place. “So hot.”

You whine into the kiss, hips rolling again making him forget about the fact that he’s shirtless in front of you and instead he remembers–right. His fingers.

Eddie reaches for you, pulling your panties to the side again. He slides two fingers between your folds, slow enough to drink every second of the way your jaw drops when you feel his rings deep inside you, the way your eyes flutter shut, how you let out a desperate little sound that goes straight to his cock.

“Eds…” you moan, walls clenching around fingers and metal.

“You feel–fuck, baby, you feel so good…so tight…” 

He finds his rhythm easily, all insecurities set aside by how fast you’re falling apart on his fingers.  

Eddie knows what he’s doing. Those hands–those guitarist fingers don’t play. They move with instinct, with intention. His fingers curl, dragging quickly through your walls before pressing back in. The rings are a plus, cold metal against heat, and you gasp when one of them hits the spot. 

“Oh–Eddie–”

“That’s it angel, keep dripping all over me,” he coos, pumping harder. “Can feel you clenching when I talk like this. You like being a good girl for me?”

You nod, it’s all you can do. Steve just watches. Watches the way your body moves. The way your face twists with pleasure. The way your mouth drops open with every stroke. 

But he catches something else. He always does. 

Your head tips forward, forehead pressing into Eddie’s shoulder, breaths coming out in little broken sounds against Eddie’s skin as he works every inch of you. You keep grinding your hips, chasing more even as it starts to overwhelm you. A sudden wave makes your moan turn into a whimper, and your nails dig on his shoulder instinctively pushing him away. 

You cry out, that’s when Steve speaks.

“Hey–easy, Munson,” he calls out, not angry, but still firm enough that it makes Eddie slow down. “Remember what I said about going easy the first time? You go too rough too soon and she’s gonna be shaking for the rest of the night.”

“Sorry–” Eddie says immediately, but you cut him off. 

“It’s okay, Eds. We’re still learning each other,” you reassure, still giving him that dazed, happy look. He exhales in relief. “Just…a little slower, that’s all. I’m not really used to the rings.” You say it so sweetly, that he just nods like a little puppy eager to please. 

“You’ll get used to them soon, sweetheart. Promise.”

He pulls his fingers back in slower, watching your face the whole time, memorizing every reaction. It doesn't take long before you’re grinding his hand again and letting out soft moans of pleasure as you find a more comfortable rhythm. 

“There you go,,” Steve chuckles, approving. “She’s squeezing you, isn’t she?”

Eddie chuckles back, because he can feel how close you are. Your forehead presses into his shoulder again, mouth brushing his skin as you let out a sound that’s half gasp, half moan. 

“Hmm, that sound,” Steve hums, leaning further into the puff, stroking over his crotch. “She sounds like that when she’s about to come.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, curling his fingers just right. “Are you close, angel?”

You whimper, hiding your face knowing exactly what they are talking about, but it only makes it hotter for both men to see you like that. 

“Don’t you wanna tell him, baby?” Steve asks from his spot, but all that comes out of your mouth is another moan against Eddie’s shoulder. “Hey–eyes on me.”

You obey, turning to meet those wide, hazel eyes. You’re barely holding it together, already breathless. A literal mess on Eddie’s fingers.

But Steve just smiles, wide and bright when you look at him. “Now tell him what you need, sweetheart.”

Your eyes keep locked on your boyfriend as you whisper, “I–I wanna come, Eds…please.”

“Then come, baby. Drench my fucking rings,” he groans in your ear. His raw voice and another curl of his fingers is what gets you there. 

Your whole body tenses when the orgasm hits. You let out a broken moan that vibrates in Eddie’s chest and your walls clench around his fingers so tight he thinks you might break them. Your wetness coats his rings, soaks into your panties, his jeans, everywhere. 

You collapse, arms flailing to hold on to him, but before Eddie can catch you, you’re already falling back.

“Whoa, hey–” Eddie’s arms scramble to hold you, but Steve is faster.

He’s behind you instantly, steadying you with one hand on your back, the other cupping the back of your head easing you back into Eddie’s lap. 

“She goes all soft after,” Steve says, with that fondness he always uses when referring to you. “You gotta hold her up for a second.”

Eddie’s arms wrap around you immediately, as you curl into him still trying to catch your breath. Steve leans to see you, brushing your hair back. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead that makes you smile. 

“Hey,” he whispers, eyes scanning your flushed face. “You okay?”

You nod against Eddie’s chest.

“You wanna keep going?” 

You nod again.

“Words, baby,” Steve coaxes, and you let out a little breathless giggle when he pinches your side.

“I do,” you whisper, loud enough for both to hear. Then you turn to him. “Thank you.”

For catching me. For checking on me. For letting another man fuck me while you watch.

You don’t even have to say it out loud for Steve to know what you’re thinking. He just brushes your cheek, with an amused smile on his face. “Anytime, baby.”

You shift on Eddie’s lap, turning back to him, lips brushing his cheek before placing your hands on his chest to look at those pretty brown eyes. “Thank you too, Eds. You made me feel so good.”

“Y-Yeah?”

You hum, patting the spider tattoo on his left peck. Once you feel like you regained your strength back again, you slide off his lap and drop to your knees in front of him.

“That’s my girl.” Steve praises. So pretty on her knees.” 

He rounds the bed to grab a small pillow, then drops it to the floor next to your knees, nudging it with his foot until you shift just enough to be on top of it. You lean to kiss the back of his hand as a silent thank you. 

Eddie is too busy remembering how to breathe for the 100th time to say anything. 

You settle between Eddie’s legs, hands resting on his thighs, your lashes fluttering as you look up with all your attention back on him. “I wanna thank you properly.”

Eddie laughs nervously, then whistles low. “Shit–then go ahead, sweetheart.”

Your fingers go to his belt–because of course he wore a fucking belt–and Steve chuckles from your side, one judging eyebrow raised. “Why did you even wear a belt, dude?”

“I thought I was coming over to watch, not to get fucking blessed,” Eddie shakes his head in disbelief, pushing himself up to help you lower his pants. 

His ass barely touches the mattress when your hands are already tugging his briefs. He laughs, out of sheer nerves and excitement, lifting again to take off the last piece covering him. 

He springs out.

And just as you thought. Just as you dreamed, he’s big. Eddie fucking Munson is packing a thick, flushed pink, already leaking cock just inches away from your face. 

Pretty boy with pretty eyes and an even prettier dick. 

You let out a sweet, pleased little dreamy sigh, when you feel his heaviness in your hand. “So pretty,” you praise, then lean in and press a soft kiss to the tip of his cock.

You reach out, eager, hand wrapping around him to guide him toward your mouth like a lollipop. Eddie makes a noise no one in that room knew he was capable of.

Eddie sees heaven. Sees the clouds, hears all the symphonies and shit. 

“Jesus fuck–”

Steve steps behind you again, crouching down. He runs his fingers over your spine, drawing delicate circles that don’t match the words that come out of his mouth. 

“You think you can take another, baby?” He asks, kissing the back of your neck. “Getting bored of just watching…”

You glance back at him, hand still wrapped around Eddie’s cock, and look down to see the fabric of his pants barely containing his. 

“Let me take care of you too, babe,” you chuckle, lifting your free hand to reach sideways, tugging Steve’s sweats and briefs down in one pull. He steps forward, letting you take him in your hand like you’ve done a hundred times. 

Now you have two, very hard, very beautiful, very yours, dicks in your hands. 

You give Steve one long, wet stroke with your tongue that makes him drop his head back and groan. Then, with a little giggle, you turn and give Eddie the same treatment. 

“Fucking hell, Harrington,” he gasps.

Steve smiles, watching you go from one the other, teasing both. “Oh, I know.” He cups the back of your head, stroking your hair. “Show him, baby. Show him how good you are.”

You hum with Eddie in your mouth, the sound vibrating just enough to make him curse under his breath.

You begin taking turns. Your lips are glossy and warm and full, as you switch between them. 

Steve. Then back to Eddie. Then back to Steve again.

Your hand stroking one while your lips wrap around the other. Back and forth. Eddie’s thighs start shaking with the effort of not coming in the first thirty seconds of this glorious torture. 

He’d never seen anything like it. 

He has both hands fisted in the floral sheets, barely keeping himself together as you take him halfway down and then pull away with a soft, wet pop that makes his vision go white, only to switch to the one who’s supposed to be your man. 

And if it wasn’t enough, Steve hands reach behind your back when you put him in your mouth, bending over you with his cock so going deep it makes you gag, to unclasp your bra, freeing your titties for both of them. 

He’s fighting for his soul at this point. 

You split apart from Steve, taking a deep breath to recover from his dick touching the back of your throat, and wipe your mouth before looking up at Eddie with a smile. 

“Hey Steve?” You call, eyes fixed on Eddie’s to catch his reaction. “Why don’t you get the camera?”

The…camera???

“Wait–what?”

“Don’t you want a little souvenir?” You tease, titling your head. 

“What the fuck–what–do I want a–?”

“Steve likes it,” you shrug. 

“Oh yeah,” Steve chuckles, already crossing to the bookshelf in the corner of your room. “I like it–but she loves it, man,” he adds smugly, 

“You have photos…doing it?”

“Whooole collection.” Steve drawls, finding what he was looking for. “You’d go crazy.” 

He is going crazy. 

Steve walks back over holding a black Polaroid camera, and hands it directly to Eddie, who’s still gripping onto the sheets for dear life. 

“I–” He stammers, looking at you. 

You shrug. “My hands are busy,” you smile apologetically, too damn sweet for the situation. 

Eddie finally takes the camera after a deep exhale, and leans back to lift it. He frames your pretty face between his thighs, lips parted open, spit shining on his cock. Then your mouth wraps around his tip again, and Eddie moans, loud and shaky, nearly dropping the camera.

He captures the grip of your lips, the way your tongue flicks over his slit, the stretch of your mouth when you sink deeper. Then you pull away and take Steve into your mouth instead, and Eddie moves the camera closer, watching your throat move, your hand still stroking him at the base.

It’s a miracle you are alternating, because if it had been just him, he would’ve busted in your mouth in under a minute.

You feel flash after flash after flash. Picture falling one after another, scattering on Eddie’s thighs. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie chuckles. “This is filthy. God, you look so fucking good like that.” 

Another flash. Another picture falling next to his balls. 

You pop off of him with a messy sound and a smile at the compliment, licking your lips as you turn to Steve.

“Your turn, baby,” you whisper.

Steve steps closer, and you feel the way he starts twitching in your mouth. It doesn’t take long before he grabs your hair, and starts thrusting to get himself off.

Eddie’s eyes widen, pulling the camera aside to enjoy the view. The way Steve holds you there. The way he fucks into your mouth, chasing his release, his fist tangled in your hair, his chest rising hard and fast as you take all of him. 

Steve finally comes in a few strangled moans, making sure he stays inside until you swallow every drop of his cum. He strokes your cheek with one hand, pulling out, reaching down to wipe the corner of your mouth. “There you go, baby,” he praises, still breathless. “So good for us.”

You don’t take more than a few seconds when you turn to Eddie, chest heaving, but before you can lean down again his hand comes up, stopping you. 

“Wait!” He says, coming off a little louder than he means to.

Your brows furrow. “Are you–are you not enjoying it?” 

“No no, Jesus–no,” he rushes, “You’re–you’re perfect. You’re actually heaven. I swear. It’s just…if you keep going like that…I won’t last.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, immediately understanding where he’s coming from. 

Eddie wants to save his cum for when he gets lucky to actually fuck you. 

Steve steps forward, helping you get to your feet. “Well,” he says, amused, “you’re a lucky bastard, Munson. I’m a man of my word, so I’m gonna let you fuck her properly now.”  

Eddie gulps. Your eyes light up. 

“That’ll get you going just fine.” Steve adds. 

He takes the camera from Eddie’s side, then walks back to settle onto the puff in the corner again, naked, angling the Polaroid camera like a professional. 

You take a moment to get rid of your panties, before pushing Eddie back onto the bed, making him crawl back until he’s in the center on the mattress, his curly hair draping over your multiple pillows. You climb over the pictures and his body until you’re hovering over him. 

Eddie doesn’t expect you to turn around, but there you are, moving away to straddle him in reverse, giving him a perfect view of your ass. His heart is racing so hard he can hear it in his ears, yet a devilish chuckle still comes out before he can stop it. 

“You want Steve to see your face while you bounce on my cock, sweetheart?” 

You nod, biting your lip even if he can’t see you–because Steve sure can–lifting yourself up with your hands on his thighs. “God, yes.”

You reach to line him up beneath you, teasing the tip only for a second because you can’t wait any longer than that to feel him inside. 

You sink down without giving him any warning. 

“Holy–fuck,” Eddie groans, throwing his head back onto the pillows. “Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so tight–”

He only shuts up when he hears the moans you let out as he stretches your walls so painfully good. He feels as huge as he looks, he fills you as well as you thought he would. He’s balls deep inside you. Your knees are on either side of his hips, ass to his stomach, fingers digging into his thighs as you begin to fuck yourself on him. 

From the corner, Steve lets out a low hum of approval as you bounce harder on Eddie’s cock, chasing your second orgasm. He strokes himself with one hand, the other snapping shots of the way your tits bounce, the way your face twists every time you sink down, the way you never stop looking at him.

Flash. Flash. Flash. Tug. Tug. Tug. 

“Fuck yes, baby–look at you. You look like a fucking porn star.”

You smile at him, then turn over your shoulder, just a little to see how your other boy is doing. 

Eddie’s falling apart. 

His eyes are glued to where your bodies meet. To his cock disappearing inside your folds. And if the sounds were obscene before–they’re so much worse now. Between Eddie’s grunts, your moans as you ride him, and the clicking sound of Steve’s camera, this was a full blown production. 

A priceless one. 

And then you make that sound again. 

The same sound you made the second time Eddie saw you fall apart on Steve’s cock. The sound you made with his fingers deep inside you. The sound that haunted his fucking dreams.

“You’re getting her there, man,” Steve says, stroking himself faster to the next series of whimpers you let out. “Make her feel good, then cum inside her. She loves that shit.”

Eddie nods. “That okay, angel? Want me to fill you up?” 

You can't even speak. You just nod frantically, gasping as your rhythm begins to falter, and your thighs start shaking.

“You gotta come again first, sweetheart,” Eddie says through gritted teeth, grabbing your hips to push himself up into you. He can feel you pulsing around him. 

“Steve–fuck–I’m gonna–”

“Then do it, baby,” he growls. “Come on his cock.”

You come harder than the first time. Your mouth drops open in a choked moan as your orgasm tears through you. Eddie nearly comes from how tight you clench around him.

But no. He still wants more from you. Needs it like he needs oxygen. 

This time he does catch you when you slump forward, sitting up still buried inside you, placing a kiss on your shoulder as you both catch your breath. But the quiet doesn’t last long. He’s still hard inside you, and the devil on his shoulder tells him to finish what he started. 

He earns a sudden yelp from you when he flips you, pushing you onto your stomach, pulling your hips back, and lining himself up again from behind…just like he’d seen you that day. Face in the sheets. Ass up. Wet pussy glowing under the nightlight. Floral sheets wrinkled under your body. 

Deja vu.

But this time, it’s not Steve–no, he’s just watching. Eddie is the one pushing his cock deep inside you with a harsh thrust that makes your whole body rock forward. 

He’s not that gentle anymore. Not in a mean way. Never in a mean way, but in a I-need-to-come-inside-you-now way. His hands are gripping your skin, knuckles going pale, holding you down as you become a mess under him. 

He looks up to the couch, and he expects to see at least an ounce of the jealousy he’d felt the day he saw you with him, but all he sees is Steve’s fist going up and down furiously on his cock. The camera had been dropped as soon as your cheek had hit the mattress.

He wanted to see it. See you fall apart. 

“…Holy shit, dude, go for it,” Steve whistles low in approval, chuckling when he hears your strangled gasps every time Eddie slammed into you. “Let him, baby,” he coos. “Be a good girl and take all of it.”

He really gives you all of it. 

Eddie’s sure he only survived ‘86 just to see the way your tight little asshole contracts with every thrust he drills into your swollen pussy. 

“Eds–Eddie–”

“I know I know. Almost there, angel. Gonna fill you up real good,” he coaxes over your small whines, “wanna see you dripping with my cum.”

Eddie slams into you once more, then groans so loud it echoes across the wallpaper walls, and finally spills inside you with a cry. 

Steve comes in his own hand as Eddie pulls out of you, slapping your ass a few times with his cock before you collapse onto the bedsheets. Eddie falls right behind you, blinking up at the ceiling, coming down from his high.

In the middle of all the panting, your chests rising up and down, he doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do next. Part of him expects to be handed his clothes and a polite “thanks for coming.” But instead, you instinctively roll over to him, wrapping your arms around his body and burying your face against his chest. 

Steve just chuckles, finding his briefs on the floor and throwing them on, then finally walking over to where you’re cuddling Eddie, running his hand through your hair with a little smile.

“She gets kinda clingy after.”

You don’t even lift your head. “Don’t be rude.”

Steve grins wider. “Sorry, baby. Cute is the word. She gets cute after.”

You hum again, approving this time. Then, you let out a sigh of exhaustion, voice muffled in Eddie’s chest, “you guys are fucking crazy.”

Steve snorts. “We are crazy?”

“I didn’t exactly suggest a threesome, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckles, hugging you tighter. 

“Whatever,” you giggle. “Just…don’t let me fall asleep like this.”

Steve kneels beside the bed and rubs your back gently. “Want a shower, baby?”

You shake your head. “Bath.”

“Bath it is.”

He places a kiss on your shoulder, then stands and walks to your bathroom. A few moments later, Eddie hears the water running.

He could’ve stayed like that forever, really. With you curled into his arms, naked with his seed still inside you, surrounded by the filthy pictures he’d taken of you. His hand comes up hesitantly, brushing your hair back with the same tenderness he always sees Steve do it. 

Where does this leave him though? Is this a one time thing? A hit and run? How can he go back to his normal life after this? 

He’d already been losing his mind over you for weeks. He’s never getting over this.

“Are you okay?” You ask, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“Me?” 

“Yeah, your heart is beating really fast,” you say, hand resting lightly on his chest, right over it.

Eddie laughs under his breath. “Uh. Yeah. I’m just…kinda expecting for someone to tell me to get up and leave?”

You hum softly, nuzzling closer to him. “I don’t want you to leave, Eds…” 

He doesn’t get to say anything before Steve returns, a pink towel slung over his bare shoulder as he stands on the bathroom door. 

“Well, dude,” he says. “You bringing her or what?”

Eddie looks down at you, all cozied up in his arms. You don’t say anything, but you smile, soft and sweet and welcoming as always. 

The sun in his arms. 

He's not sure what the hell is next for him now. But at least for tonight, he’s staying. 

And I ain't gotta tell him, I think he knows

Thank you so much for reading! hope you enjoyed 👀🤭

But he’d seen you fold your arms around Will and Lucas at the same time and promise them pizza next weekend and all Steve could see was the future mother of his children. 

And so much had been taken from the two of you already; innocence, peace, time. He didn’t want to waste another second.

So he’d picked up the ring from the sienna colored carpet and got down on one knee and spilled his guts in front of everyone. 

And when you’d said yes, it had felt like a breath of fresh air. Felt like reclaiming what had been stolen.

Dustin had screeched in excitement like a wild animal and Max and El started jumping on the couch and started planning the party before the tears had even dried from the corners of your eyes.

There’s a lot of things that went wrong from then until now. The caterer had bailed at the last minute and Mrs. Wheeler had borrowed every roaster on the block to make enough roasted chicken to feed everyone.

Steve couldn’t do his hair like he wanted that morning, could never do it quite the way you could, so he’d sat with his eyes closed tightly while you used that Farrah Fawcett hairspray and styled his hair in your wedding dress.

He hadn’t peeked, though he wanted to. But Steve had felt the brush of both silk and lace and knew the smell of your perfume from memory. 

The strap of your heel broke, so Joyce had glued it to the side of your ankle with liquid bandage and after the church ceremony, you’d spent the rest of your time in those beat up sneakers you always wore. 

And on top of everything else, there was still the looming question about Vecna’s unconfirmed death that hung like a dark cloud in your mind.

But still. Even with all that had gone wrong, the Harrington wedding had turned out perfectly. 

There isn’t a single thing about it that Steve would change. 

Not when everything leads him here. Standing off to the side of the dance floor, finding a moment of quiet to himself for the first time all day.

There’s a glass bottle of beer in his hand and he clinks his ring finger against the side of it, hearing the ting it makes and reveling in it.

He watches you and sees the rest of his life.

You’re in the middle of the dance floor. The glittering pins in your hair sit a little askew now, and the bottom seam of your white dress has grown dusty. But Steve thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful than you do at this precise moment. 

You’re dancing with Max and El. Swaying your hips and twirling them in circles. They’re smiling hard with exertion-reddened cheeks and giggling so loud that Steve can hear them over the steady thrum of music. 

A widespread grin stretches across your pretty mouth. Finding just as much joy in the moment as the two girls who idolize you. 

There’s this light behind your eyes when you look at them. A soft adoration, a maternal instinct deeply ingrained.

It only serves to reassure Steve impossibly more that you’re perfect for him.

He feels giddy with excitement, thinking of what’s to come. Thinking about how ten years from now he’ll be coming home from a long day at work to see you dancing just like this, except you won’t be on a dance floor. 

Instead, you’ll be in the middle of the kitchen in the home you share with him. There will be soft music on the radio and food on the stove and you’ll be spinning two little toddlers that hopefully have your eyes and your nose and your smile.

He wants to fill the house with your children, truthfully. Wants to lay awake at night hearing giggles from boys who are up well past their bedtime and trip over princess dresses in the hallway and spend Saturday afternoons at the ice cream parlor. He wants to argue about bath time and eating peas with dinner and why the pink cup is no better than the green one. 

Steve wants it all. And he wants it with you—his beautiful, sweet girl.

His wife.

Something shifts inside him. Something equal parts desire and devotion.

He sets the bottle in his hands on the nearest table, and makes his way to you. His suit jacket is long gone, and he’s got the sleeves of his dress shirt pushed up to his elbows. 

You have your back turned to him as you and Max try to demonstrate a terrible example of salsa dancing to El. But as he nears, you smile at him over your shoulder. As if you’d known he was coming, as if you could feel him like a secondary part of yourself. 

Steve holds his hand out to you, palm up and open. “You guys mind if I steal my bride back for a little bit?”

Both Max and El make sounds of irritation. “But we just got her!”

He laughs, unable to control his mirth. “I know, I know. She’s a wanted woman, what can I say? I’ll bring her back, alright? I promise.”

Max places your hand into Steve’s with a glare on her face. “Don’t hog her, Harrington. You got that?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” he says, pulling you away from the dance floor. Steve conveniently waits until Max is out of earshot before he grumbles, “Monopolizing my own wife. God. Ridiculous. And did you hear that? Her tone?”

Your giggles are music to his ears. “She was just having fun, that’s all.”

Steve pauses. Slides one hand around your waist and uses the other to gently cradle your cheek. He smiles softly when you lean into his touch, the bustling crowd around you fading into nothing but background noise. “She loves you,” Steve says. “Believe me, I get it. I know exactly how she feels. And you wanna know what else I know?”

“Hm?”

“I know that you’re the most beautiful woman on Earth.”

You scoff and roll your eyes playfully, but Steve just pulls you closer. 

“What? It’s true. And I mean, like—every version of it. In every alternate dimension that exists, you're just as perfect as you are right here and now.” Steve’s voice lowers. Just a fraction, almost undetectable. “My perfect, beautiful girl.”

The flush that crawls up your cheeks is nothing short of breathtaking. He loves seeing you like this. All soft and bashful because of him. “God—Steve. There are people around, you know.”

Your words make him laugh. “Sweetheart, they just watched us get married. Like, literally—all of them. I don’t think anyone will be very surprised if they overhear me calling my wife beautiful, Mrs. Harrington.”

“Yeah, I know. But you’re talking like…you know…”

“Like what? Am I–I’m talking weird?”

“No, not weird. Just…” Your face flames as you lean in close, voice lowered. “Kinda like you do when we’re alone. Like we’re about to…”

You don’t have to finish for Steve to hear your unsaid words. “Oh, I see,” he said, feigning innocence. “You mean the bedroom voice?”

With a turn of your head, you sweep your eyes across the space around you. But no one’s listening, all too caught up in their own joy. “Yeah. That.”

Steve just laughs and wraps his arms around you fully now, pulling you close and kissing the top of your head. There’s a teasing tone to his voice as he says, “Aw, babe. I’m sorry. C’mere.”

He’s certain you can feel the stiffness between his legs, even through all those layers of tulle and silk. Your eyes widen just a fraction as you look up at him with your lips parted, likely to chastise him in that spirited way he loves. 

But Steve doesn’t give you the chance. He just leans down, presses his mouth to your ear, and whispers an admission. “Seeing you with the girls just…” Steve sighs all dreamily and shakes his head. “I dunno—it’s just got me thinking about the future, you know? About our kids. About how great a mom you’ll be. How pretty you’ll look with my baby in your belly.” 

You hide your face in the crook of his neck, but Steve can feel the wide grin that stretches across your face. 

“And I was also thinking about how I…I don’t wanna wait anymore,” he confesses. 

When you tilt your head back to look at him, you’re still smiling but there’s something else in your eyes now, too. Hesitation, almost. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what’s the point? Tomorrow isn’t promised, we both know that. And I know we’re not really prepared but we could be by the time it’s…you know—time. And who’s ever really ready to become parents, anyway?”

“Steve,” you say, voice quiet.

“I just can’t stop seeing it in my head, you know? I even dream about it. They’re the only good dreams I have anymore. And I just…I don’t know. I want that. I want it with you. And I don’t want to wait for a day to come that isn’t promised.”

Your stare is heavy, really listening to his words even though he’s stumbling over them. It makes him feel seen in a way that only you have ever given him. Makes him feel understood. 

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m ready. I mean…if–if you are, too.”

He pauses. The words are out now and there’s no taking them back. And Steve tries to tell himself that he’ll be happy with any answer you give him. Whether you want to start now or a year from now or five—as long as it’s with you, he’ll be happy. 

But he can’t deny the relief that floods through his veins when you giggle and nod your head and say, “Okay. I’m ready, too.”

Steve smiles so hard the apples of his cheeks tinge pink. “Yeah?” He holds your face delicately in his hands and presses his forehead to yours. 

“Mmhm. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us, don’t we? Might as well start now, right?”

Desire swirls low in his abdomen at the idea alone. Steve thinks you're right—you should start now. “C’mon,” he says, lacing his fingers through yours and tugging you through the crowd of people. 

He heads for the room at the back of the venue where you’d been tucked away to get ready for the ceremony. You pass the boys all laughing together at some solo cup-stacking competition they’re having, making a big mess and being rowdy as usual. 

Steve claps Dustin on the shoulder as he walks by and says, “You better clean that up when you’re done, Henderson,” he says. And then he points his index finger at him and says, “You hear me?”

Dustin just nods through his laughter, too wound up for a proper response as Will’s tower clatters to the floor.

The moment he pulls you down the back hallway, everything becomes much quieter. The sounds of the reception can still be heard but it’s muffled, especially once he ushers you into the small room and closes the door behind you.

There’s makeup products and hair brushes and your casual clothes from this morning strewn across every viable surface. Opened duffel bags and unzipped backpacks sit propped up against the vanity in the corner, and the sofa in the center of the room is made from crushed velvet.

Steve’s shoulders drop and he smiles wide the moment he looks at you.

“They’re going to notice we’re gone, you know,” you say, the sound of your voice much clearer now that you’re alone. “What’re we doing all the way back here?”

He smiles wide and crowds you against the door, using one hand to lift your chin. His mouth is less than an inch from yours, his eyes all starry when he looks at you. When he speaks, you can taste the heat of his breath. “I want you,” he explains. And then even clearer, voice low, “Want you to make me a daddy.”

Your lips part, and Steve reaches behind you and clicks the lock on the door into place. “Now?”

“Why not? You said it yourself. Got a lot of work ahead of us.”

“I hadn’t meant it literally,” you say lightheartedly. “People will come looking for us.”

“Let them,” he says, and means it. He only cares about you and him and this exact moment.

Steve waits for you to respond. Tries to find hesitance in your eyes or apprehension in your body language. But he comes up empty, and when you sink your teeth gently into your bottom lip, he knows you want him just as badly. 

And then you lean forward, pressing your mouth to his hungrily. You taste like mint and ambrosia and home. Steve slides his tongue into your mouth and drinks you in, his cock already painfully hard in his dress pants. 

He slides one hand to the nape of your neck and the other to the small of your back, hauling you impossibly closer.

Your hands are faster than his, tugging his dress shirt out of his slacks and working at the buttons. You whimper into his mouth and Steve sighs at the beautiful sound.

He pulls away only long enough for you to push his shirt off his shoulders, and you use the opportunity to say, “You’re going to be such a good daddy, Steve.”

And Christ, he’s fucking done for. Just like that. His cock throbs painfully, his pupils dilate, and suddenly the urge to be inside of you is absolutely unbearable. His voice trembles, but he’s smiling wide as he asks, “Oh, yeah?”

Steve drops to his knees before you and slips his greedy hands beneath your fluffy white dress, wrapping desperate fingers around each of your ankles. 

“Mhm.” You grant him some reprieve by gathering the fabric in your hands and pulling it up. 

He climbs beneath your dress and lets out a slow, shaky breath when he sees the pretty lace you’ve chosen to wear all for him. White, matching your dress and the garter around your thigh. Steve leans forward and presses a kiss to your pubic bone, an affectionate caress that’s more appreciation than lust.

“I know you will be,” you continue. “Can see it in the way you treat the kids in our lives now. Can even see it in the way you treat me. Always taking such good care of everyone around you. Always一”

You inhale sharply as he parts your thighs and runs his flattened tongue against your seam, over the lace that still covers you. Steve licks you again, relishing in the faintest hint of your taste, breathing in deep. “Keep going, baby,” he mutters.

“Always…God, Steve.” Your hips tilt, giving him more access, asking for more without asking. But it’s okay, because you’re right. Steve knows just what you need, and he’ll always take care of you. 

He hooks his fingers at the edge of your panties and carefully pulls them down your legs and over your sneakers, slipping the soft fabric right into the pocket of his dress pants.

“You’re such a hard worker,” you say. “And I know you’ll always make sure our little family will never want for anything. I think about一”

Steve spreads your knees wide and places a wet, open mouthed kiss on your clit, groaning low in his chest at the taste of you. You’re so warm and wet already. “What do you think about, pretty girl?”

You hike your dress further up so you can grasp his shoulder for support, eyes fluttering closed. “About you taking care of scraped knees and signing homework assignments and—”

He sucks your clit into his mouth and flicks his tongue. It pulls a moan from deep in your chest and has your head thudding back against the door. 

Steve reaches between your thighs and gently strokes his fingers over your entrance. Once, twice—teasing in the way he always is, before finally pushing them inside. 

“Steve—”

He hums against your cunt, the vibration rocking inside you, reverberating all the way down to your curled toes. He releases your clit from his mouth only long enough to say, “Don’t stop, baby. M’takin’ mental notes. Keep talking.”

It takes a minute before you speak up again. Because once he hooks his fingers inside of you and kisses your clit all wet and sloppy, all sense of rational thought empties from your brain.

Still, you try. You try because it’s Steve and you want to make him happy. Want to make him proud. Want to be as good for him as he is for you. 

“Piggyback rides in—in the kitchen, and ice cream on the weekends and—fuck—that feels so good. You’re so good, I—”

He can feel you getting close. Can feel your velvety walls clamping down tight around his fingers, squeezing him desperately, all but begging for more. 

Steve resists. Lets you get close enough to taste the edge, and then he pulls back. Slides his slick-soaked fingers out of you and licks them clean. His breath is shallow and filled with need, but he goes back for just one more taste of you. Flattening his tongue and sliding it through your syrupy folds, savoring it. 

When he climbs out from under your dress and stands up to face you, there’s a flush on your cheeks and a big smile on your face. Steve’s not sure he’s ever seen you look this happy. 

And he doesn’t need to ask why, because he feels it, too. 

In all the chaos, in all the uncertainty, you have become home to him. His lone place of solace. 

And now you’re his, undoubtedly, with his ring on your finger and his last name and a big smile, and Steve’s heart pinches tight.

It feels like something out of his wildest fantasies. Something he’s only conjured in a dream until today.

There’s only a single dream that would ever compare to this one. One he knows you want just as badly.

And Steve’s about to give it to you.

He cradles your face in his hands and kisses you softly, every movement filled with devotion. He takes your hand in his. “C’mere,” he says, leading you to the couch. 

Steve takes a seat right in the center and pulls you down onto his lap. The tulle of your dress makes the position a little awkward, fluffing up between you. You and Steve both laugh, but it’s manageable with only a little maneuvering. 

You press your hips against his and Steve groans low, feeling the heat of you even through his dress pants. He kisses you hard, drinking in the taste of you, his hand holding firm at your jaw. 

“All mine now,” he murmurs against your lips. “My sweet girl.” He reaches beneath your dress and finds the buckle of his leather belt. It clinks as he undoes it and shoves his slacks down just enough to pull his cock out, already so hard for you it throbs in his hand. “Tell me you want it,” he says.

Your answer comes quick and desperate. “I do. Please, Steve. I want it. Want you.”

He lines himself up at your entrance, but doesn’t push inside. When he speaks, it’s with that voice again. Low, intentional, dark. “Yeah? S’that right?”

“Yes一!”

“Then take it, baby.” 

You lower yourself onto his cock, rolling your hips in a way that has his breath stuttering on an exhale. A pained sound comes from someplace at the back of your throat, but Steve knows you’ll be okay. Knows it's big but knows, too, that you’ll work through it. “Oh, god.”

“I know. S’okay. Breathe, sweetheart.” Steve leans in close, brushing his nose against yours affectionately. “Yeah, there you go. Good job, baby. Doing so good for me.”

He kisses you softly this time, lips moving gently against yours. Encouraging you to take all of him. And when you do, Steve lets himself sink deep into the feel of you around him. Soft and warm and so fucking wet your arousal drips down onto the dark hair at the base of his cock. “Feels…”

“Does it feel good, baby? All full?”

You nod and a whimper leaves your mouth when he shifts beneath you, angling his hips so he’s just a little bit deeper. Touching parts of you that only he ever has, that only he ever will.

Steve reaches beneath your dress and splays his palms wide on the sides of your thighs. “Gonna look so fuckin’ pretty with a baby in your belly,” he mutters.

His words spur you on enough to roll your hips against his. Careful at first, testing the feeling. But it doesn’t take long for you to find a good rhythm. 

You feel like heaven around him. Perfect friction that has his toes curling inside his shoes. He fits so perfectly inside you he thinks he could fucking live here, just like this, with your pussy wrapped tight around his cock like it’s where it belongs. “Fuck, baby. Yeah. Just like that.”

You ride him with your hands braced against his broad shoulders, fingernails leaving crescent moon shaped indentations in his freckled skin. Your whimpers quickly turn to moans and the thought crosses Steve’s mind that someone could hear, but he doesn’t care. Not when you say, “You’re so big. Want you to fill me up ‘til一hmm一’til it sticks.”

Steve slides his hand further up your thigh, his thumb finding your swollen clit, still slick, coated in his saliva. “Kiss me, baby. Wanna taste you.”

You press your mouth to his and it’s like heaven to him. Steve can’t think or see or feel beyond his perfect, pretty wife and the way you beg so fucking prettily for him to give you his baby. To fill you up with his cum until it’s spilling out of you and sliding down your thighs.

He licks into your mouth and sucks on your tongue, unraveled by you completely. “So fucking beautiful,” he muses.

Your walls pulse around him, and Steve circles your clit with his thumb a little faster, ratcheting your pleasure higher and higher.

“Did some research a little while ago,” he says between kisses, lips red and spit-soaked. “Better chances if you cum first.” He’s breathing fast, his own release coiling tight at the base of his spine the longer he’s inside you. Steve knows he won’t last.

Not like this. Not with you in this fucking dress and with his last name. Christ.

“So you gotta cum for me, baby,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. “Cum for me so I can make you a mama. Hm?”

Your hands on his shoulders tighten, and a wide grin spreads across his face as he feels you twitch around his cock, clit pulsing beneath his thumb. 

“Yeah, that’s it. There you go. S’fucking…so good for me, baby. Jesus fucking一squeezing me so tight. M'gonna be the best daddy, okay? I promise.”

He thinks he can hold off long enough for you. Thinks he can fight release until you’re all twitching and sensitive in his arms. Thinks he can do what the textbooks say to give you the best chances, thinks he can do this right.

But then you look him right in the eye and say, “Cum with me, cum with me. Please, Steve, please.”

And Christ, he’s weak for you. Putty in your hands. And you sound so pretty, begging for him like that. What on Earth is he supposed to do except exactly what you ask?

His release hits him hard, darkness clouding his vision, his skin tingling in every place he can feel your warmth. “Love you so much, baby.”

You slide your hands up the back of his neck and thread your fingers through his hair, kissing him in that way you do. The way that makes him feel like the most cherished man on the planet, leaving him aching to be impossibly closer.

His orgasm fizzles out, but Steve stays buried deep inside you until his cock softens. And even then, he lifts his hips a couple more times, thrusting up into you, making sure his seed reaches your cervix.

You take a second to catch your breath before slowly easing off of him, wincing in the process.

Steve sort of feels bad…but there’s another part of him, too, that likes seeing it. Likes when you walk a little funny because of him, likes knowing you can feel him even when he’s gone. 

He helps you right your dress and tucks a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. Steve buckles his belt and the two of you laugh as you try to help him with the buttons on his dress shirt.

The party still thrums loudly on the other side of the door. “Max is definitely going to kill you,” you say, reaching for the door.

Steve chuckles and lets you take his hand and lead him back towards the rowdy crowd in the front of the reception hall. “Oh, for sure,” he agrees. 

Just before you make it out of the shaded hallway, Steve pulls you back. Spinning you into his arms, delighting in the sweet sound of surprise you make. “Wait,” he says. “One more for the road.”

You smile and press your lips to his. Softer now, but no less heated. “I love you,” you tell him, and Steve wonders if that nervous, giddy feeling he gets hearing those words from you will ever go away.

“I love you, too, baby. Gonna love it even more when there’s two of you.”

Dustin calls his name from the other end of the room, louder even than the music, and there’s a massive pile of paper towels on the floor between him and Mike as they scramble to clean up some mystery green liquid. 

He turns his head to find Max behind the DJ booth now, playing some Madonna song and giving the actual DJ a hard time.

Steve shakes his head. “We were gone for ten minutes. Ten minutes!”

You laugh, and the sound brings him so much happiness of his own that he can’t help but smile even with his frustration. “I’ll see you on the way to the honeymoon, husband,” you say. 

The word sends a tingle down his spine. “Double the attempts mean double the luck,” Steve teases. “I’ll be seeing you later, wife.”

You both begin to back away in opposite directions. Steve towards Dustin while you move towards the soundbooth. But your fingers stay intertwined until the very last second. And only when your hands drop fully do either of you turn away.

Steve knows then, no matter what happens, that he’ll be okay.

As long as you linger with him for the rest of his life.

[find a honeymoon extra here!]

“No,” you lied, pretending to pay close attention to the vinyl spinning across from you, “Yes. What’s taking Murray so long?” 

Steve answered with a shrug, glancing around the booth the two of you were currently holed up in. “You’re just like Robin. So antsy.” 

“Well, Robin is currently having a fancy dinner with her girlfriend, while I'm stuck in a stuffy booth with my boyfriend waiting for a psychotic man to smuggle us in intel.” You huffed, body slumping in the chair. “We haven’t been on a date in ages.” 

Your boyfriend’s face softened, pushing himself off the shelf to stalk towards you. “Baby-“ 

“And I know it’s selfish of me to be saying that when the world is basically ending, but-ugh.” You cut yourself off with a groan, watching as he held his hand out for you to grab. You folded your hand in his, letting him spin you out of the chair, pulling your body taut to his. 

“It’s not selfish.” He swore, smiling as your hands wrapped around his neck. The gentle sound of Kim Carnes playing in the background. “Come on, dance with me. We can have our own date here.” 

You didn’t even have time to protest, Steve taking your body against his swaying messily to the music. 

“Okay, okay.” You giggled, doing your best to keep up with each time he tried to spin you in the tiny room. At one point, he kept you latched to his side, leaning over to push the volume control button up. A wide smirk on his face before he spun you around again. Both of your smiles were wide, lost in the joy that radiated off of each other. 

“She’s got Bette Davis eyes.” Steve sang off-key, pulling you back from a spin. His front pressed against your back, the two of you swaying along as the song ended. Both of you are out of breath, bodies wracked with giggles. A sweet reprieve of love, one that neither of you realized you needed. 

“I love you.” He whispered your name, his warm breath against your ear making your body shiver. His hands still gripping your jean-clad hips. 

“I love you. Missed this.” You whispered, feeling his lips trail down your ear, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the skin of your neck. This was something else the end of the world didn’t allocate time for; Steve and you rarely got a moment alone. You loved Robin, but if you weren’t so thankful, she and Vicki finally got together, so it meant you two had a night alone. 

His hands reached up your shirt, cupping your breasts through your bra roughly. You were so caught up in his hands, his lips sucking the skin of your neck, you didn’t even realize you were both still very much at the station. 

“Baby.” You whined, pushing pathetically against him. You didn’t want him to stop, but the two of you had to keep the music going. 

“Hmmm?” He hummed against your skin, one of his hands reaching down your stomach, cupping your clothed cunt. Your stomach turned with want, burning with desire. You repeated the pet name, warning him to stop.

“It’s just us in here. I’ll be fast.” He whispered, his hand popping open your jeans. Fingers pressing against the wet patch that had formed against your panties. He pushed his hips against your ass, his hardening cock pressing against you. You could feel your resolve crumbling with each gentle stroke of your clothed heat.

“You have to be fast.” 

“Fuck yes.” He sighed, speeding up the movement of his hands. You were ready to succumb to his ministrations before the silence of the music ending brought you back to reasonable thinking. 

“Wait, we can’t let the music go to dead air. They’ll panic.” You whimpered, trying to think as rationally as you could while Steve’s hands were all over you. The last thing you needed was the entire crawl squad busting in here while your pants were down, literally. 

“Fuck, fuck what’s the longest song we have?” He reluctantly took his hands off you, rushing to the crates in the back. All you could do was hum in thought, your mind running a thousand miles a minute while Steve threw around records, the bulge in his jeans prominent. If you weren’t so wound up, maybe you would’ve giggled at the sight. 

“Fuck uhh Iron Maiden three years ago? They had like a 10-minute song, right?” You offered up, his eyes shining. 

“God, baby, I’m gonna fuck the hell out of you.” He whistled, holding up the vinyl like a championship trophy. “13 minutes and 39 seconds to be exact.” 

Your cheeks flushed at his words, your underwear getting damper by the minute. “Do you think that’s enough time?” 

He scoffed, plopping himself down in the chair. “Look at you asking silly questions. Is 13 minutes enough time to make you come? I could do it in 5. Ridiculous.” He mumbled the last part under his breath, setting the vinyl up quickly. 

You rolled your eyes, still unbelieving that you agreed to this. He shushed you while the on-air light flickered on, the neon lights buzzing. 

“Alright, Hawkins,” Steve’s radio voice echoed through the microphone. “We are setting sail. This next one is on the longer side, but trust me. It’s gonna be worth every single second.” His eyes were on you, while you made a show of pulling the rough fabric of your pants down your hips. 

“Iron Maiden, Rime of the Ancient Mariner, hold on to your sea legs!” And he put the needle down, the on-air light flickering off. The guitar riffs bleeding through his headphones matched the thump of your heart. 

“Gotta make every second count.” You smiled, keeping your shirt on for the sake of emergencies. Steve wasted no time in pulling you to him, your lips meeting with a feverish passion. His tongue explored your mouth while his hands found your hips again. His fingers dancing along your waistline, dipping inside your panties. He swallowed your shocked gasps, his fingertips sinking into your soaked cunt at last. “Oh, baby. You really needed this.” 

All you could do was nod, your head feeling heavy as you leaned against him. He rubbed lazy circles around your clit before he slid two fingers inside you with little resistance. “S-steve.” You stuttered out, keeping an eye on the vinyl grooves. 

“Shhhhh. Don’t focus on that. Gotta get you ready.” He cooed, coaxing more beautiful moans from your lips. Stretching you out as much as he could, given the circumstances. His cock was aching in his jeans, his other hand abandoned your back, fumbling with his zipper. His jeans fell to his knees, his cock sitting large and pretty in his tighty whities you always teased him about. 

Your cunt was clenching around his fingers, desperately needing him. When his fingers pulled out tears almost sprang to your eyes, the emptiness made your head spin. “Turn round, baby.” His saccharine voice spoke. You listened, elbows finding the table, leaning against the control panel. His fingers hooked themselves in your underwear, pulling them to the floor. 

A strangled moan escaped his lips, “Fuck I wish I had time to taste you.” 

“Steve.” You were dripping for him, clenching around nothing while he pulled his cock out. He spat in his hand, rubbing the spit against your entrance. Not like you needed it, but the sensation had your eyes rolling into the back of your head regardless. 

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you. Good girl, just like that, take this cock.” The moment his cock slid in between your lips, you were a goner, your cunt sucking his tip in greedily. With every inch he pushed in, you suckled around him, the sound already obscene. 

When his hips met yours, he let out a pornographic moan. One that you’d keep in your memory for late nights alone. “So fucking tight. Basically squeezing me to death,” He breathed out, “I’m not going nowhere, baby.” He pulled his cock out halfway, admiring his length dripping in your wetness, before slamming back in. Keeping up a steady pace, hitting the deepest spots inside your cunt from this angle. 

“Feel so s’good. Fuck I needed this.” You whimpered out, the faint reflection of the two of you in the glass only spurring you on more. With one hand on your hip, the other cupped the back of your neck, just enough pressure to keep you still. One thing about Steve Harrington was that he knew how to fuck. He knew your body like the back of his hand, and he played it to his advantage every time. 

“I know you did. Letting me fuck you in here. Where anyone could walk in.” He growled, watching your ass ripple with each thrust. You clenched around him at his words, only making a deep laugh escape his chest. 

“Oh, you like that?” He mocked, your head nodding almost instantly. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t breathe. All you could feel was Steve’s cock splitting you apart. 

“Yeah, of course you do, my dirty little slut.” A harsh slap on your ass punctuated his words. This wasn’t making love; this was dirty. A primal fuck that the two of you needed so desperately. 

He wasn’t taking your moans for an answer, continuing as his dirty mind ran rampant with each squelch of your cunt around him. “Say it. Say it or I stop.” 

You could barely hold yourself up with your elbows, desperately trying to make sure you didn’t hit any buttons. “I’m your dirty little slut. Please don’t stop. Please.” 

Tears were pricking your eyes at how fast and deep his movements were, the sound of skin hitting skin drowning out the still-spinning Iron Maiden song in the background. “Not gonna stop. Not until you’re cumming around my cock.” 

A particularly deep thrust hit a spot that had your legs shaking, your body almost falling into the control board. Only stopped by Steve’s arm pulling you up to his chest, the position making him deeper inside you if that was even possible. 

“You don’t want all of Hawkins hearing you cum around me, do you?” He laughed, pressing sloppy kisses to your shoulder. “Or do you?” 

All you could do was nod mindlessly, your high approaching like a freight train. “I bet you’d love that, huh? Do you want me to turn the mic on? Let everyone hear how good I fuck you?” 

All you could do was wail, “Steve, Steve, I’m gonna cum.” 

“Yeah, you are.” He grunted, his hand reaching down to rub lazy circles on your swollen clit. “Should we let everyone hear how I make this pussy cream? How only I can make you feel this good?” 

That was all it took for you to fall pliant in his arms, your cunt spasming around him. Your vision went dark, legs shaking as the euphoria washed over every nerve in your body. 

When you came to Steve’s hips were stuttering, his own high approaching. He was whispering small praises into your ears, hands holding your body close to his. “That’s my girl. Did so well for me. Gonna make me come, huh? Love you.” 

“Want it so bad.” You sobbed, your nails digging into his forearms while he stilled, cock twitching, his release deep inside you. Steve’s head shoved deep into the crook of your neck, grunting your name over and over. 

The booth was hot, the air humid and sticky with sex. The vinyl crackling next to you two, the song almost over. 

“And you thought 13 minutes wasn’t enough.” Steve laughed, sweat dripping off his brow and onto your own slicked skin. The two of you were a mess. The booth's glass is foggy at the bottom. 

He pressed a soft kiss to your head before slipping his length out of you, hissing at the friction. His cum dribbled out of you, dripping down your inner thighs, making his over-sensitive cock twitch. “Stop ogling me and get me a towel.” You whined, snapping him out of his boyish haze. 

He rifled through your bag using a wet wipe to clean you up, pulling your underwear and pants up for you while you were on shaky legs. You left your pants unbuttoned, content to plop down in the chair. Watching as Steve fumbled around for his own pants. A record scratch brought you out of your own ogling, switching over to another song. Unbothered with an intro this time. 

“I’ll get us some water. Are you okay? I wasn’t too rough, was I?” Steve was still out of breath, leaning down to press soft kisses to your lips. You shook your head, a wicked grin on your lips.

“Not at all, baby. Though I didn’t know you were so into the idea of Hawkins hearing you split me open.” 

His cheeks flushed, opening the door to the booth. “Shut up. You loved it.” 

Your giggles wafted through the building as he walked into the kitchenette to retrieve cold water for the two of you. The moment Steve tossed the chilled bottle to you, you were chugging it down. 

“I love you, sweet girl.” He smiled, smoothing down your frizzy hair for you. “Maybe if we get a break from sudden death, I’ll take you to a nice dinner. How’s that?” 

Nodding, you leaned into his touch, kissing his hand. “Sounds like a plan, Harrington.” 

Your eyes were staring into his; there was no one else you’d rather face death with than him. These last few years have brought the two of you closer with every obstacle. 

“Yoo hoo!” A loud voice yelled, the front door of the station banging open with a thud. The two of you jumped up, both still disheveled. “I’ve been waiting outside for like five minutes.” Murray was standing there, eyes already narrowing in on you two. If it wasn’t your appearance, or the sheer smell alone, then your completely unbuttoned pants would have given light to what the two of you had been doing while he waited outside. 

Steve was about to speak, getting cut off by Murray’s pointed laugh. “Oh my god. You disgusting kids.” He spoke, nothing but humor in his words. “Meet me outside in a few, and I'll hand over everything. Wash your hands.” He pointed at Steve while you turned around to button your pants back up. Steve was red in the face, holding his hands out like they were poisoned. 

“He has a point.” You broke the awkward silence that had been hanging since the door closed. 

Steve had you pressed into the couch, hovering over you, one arm wrapped around your waist, while the other held his body up from crushing you.

Not that you would have minded.

His lips are firmly planted against yours, practically devouring your face with how hard he was going.

Your hands were wrapped around Steve’s neck, fingers looping in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging softly at the strands.

Steve groans.

The sound vibrates against your lips, you whine in return, arching your back into him.

“Sounds pretty” Steve mumbles.

The words are shared between your lips, breathy and low, his words meant for you and only you.

“Stevie” You sound just as breathy, more high pitched and whiny.

The arm around your waist loosens for a moment, Steve’s hand wandering up the sweater you’re wearing, palms scraping against your warm skin.

With the skills of a man who knows what he’s doing, Steve smooths his palm over your ribs, fingers gliding over the expanse of your skin, you shiver in delight, gasping as his nimble edge at your bra.

Those long fingers fiddle for a moment, following the seams of your bra, before he reaches the clasp at your back, with a subtle flick of his wrist, it comes loose, hanging around your chest, useless.

“I don’t know whether to be turned on, or worried, that you’re so good at that” You breathed, using one of your hands to reach beneath your shirt and maneuver the bra off your body, throwing it down on the ground.

“Turned on” Steve nodded, a smug smile on his lips. “Definitely turned on”

You rolled your eyes, pulling Steve back into your embrace, kissing his smug smile right off his face.

You left one hand twisting and hugging at Steve’s hair, while the other traversed down his back, gripping the back of his shirt in a tight fist, pushing down slightly, wanting him to be closer.

Steve followed your subtle direction without much coaxing, his hips slotting right against your parted legs.

His jean clad thighs brushed up against your bare legs, your skirt hiked up around your waist.

Steve grinds his hips down, the hardened bulge in his jeans brushing right up against your core.

“Shit” Steve moans, pressing his forehead against yours.

He does the motion against, grinding down on you a little harder, right down on your dampened underwear.

You let out a deep sigh, biting down on your lip as your hips buck up to meet Steve’s motions.

“That feels good Stevie” You whimper.

“Yeah” Steve’s grinning now, sliding his jean clad bulge up and down, over and over your center. “You like that sweetheart?”

“So much” You nodded quickly, eyes slipping shut.

Steve hums softly nudging your face with his nose, placing gentle kisses against your cheeks, down the slope of your neck.

The kisses are hot and wet, his teeth biting down softly on your skin, tongue lapping at the fresh bites, soothing the marks.

The hand under your shirt was now pressing against your stomach, reaching up to cup one of your breasts on his large hand, squeezing it.

“So fucking pretty” Steve mumbles into your neck, biting down a little harder this time.

You back arches again, pressing your chest right into his open palm, fingers tugging harshly at his hair in retaliation.

Steve moans at the feeling.

“Please Stevie” You say, your hand slipping beneath his shirt now, clutching at his muscled back.

“Tell me what you want sweetheart” Steve breathes the words against your skin, peering up at you with hooded eyes. “Use those pretty little words”

Your lips part, ready to demand Steve to fuck the ever loving life out of you, but you don’t get the chance.

Because, your front door swings open.

Hinges groaning with the force, door slamming against the wall.

And Robin comes storming in.

“I need your help, desperately, like you don’t even know how much I need your help right now” She comes in like a whirl wind, talking a mile a minute.

She’s so busy trying to talk her way into the apartment that she doesn’t even know what she’s interrupted.

You and Steve freeze, his face is still pressed into your neck, one hard gripping tightly at your breast. Your hand is shoved up his shirt, the other is holding onto Steve’s hair like your life depended on it.

Not to mention, you were spread out on the couch, with Steve grinding down on you like there’s no tomorrow.

“I asked Vickie on a date, like a real life actual date and I have no idea what I’m doing, and I'm so freaking nervous…and you know what I'm like when I'm nervous, I can’t shut up” Robin is still talking at super human speed, pacing the floor of your living room, tugging harshly at the strands of her short hair.

You feel hot all over, and not in the way Steve was making you feel hot mere seconds ago, this was pure embarrassment.

Steve wasn’t doing much better, he refused to look at Robin, refused to look at you, his face was beat red, ready to explode.

“I need you guys to talk me down, cause right now, I’m ready to throw myself off a really tall bridge, well not a really, really tall bridge, just tall enough that I get like, a little hurt…not like kill myself worthy, you know?” Robin continues to talk, but for the first time since she barged into your apartment, she looked directly at you and Steve.

The position was compromising to say the least.

“Oh god!” Robin shouted, covering her eyes with her hands. “Gross guys, you have a bedroom specifically made for stuff like this”

“You kinda barged into our apartment, without warning” You mumbled, finally finding the courage to push Steve off you.

Steve went willingly, situating himself on the total opposite side of the couch, not touching you at all.

You rigidly sat up, smoothing down your shirt, but realized that your bra was on the floor. You kicked it under the couch and crossed your arms over your chest, trying to hide the fact that you currently weren’t wearing a bra.

Steve tugs his own shirt down, tugging at his jeans, trying to rearrange himself into a suitable position to hide the bulge in his jeans, but he settles for putting a cushion over his lap.

Completely mortified.

“But do you have to do it on the couch?” Robin whined, still covering her eyes. “We hang out on that couch”

“It’s our apartment” Steve’s voice is stilted, annoyed. “We can do it wherever we want”

You look at Steve, his face is still flushed, you can feel the embarrassment radiating off him. Your skin feels tingly, hot to the touch.

“You can uncover your eyes” You mumble quietly.

Robin peeks past a gap in her fingers, looking between you and Steve, when she deems that you guys are in fact decent, she removes her hands.

“I need help, you guys need to help me figure out what I’m gonna say” Robin says, she looks like she wants to situate herself on the couch between you, but she decides against it, with a wrinkle of her nose.

“How did you even get in?” Steve asks, ignoring Robin's pleas for help. “The door was locked”

“I have a key” Robin waves his concerns away.

“How do you have a key?” Steve asks, still confused.

“Dustin gave it to me”

“How does Dustin have a key?”

“He made one, dingus, can we get back to my problem now?”

Steve groans, throwing his head back against the couch, slouching down.

You sigh, butting yourself into their argument, knowing that if you don’t, they would be talking in circles for hours.

“You wanted help with your date with Vickie” You nodded at Robin.

“Yes,” Robin nods. “I need you guys to run fake date scenarios with me, so I know what to do, and what to say, so I don’t sound like a total dingus…like Steve”

“Hey!” Steve’s eyes snap open, glaring directly at Robin.

This was going to be a long afternoon.

TWO ― DUSTIN

Steve’s car hums softly as he drives back to your apartment.

He had taken you out to dinner. To a nice restaurant, five star dining, on his parents dime, because you both deserved it.

A long overdue date night, he had insisted, after what happened with Robin last week, you and Steve had been on edge.

But tonight, he was working the Harrington charm, trying to wiggle his way into your pants, and cementing himself into every crevice of your heart.

And he was thoroughly succeeding.

You turned your body to face him, Steve plants his hand firmly on your thigh, driving with one hand, occasionally peering at you, a wide smile on his lips.

You feel yourself smiling, warm and fuzzy feelings spreading across your chest.

“Tonight was nice” You murmured, not wanting to break the soft atmosphere in the car.

“Really nice” Steve agreed.

The roads were empty, driving past street lights and houses with their lights dimmed or completely off, it was just you and Steve out tonight.

It was nice.

And you were fighting the urge to jump Steve right here and now, if he wasn’t currently driving, it would be a game over.

Steve squeezes the meat of your thigh, long fingers digging into the flesh, palm warm against your already heated skin.

You place your hand on Steve’s, slowly trailing your fingers over each of his knuckles.

“I can’t wait to get you home” Steve hums, looking at you for a moment, before turning his attention back to the road.

You feel a burning in your stomach.

“Yeah?” You question. “What are you gonna do to me?”

Steve squeezes your thigh again.

“I’m gonna kiss the freaking crap out of you” Steve starts tame, but you know him too well, and by the smirk spreading across his lips, you know what’s coming.

“I’m gonna strip you down, and bury my head between your thighs until you’re shaking” That warm feeling in your stomach is tenfold now. “Then I’m gonna fuck you, slow and deep, because that’s what you need, isn’t it sweetheart?”

“Yeah, Stevie” You nod. “I want it, I want you”

Steve’s responding chuckle is deep, throaty. It sends a shiver down your spine, like a forewarning about what’s going to happen.

“I know you do,” Steve glances at you again. “I want you so much, you have no idea”

You slide Steve’s hand further up your thigh, pushing his fingers past the hem of your dress.

Steve’s breath hitches, but he says nothing.

So you continue to push his hand further up your thighs, the tips of his fingers brushing up against the soft cotton of your underwear, you let out a sigh at the feeling.

Steve moves his fingers on his own accord, slipping a single finger under the hem of your underwear, brushing up against your wet cunt.

“Oh, sweetheart” Steve groans, head tilting back slightly, eyes still trained on the road before him.

“Stevie” You whimpered, feeling the pad of his finger sweep up, catching right on your clit. Your hips bucked involuntarily, trying to entice him in further.

Steve gave you what you wanted, another finger slipped beneath the hem of your underwear, joining his first finger in brushing up against your most sensitive spot.

“You’re wet already” Steve murmured, as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “That’s all it take huh, dinner and a little dirty talk”

You whimpered as his fingers started drawing slow circles around your clit.

“Only for you” Your voice is airy.

Steve groans.

You guys are close to your apartment now, but you didn’t have it in you to wait much longer, and it seemed neither did Steve.

His fingers continue their slow circles, your hips move with his movements chasing your pleasure.

Steve pulls into your street, parking on the road right outside your apartment. He slides his fingers from inside your underwear, eliciting a whine from you.

You watch as Steve brings his fingers up to his lips, and sucks them completely clean, groaning around the appendages.

“Fuck, sweetheart” Steve looks at you with hooded eyes.

And suddenly, you're not in your chair anymore.

Your body moves without really telling your brain what it’s doing, wrapping your legs around Steve’s waist, gripping his shoulders with a rough grip, pressing your chest against his as you kiss him.

Steve’s hand rests on your waist, pulling your body down on his lap, there’s very little space for you to work with, but that just means you guys are pressed together, neither of you are complaining.

Steve’s tongue licks at the edge of your lip, you part your lips, letting him wedge his tongue into your mouth.

You moan against his lips, your hips press firmly down on his lap, nudging the forming tent in Steve’s slacks.

“Can’t even make it into the apartment” Steve shakes his head.

You are not really listening to him.

You trail your lips down his cheek, down his jaw, feeling the remnants of the stubble Steve’s let grow out, down, down, down his neck, pausing at the meeting point of his neck and his shoulder, you tug at his button up shirt, pulling the collar, but to no avail.

You reach up to un button the first two buttons of his shirt, exposing more of his skin, and the hair that decorates his broad chest.

Your lips continue their assault, kissing his warm skin, biting down softly on his shoulder.

“Shit” Steve’s head tilts back, allowing you the space to mark him up, however you want to.

Steve uses his hand to move your hips, gliding you across the smooth fabric of his slack, the glide is easy and the friction pleasurable.

“Touch me Stevie” You whisper.

Steve follows your command, slipping one of his hands beneath your dress, not bothering with your underwear, slipping right underneath the fabric, heading straight for the goods.

Before anything can really get underway, a loud knock slams against the passenger side window.

You jump in Steve’s lap, her head banging against the roof of Steve’s car. While Steve is trapped under your body, not that he’s complaining, but he whipped his hand out from under your dress, he uses his other hand to cup the back of your head, soothing the slight bump.

You both turn, looking through the slightly fogged up window, you see a figure standing outside the car, looking less than pleased.

You sighed, leaning back over and falling into the passenger seat, before winding the window down.

Dustin Henderson.

“Come on Henderson” Steve groans, head leaning against the head rest, eyes squeezed shut, as if it would make the boy disappear. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Movie night” Dustin said sternly, holding a VHS in his hand, giving you both a pointed look. “But you guys were too busy feeling each other up, to notice me”

You felt heat licking up your spine.

If Steve felt embarrassed, he didn’t let it show, he looked more annoyed if anything.

“Dude, seriously!” Steve cried out, throwing his hands up in the air, exasperated.

“You promised!” Dustin accused, pointing a finger at Steve.

“We’re busy” Steve motions between the two of you. “Clearly”

“Yeah” Dustin spat, looking more disgusted than you’ve ever seen him. “I’ve seen more of you than I have ever wanted to”

“Then go home!” Steve shouts.

“It’s dark, you expect me to bike home in this shit!” Dustin shouts back.

You worry about the neighbours hearing you.

“Okay” You settle, sitting up in your seat, smoothing down the skirt of your dress. “Let’s take a beat guys”

“You biked here, you can sure as hell bike back!” Steve continues to shout around you, looking Dustin square in the eyes.

“You suck Harrington!” Dustin is pouting now, eyes narrowing in a menacing glare.

Dustin throws his hands up in the air, turning his back to the both of you, storming his way over to where he’s left his bike.

You sigh loudly.

Looking at Steve.

Who looks like he’s ready to start another fight.

On any other occasion, you would have enjoyed dragging him upstairs and getting his anger out in a way that made you both feel good, but you could really do that now.

Not when you would feel guilty.

Steve looks at you, and he starts to shake his head.

“No” Steve says firmly. “Not happening, he’s going home, and we’re gonna get back to where we were”

“We can’t let him do that” You deny. “It’s dark and it’s late”

You know your guilt tripping him.

But the moods been ruined, once again.

Steve sighs heavily.

He looks at Dustin through the windshield, who’s hovering around his bike, looking like he’s waiting for something.

“Stupid little shit” Steve mutters, admitting defeat.

“You love him, I know you do” You smile, leaning over to kiss him, once, twice, before pulling away.

Steve huffs.

“I love you” He corrects, slapping his palms against his thighs. “He’s lucky you care”

“Sure” You nod to appease him, but you both know that Steve really does care about Dustin, even when he’s driving him up the wall.

You and Steve hop out of the car.

“Don’t make me regret this” Steve mutters, you both walk up together, Steve’s arm is around your shoulders, yours is around his waist.

“Come on” Steve called out to Dustin, nodding at the front door.

Dustin is beaming now.

He throws his bike down, running up to the front door, talking about the movie in his hand.

You smile.

Steve huffs, placing a kiss on your forehead.

THREE ― NANCY + JONATHAN + ROBIN

Steve’s new job at the WSQK radio station, The Squawk, meant he was spending a lot of his free time there. Which, in turn, meant that you were spending a lot of your free time there.

It was a base camp for the crawls.

The trips to the upside down.

Looking for Vecna, under the guise of running a radio show.

It wasn’t all bad.

The building was pretty cool. There was a wall of shelves that went from floor to ceiling, records upon records sat on the shelves. Anything that you could think of, was hidden on those shelves, even the ones so obscure that not even Jonathan knew them.

And you liked watching Steve work the sound effects on Robin’s show, so focused on finding the right sounds, and playing them at just the right moment.

The way his brows would furrow, swinging back and forth between the machine and the pile of tapes with labeled sound effects. The way he would grab his cup of coffee, taking quick sips of the sludgy liquid, watching the way his throat boobed with the motion.

You were a wreck.

Steve drinking coffee was turning you on.

It was getting bad.

Steve wasn’t much better, which made you feel a little less bad.

Steve watched you from his post, stretched out across the couch, flipping through a pile of records as you spoke with Robin, soft flow of music playing through the air.

The show wasn’t supposed to start for another thirty minutes.

And just having you on the couch, was doing things to Steve, things he really shouldn’t be thinking about in the confines of the booth, his place of work.

“This one?” You asked, holding up a Cyndi Lauper record, to which Robin shook her head, nose scrunching.

“We played her songs way too much last week” Robin explained, flipping through another stack. “We need more variety”

You huffed.

Steve felt his heart clench.

“There, uh, there are some more records in the basement” Steve stumbled over his words, drawing your and Robin’s attention to him. “We could grab a couple of those, see if they’re any good”

“Yeah, I think I saw a Prince album down there last week, could be worth a look” You agreed, placing the record in your hand back on the stack.

“Sure” Robin shrugged.

“I’ll go down and have a look” Steve nodded, looking at you, giving you a slight quirk of his eyebrow. “Wanna help?”

“Okay” You nodded.

Robin shuffles her chair closer to the desk, sparing you both a strange look.

“Keep your hands to yourself down there dingus” She warns, pointing a finger in Steve’s direction. “This is a place of business, not your love nest”

“Why are you telling me!” Steve exclaimed. “Why don't you tell her that?” Steve pointed an accusatory finger at you.

“She has more self control than you” Robin replies, shrugging her shoulders.

“No she doesn’t” Steve denied.

Robin looks at Steve, deadpan and unbelieving.

Steve scoffs loudly.

You are so glad that Robin can’t hear your inner monologue right now, because she would have to turn her judgment onto you, because right now, you were ready to climb Steve like a freaking tree.

“Whatever” Steve rolls his eyes, opening the door to the booth, motioning you to go first.

You gladly make your escape, feeling heat spreading across your neck. Steve takes your hand in his, gripping it tightly, leading you to the secret door to the basement.

The basement was drafty, empty and completely quiet.

This was normally the place everyone met up to get ready for the next crawl, there were blueprints and town maps strewn across tables, colour coded texts and blocked maps, a projector was sitting in the middle of the room, awaiting use.

But the basement was also a holding place for all the older and underused records.

But you and Steve were clearly not here for that.

You pulled Steve to a halt, pushing his tall frame against the nearest wall, he’s surprised, but takes it in his stride, large hands gripping your hips, long fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt.

A shiver ghosts your spine, his fingers are cold against your warm skin. You lean in to kiss Steve. The kiss is frantic and quick, a little sloppy, the lack of intimacy making you and Steve loose control.

You pressed your hands against his chest, feeling his heart thudding beneath your palm. Steve bites your lip, harder than you think he was meant to, caught up in his excitement.

“Sorry” Steve breathed out.

“‘s fine” You murmur, using the lapels of his jacket to tug him back into you.

Steve grunts, going right back to kissing you.

His hand reached around, pressing deep into the back pocket of your jeans, palms cupping your backside in a harsh grasp.

“Steve” You whisper, back arching, pressing your chest against Steve's.

“I know” He breathes.

He pulls his hand from your pocket, wrapping his large hands around your thighs, lifting you with an astounding amount of ease.

You let out a soft giggle, wrapping your arms around his shoulder, digging your fingers into his soft hair.

Steve laughs, turning your bodies around, now he was pinning you against the wall.

Steve pauses a moment, taking you in.

“Hi” You smile, it’s soft and warm.

Steve feels a hot sensation building in the pit of his stomach, it spreads through his chest as you run your fingers through his hair, he really loved when you played with his hair.

“Hey sweetheart” Steve smiles back.

That smile has your heart fluttering, a tingle of warm zinging right through your body. Steve’s gaze is piercing, like he can truly see all of you, he wants to see all of you. His love for you bleeds through every glance, those warm honey brown eyes, a pool you’d love to swim in.

Steve kisses you again.

It’s a little slower now. A little warmer.

Steve holds your body, hands digging into the meat of your thigh, your back is up against the wall, cold cement chilling you through your top.

Your tongue slips past Steve’s lips, he groans loudly, lips parting, tongues brushing.

“Guys, Nancy and Jonathan are here, there’s gonna be a--Seriously!”

The door to the basement is slid open, Robin bounding her way down the stairs with Nancy and Jonathan coming in behind her.

Steve drops your thighs, your legs slam down very gracelessly, you wince as your boot clad feet smack against the concrete. Steve spares you a sorry glance.

“Again!” Robin exclaims, standing on the stairs, hands on her hips.

Nancy and Jonathan are struggling to muffle their laughter, taking in Steve’s flushed cheeks, and your down cast eyes, not feeling brave enough to lock eyes with Robin.

“I told you to keep your hands to yourself Steve!” Robin exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

Steve scoffed.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t the one who started this” Steve muttered, motioning between the two of you with a waggaling finger.

“Steve!” You cried, slapping his arm.

“Ow! Sorry!” He said, clutching his arm, looking at you with wide eyes.

“Okay, keep it in your pants you guys” Nancy joked goodnaturedly.

“The radio station, that’s what gets you going huh?” Jonathan snicked behind his hand.

“Shut up” You mutter.

“I can’t believe this” Robin is running her fingers through her hair. “I thought Steve was the menace in your relationship, turns out I was wrong”

You rolled your eyes.

“Can you blame me?” You say, but it’s quiet, and lacks the confidence your candance normally carries.

“Not in our place of work!” Robin chastised, like you and Steve were a pair of dogs she was training.

“All right,” Steve waved her off. “We get it, we can’t do it at the station, or in my car or in our own freaking apartment, just let us know where and when then”

Steve puts his hands on his hips, looking expectantly at Robin, whose cheeks are a soft shade of pink.

“Not the time or the place lover boy” Nancy cuts in.

“It’s crawl time” Jonathan finishes the statement. “So both of you, behave”

Maybe next time, you’d finally get it right.

FOUR ― THE PARTY

Steve buys tickets for the first movie on the list, not interested in watching anything in particular. You are waiting on the sidewalk, hands in the back pockets of your jeans, swaying from heel to toe.

Steve grins.

You are so goddamn pretty.

“Two tickets for the lovely lady” Steve muttered softly, coming up behind you, wrapping one arm around your waist, while the other hand waved two tickets in your face.

You giggle softly, taking your hands out of your pockets, wrapping one hand around his wrist with the tickets on hand, while the other rests against the large hand pressed against your stomach.

“What’re we watching?” You asked.

“No idea” Steve shrugs, though you can’t see it, you feel the motion against your back. “It’s a dark theater, away from everyone we know, I couldn’t care less what the movie actually is”

You laugh, turning your head, looking at Steve over your shoulder.

“Let’s go inside, before you jinx it”

“Why would I be the jinx here?” Steve asked, bewildered. “They come looking for you, not me”

You take Steve’s hand from your waist, winding his fingers around your own. You let his other hand go, turning on your heels, facing him. Using your now free hand, you press softly against his chest, nudging him to the movie theater.

“Can’t help it if I’m your better half” You sigh, like it was a tough job.

Steve scoffs, but there is a smile on his face, using your conjoined hands to swing his arm around your shoulder, holding you close to him. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Don’t I know it”

You and Steve enter your designated theater, the room was fairly empty, only a few people milling around the small room.

You and Steve take a seat in the very last row, right in the middle of the row. You nestle down in your seat, Steve’s arm still around your shoulders, as he sits in the seat beside you.

“It’s a rerun of some movie” Steve whispers in your ear. “They’ve been showing it for two weeks now, there’s no chance they’re gonna be here”

“What movie is it?” You ask, tilting your head.

“Who cares, are you actually gonna watch it?” Steve asks, tilting his head, mirroring your actions, making you smile. “While all this is sitting beside you”

Steve makes a sweeping motion with his hand, trailing from head to toe, as if him just sitting next to you, was temptation enough.

And right now, it was.

It was driving you crazy, just being this close to Steve.

Just having his arm around your shoulder was sending you into overdrive, the soft smell of his aftershave clinging to his sweater, feeling his warmth pressed to your side.

The interruptions to your alone time were seriously messing with your nervous system.

You and Steve have never gone this long without…well doing anything really, you didn’t have room to breathe around each other, before someone was knocking on your door, or walking into something they really shouldn’t have seen.

And, it seemed, it was affecting Steve just as much.

He was leaning into your personal space, more than usual, like he had to have a hand on you at all times, it was the most action he had seen in weeks.

“What movie?” You asked, playing dumb, leaning further into Steve.

And he grins like the cat who caught the mouse.

Steve unlaces your fingers, using the hand around your shoulders to press against the back of your head, tangling in the strands of hair, holding your head gently as he presses his lips against yours.

His lips are persistent, hungry, looking for the one thing he’s wanted.

You aren’t much better.

You meet his lips with just as much enthusiasm, pressing one hand against Steve’s thigh, using it as leverage to push your body closer to his, though the arm rest was digging into your stomach, you paid it no mind.

Steve groaned softly at the feel of your hand against his thigh.

“God” He mumbled against your lips, kissing between his slightly slurred words. “I feel like a horny teenager again”

Steve muffles your laugh with his lips, not giving you the space to part from him.

You and Steve kiss like this might be the very last kiss you’ll have.

You feel Steve’s teeth bite down on your lip, it’s harsh, and you wince a little, but the shiver that runs down your spine is a good distraction.

“Steve” You whimper softly.

Steve’s fingers, which are wrapped up in the strands of your hair, tighten, liking the sound of his name on your tongue.

He wanted to hear that and only that from your lips from now on, until the day he dies.

You guys really needed to fuck before you both combust.

Making out in a movie theater was not a new concept for you and Steve, you’d done it before, recreationally. It was always a little bit of daunting fun, doing something crass in public.

But now…

It was the last place you and Steve had thought of, because everywhere else had been invaded.

And you guys loved your friends, you really did, but right now, you hated them very much.

You just wanted to jump Steve’s bones.

Steve’s other hand had wound itself around your waist, his forearm digging into the arm rest, but that was the least of his concerns.

He was currently trying to find a way to super glue your body to his, in the most nonchalant way.

You use your other hand to grip Steve’s sweater, the fabric smooth and warm beneath your clenched fist, you want to yank him right out of his chair and on top of you.

And you might have just done that.

If you hadn’t heard a crowd of familiar voices.

“What the hell Harrington!”

Steve’s groan is immediate, annoyed right to his core.

He, very reluctantly, pulls away from your kiss. He looks over his shoulder, to see a very annoyed Dustin.

He had a rather large popcorn clutched in his arms, looking at Steve like he had betrayed him.

Behind Dustin stood Max and Lucas, who were enjoying the agony on Steve’s face way more than they should be. And next to them, Mike is smirking from ear to ear, El clutching his hand with a gentle smile. Will is standing beside Dustin, looking like he wished he was anywhere but here.

“Fucking Henderson” Steve muttered, hanging his head, pressing his face into your neck, as if that would get the teenagers to disappear.

You patted the back of his head, as Steve grumbled into the softness of your sweater.

“I tried calling you like a million times” Dustin continues on, not missing a beat. “You could have at least told us you were gonna be here tonight, we needed a ride”

“I didn’t tell you idiots on purpose” Steve muttered against your neck, his breath fanning across your skin, goosebumps rising in its wake.

“Mike’s mom had to take us” Dustin grumbled, making his way down the row, intent on berating Steve up close and personal. “Could have saved us the trouble”

You run your fingers through Steve’s hair, tugging softly at the strands of brown hair, making Steve’s breath hitch, the hand he had resting on your waist, tightens its grip.

“Dude” Max scoffs, she lingers somewhere behind Dustin, further down the row. “I don’t think they wanted your company”

“Shut up” Dustin mutters, throwing himself down in the seat beside Steve, spilling popcorn in his lap in the process.

“What are you guys even doing here?” Dustin asks. “You guys know this is a Star Wars rerun right”

“Oh my god” You whisper, feeling Steve tense, you stopped tugging at Steve’s hair.

“Yeah” Lucas's smug voice joins the ranks, leaning over in his seat. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Shut it, Sinclair” You mutter, tossing a mean look over at the boy, who sat back in his seat, snickering with Max beside him.

“I didn’t know you were a Star Wars fan Harrington” Mike chimes in, and you’ve never wanted to smack a bunch of kids before, but they were making it really difficult right now.

Steve pulls his head away from you, snapping in the direction of the six teenagers filling up the row, he scowls at each and every one of them.

“I’m gonna kick your ass Wheeler” Steve points a finger at Mike, who grins even wider, nudging El with his elbow, and she smiles at the way the vein on Steve’s forehead becomes more pronounced.

And Will, god bless his sweet soul, send you a very sorry look, his cheeks were a bright red.

You smiled gently at him.

At least one of the six of them was decent.

The light starts to dim around you, and the kids are nice enough (for now) to leave you and Steve alone.

“I can’t believe this is the movie you picked” You hissed the words between you and Steve, not willing to speak any louder, less one of the little gremlins heard you.

“I wasn’t paying attention” Steve whined, looking back at you with those soft brown eyes, the very ones you had trouble saying no to.

“The name Star Wars didn’t tip you off?” You questioned, tugging at his hair, a little harsher than you meant to.

Steve winced, cheeks flushing, flustered over being found and humiliated by the very people you had been avoiding.

“I’m sorry”

He looked kind of pitiful, and you really couldn’t stay mad at Steve. It did help that you were already annoyed that you guys had been found, once again, you and Steve were sharing this ruin.

You sigh, leaning over to smack a kiss on Steve’s cheek, loudly and over the top. Dustin looks over at the pair of you, mouth full of popcorn, and disgust clearly written on his face.

“Don’t worry about it” You shook it off, settling back in your seat, Steve followed you down, resting his head against your shoulder. “We’ll get it right eventually”

Steve sighed.

FIVE ― ALONE AT LAST

You and Steve were determined.

Robin was out with Vickie. Nancy and Jonathan were at the Wheeler house looking after Holly. Mike, Dustin, Lucas and Max were at the arcade.

You were finally, finally, alone.

And you were taking advantage of it.

You pulled your top off, throwing it somewhere around Steve’s bed, reaching back to unclasp your bra, sliding it down your arms, throwing it down with your shirt.

Steve follows suit, tugging off his thick brown sweater, kicking off his sneakers and un-buttoning his jeans, his checkered boxers peeking out of the waistband.

“Come here sweetheart” Steve motions you over.

You go willingly, slipping your hands around his waist, his skin flushed and hot. One hand lands at the back of your head, fingers buried between strands of your hair, the other hand is cupping your cheek, thumb caressing slow sweeps over your cheekbone.

“You gonna kiss me or what Harrington” You teased, all breathy and like, leaning into his hand.

Steve smirks.

He plants his lips on yours.

You breathe a sigh of relief, like he’s your lifeline on a sinking ship.

The kiss isn’t inherently desperate, but there’s an underlying feeling of need, wanting each other, needing to feel his skin on your skin, without barriers or interruptions.

Steve stumbles you both to the edge of his bed, lowering you both onto the plush mattress, feeling his cool covers gliding across your back.

You sigh against his lips.

Steve lets go of your hair, maneuvering his hand down to the waistband of your jeans, undoing the button with ease, sliding the zipper down, until his fingers are brushing over the smooth cotton of your underwear.

He doesn’t waste any time, slipping his fingers inside, rubbing circles directly on your clit. You were wet, turned on and ready.

Your back arches, inviting his fingers to slip in a little further. Steve takes the initiative, sliding his fingers down until they prodded at your entrance. You clench around nothing but the thought of Steve’s fingers, buried deep inside your pussy.

“Yes” You whisper, nodding your head, biting your lip.

Steve slips a single finger inside your pussy, feeling your wall clenching around the appendage.

“Like this?” Steve murmurs the words in your ear.

His finger slides out, you keen loudly, pleading for him. Steve grins, slipping his finger back in, repeating the motion, before slowly easing a second finger inside your wet heat.

“Just like that” It’s a breath sigh, words barely finding their way out of your lips.

Steve’s fingers work wondering, and to make a pleasurable situation better, his thumb reaches up to rub circles on your clit.

“Want to fuck you sweetheart” Steve’s voice reaches your ears, it’s low and grumbled, his hips rutting against your thigh, you can feel his hardened cock beneath his jeans. “You gonna let me fuck you?”

“Yes, yes” You nod so quickly, Steve wonders how you haven’t given yourself whiplash.

Steve pulls his fingers from your pussy, wiping them on the back of his jeans, before he reaches down to tug your jeans from your legs, leaving you in a pair of red cotton underwear, with a pretty white bow.

“So pretty” Steve sweeps his hair away from his eyes, brushing his knuckle over the damp spot on your underwear.

Your hips arched, pussy aching for his touch.

“Take your jeans off Stevie” You say, reaching a hand out to brush his jean clad thigh.

Steve shuddered, coming to stand at the end of the bed, shucking his jeans off his legs, kicking them away, standing only in his boxers.

“Those too” You pointed to his boxers.

Steve smirks, pulling his underwear down his legs, slowly, watching you watch him, enjoying your eyes on him.

Steve’s boxers fall around his ankles, his cock standing proud, tip a ruddy red colour, weeping slightly, standing tall against his stomach. His large hand comes around the base of his cock, jerking his hand up and down the length, slowly, torturing you.

“Please” You whimper.

Steve crawls his way up the bed, up your body, his cock brushes the length of your leg, until it settles right between your legs, the tip of his cock barely touching your center.

“You want my cock, don’t you sweetheart” Steve pressed his lips to your neck, lathering you in slow, open mouthed kisses.

“So much” You say.

Steve reaches between the two of you, grasping his cock once more, sliding this tip up and down your pussy, tip catching on your clit with every brush.

You moan loudly, hands grasping Steve’s broad shoulders. Steve shuddered at the feeling of your essence coating his cock, slipping through your folds with ease.

Steve lips his cock down, until the tip was nudging at your entrance. He pushed, gently, slowly and watched as the tip, just the tips, slipped easily into your wet heat.

“Fucking finally” He breathed out, feeling like he was finally where he should be.

“Oh” You gasp, as Steve pushes his cock further into your pussy, the stretch mouthwatering.

You’re warm and wet, practically gushing around Steve’s throbbing cock, clenching around him.

“So wet sweetheart. So tight” Steve groans, head bent, watching every inch of his cock slip inside your weeping pussy.

You know Steve’s cock is big, you’ve known it for as long as you guys have been together, but it feels bigger now, longer somehow. You peer down, seeing about half of Steve’s cock buried inside you, and you already feel full to the brim.

“Shit, Steve”

Your nails grind down into Steve’s smooth skin, crescent indents in their wake, but it only urges Steve on, the sharp pain eliciting a loud groan, pressing his head against your sternum.

His hips buck suddenly, pressing his length further inside your wet heat.

You shudder.

Steve moves his hips, until your pussy is flush against his pelvis, cock buried deep inside, throbbing against your clenching walls.

“So fucking deep” You breath, biting your lip, head thrown back, eyes fluttering closed.

“Pretty pussy sucking me in so good sweetheart” Steve hums, lips pushing hot air against your skin, his sweaty forehead sticking to your chest. “Wanna be buried in you, fucking forever”

Steve pulls his hips back, before snapping forward in one sharp thrust.

The sound of skin on skin, wet slapping sounds, your breathy whimpers and Steve's sharp groans reach every inch of the room, echoing in your ears, bouncing around your brain.

Steve places both his hands on your hips, sitting up on his knees, keeping his cock buried deep in your pussy. He spreads his knees, situating himself, giving him the perfect view of his cock inside sliding in and out of your wet heat.

His hips pick up their pace, pistoning back and forth, cock slipping in and out of your pussy, your wet heat fluttering at the new pace, gut clenching, mind shattering.

“Yes, Steve!” Your back arches further, barely touching the bed at this point, head burning into the soft cushions.

“That’s it sweetheart” Steve mumbles, words low and raspy. “Take it, take all of it”

Thwap. Thwap. Thwap.

The wet sounds have you clenching around Steve, who groans, throaty and deep.

His fingers are digging into the fat of your hips, leaving little indents, marking your skin for days to come, little finger shaped bruises.

Your hands are clenching, one grasping the soft sheets, while the other clenched around your tit, tugging at your pert nipple, twisting and pulling, pleasure shooting through you from head to toe.

“Want you to come” Steve huffs, sweat pearly on his skin, slipping down his focused face. “Want you to come on my cock sweetheart, you gonna give it to me?”

“Uh-huh” You agreed, nodded your head quickly, words seemed foreign on your lolling tongue.

Steve’s hip snapped up, his hands gripping your hips, raising you up until your hips were hovering off the bed and resting on the edge of Steve’s knees, snapping back and forth.

You were dripping, his cock shiny with your essence.

Your fingers tightened around the sheet.

Your eyes flutter open, looking up at Steve, lids droopy, lips parted, sharp breaths of air.

Steve looks in his element.

Brows furrowed, skin shimmering with sweat, biting down on his lips so harshly, you might have been worried about him bleeding. But you couldn’t quite think past the feeling of Steve’s cock throbbing inside your pussy.

“Stevie”

Your guts coil, your thighs start to shake, brain turning to absolute mush.

Steve keeps his pace steady, watching as the pleasure eats at your body, taking over every thought, every movement, every shudder and shake.

“I’m--I, shit, Steve--”

You clench around Steve, together than before, wall fluttering, juices squelching.

“That’s it sweetheart” Steve groans.

You feel like a wave of white washes over your vision, ringing bells in your ears, you feel like your stomach is on fire, your toes tingle and twitch, your thighs shake, heels digging into the mattress.

This orgasam is unlike any other you’ve had.

Your voice is loud, moaning out Steve’s name as you come. You can feel your pussy gushing around Steve’s cock, slick, wet, sloppy.

Steve groans.

It’s the first thing you hear, as your mind tries its best to ground you.

“So fucking pretty” Steve nods, letting your hips fall back onto the bed, pressing his body over yours, forehead resting against your temple, lips brushing your heated cheek.

You bite your lips, body jittery, riding out the pleasure.

“Gonna come inside you” Steve mumbles, you can barely hear him over the ringing in your ears, but you nod your head, lips pouted, whimpering softly. “Right inside this pretty pussy, my pretty pussy huh sweetheart”

Steve’s hips are losing momentum, his sharp thrusts have lost their stamina, his rhythm is off, titering on the edge.

Your hands press into Steve’s hair, holding him to your body.

Steve’s hips slow, until they come to a shuddering stop, burying his length deep in your pussy, legs quivering as he comes. His eyes are screwed shut, nose nudging your cheek, breaths coming out staggered, shaky and hot.

“Fuck” Steve whispered, the word hot on your skin.

Steve’s body is heavy against yours, his skin pressing against yours, there isn’t a part of you that isn’t touching him, you can feel his heart beat against your chest.

“We finally did it” You murmur softly, still trying to catch your breath.

Steve chuckles, sounding just as breathless.

“Took us a minute” Steve mused softly, voice shaky. “But we got there, and it was fucking worth it”

You sigh happily.

“But let’s not wait so long next time”

Steve agrees, burning his face in your neck. You kiss the crown of his head.

It took a while for you and Steve to find each other, alone, but it was certainly worth the wait.

the first thing you noticed about your new town was how quiet it was.

the streets were narrow and mostly empty, the buildings low and tired looking in the particular way small town places got when they had been standing too long and nobody bothered to pretend otherwise. still, it had what you wanted. a little house at the edge of town, old but sturdy, with a porch that sagged just a bit on the left side and a yard small enough to manage on your own. it had been cheap in a way that made you suspicious at first, but the realtor had smiled too hard and said things like “good bones” and “quiet neighborhood” and in the end it was the price tag that sold you.

you hadn't moved here because you were looking for a fresh start in the dramatic sense. you just needed a place that was yours, a place where your daughter could sleep with her stuffed rabbit tucked under one arm and not have to hear you worrying over every little sound in the dark. a place where you could make coffee in the morning without thinking about the man who had left you both.

you had wanted cheaper rent, fewer questions, and a life that did not ask more of you than you could give.

so you packed up what mattered, sold what did not, and drove until the landscape looked unfamiliar enough to be called new.

the first few days were a blur of boxes, half-assembled furniture, and your daughter running from room to room as if she were mapping out a kingdom she planned to rule. she adjusted faster than you did. children always did. she found the best spot by the front window, decided the hallway was perfect for games that involved being a fox, and declared the back step “her lookout.” by the end of the week she had already made a friend out of the woman next door, who had introduced herself with a casserole dish and a warm, practical smile.

her name was doris, and she was the sort of neighbour who knew when to offer help and when to let silence do its job. she had silver hair that she pinned up without much fuss and a front porch full of flowerpots that looked like they had all survived several winters out of pure stubbornness.

she was also, you learned with some surprise, a retired babysitter who had apparently looked after half the children in town at one point or another.

“if you ever need to run errands or anything,” she told you the second time you met, balancing your daughter on one hip as if she weighed nothing at all, “you bring her over. i mean it. she’s a sweetheart.”

you had thanked her more times than necessary, because gratitude came easier to you than accepting kindness without flinching.

and because your life had gotten just complicated enough to feel almost normal, that was when gator tillman started noticing you.

not that he had any right to call it noticing. everybody saw everything in a town this small, but there was noticing. and then there was the way he looked at you like you had been dropped into the middle of his day and, for reasons he couldn't explain, made the whole thing feel a little less dull.

you saw him first at the grocery store.

it was one of those fluorescent-lit places that looked a little too bright no matter what time of day it was. you had been standing in front of the cereal aisle with a box of cheap granola tucked under your arm, trying to remember whether your daughter was out of milk or just very committed to pretending she was, when you felt eyes on you.

when you looked up, there he was.

he was leaning against the end of the aisle like he had all the time in the world, sheriff’s department uniform neat enough to suggest he cared about appearances but not neat enough to make him look harmless. tall, broad-shouldered, that sort of face that looked like it had learned early on how to smirk without being asked.

there was something pretty in the wrong way about him, which was annoying because you had no interest in being distracted by a man who clearly knew how to take up space.

he glanced at the box in your hand and then back at your face, the look lingering just long enough to be rude.

“you new round here?” he asked.

the accent had a rough, easy drawl to it, the kind that sounded practiced even when it wasn’t. you gave him a polite smile that did not encourage anything.

“yes.”

“huh.” he pushed off the shelf and took a few steps closer, hands loose at his sides. “pretty girl like you, what’s she doin’ in a place like this?”

you stared at him for a beat, expression flat enough to freeze water.

“buying cereal.”

one corner of his mouth twitched, like he had been hoping for something sharper.

“single?”

that one earned him a look. not a flustered one, not a coy one. just a look that said he hadn't, in fact, earned the right to ask.

“that’s a strange thing to ask a stranger in the cereal aisle.”

“not strange where i’m from.”

“well,” you said, and slipped the granola into your cart, “strange where i'm from.”

he blinked once, then let out a quiet laugh that sounded too pleased with itself. he had the decency to look amused instead of offended.

“fair enough.”

you would've thought that would be the end of it, but it was only the beginning.

he kept appearing in your orbit after that in ways that were almost too convenient to be accidental. sometimes at the hardware store, where you were trying to figure out which kind of screw was used for what and he would appear beside you with all the confidence of a man who had never once admitted he did not know something. sometimes outside the gas station, where he would give you a lazy salute before asking if you’d “settled in yet.” once, at the post office, he held the door open for you and told you your haircut looked nice, which was so transparently him trying to get a reaction that you nearly laughed in his face.

he always looked a little more pleased with himself when you looked unimpressed.

“you always this cold?” he asked one afternoon while you were loading groceries into the back of your car.

you didn’t even turn around. “you always this annoying?”

he snorted. “you got a sharp tongue.”

“and you’re still talking.”

that made him grin in a way that probably worked on somebody else, somewhere, but not on you. not when your days were full of work and unpacking and making sure your daughter ate enough vegetables to count as a reasonable parent. not when every spare thought you had was already claimed by practical things.

still, you noticed things against your will.

that he always looked too carefully at you before stepping too close. that he wore his uniform like it had been chosen to impress people, and perhaps it had.

that there was something in his expression whenever he realised you weren't impressed by him, not even a little, that looked less like irritation and more like challenge.

he asked your name on the second week. then asked what you did before moving here. then asked, with a glance that made it obvious he already thought he knew the answer, whether you had someone waiting for you at home.

“why?” you asked, shutting your car trunk harder than necessary.

“jus' curious.”

“that sounds like a lie.”

he tilted his head, one of those small, self-satisfied gestures he seemed to make when he thought he was winning something. “maybe i’m interested.”

“in what?”

“you.”

you made a sound in your throat that was almost a laugh, almost disbelief. “you barely know me.”

“plenty of time f' that.”

there was no reason for your face to go warm, but it did.

you told yourself it was the weather, the late afternoon heat, or the fact that he was standing far too close with far too much confidence and an expression that said he liked being looked at. you took the grocery bags from the cart and shut the trunk with your hip.

“you should probably find someone else to bother.”

“and miss this?”

you glanced up at him then, really looked at him, and found that the amusement in his face did not hide something else entirely. something hungry, maybe. or simply determined. either way, it was the sort of expression that belonged to a man who was used to getting what he wanted and was still trying to decide whether he wanted you.

you smiled a little, just enough to be polite and not enough to be encouraging.

“good luck with that.”

then you got in your car and left him standing there with his hands on his hips and a look on his face like you had just made his week more interesting than he was prepared for.

you didn't tell him about your daughter.

not because you were hiding her in any shameful sense. never that. she was the best thing in your life, the bright center of it, the reason you kept yourself standing when exhaustion and loneliness tried to work you over in the quiet hours. but she was also yours. your responsibility, your tenderness, your boundary. you had learned the hard way that some men heard 'single mother' and made assumptions before they had even finished blinking.

and then there was the other reason, the one sitting under all the others like stone under soil: you were careful now.

your daughter’s father had left enough damage in his wake that you had stopped calling it heartbreak and started calling it a lesson. he had walked out before she was old enough to ask difficult questions, but not before he had left behind the kind of ache that taught you not to hand your life to men who liked the sound of their own promises.

after that, you had decided that if you ever dated again, it would be with both eyes open and your daughter’s safety in mind. no introductions unless you were sure, no temporary men drifting in and out of her world just because they made your own nights less empty for a while.

gator tillman was not the kind of man you would let near that kind of trust.

not yet.

besides, you had heard enough about the sheriff’s department by then to know better than to trust the uniform too quickly.

the town talked, and small towns always turned gossip into weather. you heard enough in passing to know that the department was not exactly full of role models, and the sheriff himself was apparently the sort of man who had made his own name synonymous with trouble, fear, and rot. people lowered their voices when they mentioned him. even doris, who seemed to speak plainly about nearly everything else, would only click her tongue and say, “that family’s got problems” in a tone that suggested the word problems was doing a great deal of work.

so when gator found you at the diner one morning and casually dropped that he was deputy of the sheriff’s department, you acted as if you didn't know, raised an eyebrow and said, “congratulations” like he had informed you of a particularly useless skill.

he looked offended for exactly half a second before recovering.

“not impressed?”

“should i be?”

that got him again. he seemed to like that you did not treat him like a prize, maybe because he had so clearly expected you to.

still, he kept at it.

not in a grand, romantic way. not in the way men in movies bought flowers or stood in the rain. gator was too proud for that and too clumsy with sincerity to try.

instead he flirted the way he did everything else, sideways, half-mocking with an expression that tried to disguise how earnest he was underneath. he’d make comments about your smile when you least expected it. tell you he liked the way you looked angry, which was ridiculous. offer to carry your groceries. ask if you always looked this tired when you were “tryin to ignore him” which was so transparently a trap you refused to step in it.

and every time you brushed him off, he came back anyway.

not always right away. sometimes he’d go days without crossing your path, and you would almost convince yourself he had finally gotten bored. then you would see him leaning against the counter at the pharmacy or parked across the street when you were coming out of doris’s house and there he’d be again, looking at you like the answer to some question had been hiding just out of reach.

the strange thing was that you didn't entirely mind him.

not in the sense that you wanted him, not at first. you did not trust him enough for that. but he was entertaining in a way that had become, against your better judgment, part of your routine.

he made you feel seen in an irritatingly persistent way. not understood, not really, but seen. and after months of keeping your head down and making sure life held together by force of habit, there was something disarming about being noticed with such blunt intensity.

it would have been easier if he had been smooth. easier if he had been charming in a way that made it simple to dismiss him. but gator was not simple. he was all swagger and half-sincere smiles, all bravado with something restless underneath it, something that looked like it was always trying to prove itself. you could tell, even from the little you’d seen, that there was a boy underneath the deputy act who had learned early on how to turn self-assurance into armor.

that didn't make him safer, it just made him harder to ignore.

the day he finally asked you out properly, it was raining.

not the dramatic kind, not a storm. just a steady gray drizzle that made the street shine and turned the town soft around the edges. you had been standing outside doris’s house, waiting for your daughter.

gator came around the corner in uniform, hair damp from the rain, gaze finding you immediately like he'd been looking for you for far longer than he was willing to admit.

“you keep pretending you don’t like talkin’ to me” he said as he approached.

“i’m not pretending.”

“sure.” he stopped in front of you, close enough that you could see the water gathered along the dark line of his lashes. “i’m askin anyway.”

you sighed, already tired of whatever game he thought this was. “asking what?”

“take you out.”

you looked at him for a long moment. the rain stitched silver lines through the air between you, and for some reason his confidence seemed almost quieter than usual, like he had made himself say it before he could change his mind.

“no” you said.

he nodded immediately, like he expected it. “figured.”

you folded the bakery bag a little tighter in your arms. “then why ask?”

“cause i wanted to.”

it was such a gator answer that it nearly made you smile, except he was watching your face too closely for that.

you were tired. more tired than you usually let yourself be around other people, and maybe that was why the next words came out before you had time to smooth them over.

“i have a daughter.”

something shifted in his expression so fast you almost missed it.

it was not dramatic. not disgust, not mockery. more like blank confusion, the kind that made his brows draw together as if the idea had to be rearranged in his head before it could fit.

“a daughter” he repeated.

“yes.”

“you got a kid?”

“yes, gator. i do.”

he looked at you like he was trying to solve a problem he hadn't known existed two seconds ago. then his face cleared, but not in the way you expected. not with apology. not with withdrawal. just with the dawning, baffled realisation that you had been a whole person this entire time and he had only bothered to ask about the parts he found convenient.

“oh” he said, very softly.

you had expected a lot of things. questions. awkwardness. maybe a flirty line twisted around the fact to make it easier for him to save face. maybe even disappointment if you were unlucky. but the confusion was strangely sincere, and it threw you more than it should have.

he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and looked away for a second, then back at you.

“single mom” he said, like he was trying the words out.

“yes.”

the rain ticked on the sidewalk. somewhere down the street a car passed, tires hissing over wet pavement. gator’s face had gone oddly unreadable, not in a cold way, but in a stunned one, like his brain had gotten stuck on a sentence it had not prepared for.

“right” he said at last, and you could not tell whether he sounded annoyed, impressed, or just confused in general.

you lifted one shoulder. “that’s why i haven’t been interested.”

he was quiet for a beat, then nodded once, too quickly, and gave you a small, almost stiff smile.

“okay.”

you frowned slightly. “okay?”

“yeah.” he shoved his hands into his pockets. “see ya round.”

and then he stepped back like the conversation had ended cleanly, like he had not just been knocked sideways by the simple fact that you had a child and a life that existed entirely outside his little orbit of self-importance.

you watched him turn and walk away down the wet street, boots splashing through the rain, and told yourself the reaction meant exactly what it looked like.

that he was done, that the daughter part had been the thing to put him off. that whatever half-finished attraction he'd been nursing toward you had finally met a wall it couldn't climb.

you should have felt relieved.

instead, you felt something you had no name for. disappointment, maybe. or the faint sting of being misread yet again. you tucked the feeling away with the rest of them and went back inside to your daughter, who was curled on doris’s couch with her socked feet in the air and her face smeared with jam, laughing at something on the television.

life moved on as it always did.

except gator didn't really leave.

he still showed up in your line of sight. still held doors, still tried to catch your eye, still made comments under his breath when he thought you weren't listening. but after that day, something changed in the shape of it. the flirting remained, but there was a little less swagger around the edges. a little less performance. he didn't ask about your single life quite so casually after that. he looked at you longer when he thought you weren't paying attention, like he was reconsidering something he had assumed too quickly.

and you, stubbornly, kept your distance.

you let him be a nuisance. you let him be a familiar face in a strange town. you let his attention settle around you without giving him the satisfaction of thinking it had changed your mind. because it hadn’t. not really.

or that was what you told yourself.

the truth was that every now and then, when you were out with your daughter and saw him across the street, his gaze snagged on her for just a second too long, not in a bad way, but in the way of a man trying to fit a new fact into the picture of you he had been carrying around.

something in that look made your chest go tight, because there was no way to know whether it was interest or pity or merely surprise.

you hated surprise.

you hated the possibility that being a mother had turned you into a different kind of woman in his eyes, one less desirable, less worth the trouble.

so you let gator think what he wanted, let him believe you had shut him down cleanly. let him walk away thinking the answer had been no and not something more complicated and brittle and practical.

and for a little while, that was enough.

until the day you were halfway down the grocery aisle again, reaching for a box of pasta with your daughter’s voice reminding you to buy the fun shaped kind, when you heard a familiar voice behind you say, “you always this hard to catch, or is that just f'me?”

you closed your eyes for half a second.

of course it was him, of course he was back.

you turned slowly, already prepared to be unimpressed.

gator was standing there with one hand resting on the cart beside him, a crooked smile on his mouth, rain jacket damp at the shoulders. and then his gaze flicked, briefly, past you.

past your arm, past the cart and landed on the little hand peeking out from beneath the blanket in the child seat, where your daughter sat with her legs swinging and a packet of crackers clutched in one hand.

gator’s whole face changed, just for a second.

the surprise was immediate, yes, but it was something else too. something softer and much more dangerous.

your daughter looked back at him with open curiosity and no sense at all that this was a moment that mattered.

gator blinked.

then, very carefully, like he was approaching something that might bite him, he said, “well. hi there.”

your daughter smiled around a cracker crumb.

and you, standing there with one hand on the pasta shelf and your entire carefully guarded life suddenly visible, felt your patience and your nerves and something inconveniently warm all collide at once.

gator looked up at you after that, and the expression in his eyes told you, before he even opened his mouth, that whatever he'd thought about you before was gone.

completely gone.

and for the first time since you had moved to town, you had the distinct, unsettling feeling that your quiet little life had just become interesting in ways you weren't prepared for.

-

gator didn't stop being persistent after that day at the grocery store, but he did get quieter about it.

not less interested, exactly. just more careful with it.

it was the kind of careful that probably would've gone unnoticed on anyone else, but with gator it stood out. he was still the same man in the same uniform with the same easy confidence and the same habit of looking at you like he was trying to memorise the shape of your face, only now there was something else threaded through it. hesitation, maybe. not enough to make him back off entirely, but enough to make him think before he spoke.

the truth was that your daughter had gotten into his head.

not in the way he would have admitted out loud, and definitely not in the way he would have put it to anyone else. but it had happened anyway, quietly and all at once, like a door in his mind had opened onto a room he had never once considered walking into.

when he thought about a future, he had always assumed there would be a wife in it someday, because that was the sort of thing roy had drilled into him with the sort of confidence only men like them could manage. a wife. a home. children, eventually. a life that looked respectable from the outside and obedient from the inside.

maybe there would be a son to teach things to. maybe a daughter to spoil in ways he had never been spoiled. he'd never thought too hard about it, because thinking too hard had never done him much good.

but then there was you, and then there was the fact that you already had a child.

that should have made the whole thing simple. that should have made him walk away, or at least lose interest, or at the very least decide you were too much trouble for a few flirtatious exchanges in grocery store aisles and parking lots.

he'd told himself, more than once, that he was only interested because you were pretty and sharp-tongued and impossible to impress. that was how it started, after all. he had seen you, wanted your attention, and gotten irritated when you did not hand it over. that sort of thing was familiar to him. manageable. but now? now there was more to it than that, and he didn't quite know what to do with the fact that the more he learned, the less he wanted to leave.

what threw him most of all was that the daughter part didn't put him off.

it intimidated him, sure. it made him feel like he was standing on the edge of a conversation he had no language for. because it was one thing to think about being a father in some distant, abstract sense. it was another thing entirely to look at a woman you were genuinely interested in and realise she already had someone who mattered more than you could possibly matter to her. someone who came first. someone who didn't care how charming he was or how good he looked in uniform or how many times he'd managed to make her mother laugh.

he'd never been very good at not being the centre of things. and yet, embarrassingly enough, the fact that he was not the centre of your world made him want in more, not less.

he liked the challenge of it. hated that he liked it, but still.

he also liked that you didn't know him.

everybody in town had some version of him in their heads already. deputy. sheriff’s boy. trouble. arrogant. reckless. useful if you needed something done, impossible if you wanted honesty. maybe one or two people would have said handsome with the sort of tone that suggested it was a warning. but none of that was the whole story, and for once, there was something almost intoxicating about getting to be seen before a big rumor had finished introducing him.

with you, he had a chance to be whatever he wanted you to know first.

that thought sat in his chest in a way he didn't quite understand. not noble, not romantic, just strangely important. like the version of himself that existed in other people’s mouths had become irrelevant in the face of the version he could offer you instead.

and for your part, the fact that he hadn't run when you told him about your daughter changed things in a way you didn't entirely trust, but couldn't ignore either.

you had expected awkwardness. maybe a polite retreat. maybe the same sort of half-done interested expression men got when they realised there was baggage attached to dating you and decided baggage was inconvenient. you had prepared yourself for him to disappear into the gap between one conversation and the next, and you had even convinced yourself that would be for the best.

but he hadn't disappeared.

he'd blinked, looked confused, and then kept coming back.

not in a way that made you feel pressured, just persistently enough that you found yourself increasingly curious about him in spite of yourself. it wasn't that you were suddenly ready to bring him home for sunday dinner and call him part of the family. no, that was absurd. but maybe, just maybe, you were willing to let him know you beyond the surface of your own guardedness.

so when he caught you alone one afternoon outside the pharmacy and said, with far too much confidence for a man who had been carefully keeping his distance, “you ever rethink bout letting me take you out somewhere proper?” you surprised yourself by answering, “yes.”

the silence that followed was immediate and complete.

gator just looked at you.

not in a rude way, in a stunned one. like he hadn't expected the word to come out of your mouth and needed a second to make sure he'd heard correctly.

then, because he was still gator and couldn't leave anything sincere alone for too long, he cleared his throat, shifted his weight and said, “yeah?”

you smiled before you could stop yourself. “yes, gator.”

that got another blink out of him, slower this time. and then, in a very visible effort to recover his usual composure, he straightened a little and tucked one hand into his pocket.

“all right,” he said, trying very hard to sound as if this was not the most surprising development of his week. “i can do proper.”

you laughed then, because he looked ridiculous and smug all at once, and the sound of it made his expression soften in a way you hadn't expected. he asked if he could pick you up later, said he knew the best place in town, and you agreed before you could overthink it.

the dinner was better than you had any right to expect.

you felt a small stab of guilt leaving your daughter with doris so you could go on a date, but doris had waved you off with the kind of cheerful determination that suggested she enjoyed being trusted with important secrets. your daughter, meanwhile, had apparently decided doris’s house was a luxury resort, because she'd been thrilled to stay.

gator had actually shown up on time, which was your first surprise of the evening, and he'd looked annoyingly good in a way that made you briefly resent the existence of collared shirts.

he opened the car door for you without making a big deal of it, and when you thanked him, he just gave you that lopsided little look of his like he was pretending the gesture hadn't mattered.

the place he took you to was a small restaurant at the edge of town, the kind with dim lighting and booths that had definitely seen better decades. it wasn't fancy, but it was warm, and the food was better than its peeling wallpaper suggested.

more importantly, he talked to you.

really talked, in a way you hadn't expected.

not just the usual fragments of himself he threw at you when he was trying to flirt. he asked questions and waited for answers. he told you things about town without making them sound like he was showing off and when you asked him what he liked doing when he wasn't in uniform, he actually had to think about it for a moment before shrugging and saying, “not much, lately.”

that had led to a conversation about where you grew up, which had led to one about your daughter’s favourite cartoons, which had led to him admitting, after some prompting, that he had once wanted to be a pilot when he was younger because he liked the idea of leaving things behind and seeing the world from above.

you looked at him for a beat too long after that, because there was something unexpectedly vulnerable in the confession, something too honest to be part of the image he usually tried to sell.

the other people in the restaurant noticed him, of course. he was impossible not to notice. eyes flicked toward him from two tables over, then away again when they realised he'd seen them. you noticed it too, the little shifts in posture, the careful glances. you noticed how he ignored them without even turning his head, he simply sat there with you and let the room do what it wanted.

that, more than anything, was what stayed with you after the night was over.

he didn't make you feel foolish for being cautious. he didn't try to charm you into dropping your guard all at once. he simply made space for the conversation to happen, and by the time he drove you home, you found yourself feeling lighter than you had in months.

after that, there was no sudden declaration, instead, he just kept showing up.

better behaved than before, though not perfect. he still flirted, but the lines changed.

he stopped using words like hot and started using beautiful instead, like it mattered more to him. he told you he liked your laugh. he said your hair looked good when it was pulled back. he complimented the way you handled your daughter with a mixture of patience and firmness that made him look at you like you were quietly impressive in ways he hadn't expected.

and then there were the little things, little things that ended up mattering far more than the grand ones.

he mentioned, one afternoon, that there was a big play area just outside town that he used to go to as a kid. “they got a climbing thing,” he said, pretending to sound casual. “a trampoline. swings. some weird old wooden i fell in once.”

you laughed at that, and then he glanced over at you and added, almost as an afterthought, “she might like it.”

your daughter.

he had remembered that she existed, and not in a vaguely polite way. he had actually thought about what might make her happy.

that stayed with you longer than it should have.

doris, naturally, was not immediately convinced.

she didn't say anything cruel, because doris was not that sort of woman, but she did fix you with a look one evening over the fence and said, “you be careful with that boy, now. sheriff’s family isn't known for being easy to deal with.”

“he’s not his father” you said before you could stop yourself.

doris gave a small hum, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “just saying.”

you nodded because there was no point arguing with the town’s collective memory. but you weren't especially worried.

gator had already given you the short version of his father, and while he hadn't said anything directly ugly, there had been enough in the way his mouth tightened when he mentioned him to tell you the truth.

stern. controlling. a man who expected obedience and called it love. a man who got what he wanted and didn't much care who he hurt in the process.

that was enough to make the picture clearer.

and over time, the back and forth between you and gator turned into something steadier.

he drove you to work when he could, leaning across the passenger seat with a hand on the wheel and telling you to hurry up like he was doing you a favour, even when he offered. he started showing up with coffee exactly the way you took it, which annoyed you more than it should have because it was thoughtful. he remembered when your daughter had a school event and asked about it later, not in a probing way, just in a way that made it obvious he had been listening.

when she started school properly, he went with you to the first parent-teacher meeting when you realised you were more nervous than you wanted to admit, and he stood beside you in the classroom with his hands in his pockets, looking far more composed than you felt.

the teacher had called him your partner.

you opened your mouth to correct her, then closed it again.

gator, beside you, hadn't corrected her at all.

when she mistook him for your daughter’s father, he only smiled politely and let her get on with it until she had moved on to another topic. later, in the car, you gave him a look and said, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“do what?”

“let her think that.”

he glanced at you, one hand on the steering wheel. “didn’t seem important.”

you stared at him.

he shrugged, but there was a faint red creeping up the back of his neck. “figured i was there to help, not be difficult.”

that had nearly undone you on the spot.

months passed like that.

not rushed, just a slow, steady kind of closeness that crept in through routine until you realised one day that it had been there for a while.

he learned which cereal your daughter liked best. he learned not to make too much noise when he came by after dark. he learned that you liked your tea strong and your mornings quiet and your affection delivered in practical gestures.

in return, you learned that he was not nearly as hard as he looked, and that the parts of him the town called trouble were often just the parts of him that had learned how to survive.

he was still stubborn. still smug. still far too pleased with himself whenever he managed to make you roll your eyes. but he was also gentler than you had expected. gentler with your daughter, especially, once he got used to her. awkward at first, yes. entirely too aware of his own hands and voice and size, as if he was afraid of doing something wrong. but children have a way of making even the most self-important men honest, and your daughter did that to him almost immediately.

by the time the three of you went to the playhouse just outside town together, he'd already figured out how to kneel down to her height without making it seem awkward, how to answer her questions seriously even when they were ridiculous, how to carry a paper cup of juice in one hand while she dragged him by the other toward the trampoline with a grin that suggested she'd decided he belonged to her for the afternoon.

and to your absolute surprise, he let her.

he complained about the trampoline first, just enough to make you laugh. “i’m not doin’ that,” he said, watching the two of you bounce around like you had not a single care in the world. “i look stupid already, don’t need help.”

“you always look stupid” you called back.

your daughter immediately took his side, which seemed to delight him. “he doesn't look stupid.”

gator’s entire face lit up.

“see?” he said, pointing at her. “she gets it.”

and then he climbed onto the trampoline with the both of you.

you hadn't seen him laugh like that before.

it wasn't the sharp little huff he let out when you mocked him, or the smug grin he wore when he thought he had gotten the upper hand. this was something else entirely, something open and helpless and bright. your daughter was bouncing around in front of him, shrieking with joy, and he was making the kind of face men usually reserve for the moment they realise they're in over their heads and having the time of their lives anyway.

it did something strange to your chest.

later that evening, after the three of you had been home and your daughter had worn herself out so thoroughly she had gone down for a nap, gator was sitting down while you cleaned up the kitchen.

the house was quiet in that rare, soft way it got. sunlight leaned through the front windows, gold and tired. the air smelled faintly of soap and sugar and the lingering trace of the day.

you came back into the living room to find him on the couch with his elbows on his knees, looking around like he had started noticing details he had not seen before.

you paused in the doorway. “what are you thinking?”

he looked up slowly. “i like this.”

you leaned against the frame. “like what?”

he glanced toward the hallway, where your daughter was sleeping, then back at you. there was no swagger in him now. no performance. just a quiet sort of certainty that made him look younger and older at the same time.

“us” he said.

you felt the smile come before you could stop it. not a big one. just something small and true and impossible to hide.

gator noticed, because of course he did.

he stood then, crossing the short distance between you with a kind of care you wouldn't have expected from him months ago. he stopped and looked down at you for a moment like he was still deciding whether to say something else, then he lifted a hand to your face and kissed you.

it wasn't your first kiss.

the first one had been an accident, really, in the way certain things only become accidents when you are too busy to think about them. you'd been rushing out of his car one morning because you were late for work, one hand already on the door handle, your mind full of everything except the fact that he was leaning toward you to say something when you turned and, without thinking, pressed a quick kiss to his mouth in a distracted goodbye before hurrying off.

you froze for half a second afterward, mortified.

he, on the other hand, had looked so pleased with himself you had wanted to throw your coffee at him.

he had absolutely loved that kiss.

this one was different. this one was slow and deliberate and it made your breath catch in a way that had nothing to do with surprise. his hand rested lightly at your jaw, his thumb barely moving, and when he pulled back, he stayed close enough that you could feel the warmth of him still there.

“what was that for?” you asked softly.

his mouth curved, almost shy if you did not know better.

“for bein’ here.”

you laughed under your breath, because of course that was the sort of answer he would give when he was being sincere.

and maybe that was the moment it really started.

not when he first flirted, not when he first asked you out, not even when he found out you had a daughter and stayed anyway. maybe it started here, in the quiet middle of things, where he'd already found his way into your home and your routines and the little safe spaces you had built around your life. where your daughter reached for him without fear, where he walked softly enough through both of your days that one evening you looked up and realised he was no longer just visiting, he was there.

not because he had forced himself in. not because you had been careless. but because he had proved, over and over again, that he could be trusted with the parts of your life that mattered most.

he was nothing like the rumors said, nothing like the shadow his father cast and nothing like the man you had first assumed he would be. he was still flawed, still arrogant, still infuriating in all the usual ways, but he was also gentle where it counted. attentive. patient. quietly devoted in ways he would probably have denied if called out on them directly.

a softie, really.

you probably would never say that to his face but you knew it now, and so did he. at least in the private little corners of your life where the two of you had started to belong to each other without ever quite saying so too soon.

-