Concert Junkie

Against both of your better judgments, you drew closer, brows knit at the peculiar sight in the peculiar place. It looked so inviting, glowing softly, enticing you closer. The vines were a hive mind but this… this seemed different. Eddie caught your hand before you could touch it, giving you a warning look. 

“I dunno if it’s smart to touch the glowing tree in the interdimensional realm, Sweetheart,” Eddie warned gently before releasing your hand down by your side. Disappointment that you couldn’t place flooded your chest, and you frowned as you looked at the glowing fungus, practically pulsing with light. 

“Yeah,” you agreed quickly, shaking your head at your own base impulse. It just felt like further proof that you weren’t cut out for shit like this. Fantasy was better left to DnD campaigns and Tolkien. “Yeah, we should leave it.”

And you would’ve left it well enough alone if a tremor hadn’t shaken the very ground you stood on. You yelped, reaching out for Eddie before you both fell against the tree. At the disturbance, the fungus released a cloud of spores that you both choked on, flooding every sense in your body. When the dust settled, you and the metalhead were practically covered in the faintly glowing dust, eyes wide with worry. 

“Okay, that wasn’t my fault,” you said quickly, like you had to settle the record before you got another tick in the shit at interdimensional travel box. You were conscious of the feel of your tongue in your mouth, how it moved to form each syllable. The dust on your lips tasted like blue raspberry candy and burned your nostrils, dripping down the back of your throat. Without thinking, you licked your lips again, savoring the taste. 

Eddie nodded wordlessly in response, and you watched the bob of his throat as he swallowed hard. Your gaze followed a bead of sweat as it traveled from his hairline down his throat, right until it disappeared under his dirty shirt collar. “We tell anyone about this and they’ll… you know, they’ll freak the fuck out.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. The words had a taste in your mouth, like iron. You had never tasted words before.

“Yeah,” Eddie echoed. “So, let’s keep this between us for now. Deal with it later.”

“Mhmm.” You could feel the vibration in your throat as you made the words, still tasting blue raspberry on the back of your tongue that was so sour made your jaw ache. And still, you walked to the Wheeler’s, carefully, focused on any minute change in your bodies, any sign of infection.

It started as a warmth. Sweat trickled down your back in small rivulets and you were hypersensitive to the way the drop navigated the divot of your spine. It wasn’t supposed to be anything but cold in the Upside Down, but you were flushed, warm head to toe, clammy with a thin sheen of sweat. 

Eddie wasn’t looking too hot either. Well, he looked hot, physically. He just wasn’t looking well. His bangs stuck to his forehead, tacky with sweat. There was a notable pink flush to his cheeks— like he’d just gotten through running a marathon. His lips were dry and cracked— you watched as his tongue darted out and licked them, desperate for moisture.

The rest of the trek was slow-moving. It was a miracle when you made it to the Wheeler’s without collapsing onto the dingy, vine-covered ground and giving up. You needed something. But you couldn’t put your finger on what that was. Water? Sleep? All of the above? You huffed with frustration as you joined Nancy, Robin, and Steve inside, who had not-so-happily waited for you to join them. 

“Some shortcut,” Robin said with a wry grin. You couldn’t miss the suggestive waggle of her brows, which made your stomach twist with longing. A tiny part of you was extremely loud in its frustration that you hadn’t been getting fucked in the forest.

“Shut up,” you said with a huff as your cheeks burned. It was impossible to hide the frustration that had been building and building. You just wanted to get out of the upside down and away from everything shitty happening in your life. And get fucked. You were caring less and less about the order. 

In the back of your mind, you knew that you weren’t being incredibly helpful, but there was no part of your mind unscathed by the effects of the spores.

In the dark, fucked up version of Nancy’s room, you doubled over, bracing yourself against a vine-free patch of wall as nausea wreaked havoc on your body. It hurt. You felt empty in ways you would never have noticed before— so hungry you could have devoured anything in your path. 

“Hey, you alright?” Robin asked, anxiety lacing her tone. 

“‘M fine,” you lied, trying your best to give a convincing smile. “Just a little nauseous. Probably because I swallowed a metric shit ton of lake water.” Robin looked skeptical but nodded regardless.

 Eddie was hiding it better than you— the only giveaway was how quiet he’d gotten. It was unlike him to not pitch in with a quippy remark every so often, but he was dead silent as the five of you communed with Dustin through the Lite Brite.

Both of you tried to ignore it the best you could until you got to Eddie’s trailer. By then, the heat coursing through your veins was painful. It was like all the blood in your body had been set to a slow boil. And the need. You could put a name on it now that you had been living with it for the better part of an hour— so present it had become as much a part of you as your soul. It wasn’t hunger in a literal sense, not emptiness that you would yearn to fill. It was pure, carnal desire. The most primal version of it that existed. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked finally, pulling you aside from the group. His hand felt like ice against your burning skin and you gasped, practically moaning at the relief. Your heart pounded as you looked at him, feeling as if you were only seeing King Steve for the first time ever. 

He was really pretty. Robin was pretty. Nancy was pretty. And Eddie. Fuck the real Hawkins. All you wanted to do was pile into the alternate, evil version of Eddie’s bedroom and rip everyone’s clothes off with your teeth. 

His brows furrowed at your reaction, but he squeezed your arm and the pressure of his touch made you fucking whimper. “Sorry,” you whispered, chest heaving. “Fuck, Steve, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re fine,” he insisted, but concern knit his brows regardless. When he dropped his hand you nearly fell to your knees and begged for more of his touch. You were nauseous without it, craving it like a drug. “But are you okay?”

“Mhmm,” you said despite your fear that you would burn up into ash if you didn’t satiate the burning craving within you.

It was a fucking miracle that you made it through the gate— that you could climb the stupid rope without getting off on the knots in the bedsheets between your thighs. The first thing you did back in the real Hawkins was make a beeline to the sink and drink from the tap like you’d just gotten out of the desert. You groaned at the mineral taste, and wanted to cry when the cold water didn’t do shit to cool you down or kill your raging libido.

Eddie practically pushed you aside to get a turn, sticking his tongue out like a dog, lapping at the water and moaning. His hair was falling into the sink, getting wet from the tap. You wedged yourself between him and the counter, craning your neck to drink at the tap where it poured off his chin messily. He finally huffed in frustration and shut off the tap, moving to stand against the fridge with his chest heaving. You licked the water off your lips and whimpered at the loss of closeness.

“Is that normal?” Erica piped up. It would have been refreshing to hear her speak her mind so plainly if it didn’t draw all the attention to you. 

Well, it already had been on you, but you hadn’t noticed the way the others stared in your direction, confusion furrowing their brows, until then. In the time you and Eddie had spent drinking from the sink, everyone had gotten through the gate. You didn’t even have it in you to feel shame for being caught so ravenous, so you wordlessly wiped the water dripping down your chin.

“Shit,” Dustin said, voice dripping with every ounce of annoyance he could muster. “This is why I should’ve been on the boat. Rule number one of traveling in the upside down?Wear protective gear. You think breathing in interdimensional dust is healthy?”

“D’ya think that tree poisoned us?” Eddie practically slurred, his tongue heavy with the effort. There was simply too much happening at once— his body was burning up, he was painfully hard and straining against his tight jeans, and Dustin was freaking him out. 

He was so close you could practically smell him— heady and salty with sweat. You had to swallow down the urge to mouth at the skin of his neck and taste him fully, to draw your tongue through the sweat and grime on his skin, bite down into his skin and taste blood too. It was a primal urge, something you had never quite felt before.

“Tree?” Robin piped up nervously. “What tree?”

Eddie waved a hand lazily. “It glowed. It was, uh, blue. Tasted blue too.”

Your body was practically vibrating with need. Every stupid word out of Eddie’s mouth was burning a hole in the pit of your stomach. The fact that he was speaking seemed like a waste of time. You wanted to lick the words off of his tongue. 

“And you… ate the tree?” It was Steve this time, his stunned eyes wide. 

“No,” you said quickly. “It was a fungus, I think. There was some sort of earthquake and it knocked us into the tree. And then there were spores and I think it’s really fucking us up.”

You could hardly focus. You tore open the freezer, retrieved a bag of frozen peas that looked to have been from the late seventies, and held it against the back of your neck. It was useless, the heat was everywhere. 

Nancy approached you carefully, slow like she was afraid you’d flee like a frightened rabbit. You could feel the heat of her body as she stepped close, radiating off of her alongside the barest remnants of her perfume. The barest press of the back of her hand against your forehead made your legs feel like jelly. You pressed back against her touch, eyes fluttering shut, heart hammering. Your breath was shuddery as she felt your cheek, her hands dainty and gentle against your burning skin. 

Her hand was so close. It would take nothing to just turn and press your mouth to her skin, to lick and bite and relish in everything you could get. You had to shake the thought from your mind. You didn’t want to fucking bite Nancy. 

“I think the spores from the tree infected us,” you said suddenly, pushing Nancy away with a firm palm to her shoulder. Your heart thrummed, desiring more contact, and you had to wrench your hand away. “And until whatever it is works its way out of our systems, you all need to leave, just to be safe.”

“What?” Lucas asked incredulously. “That’s crazy, we aren’t just going to leave you here with a portal in the ceiling!”

“They have a point,” Nancy piped up. She nodded at you and turned to the group. “The people at Hawkins Lab used to put on full hazmat suits to go into the upside down, but we went in without any protection at all. Maybe it’s best if they stay here, shower off any remaining spores, and wait to see if they feel better with time.”

“That’s crazy,” Dustin pushed back. “Look at them!” He gestured over to the two of you, but you weren’t sure what he was pointing to. Maybe you looked worse than you felt, which was saying something.

“Max’s house is right over there, so we won’t be too far. A few of you can stay with Steve over there, and the rest of us will go on a supply run for first aid supplies. I’m thinking the school nurse’s office is the best bet.” Nancy clapped her hands once, like a judge banging a gavel, and it was set in stone. 

Dustin frowned at losing the argument, but still tossed a radio in your direction. You barely managed to catch it, too overwhelmed by the heat flooding your veins. “If you feel like you’re going to die, just radio.” 

You managed an eye roll in his direction before they were all out the door. You sighed, tossing the ice pack onto the countertop. It had already melted at the contact of your hot skin, leaving a puddle beneath it on the laminate surface. 

It was barely one full minute before you broke. 

“I think those spores had some fucked up type of aphrodisiac effect,” you said, meeting Eddie’s eyes. It was like his pupils had swallowed up all the warm brown, leaving only a dark, hungry gaze. “Tell me it’s not just me feeling that.”

“Feel like I’m going to melt out of my skin. I’m horny out of my goddamn mind.” He groaned, running a hand over his face. “Why the hell does an alternate dimension need a fungus that makes people want to fuck?”

You shook your head. “Doesn’t matter. It’s only getting worse, isn’t it?” He nodded and you sighed. “I keep feeling like…” You trailed off, cheeks burning hot with shame. “Like if I don’t get what I want, I’ll hurt someone. Like if I hold out any more I’ll have to feed the hunger some other way.” You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the words, that you were desperate to bite into the muscle connecting his neck and shoulder and rip and tear. That wasn’t you. None of this felt like you.

“Maybe we just need to give in,” Eddie said, barely able to meet your gaze. It was good, you decided, because if he met your gaze you didn’t know if you could hold yourself back, and you needed to. 

“Yeah,” you said, breathy and weak. Your legs were crossed, and you were incredibly conscious of the way the seam of your jeans felt when you squeezed your thighs. “Yeah, like make ourselves cum, and then it’ll be over, right?”

“Yeah. Jesus fuck, that sounds real fuckin’ nice.”

And that was all the discussion either of you needed. Shame was out the window, replaced with the burning hot need for release. If something were to put itself between you and the door to Eddie’s room, you would’ve ripped it apart with your nails and teeth.

You collapsed onto the floor of his room, practically tearing off your top with frantic desperation. Your shoes and socks were kicked off and lost, pants tugged down your legs. You practically had to peel your panties off of yourself— they were sopping wet. 

In the back of your mind, you felt like you might need a tetanus shot after laying naked on Eddie’s floor, but then your fingers were brushing through soft curls, nearing your clit, and the thought left your mind. 

The moan that escaped you was broken and desperate, louder than you had ever been in your entire life. The barest touch was like a jolt of lighting licking up your nerves, making your legs twitch. If it were any other day, you would’ve cum just from the otherworldly need that the spores had flooded your body with, but it wasn’t enough.

Bare touches were for losing your virginity in the back of someone’s car or shy hand stuff in the back row at the Starcourt movie theater. You needed to cum hard and fast. You made desperate circles around your clit, aided by wetness gathered from your soaked entrance. You felt like a live wire, and yet your peak was just out of reach. 

Every time you felt yourself nearing the finish, you lost it and had to chase it desperately to no avail, hips bucking into your touch pathetically. Like fucking Sisyphus himself, each time you got there, you came tumbling back down. The orgasm being held just out of reach was the worst kind of torture. Your cunt ached with need, your clit over-sensitive from the desperate attention you gave it.

It went on like this until you groaned with frustration. Without even thinking to ask, you flipped over and grabbed one of Eddie’s pillows from the floor beside you. In a moment of sheer desperation, you straddled it, folding it so you had something firm to rock against, and began desperately humping against it. Your fingers dug into the carpet as you worked your hips, desperate for something to grasp while you used the rest of your body to chase your high. 

“Holy fucking shit, sweetheart.” You hadn’t even acknowledged that Eddie was in the room until those words slipped past his lips.  His attention made a wave of sheer pleasure rock you to your core, the best you’d felt since Steve grabbed your arm. 

“‘M sorry, Eddie,” you gasped, shuddering at the feel of your clit against the plush fabric. “Just need more. Fuck. This is so gross.” The frustration was going to kill you. Angry tears slipped down your cheeks, but you kept grinding against the pillow despite the futility. 

“‘S okay,” he insisted. “Can’t— fuck— can’t get there either, huh?”

Your bottom lip poked out in a desperate pout as you shook your head. A frustrated cry escaped your throat, akin to a desperate whimper, and you knew you must have looked utterly pathetic in front of him. Fuck it. “You— uh— you got a hairbrush, Eddie? Somethin’ you won’t miss?”

“Huh?” He asked, chest heaving as he leaned back against his wall. His cock was a desperately flushed red, practically pulsing in his hand. It was at least a little comforting to know he was in a similar position as you. “Why do you—“ You saw the recognition light up in his eyes, the way they went wide with surprise and that same hunger you felt. “Oh. Fucking hell, sweetheart. Go ahead. Should be somewhere around here, dunno.”

It was disgusting. You knew it in the back of your mind as you ran your hand along the top of his dresser without looking, just searching for something you could use. Any other time, you wouldn’t have needed more than your fingers on your clit to get off, but your entire body was pleading for you to be filled up entirely. You practically cried with relief when your fingers brushed the prongs of a hairbrush, and you wasted no time in ripping it from the dresser and lying back on the floor. 

The prongs of the brush were sticky with layers of dried hairspray, and the handle was worn from continuous use. For a moment, you hesitated, your lips twitching in a tiny frown. But then you thought, for just a second, about how fucking good it would feel to have something thick and nice inside of you, and you caved. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d used a seemingly innocent object to get off. In the past, you’d used your own hairbrush with only a little bit of shame afterward. This felt different than sheepish experimentation. This felt needy and pitiful. It slipped in easily— you were so wet that it made obscene noises with the slow push within you and each subsequent drag out. 

It was better than just your fingers. So much better. You cried out wantonly, tears beading at the corners of your eyes with each deliberate press against the spongy spot within you. 

Eddie groaned, and when you turned to look at him, you found that his gaze was already on you. You held eye contact as you fucked yourself, mouth ajar so moans could slip past freely. His hand was practically a blur from how desperately he was stroking his length. Your mouth watered at the sight, and you realized then what was holding you back from your peak. 

“Need to touch you, Eddie,” you said pathetically, your words broken by moans and whimpers. “Gonna die if I don’t touch you.” And there was no element of exaggeration to your words. Every cell of your being felt like it was going to swell and burst if you didn’t feel him, warm beneath you. Or on top of you, inside you— fucking anything. 

“C’mere,” he said, and you swallowed hard, tossing the hairbrush to the side to be forgotten hopefully for the rest of your life, however short that may be. You had to crawl across his worn-down carpet to reach him, your legs weak and more like gelatin than muscle.

You watched him extend his hand, shivering at the barest brush of his fingertips against your shoulder. His cock twitched in his lap when he felt your skin buzzing against his. 

His touch was like ice against your burning hot skin— the kind of refreshing you only feel with a drink of water after days in the desert. It ignited a need within you to simply touch. You settled in his lap, chest heaving at the contact, and pressed your chest to his. You rested your head against his shoulder, relishing as relief flooded your veins. 

“Feels good,” you said weakly, your lips brushing his skin. He tasted salty with sweat, musky with grime. Any other time you would’ve pushed him off to shower and gone to shower yourself (because, truthfully, you weren’t better off after your days on the run). But you relished in him, whether it be some subconscious need, or the spores invading every bit of your being. Without thinking, you laved your tongue along the column of his throat, moaning at the taste of his skin. 

His hands roamed the expanse of your body, never staying in one place for too long. You arched into his touch when they found the divot of your waist and he ran his thumb along your skin. 

The hunger was still there— more of a slow boil than an intense burn after the instant relief that simply touching him had given you, but you could feel the ache and need. You ground down against his lap, shuddering with each delicious brush of your clit against the length of him, heavy between you. His head fell back and knocked against the wall as he groaned, holding you firmly against him. 

“Don’t stop,” he gasped, his fingers dimpling the supple flesh of your ass, leveraging you closer. “Feels so good. ‘M almost there, I can fucking feel it.”

The sharp sting of a bite made you cry out as he dug his teeth into your shoulder. Hot tears welled up along your lashline not because it hurt, but because it felt so fucking good. 

You could feel every cell of your body aching to finish, for a reprieve from the ungodly desperation wreaking havoc on your body. Nothing was good enough. Even touching him, as delicious as it could be, did nothing to satiate that hunger. 

“Need more, Eddie,” you managed with great effort. “God, it fucking hurts so bad.”

“I know,” he gritted out. His lashes were wet with frustrated tears that he refused to let himself shed. He needed this as much as you did. “Let me make it better.”

You nodded wordlessly as you raised your hips up, positioning yourself just above the head of his cock. He bucked up, unable to stop himself, and you whimpered at the briefest brush against your clit. He stroked your hair as he guided himself to your entrance, holding your gaze as you sank down onto him. 

For all of the noise you had made before— the feeling of Eddie inside of you, stretching and filling you rendered you silent. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, breath staccato as you stilled and felt your walls clench around the welcome intrusion. 

Eddie mumbled something that could have been interpreted as praise against the column of your throat— tight, warm, wet, perfect. He wrote the words into your skin with each bare brush of teeth and tongue as he spoke. His hands were firm on your hips, holding you down so he was buried deep within you, just completely sheathed and pulsing with need.

You could barely trust your wobbly thighs as you raised your hips just enough to drop back down onto him. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, more intense and delicious than you had felt from any sexual experience in your entire life. You wouldn’t have been one to get off just on a guy putting his dick in you on any other occasion, but even with your clit being totally ignored, you felt your finish creeping up. And that was all from one measly movement. 

With a valiant effort, you continued riding Eddie, the silence of that initial stretch broken by your pornographic moans and the slap of skin against skin. The closer you brought yourself to your finish, the louder you got— going from soft moans to desperate cries.

The debauched, sinful noises escaping the lips of your best friend only served to spur you on. God, he just sounded so pretty. His lips were wet and parted to allow the swears and groans he couldn’t hold back. 

Your orgasm was like a sudden strike of lightning— igniting every cell, every fiber of your being. Your nails bit into Eddie’s shoulders as you fucked yourself through it with sporadic, jerky movements of your weakened hips. It felt like your heart might explode right through your chest when you finally came down, still buzzing with hunger, but deliciously fulfilled. 

After you raised up to slip off of him, you reached up with a trembling hand to stroke Eddie’s cheek with your thumb, smiling softly as he leaned into your touch. “Did you… y’know?” You asked, suddenly bashful. That’s how you figured whatever spores got into your system had fully worked themselves out. 

Eddie swallowed, shaking his head. “I’m a gentleman,” he said, his voice weak, but still biting with humor. “I needed to make sure you got off first. Isn’t that what nice guys do?”

You pressed your forehead against his, breathing in the stale air between the two of you. “Eddie, you’re my best friend, and I love you,” you said as a preface. “And it’s because I love you, that I’m asking you to use me to work out whatever it is that’s left in your system. It’s not gonna go away until you do. So lay me down and fuck me until you can’t anymore.”

Okay. Maybe there was still a little something kicking around in your veins. You were about to apologize for being crass when he practically tackled you onto the piles of blankets and bedsheets on the floor behind you, narrowly missing a toppled acoustic guitar. 

Your eyes were wide as you peered up at him, hair falling around him like curtains framing his beautiful face. In your daydreams, you might have imagined something like this— his arms caging you in, a lovestruck look of devotion in his eyes. Maybe that was there, buried beneath the haze of lust as he looked down at you like a meal he wanted to lick off of a plate. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said insistently, holding your gaze. You nodded wordlessly and held one of his hands in yours, squeezing encouragingly. The sight of him was enough to have that familiar, sick ache burning in your belly.

He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, then he pushed inside of you. 

No matter how you felt the first time, this was better. In your clearer state of mind, you could feel everything, sense everything. It wasn’t just you and your chase for climax anymore. You were there with him.

He practically collapsed on top of you, groaning out a desperate, “Fuck,” against your ear. His breath was hot against your skin, coming out in short pants as he fought himself for control. With him pressed on top of you, his weight bearing into yours, you could feel his heart hammering in his chest, pulsing against yours.

“C’mon, baby,” you encouraged, wrapping your legs around his hips so you could leverage him closer. He groaned deeper and let his head rest against your halo of hair. “You’ve gotta move. Give it to me— I can take it.”

His first desperate thrust stole the air from your lungs, so all you could do was brace yourself with nails digging into his shoulders. By the time you caught your breath, he was fucking you animalistically, panting and grunting into your ear. 

“Fuckin’ shit,” he groaned. “Feel so good.” A particularly rough, deep thrust made you cry out and you dug your heels against his ass to push him deeper. 

You knew he wouldn’t last. It was impressive that he’d managed to hold off when you were in his lap— warm, wet, and cumming harder than you had in your life. He wanted to be a gentleman then, but he wasn’t now. And thank fucking god for that. 

He was holding out as best as he could— trying to extend the euphoria of fucking you for as long as possible. His hands squeezed yours like a lifeline as he pounded into you, the moans ripping from his throat guttural and animalistic.

He came without warning, practically trembling as he buried himself deep within you. It felt like it lasted forever— hips shallowly thrusting as he shot off rope after rope of cum inside of you. When he finally felt his orgasm reside, he collapsed on top of you— sweaty and spent. 

You stayed like that for a while. Until he was soft inside of you and the heat, sweat, and stickiness between you made him (very reluctantly) pull out of you and roll onto his back. 

As he caught his breath, you stared up at the water-stained ceiling of his room. You couldn’t feel any effects of the upside down lingering within you, like you had now settled back into yourself.

The quiet was unsettling, but it felt wrong to disrupt it any more than necessary. So as sweat cooled on your skin, you reached for the corner of a blanket to tug around your body.

“You okay?” Eddie asked suddenly, staring up at the same water stain as you. 

“Mhmm,” you replied. You were sticky between your thighs— a mix of both of your releases. You needed a shower but couldn’t bring yourself to move. “You?”

“Yeah, I’m… I’m good.”

It went quiet again, and this time you relished in it. If any of it were normal, you’d turn on one of his tapes and try for some post-sex cuddles. But it wasn’t normal, and the familiar wash of regret settled over you. 

“It’s kind of fitting, I guess,” Eddie said, turning on his side to look at you. You blinked at him expectantly with wide eyes until he got the hint and explained. “Things are getting crazy, you know? With everything that’s happening, this could be our last night on Earth.”

You turned to your side and shoved his shoulder— weakly, because all of your energy had been completely sapped out of you. “Don’t be an idiot, Eddie. We’re gonna be fine.”

He smiled in the characteristically mischievous way that always managed to get him off of the hook when it came to you. “Of course we are. But I’m just saying, this was a hell of a way to spend what might be our last night. I’m glad it was with you.”

He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on your lips, hesitantly, like he was worried that now that you’d come to your senses you’d push him away. You leaned forward and kissed him back with every ounce of energy you could muster. With each gentle brush of your lips and tongue, you wanted to convey how much you loved him. More than a friend, more than a fuck, but more than just a boyfriend. He was everything. 

“Maybe when this is all over…” you trailed off, sheepish. Your lips brushed his as you spoke. “We can try this again for real. Like, without the weird upside down spores in our system.”

He nodded and kissed your forehead. Really, you should have radioed everyone else by then to let them know you were safe and had gotten through it (while sparing the how). But he just wanted to hold you, and you were content in his arms. 

Brahms is a brat, he likes to test the limits of what his S/O will let him get away with. He also loves to act up and say "no" just to see his dom get real mean and punish him. His favorite of these punishments is being bound tight at the wrists to the bed's headboard and getting fucked and edged until he's on the brink of tears, whining and pleading to be allowed to cum. If he has been really bad, his partner might just leave him there for a time so they can have some peace and quiet for once.