86, Baby!

Let go. Let go. Let go.

Wisps of pale moonlight flitted through the lonely pines, encroaching upon the road, heavy and claustrophobic. His hands, bare and cold, gripped the steering wheel. No one in the rearview. No one chasing after him, throwing broken bottles. No one. Darkness covered Eddie like a shroud.

In the two years that had passed since Chrissy’s death, he had become unwillingly nocturnal. With daylight came hushed whispers, scorned looks, senseless beatings. Violence in the form of vile words spat at him from across a parking lot by a mother with a child. He weathered it, for a little while. Told himself he was strong enough, that he was a survivor.

But that was part of the problem.

So many dead, and he lived. What did he have to show for it? To prove that he was worth saving?

Just let go.

He had already moved trailers twice. Someone set fire to the last one. ‘Acquitted’ didn’t seem to mean much to the people of Hawkins. The well of government hush money had all but run dry, and now he was nothing but an unemployed burden on his uncle. A spectre wearing the face of Eddie Munson. He stopped leaving the house during the day, stopped wearing his battle jacket, his rings. Too recognisable. Too distinct. Asking for trouble.

Just do it, you fucking coward.

The potholes that marred the tarmac made the suspension of the van wheeze and groan with the increasing speed. He could smell the burning rubber of his worn tyres, feel the chill seeping into his bones. The ache in the hollow of his chest, constricting his lungs as if by an invisible serpent. It was all too much, a frenzy of sensations, but all the while accompanied by the most profound emptiness.

He let go. A split second. He let go of the wheel.

Peace, that’s all he wanted- not death, not really. He realised that in the slow, creeping seconds that followed. He thought about Wayne. The tears that brimmed in his eyes, the undeniable shake of his limbs when Eddie finally returned to him. He had wrapped him in his arms like a small child and held on for dear life. Then Dustin- the fear and grief in the young boy’s eyes as he watched Eddie bleed out in his arms.

The van began to veer toward the middle of the road almost in slow motion as Eddie’s sense caught up with him. He didn’t want to die. He just wanted to feel alive again.

Latching back onto the steering wheel, his fingers wound tight around the leather to regain control. His whole body jerked against the driver’s side door with the momentum as he slammed on the brakes. In his careless distraction, he had failed to notice the tiny figure frozen in the amber of his headlights. Tyres screeched to a grinding halt, but it was already too late. A loud thump reverberated from the bumper, making Eddie’s blood run cold.

“Shit, shit, shit, no-” His heartbeat thrummed in his ears as he wrenched open the door, rounding the side to inspect the damage.

A single roe fawn laid weakly on the broken asphalt. Its hind was lame and gushing warm blood into the cracks below, bleating softly in pain. For a moment, Eddie stood transfixed, his hands coiled tightly into fists at his side. He had done this. It was his fault- and he had to make it right. As if jolted alive by some bolt of lightning, Eddie sprung into action and grabbed a threadbare blanket from the back seat, crouching down to look the animal in the eye.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked and wavered as he gently wrapped the deer in his embrace.

He felt every breath and vibration of the innocent creature clinging to life in his arms. Setting it down in the passenger seat, he let out a shaky breath, nerves twitching in the corner of his eye. Wind picked up and whistled through the trees, branches creaking and cracking, and he began to feel watched. There was barely ever a moment when he didn’t.

He gave a rushed, wary glance in every direction before clambering quickly back into the driver’s seat. There was only one place open this time of night, and he wasn’t sure he would make it.

The fax machine was jammed, again. You sat there, head resting on one hand, chewing at your pen. The red light flickered in your periphery, beeping expectantly at you. An ageing printer sat to your right, making a scraping noise with every page printed. A deafening symphony of boredom. At least the coffee was palatable, somewhat. You were lucky to get this job. That’s what you told yourself on nights like these; nights that bled into each other endlessly. A highschool dropout with no qualifications to speak of, you were fortunate that all you had to do was talk sweet and flash some cleavage, and now here you were. A receptionist. Reliable, respectable - mind numbing. The only saving grace was in the knowledge that in some small way, you were helping hurt animals to heal. Even if that help came in the form of filing documents. If you were honest, you had no idea what you wanted to do with your life. Every time you set out to make a choice, circumstances made the choice for you. If “winging it” were an Olympic sport, you would have won gold, if your car hadn’t broken down on the way to the stadium.

Maybe you were cursed - or this town was cursed. Just when you thought you had escaped, it had pulled you back like a black hole that devoured everything it touched. You chuckled to yourself incredulously, flexing your stiff fingers and rubbing your eyes, attempting to will away the sleep that lurked in the corners. The town wasn’t the black hole you decided, no - that was your mother. The only reason you came back to this shit heap. She was sick and couldn’t afford the hospital bills. It didn’t matter that she made you feel like nothing, that she tore you down with every word she uttered. She was your flesh and blood, and some part of you that you wished you could destroy felt an obligation. Months of working two jobs to support her, months of filing and pens that didn’t work, months of listening to your stuck up coworkers talk about their inane lives.

As you sat there, exhausted and hollow, you wondered - is this it? Jesus, is this all there is?

The glass door that opened up into the parking lot slammed open with such force that it had you torn from your musings. A gust of chill wind blew in errant leaves, and a tall, frantic figure with it.

“Help! Shit, someone help, please!”

You heard the panic in his voice before you really saw him. Save the on call vet, you were the only person in the building, and it took you a second to realise you were the someone he was calling for. Springing to your feet, you stepped swiftly around the front desk, and you were confronted with the shaking frame of quite possibly the prettiest man you’d ever seen. His large brown eyes were widened with alarm, his long auburn hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. There was something familiar etched into the creases between his brows, lines too old for such a young face. However the siren call of his stunning features were nevertheless overwhelmed by the visage of the slumped animal bleeding through a blanket in his rigid arms. Oh god.

“It just- it came out of nowhere, I couldn’t-” He rambled, voice quivering and straining in his throat as he held back tears. “- my van, didn’t s-stop in time, I-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s oka-” You began, invading his personal space to lay a comforting hand on his bicep. He flinched momentarily at the contact.

“Can you help, can- can you do something?” He interrupted, simply out of urgency.

Your heart shattered into pieces at the sight of him. Not many people in this town would do what he did. They would simply have driven away and let nature take its course. You felt the lump bubble up in your throat, the tightness in your chest as you gripped more firmly onto his arm. There was no movement from under the blanket. No sound. The air stilled in such a way that only happened when there was death. It was something you knew intimately now. You called for the doctor, your voice echoing out into the hallway.

“I’m so sorry,” Sniffling slightly, you shifted on your feet, making a conscious effort to look into his eyes. “It’s gone. There’s nothing we can do.”

It hurt, watching the realisation dawn on him. Even more so when the doctor came to collect the fawn, prying it out of the man’s reluctant arms. You watched as he regarded the small spots of dried blood on his empty hands, his vacant stare and quickening breath betraying him. He was moments away from a panic attack.

“Hey, hey look at me.” You prompted, bowing your head to meet his gaze where it was cast downwards.

It took him a moment as he seemed lost in some distant memory, his full lips bitten red and trembling. After a few beats, he complied, whiskey drenched irises trapped behind glassy tears. Slowly so as not to startle him further, you took your place by his side and laid a stern but gentle hand between his shoulder blades, ushering him forward. He turned his head to maintain eye contact, the intensity of your compassion anchoring him to reality.

“I’m going to take you into the back and make you some tea, is that okay?” You spoke as if to a child. He simply nodded.

The fluorescent lights flickered on, casting the room in an artificial warmth as you signalled for him to take a seat on a rickety plastic chair. Cages inhabited by various rescued animals were stacked atop one another, lining the paint chipped walls. Your entrance was barely a disturbance, eliciting a few disgruntled meows and a hiss from a grouchy possum. Their presence had always been calming to you, and you hoped it would have the same effect on the man shaking like a leaf in the corner. The knowledge that one had ended a life by their own hand would unsettle any reasonable person, but there was something deeper broiling under the surface, something more painful triggered by the events of the night. It was a cruel thing, to have so much empathy- to feel the sting of other’s suffering; but it made you uniquely adept at comfort. You turned to leave the room, but the ghost of a voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Don’t- don’t leave, please.” God, he sounded so small, so unsure.

“Okay, it’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.” You relented, grabbing another chair and wincing at the scraping sound as you dragged it along the floor to sit opposite him.

It was silent, save the dizzying hum of the overhead lights, and the few and far between grumblings of tired animals. The quiet allowed you to really see the boy in front of you- that’s what he looked like, in the moment. A frightened boy.

“I feel like I know you from somewhere, what’s your name?” You asked curiously, squinting slightly.

He stiffened, choosing to ignore the question. It perplexed you, but as your eyes drifted towards his wringing hands, you noticed a small, faded scar between his thumb and forefinger. All of a sudden, it clicked.

“...Eddie?” The realisation hit you like a blast of warm water, nostalgic and heartbreaking. “Eddie Munson, from Hawkins Middle?”

Eddie relaxed slightly, the sound of your voice soft and fond. He met your eyes with recognition, though he couldn’t quite place you. His breathing slowed as he seemed to scan his mind for the breadcrumbs your familiar features gave him. The diversion was clearly helping to shift his attention from the panic that threatened to overcome him moments before, and you felt a little bare under his discerning gaze.

“Holy shit, it’s you,” Eddie’s lips threatened to twitch into a smile, but only barely.

“Mrs Abernathy’s science class,” You reminded, smiling wide enough for the both of you. “We got paired for that project on… shit, what was it?”

“I don’t remember,” He replied softly, the smile now taking up full real estate. “I don’t think we actually did any of the work.”

It was so genuine, it was almost blinding.

“I just remember Thursdays after school, we’d hang out in the woods behind your trailer in that rusty old bathtub in the clearing,” As you spoke, the visual gained purchase in your mind, blotted blacks and greys replaced by outstanding technicolour. “That’s how you got that scar, right?”

Eddie traced the line of your finger towards where it pointed on his hand, nodding knowingly, the past flashing before his eyes as clear as day. Instead of doing the work you both had been assigned, you had opted to steal a carton of his Uncle Wayne’s cigarettes, taking them with you into the clearing. Neither of you had actually smoked before, so you sat facing each other in the discarded bathtub, heads leaning forward as you lit both of your cigarettes with one lighter. The subsequent coughing and spluttering led both of you firmly into fits of raucous giggling. It was then, in the nicotine induced delirium, that Eddie had caught his hand on the jagged edge of the porcelain, tearing the skin.

“Yeah, yeah it was.” Eddie chuckled to himself. “I was so freaked out you told me to just keep smoking, ‘cause that’s what the grown-ups did when they were upset. Nearly puked up my spleen.”

“I was such a bad influence, corrupting you like that.” Mirth dripped like honey from your words.

“I’m surprised you’re not in jail by now, honestly.” He quipped, returning your energy. Neither of you had seen the other for nearly a decade, but it was as if no time had passed.

For a moment, you could pretend you were still that wide-eyed and hopeful kid, full of grand plans and mischief to wreak. You got the sense that Eddie felt the same way, his shoulders relaxed, his thighs spread apart. Any trace of panic had melted away, and he seemed at ease in your company. It filled you with warmth, along with another creeping memory that you had held close to you all these years. Images of his trailer roof at midnight flashed behind your eyes, the stars like little pin pricks in the night sky. You could almost feel the summer evening breeze on your skin, and the plush softness of Eddie’s lips as you both shared a timid first kiss. It was sweet, and short lived, and the next day you had left Hawkins without a word. Over the years, the fine details faded, but the feeling never did.

A comfortable silence fell upon the room, and you wondered if Eddie was thinking the same thing, too held back by your suddenly limited acquaintance to say anything. Instead, the both of you sat reminiscing on your various but short lived adventures together that one summer, so long ago.

A faint meow interrupted your recollections, and Eddie turned his head to his right to follow the sound, finding a small black kitten pawing at the bars of its cage. It was missing an eye, and had angry purple scars littered across the white of its chest and neck. Inexplicably, the tiny creature was fascinated by Eddie’s presence, mewling and squeaking at him for attention. She had only been with the practice for a few weeks, and the only other person she had ever shown interest towards was you.

“Would you like to hold her?” You asked, observing this mutual curiosity.

“Huh? Oh, uh, sure, I guess.” Eddie supplemented, and you stood to open her cage.

Both were unsure of the other at first, Eddie laying a tentative hand at her back as she sniffed the hem of his damp grey t-shirt. Her tiny paws padded at the softness of his stomach, and he huffed a small sound of amusement. The lines of worry on his face were slowly ironing out, and god, you didn’t remember him ever being this beautiful. He was always cute, in a rough, boyish sort of way, but the years had sewn maturity into his features- an angelic definition that demanded to be seen.

“What’s her name?” He asked, becoming bolder as he hoisted her up and cradled her to his chest.

“Mr Jesus.” You offered plainly, hiding your blitheness and awaiting the impending confusion.

In a timely fashion, you were awarded with it in the form of a quizzical brow and a curl of his lips.

“Mr…Jesus?” Eddie enunciated slowly and pointedly, deft fingers scratching at her nape.

“They found her curled up on an old bible, hence the Jesus-” You began.

“-Naturally.”

“- and the formal Mr, because the little white bit on her chest makes it look like she’s wearing-”

“A tuxedo.” He smiled, thrilled at his summation, the whites of his teeth baring as he met your gaze.

“Exactly that.”

Your smile melted like butter into your words, the softness of the scene before you panging in your chest. Eddie’s attention was quickly diverted back to the kitten nuzzling into his armpit, and you watched on with tenderness as he crooned at her softly.

“It’s funny,” You tilted your head as you regarded the pair. “The strays always seem to have a way of finding each other.”

“Oh, so I’m a stray now?” His tone held mock offence, but the glint in his eye set you at ease.

“Well you look a little worse for wear since the last time I saw you.” Teasing. The way you always used to.

Unfortunately, it didn’t land the way you wanted it to. Eddie’s expression changed on a dime, and he stood to place Mr Jesus back in her cage.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No, no it’s okay. It’s just late,” He interrupted, wiping his hands on his worn jeans and making for the door. “I should go.”

His hand hesitated on the latch, and he turned to you one last time, his eyes on the grimy tiled floor.

“Thank you, for.. Y’know.”

You nodded, hoping to convey with your eyes the million things you wanted to say to him.

It was nice to see you. I hope I see you again. I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye.

After a beat, he exited, leaving you alone with the echoes of the past.

Hunted. That’s how he felt. It didn’t matter that it had been months since the last incident of any kind. It was a coiling dread that he could never shake, the moment he set foot outside his trailer. His old armour, fit to the purpose of deflecting high school bullying and sticking it to the mainstream, lay discarded in the bottom of his closet. It had been torn from his injured body, flecks of his own dried blood stiffening the material. Now his protection was an ancient black hoodie, clinging to his body uncomfortably in the heat of the morning sun in the shadeless alleyway. The hood was kept up at all times, a feeble attempt to hide himself from unforgiving eyes. Everyone in this town knew who he was - so why didn’t you?

Sleep had evaded him the rest of the night. He replayed the scene, over and over in his mind. The accident. The deer. The sticky, crimson dots of innocent blood on his fingertips. He could forgive himself for it, in time; but he couldn’t forgive himself for leaving you so abruptly. After you had been so kind.

At first, hearing his name fall from your lips had him frozen in terror. He had been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for you to recoil from him and brand him murderer. What he didn’t anticipate was the simmering affection in your doe eyes as you took him in, the unmistakable glow that emanated from you when you spoke of your childhood. He silently kicked himself for not recognising you sooner. In his defence, the last time he saw you, you had a missing tooth and acne, and quite possibly the dorkiest bangs he’d ever seen. He thought you had hung the moon and stars, even back then, but it was nothing compared to the unique beauty you had grown into. Sitting in that chair across from you, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Unburdened. As if you were holding the weight from his shoulders and bearing it with your smile. Then you mentioned his appearance; albeit jokingly, and the glimmering oasis of his youth dissolved around him. The faint purpling scars that vandalised his body twinged with a dull pain that would never let him forget one simple fact. He wasn’t the same, and he never would be.

“Jesus man, you look like something out of Evil Dead II,” Steve remarked, stepping out into the alley behind Family Video. “When’s the last time you slept?”

He leant against the crumbling brick wall with one arm, reaching into his pocket for a packet of cigarettes and looking over Eddie’s form with a friendly concern.

“And you walk around like an extra from The Brady Bunch.” Eddie deflected, mumbling around the filter of his own cigarette, hanging loosely from his lips. There was no malice in his words, just good natured ribbing somewhat dulled by exhaustion.

“Seriously dude,” Steve narrowed his eyes, “You doin’ okay? Henderson said he hadn’t heard from you in a couple weeks.”

“Yeah, just… time got away from me, I guess.” He lied. He had been avoiding Dustin because he knew that his sixteenth birthday was coming up, and the kid would ask him to show face. He couldn’t.

The awkward pause lasted a beat too long.

“I uh, I met somebody.” Eddie deflected yet again. Girl talk, yes - that would be enough to distract Steve from the dark sagging circles around his eyes.

“You’re shitting me, right?” Steve huffed out a laugh, entirely disbelieving.

Eddie shifted nervously on his feet, taking a thoughtful drag and exhaling to buy himself time. He had indeed met you, but not in the manner he was feigning. A niggling part of his subconscious whispered to him - it could be.

It could, if he weren’t a coward. You were pretty, and sweet, and you didn’t look at him like you wanted to hurl at the sight of him. But… he was a mess, a fuck-up, and to top it all off- not an ounce of know-how in the bedroom.

“No, uh, I hit a deer with my van last night-”

“Did you at least get its number?” Steve interjected, entirely too pleased with himself.

“Eat shit, Harrington.”

“Cmon, man, I’m only kidding- tell me about her,” He spoke, adding quickly, “or him.. them, whatever.”

He looked so genuinely excited, that Eddie dared not back down.

“She’s the receptionist at the vet. We kinda knew each other way back.” Eddie offered, moving to Steve’s side and leaning his back against the wall.

“...and?” Steve prompted, eyebrows raised.

“And she’s nice. Pretty.” It was an understatement if ever there was one. Eddie thought you were exquisite to look at.

“Nice and pretty. Wow. Sounds like the full package.” Steve’s penchant for sarcasm knew no bounds.

Inexplicably, Eddie felt the need to defend you.

“It’s not just that, man,” He sighed, “She… made me forget. About everything. Just for a moment, y’know? It was like I could be that guy. The kind of guy who could take a girl out on a date without getting a molotov cocktail thrown at him.”

His own honesty surprised him. He hadn’t realised just how much he craved blissful normalcy, and someone to share it with.

“So, what’s stopping you, aside from the obvious?” Steve could be a little dense at times, but the shiftiness in Eddie’s stance wasn’t exactly hard to miss.

“You know what.” He deadpanned.

Silence.

Eddie raised his eyebrows in insinuation. There was no way he could even attempt to go after a girl like you with no experience under his belt.

More silence.

He gave up and made a crude penetrating gesture with his hands.

“Oh shit, yeah, you’re still a virgin!” Steve clicked his fingers as if he’d just won a round of charades, too exuberant to realise his tactlessness.

“Tell it to the world, why don’t you, asshole.” Eddie pinched the lightly freckled bridge of his nose in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” He offered, though his chuckling made it seem disingenuous. “I’m sorry- look, you’re worried that you get a date with this girl, you go to hook up and you disappoint, right?”

Eddie hummed quietly in acknowledgement, wishing the ground would swallow him whole.

“So, as your only adult friend, let me give you a piece of advice-”

“Oh so we’re friends now?” Eddie teased, stubbing out his cigarette beneath his foot and trying to belay his nerves

“Shut up- my advice is- a practice run.” Steve seemed as though he were waiting for a round of applause.

He was met with an incredulous glare.

“You find some random chick, have a one night stand, and then it’s over with- no pre-show anxiety for the main event.”

For some reason, Eddie found that statement endlessly amusing, his lips curling up into a smirk.

“Sure. Step one: find a girl that doesn’t think I’m a cult leader; Step two, go home and get high because that girl doesn’t exist.” His laughter was genuine, but entirely self deprecating.

“I mean… there are some girls in this town who could be persuaded,” Steve hinted, trying not to be crass, “in exchange for some compensation.”

Oh. Right. That.

It wasn’t as if he’d never thought about it, in passing. He was getting a little tired of his own right hand, coupled with a depth of loneliness and a yearning for physical touch that sometimes eclipsed all else. He would often lie awake at night, escaping into a fantastical reverie where someone could love him. He imagined what they might look like, how they might sound. He pictured their hands roaming his body, stroking his hair. A beautiful lie he would tell himself that only made the truth hurt that much more.

“Whatever, man-” Eddie dismissed, though he couldn’t dismiss the seed of the thought that had been planted.

“Just something to think about.” Steve relented, ruffling through the large pockets of his work vest in search of something. “Anyway, I got you that half you asked for.”

He produced a medium sized freezer bag of weed, holding it out in presentation. Eddie swiftly snatched the bag, stuffing it into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Thanks, man. I owe you one.” Tipping his head in gratitude, he racked his brain for an excuse to leave. Being out in the open this long was tempting the fates.

He didn’t have to wait long to find one. A thunderous crack erupted from behind him like a gunshot, and the colour drained from Eddie’s face as he scrambled to hold onto Steve’s arm. His grip was bruising as his breathing quickened and his muscles wound tight enough to snap.

“Hey- hey, Munson, chill out,” Steve grabbed him by the shoulders firmly, “It’s just a car backfiring, it’s okay.”

Eddie’s head whipped around in all directions in search of a threat, ultimately coming up empty. Steve was right. It was just a car, no big deal. Nevertheless, every instinct he had was telling him to run, to hide - and he felt inclined to listen.

“It’s okay.” He repeated, wide hazel eyes resolute in their reassurance.

“I’m- I’m fine.” Eddie attempted to shake off any external signs of fear, releasing Steve's arm with a trembling hand that he quickly hid in the pocket of his jeans.

Steve remained unconvinced, his worried stare flitting over Eddie’s features. His one hand fell to his side, huffing out an exasperated breath, while the other rubbed down the length of his face.

Eddie was an open book about everything; everything except his suffering. He had spent months after Vecna’s attack in a perpetual echo chamber, recounting every forged detail over and over for the court. Hopper had coached him through it, told him it was just for appearances; that the suits would make it go away, and they did. Legally. But when he descended down the courthouse steps for the final time, the crowd screamed for their pound of flesh. The sound was the underscore to all of Eddie’s nightmares.

Forcibly relaxing his muscles, Eddie adopted a mask of humour that was demonstrably false.

“You better get back to work or Keith’s gonna have you alphabetising the adult section again, and you know what that shit looks like under blacklight.” He smiled, but it never reached his eyes.

“Yeah,” Steve hesitated, but the need to be literally anywhere else was evident in the way Eddie stood, hunched in on himself. He gave him an amicable pat on the back before turning toward the fire exit. “I’ll uh, see you around?”

“Yeah, see you around.”

With that, Eddie made his way back to his van. The stale scent of cigarette smoke and cloying damp was a balm on his frayed nerves, allowing himself to relax in the security of the enclosed space. He laid his head against the steering wheel, exhaling a deep breath that had been trapped in his chest. He thought about you. He had spent so long resigned to the hatred that venomous tongues would spit, that the kindness that dripped like honey from yours ignited a buried hope in him. A burning desire to be seen. To be wanted. It felt shallow, after everything he had been through, to be so concerned about his lack of sexual competence- but the niggling doubt wouldn’t cease. Even if he never stood a chance with you, his inexperience still felt like an obstacle, one he wanted removed. In that moment, in the stifling heat of his beat up old van, he was sure he was losing his mind.

He wasn’t actually considering paying for sex… was he?

Four walls… a roof, a fireplace, a feeling.

Home.

It was something you had been chasing all your life - in places, or in people. This place; this Frankenstein's monster of rotting shingles and cobwebbed windows, was the furthest thing from home you could imagine. You climbed the termite-ridden porch steps, wincing at each moaning creak that slipped out from under your feet. The evident disrepair of your mother’s house remained one of the only things for which she was without fault. Times had been hard and the cancer in her lungs even more so. Any despicable thoughts you had of karma and divine punishment were ones you pushed down as deep as you could. She had taken many things from you, but you would be damned if she would take your humanity.

Making sure to remain as quiet as possible, you slipped off your heels and carried them in hand. The old brass key click-click-clicked in the rusted lock as you turned it, and you edged your way into the dusty living room.

Your mother lay sleeping, snoring loudly over the hum of the TV set. It cast a warm glow upon her face, and for a sweet moment, all you could see was the softness. None of the harsh lines and divots between her brows, or the scornful turn of her lips. In the saccharine seconds between each of her heavy breaths, you could almost forget why you ever left in the first place. You could scrub clean the wounds she left.

It wasn’t your intention to leave Hawkins without a word to your friends- to Eddie. The night you shared your first kiss, sickly sweet and innocent, you had returned home past curfew. She had been lying in wait for you; sat cross legged on a kitchen stool, her cigarette burning down to the stub. In your mind, the events that followed were a blur of acidic words and blame, tears and bruises. It was always the same. But the cracks in the dam had been widening. The pressure had built and built until you could no longer stay silent under her heel. A swinging arm meant for your cheek was stopped in its tracks, and you had gripped at her wrist. Fire burned in your gaze hot enough to rend whole cities asunder, and for the first time in your life, you saw her. Not a monster. Not some devil. Just a woman- frightened and bitter.

That night, you packed your things, and she watched you as you left. She never tried to stop you- and you never looked back.

That was until six months ago.

She had called you, coughing and spluttering, all full of honeyed words and regrets. The choice should have been an easy one, to leave her to rot, but that wasn’t you. You were all she had. So you left behind your life in the city, your comfortable apartment, your budding acquaintances.It wasn’t much, but it was yours. It was autonomy and independence.

Now, as you scaled the stairs to your old bedroom, you felt very much as though you were fourteen again. Tiptoeing, hiding, keeping secrets. Anything to hold on to a shred of who you had managed to become in her absence.

The room had remained much the same. Dull mint green paint faded into patches of mould, band posters peeling from the damp walls. The only difference was the hoard of boxes and junk littering the floor, making the space even smaller, more suffocating. You reached somewhat blindly underneath your bed, feeling for an old glass jar. A tiny sliver of hope. The slightly meagre stack of twenty dollar bills you had earned tonight went in there for safekeeping, hidden again beneath the clutter. Almost every cent you earned went into your mother’s care, but not this. This was yours. Your lifeboat in the storm.

A shrill ring pierced your ears, and you clambered to answer the phone at your bedside before the sound awoke the house. The receiver clicked, and a voice brittled by years of smoke addressed you warmly on the other end.

“Mornin’ sugar. How was it last night?” The older woman asked, and you could hear her puffing her way through her usual pack of Newports.

“Hey, Viv,” You let out a long breath, crossing one leg over the other and scratching at the back of your neck. “Yeah, it was fine. You got something for me?”

“You sure? You sound like shit.” Vivian was always coarse, direct. She felt no need to sugarcoat.

You did sound like shit, and you felt like it. It wasn’t a lie- last night was fine. It was business as usual, nothing to report, aside from your aching muscles and scratchy throat. The client was happy with your work, and you were happy with their money.

“I’m sure. Now come on, you never call me for nothing. What is it?” You insisted quietly, a little short in your delivery.

“Jeez, kid, untwist your panties. I got another client for you, sounded like a real nervous type,” A long exhale of smoke followed. “Wants to meet tonight at the Motel on Randolph, y’know, the real classy one.”

A small chuckle left your lips. You knew the one- cheap, seedy, secluded. If it weren’t for Vivian, you might be apprehensive, but you trusted her judgement. She vetted each client as best she could before sending them to you. Any residual worry was placated by the small pen knife you kept in your purse.

“How nervous are we talking?” You asked, trying to gauge what persona you needed to wear.

“Could barely get through his sentence without stuttering. Try not to scare him off.” She joked, referencing your occasional penchant for intimidation. The men in this town were easily caught off guard by a woman who didn’t heel like a dog at their word.

“Don’t you worry, I’ll be real sweet.” You spoke, fragments of your mask for the night already beginning to come together.

“He asked specifically to meet after 2am, real night owl. And sugar-” She paused, before adopting a slightly more serious tone. “I want my cut in the mail before next week. No later.”

“Yeah, I know.” You relented, twisting the phone cord around your fingers. “I’ll get it to you.”

“You’re a good kid. Now get some sleep, I don’t want to hear about you tapping out halfway.” Her voice rattled in her throat, she coughed, and then she hung up. Ever the charmer.

The red glow of the motel sign coruscated in the delicate raindrops that danced across the window. Night had come in softly, and you sat at the weathered vanity, applying the final touches to your make-up. A tasteful satin chemise draped around your body like water, the sensation on your skin helping to calm your anxious energy. The waiting was always the hard part. It gave your mind time to dwell on little insecurities. Did you look appealing enough? Would you be able to please them in the way they wanted?

Nervous, Viv had said. The client sounded nervous. Perhaps it was his first time with someone like you. You knew that in those situations, you needed to adopt a certain demeanour. Not firm, but guiding. Leading the way with a gentle smile and an unassuming touch. Not unlike the way in which you handled the animals at the practice.

It was a delicate balance, keeping your two worlds entirely separate. Anything that fell outside of this town’s spectrum of normality was fiercely condemned, and for the sake of maintaining your day job, discretion was paramount. Though the men that took pleasure in your body by night would spurn you by day, you were used to it. It suited you. You liked sex, and you needed money. It didn’t make you wrong, or dirty, or used; anymore so than working for some exploitative corporation. It was simply transactional.

That’s not to say that it was without downsides. The work could be boring, repetitive. Lonely. Any notion you might have had about romance and dating had been all but washed away. You accepted that no one would want you if they knew, but it didn’t stop you from pining for affection. Excitement. Something different to shake up this endless hamster wheel.

Without intention, your thoughts drifted to Eddie. His sudden reappearance in your life after so many years had set you on edge in a way you hadn’t felt for a long time. He was a far cry from the boy you once knew, but the man that he was had stirred something in you. You found yourself daydreaming about his smile, how dazzling it was. How his curls lay against the curve of his shoulders, almost effortless. You bit at the tip of your finger, remembering how his damp shirt had clung to the outline of his torso, his scent as he sat across from you. Never had a man had such a dizzying effect on you so quickly. But, frivolity aside, it was unlikely you would see him again. Even if you did, he might not even want to know you, given what you were. It was just one more fleeting fancy to put to rest, in favour of your stark reality. Rousing from your imagination, you gazed into the mirror a final time, and stood to pull the hem of your stockings above your knee. Less is more, Viv always said, and you hated when she was right. Every facet of your being tonight was crafted carefully, every hair in place to assure that you were a fantasy come to life. A pristine, unconquered land waiting to be explored.

A knock at the door, timid in nature. You waited a moment, taking a long breath, before gliding over with as much confidence as you could muster. In the stillness between seconds, no amount of cherry red lipstick and dollar store perfume could have prepared you for what was on the other side.

“…Eddie?”

—————

Big thank you to my amazing partner @latenightsimping and the wonderful @pinkrelish for reading through this and giving me notes. Bat my darling I love you

Eddie chuckles softly as he cups your breasts in his hand, trying to memorise the soft curves of your body. He's right, other lovers had stolen you away from each other over the years, and even now the timing is terrible. It's the night before Eddie's band leaves for a tour. Nothing too crazy, it's not a worldwide tour. He'd reassured you when he saw your face fall at the realisation this meant you'd be stuck in Hawkins without your best friend for 3 months.

You pull him closer, as though you could bind your bodies together to keep him here. Your kisses become needy and desperate, needing more of Eddie's touch, more of his lips. Eddie is only too happy to give you anything you want tonight, meeting your kisses with similar fervour while his hands grow braver in their exploration of you, slipping between your thighs, under your skirt until they are ghosting over a wet patch on your underwear.

Eddie pulls away from the kiss slowly as though the action of separating his lips from yours is one that causes him great pain.

"What do you want?"

You shake your head, you don't want to say it aloud. It might burst the bubble you're in.

"I'm not going to touch you until you tell me what you want."

"You. I want you. All of you."

Eddie glances down pointedly, highlighting that there is no space between you,

"You have me. Tell me what you want me to do."

You bite down on your lip, this was new territory.  Not just with Eddie, but a guy asking what you wanted instead of just taking whatever he wanted from you.

"I want you to touch me." Your cheeks are blazing red and you flicker your eyes away from Eddie, from the corner of your eye you see him open his mouth, ready to ask you to be more specific, then closing as you clasp his hand in yours and guide it between your bodies, down to where you desperately need his touch. 

He's slow at first, determined to draw the evening out for as long as he can, already planning to spend the next day sleeping on the bus to make up for the lack of sleep he’ll be getting tonight. His hands stroking an almost agonisingly slow path from your knees up your thighs, his eyes never leave yours, wordlessly checking in with you, slowing when you shiver as his fingers ghost over your underwear,

“Relax, it’s just me.” Eddie’s smile is far too sweet and innocent for someone whose pointer finger is currently tracing your pussy through ever dampening underwear, your breath catching as he lazily brushes past your clit, fully aware of what he’s doing. 

“Eddie, fuck, don’t tease.” You breathe out, struggling to speak without your voice trembling.

“Why not? We’ve got all night.” Eddie’s lips press to your neck as his fingers hook in your underwear, not removing, just pulling aside, before coming away abruptly, 

“Hold onto these for me would’ya?” Eddie removes his rings and quickly slips them over your fingers, “I want those back.” He says with faux sternness before his features are softened by yet another smile as he leans back down to kiss you and glides his large hand back down your body, pulling your panties to the side once more and running his fingers through the wetness there. You half expect a comment from him, and you can see on his face that he’s resisting the urge to tease you about how wet you are from minimal teasing.

“Don’t say it.” You mumble, forcing your eyes to focus on the way the light from the nightstand glints on your new accessories.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You can fucking hear the smirk in his voice and are about to reprimand him when he slips his middle finger inside you all the way to the hilt in one fluid motion that knocks the air from your lungs.

“Shit! That’s not fair, going straight for two.” You pant out as he starts running his thumb over your clit, letting you adjust to the intrusion. You look up at him and see an amused expression on Eddie’s face. “What?”

“Baby. That’s not two, that’s just one.” He curls his finger in an attempt to prove himself, “Poor sweetheart, I’m going to have to spend hours making sure you can take all of me aren’t I?” As he speaks you can feel his finger curling faster, seeking. As the rough pad of his finger grazes your g-spot your hips lift off the sofa to chase the sensation.

“Gotcha.” Eddie doubles down, pumping his finger inside of you while curling, the sensation maddening as it means his finger is incessantly grazing your g-spot while his thumb presses down, rubbing deep circles into your clit.

“Jesus christ.” You hiss out as his handiwork sends you hurtling towards an orgasm faster than you’ve been able to accomplish by yourself, never mind with a partner. 

“Think you can take another?” Eddie asks as his pointer finger threatens to breach your tight hole, you nod, afraid of the pitch of the whine that will leave your lips if you speak but Eddie shakes his head,

“I want to hear you tell me you want this. Please?” 

Your voice cracks on your first attempt as he starts to pump his finger harder and faster, relishing in your struggle to hold onto your composure, “Eddie, fuck please. Need another.” You manage on your second attempt, he contemplates asking you to be more specific but takes pity at the way you whine his name, so he slips his second finger in after yanking your panties down to your ankles, not waiting for you to kick them off before he’s slipping two fingers inside you.

“You okay?” His eyebrows come together in concern as he hears the hiss that escapes you as you feel the stretch, “We can slow down.”

“No!” Eddie raises an eyebrow now, smirking slightly at the devastation in your voice, “Don’t want to stop, feels so good. ‘M so full.” 

Despite your insistence that you didn’t need to slow down, Eddie does slow down, to a pace that would be too slow if he wasn’t pressing your g-spot so firmly, focusing on intensity rather than speed, relishing in the way your tight walls feel around his fingers, the way the more pressure he applies the higher pitched your moans get. Your eyes become to heavy to hold open any longer and as you close them you feel Eddie shift from your side to rest between your thighs, the tickle of his hair on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh making you shudder, and the shudder making your walls tighten over Eddie’s fingers for a split second. You feel Eddie’s hot breath over your pussy and your chest lurches in anticipation of his tongue hitting the skin there, but it doesn’t, and so you raise your head to look at him with a questioning stare,

“Well hi there.” Eddie speaks casually, as though his fingers aren’t currently pushed to the hilt inside you, relentlessly rubbing over your g spot and sending you closer to the knife edge of an orgasm with every ministration. “Something wrong?”

“Want to feel your tongue… if you want to.” You tack on the second part to your sentence a little shamefully, a force of habit.

“ ‘if I want to’ what kind of man wouldn’t?” Eddie asks reassuring you with a cheeky grin before holding your eyes as he slowly sinks his head between your thighs, dragging his tongue from his fingers up to your clit, lavishing the sensitive button with slow licks that make your thighs shake, and just when you think you’ve peaked he wraps his pillowy lips around your clit, sucking into his mouth softly, your shift yourself onto your elbows to try to save your back from the shitty couch that might be older than you and Eddie put together and Eddie winks at you as your hips buck up into his mouth, a hum from his mouth has you throwing your head back to let loose a moan that Eddie could only describe as ‘fucking heavenly’ and your hands knotting in his hair, holding him close as he pushes you over the precipice of your orgasm. Eddie helps you to ride it out, keeping his motions consistent until you’re shaking and practically crying out mercy.

“Remind me why we’ve never done this before.” You breathe out in a giggle as Eddie hovers over you, lips glossy with your slick.

“Because we’re very fucking stupid. Bedroom? Please?” Eddie stands up to remove his shirt and holds a hand out to you to help you up, you shake your head, 

“You think I can fucking stand after that? You must be mad.” You giggle as you sit up, taking Eddie’s hand, and wincing slightly when you find it still soaked, you look up at him and he shrugs,

“Well I wasn’t going to wipe my hand on the couch!” He carefully helps you to your legs, leaning down to grab your underwear from the couch and stuffing it in his pocket. Eddie wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you to his bedroom, closing the door behind you both.

You move to undress and Eddie holds up a hand,

“May I?” You nod and step closer to him, lifting your arms to help him remove your shirt, “You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, half to himself. He’s fairly sure if he keeps staring at you he might just blow his load in his jeans which would probably not leave you with the best impression before he goes off for 3 months, but before he can busy himself with your skirt you’re removing his shirt, practically tearing the fabric of the threadbare shirt in your enthusiasm, Eddie’s hands meet yours at his belt as you fiddle with it,

“Fashion over function, I hate this.” You huff and he laughs, unbuckling it with ease,

“Just takes practice and a bit of know-how.” Eddie lifts his hands, allowing you to finish removing his jeans before he unzips your skirt in one quick motion, the fabric landing on the floor and pooling at your feet. 

“Well unfortunately someone just has to go on tour, leaving me with no time to practise.” You make a sad face at Eddie as you sit on the bed, shifting back until your back is propped up by pillows. 

“Fuck it, I’ll stay behind. Many bands go on tour without their lead singer right?” Eddie jokes, crawling onto the bed and hovering over you, erection creating a painfully obvious tent in his underwear that you can resist the urge to grasp over the fabric, making Eddie’s hips buck slightly and a low groan escape his lips,

“Don’t think I can actually handle you teasing me tonight sweetheart.” Eddie sounds almost apologetic, “I’d like to do a little better than a two pump chump job if we’re not going to be able to do this again for a while.”

“Two pump chu- jesus christ do you talk to all your conquests like this? And who says we’ll ever do this again?” You tease, 

“No, you’re just very lucky. You’re getting the Eddie Munson fucking his best friend experience.”

“And you’re making me feel so special.” You laugh before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down until his lips are locked with yours, you can feel the smile on his face as your lips join. Your actions mirror his from on the couch as you yank his underwear down to his thighs, he twitches as the coldness from his own rings on your hands brush over the newly exposed skin. 

“Need… Need a condom.” Eddie pants slightly as he comes up for air from your kissing, cheeks flushed and pupils dilated. “Can’t have you calling me while I’m on tour telling me you’re late and making me shit myself.”

“Two things. We’re about to have sex, you cannot talk about shit right now. And also, I’m on the pill.” 

“You sure?” Eddie looks up, condoms are non-negotiable for him with any of his sexual partners, but you’re different. You’re you. And he wants to feel every inch of you along his cock without a barrier in the way. 

“I’m sure, want to feel you. Never wanted to feel anyone like I want to feel you.” 

That’s all the motivation he needs to slip inside, not bothering to hold back the throaty grunt that leaves him as he sheathes himself fully inside you, dipping his head to meet your lips with his own once more, in a searing hot kiss that feels like electricity inside you. He pulls back first, resting his sweat dampened bangs on your forehead, looking into your eyes as he thrusts into you with a steady rhythm, you’d never felt so full in all your life, and the sensation is only heightened by the way Eddie’s body is crushed against yours, you catch a glimpse in the mirror near the foot of his bed and by the way your legs are wrapped around him it’s difficult to discern where you start and he ends.

“Feels stupidly good.” Eddie moans out, and you nod eagerly in agreement,

“L-love feeling you stretching me out Eddie,” You dig your nails into his back in response to a thrust so deep and hard against your g-spot that it knocks you breathless for a moment, Eddie notices and repeats the action, pulling back from your face and grabbing your legs to place them on his shoulders.

“Tell me if it gets too much?” Eddie asks, slowing his rhythm down like he suspects your brain is foggy from the relentless pleasure he’s giving you.

“Don’t flatter yourself big boy.” He laughs at this and picks up his pace gradually until he’s slamming into you, setting a brutal pace that gives you no chance of being able to catch your breath, or think, in fact your thoughts have dwindled to only one coherent thought of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. You’re having a similar effect on him, only able to focus on how tightly your pussy is hugging his cock with every thrust. Knowing he can’t stave of his orgasm for as long as he’d like he turns his focus to making sure you cum before he does, eager to watch you come undone on his cock.

“Too much.” You mewl out as he glides a hand down your thigh, thumb finding your clit with ease and rubbing tight circles into the sensitive flesh.

“Nah, you can take it, can’t you?” Eddie pants out as he keeps pace and carries on toying with your clit, sending blinding sparks of pleasure throughout your whole body. You nod in agreement, you can take it, you want to take everything he wants to give to you. Your thighs start to shake of their own accord and your breaths become shallower, sharp intakes as you feel yourself on the edge of cumming,

“Let go, pretty girl, let me have it.” Eddie coos at you, hair sticking up at odd angles and sweat droplets on his tattooed skin, and its that sight that pushes you over the edge, cumming with loud cries of Eddie’s name as he fucks you through your orgasm, his own hitting him while you’re still riding yours out, the sensation of being filled up with Eddie’s cum only heightening your pleasure. Eddie gently lets your legs back down to the bed and lays beside you, breathing hard, you turn to face him, keeping your legs clamped shut to avoid making too much mess on Eddie’s bed. Not that you think he’d care. 

“Hi.” Eddie’s smiles at you, rubbing a soothing hand on your side, “Please tell me that was as good for you as it was me.”

“Better than I imagined.” You admit before you can stop yourself,

“Did you imagine I was shit in bed? That’s a little rude.” You both laugh and you shake your head,

“Not, like, intentionally, more like I had to convince myself you would be so I didn’t try and jump your bones everytime you wanted to hang out.” Eddie laughs, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close to him, then sniffing you and pretending to recoil.

“Showers all yours if you want it.”

“Asshole.” You say it fondly, and flip him the bird as you shimmy off the bed.

“How am I the asshole? I know you don’t like feeling sweaty and it makes you feel gross.” He holds his hands up in protestation of his innocence,

“It's the sniff and recoil that makes you an asshole Edward.” You call out as you enter the bathroom, having wrapped Eddie’s robe around you to make the perilous journey out from the warmth of Eddie’s room.

Eddie showers after you and practically attaches himself to you once he joins you in his bed, holding you in the little spoon position until you’re forced to wriggle free because he runs so hot and you feel like you’re cuddling with a white hot furnace.

After the previous night you could be forgiven for being a little blindsided by the fact you wake up alone in the empty trailer. Eddie’s suitcases missing from the floor and your own clothes placed over a chair as neatly as possible. 

You get redressed, and call out as you peek around the door to his bedroom, maybe he was in the living room? But no luck. You grow angry, surely not. Surely Eddie would not fuck you, whisper sweet nothings into your ear, slept with you in his arms, and then leave without a goodbye? You spot an envelope with your name on it in Eddie’s messy chicken scratch handwriting, you tear it up, growing ever more angry. The contents of the envelope does not do much to calm you down.

Had a lot of fun last night. Thank you. Key is under doormat. Will call from hotel when I get there.

-E

Eddie does not call that night.

In fact it's two weeks since you hear from Eddie until he calls you on a shitty staticy line that you can barely make a single word out of, before it clicks and the line goes dead. 

Corroded Coffin are doing really well on tour. Like, being mentioned on tv well. You don’t begrudge their success, just avoid looking at their frontman in any photos or videos shown. 

Honestly, you’re still so confused. It was totally out of character for Eddie, Eddie who once turned up at your house with chocolate and a heat pad in the middle of the school day when you were out sick with cramps. Eddie who cried at Dirty Dancing when you saw it in the theatre together, and then tried to insist they were tears of disappointment because he had been missold on the premise of just how dirty the dancing was.

You’re coming home from a shift at the diner, sore footed and hair smelling less than fresh when you slump down on your sofa to watch tv, and its like he’s fucking haunting you. Yet another news piece on Eddie’s success and more photos of him on stage. You go to get up and stop in your tracks when you see a photo of the whole band, surrounded by groupies, Eddie with his arms around two of them, looking entirely too happy with himself.

You click the tv off and silently walk away, feet suddenly not too sore to prevent you from taking a long walk around town, and yet everywhere you go, there he is again. He’s at the liquor store, both of you trying to buy alcohol despite being so obviously underaged. He’s at the library, throwing bits of screwed up paper at your head, determined to distract you from your school work. He’s at the arcade, hugging you close when you win a game and smelling your hair in such an obvious manner that you and pretty much the entire building notice.

You don’t turn on the tv much after that night, it made you feel a little sick to know that you could be so easily thrown aside for a leggy blonde in fishnets. Hey, maybe she had a nice personality but that wouldn’t do much to comfort you. 

3 weeks pass and a couple more shitty static phone calls from Eddie are attempted. Then a knock sounds at your door, you open it to a large bouquet of roses in your face, a courier appearing from behind them as he confirms your name and hands you the flowers. You frown, suspecting you know the sender already, there’s a small white card on the flowers which confirms your suspicions. 

Phones fucking suck. I’m visiting Hawkins this weekend, see you then? Hope this arrives before I do haha!

-E

The roses are promptly dumped in the bin. 

It’s Friday morning. You have no time to make up any kind of lie that could explain why you wouldn’t be able to see Eddie. So you settle for confrontation when he arrives, you deserve to know what the fuck happened overnight for him to suddenly flip on you the way he did. It’s 7pm when Eddie finally turns up, hair still damp from a shower hastily taken when he got home.

“Hey sweet thing!” Eddie leans in to kiss you and you back up, he looks a bit taken aback by your withdrawal. “Is, uh, is everything okay?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?” You fold your arms, setting your jaw.

Eddie is blinking like a deer in the headlights, “Okay, I’m not sure why you’re so mad at me…” 

“Hmm, maybe the fact you slept with me and then left me without a fucking word for two weeks and then couldn’t be bothered to find a decent line to call me on so we could actually talk.” You pause for breath holding up a finger, determined to say your piece. “And then I get to see you slutting around with a bunch of groupies right on my tv, virtually every night.”

Eddie adjusts his weight between his feet, not used to this kind of interaction with you, “Can I explain myself please?”

“Please do.”

“I haven’t been ‘slutting around with groupies’ as you put it. Those are just photos for fans, I’m not trying to sleep with every woman I see.” He stops, fiddling with his rings on his hand, the same ones you’d worn while he fucked you. “I’m sorry I left in the morning. That was not okay. I just, I got freaked out that we’d been intimate like that and I was about to go on tour and the timing was so bad and I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“Okay well not all of us can just swan off on tour whenever things get too big or scary for us to cope with.” 

“I’m sorry, truly. I regret all of it and if I could take it back I would.” 

That hurts.

“You regret it?” Your voice cracks in a way that feels like a betrayal.

“Fuck. No. I don’t regret having sex with you. I regret leaving. I regret that I didn’t have the sense to tell you how I felt sooner. Shit I regret not begging you to come with me.” 

You soften, you’re still hurting but you can see that Eddie truly is sorry. “You still haven’t told me how you feel though.”

“Isn’t it obvious? Did the roses not give me away?” Eddie glances around and then sees a glimpse of red at the top of your bin. “Okay, that’s fair. I - uh, I…” Eddie scratches the back of his head, not knowing how to word this,

“I’m in love with you, okay? I have been since I was like 12 years old and you told me I had an ugly shaped head after it had to be shaved.”

You laugh a little at the memory, “You do have an ugly shaped head, that’s why I told you to grow your hair out.” 

“I’m really sorry for hurting you, I truly don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I know -”

“And I will do whatever it takes to make it up to you, for as long as it takes.” Eddie interjects, taking your hand in his, smiling softly when you don’t snatch it back. 

“You’re going to be grovelling on your hands and knees.”

“Seems reasonable.”

“And you’re going to be spending this weekend waiting on me.”

“But of course.”

“We’re going to discuss me visiting you on tour and sorting out better phone call connections, because Eddie… I’m in love with you too.”

Still, it won’t stop you from trying to drag this out for as long as possible. “Look at me, Eds. Do I look like I’m in the mood for a party? 

“A pyjama party maybe” he smirks, eyeing your choice of outfit. 

“Pyjamas mean I’m in for the night” you state, and he sighs. 

“Off you go” 

“What?” 

“Go and get dressed”  

“Not happening” you retort, trying to ignore the intense eye contact he’s serving you right now.

You wait for him to come back with a smart remark or a sound piece of logic, but he simply continues to stare, eyebrows raised and a smile playing across his lips.  

“What? Why are you staring at me?”

Still nothing. Just a cool, patient stare that holds your gaze in a way that stirs up something in the back of your mind, something that you choose to ignore this time and every other time he plays this game.  

The longer he stares, the thicker the tension grows. You cross your arms tighter across your chest, caging in any questionable feelings that threaten to surface. Not a good idea, you tell yourself.  

Not with Eddie.  

“Give up, Munson. I’m not coming and that’s final” 

***

Twenty minutes later you’re sat in the passenger seat of his van, scowling out of the window as he drives. Every so often Eddie glances over at you, a victorious smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“You scrub up well” he murmurs suddenly, and you look down at the outfit he’d given you five minutes to pick out and put on.  

You roll your eyes. “Don't try and butter me up”. 

“No, it’s true. You're looking good” he counters, no trace of teasing or sarcasm in his voice - he means it.

You shuffle down further in your seat, turning your face away to avoid looking at him. “Thanks, Eds” you mutter indistinctly, and Eddie grins.   

“Any time”. 

***

An hour or so after arriving, you realise that your earlier reservations had been correct; high school parties just aren’t as fun when you’re a college student.

Still, Eddie seems to be having a great time. Over the past year he’s managed to find more and more of his own people, finally breaking out of his reject status and gaining a well-deserved amount of attention for Corroded Coffin. You’re endlessly happy for him, softening some of the guilt you’d felt at more or less abandoning him when you moved on.  

What you’re feeling right now, though, is very out of place. Perhaps it’s just your own insecurities, but sometimes you swear you can see people looking at you with thinly veiled confusion. How can you, a college student, fit into his life?  

The last question is one that has been playing on your mind uncomfortably often in recent months. You feel guilty for even thinking it, knowing that your friendship hasn’t changed at all since you left for college. It’s stupid, you tell yourself, in a bid to squash your negative thoughts back into the locked box they belong in.  

It’s the same box which holds other thoughts about Eddie, ones which aren’t so negative.  

Ones which enter your mind as you watch him from across the room, laughing and joking with a group of young metalheads who’ve already had a few beers too many. He stands tall and confident, a hand brushing idly through his messy hair. It’s a force of habit that he can’t seem to stop himself from doing, an idiosyncrasy that you love to tease him about.

You smile as you watch him, thoughts drifting back to a recent afternoon you and Eddie had spent together. 

“Ten times in as many minutes”

Eddie looks over at you from his position on the couch, nose crinkled up in confusion. “What are you on about? 

“That little hair thing you do, I’ve been counting. It’s like…” 

You run a hand through your hair, flicking your head back to mimic his gesture with the addition of an over-exaggerated pout. 

“I do not make that face” he protests, only to earn more hair flicking and preening from you as you stroll around your living room. 

“Oh hey there, I’m Eddie” Flick. “Don’t mind me, I’m just…” Flick. “Making sure everything looks…” Flick. “Perfect!” Flick.

“I’ve never said that in my life” Eddie scoffs, watching your performance with frustrated bemusement.

You run a hand through your hair again, stopping briefly in front of the mirror to admire yourself. “Do I look metal enough?” you ask, flashing him a teasing smile over your shoulder.

“Come on now” he warns playfully, “Don’t make me have to come over there and stop you” 

But you’re enjoying yourself too much to stop, only spurred on by his warning. “Look at my curls, aren’t they luscious? It takes effort to have hair this spectacular” you continue, as he pushes himself up onto his feet.  

“That’s it, you’re done for” 

You pick up the pace as he begins to follow you. “I’m Eddie Munson and I can’t even last sixty seconds without touching my hair”  

“Brace yourself” he advises coolly, hardly having to make an effort to catch up. Still you persist, caught up the thrill of the moment… and besides, a big part of you wants him to catch you.  

“I have the most beautiful hair in all of Hawkins!” you announce, seconds before his arms wrap around you from behind and pull you tight into his body. He wrestles you onto the sofa with ease, pinning you down into the cushions with his full weight.  

“Jesus you’re strong” you manage to blurt out through your laughter, as he grins down at you.  

“Damn right I am”. 

You stare up at him as you try to get your breath back, neither of you moving from your tangled position. As your breathing calms, you became aware that you can feel his heartbeat through his chest. His breath is warm against your neck, his face mere inches away from yours, his knee between your thighs… and suddenly the playfulness of the moment shifts.  

The room fills with an unfamiliar energy, one which both excites and scares you. It’s the second emotion that you feel the strongest, however, and the cautious part of your mind pushes through the fog and takes over.  

“And you’re so heavy!” you exclaim, pushing a hand against his shoulder. In an instant, the tension is broken. Eddie springs off you as quickly as he can manage, stumbling a little as he gets to his feet. You sit upright, filled with a nervous energy. “I’m gonna grab a drink”.

***  You’re brought back to the present by the feeling of something coming to rest on your shoulder. Craning your neck to investigate, you discover that the object in question is, in fact, Eddie’s chin.

He grins tipsily at you, empty bottle in hand. “Hey” he says, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly, “How’s it going over here?”  

You’ve been too caught up in your reminiscing to even notice his approach, and you hope the pang of embarrassment you suddenly feel isn’t obvious. “Having a pretty good night” you lie, and his face lights up at your words. 

“Hell yeah, that’s what I like to hear!” He slurs, nudging your neck with his nose. 

Eddie is already a pretty affectionate guy when sober, but Drunk Eddie always takes this to a whole new level. After a few beers you always find yourself on the receiving end of countless hugs and compliments, personal space becoming an alien concept to him.  

“Seems like someone’s having a pretty good night too” you tease as you turn to face him, watching him sway a little as he tries to re-steady himself.  

“Every night’s a good night when you’re around” he sighs, ruffling your hair with an uncoordinated hand.  

“Looks like a few beers might have something to do with it too” you suggest, and he shakes his head vigorously.  

“What are you talking about, I’ve only had one”. 

“You liar!” You gasp, mock-accusingly.  

Eddie slips his arm around your waist and pulls you into his side, pressing his warm flushed cheek against yours. “Maybe more than one then, but who’s counting?” 

“Clearly not you” 

His face drops. “Are you mad at me?” 

“Of course I’m not mad at you, Eddie” you reassure him, nudging his shoulder gently with yours. “I’d be the same if I didn’t have class in the morning”  

You feel his body relax into yours once again, and he squeezes you a little tighter. “Good, don’t want to make you mad. I’d hate it if you hated me” 

You can’t help but laugh at the implausibility of his words. How could anyone ever hate Eddie, least of all you?  

Hate is the opposite of what you feel for him, the voice at the back of your head chimes in unhelpfully.  

You squash it back down into its box once again, choosing your words a little more carefully.  “I’d never hate you, Eddie, you’re one of my best friends” 

A look you don’t quite recognise crosses his face, the drunken glint in his eyes replaced with an unfamiliar seriousness. He opens his mouth to say something, but he’s interrupted by the arrival of a guy you recognise from another party a few weeks back. Eddie steps away from you to clap the guy on the shoulder, his fingertips brushing your hip as he withdraws.  

“Hey, good to see you!” he exclaims, glancing back at you briefly as he launches into a friendly conversation with the new arrival. You stay and chat obligingly for a minute or so, but your mind is preoccupied. Excusing yourself politely, you step outside to get some much-needed fresh air.  

The patio is still heaving with party goers, so you grab a beer from a cooler and keep walking until you set foot on the grass. It’s more peaceful here, though you can still hear the muffled sounds of the party even from this far away.  

You sit cross-legged, back resting against a grassy slope as you try to push Eddie’s expression out of your mind. Clearly you’re just overthinking things. The boy is drunk, nothing he did merits any deeper reading than that. You knock back a considerable mouthful of your drink, grimacing at the acrid taste.  

Why can’t you just enjoy yourself tonight? Eddie made all that effort to get you out to a great party and here you are, sitting alone like a loser. And why is it that you can’t seem to talk to him without joking or gently making fun of him? The nature of your friendship has always been playful, but recently it seems like nothing that comes out of your mouth around him is entirely genuine.  

It’s a defence, the voice at the back of your head chimes in. You’re overcompensating.  

It stops you from saying how you really feel. 

God damnit. It’s getting harder and harder to keep these thoughts locked in their box, no matter how many times you shove them back down.  

At the heart of the issue is one very plain fact:  

You like Eddie as more than a friend.  

Eddie sees you as a friend, a best friend at that, but apparently that’s no longer enough for you. It will have to be enough though, won't it? Your friendship is much too precious to risk derailing it with a few silly little feelings, and it just wouldn’t be fair to put that kind of pressure on Eddie anyway.  

What does it matter that your heartbeat quickens every time he smiles at you?  

What does it matter that ever single innocent compliment makes your cheeks heat up with an unstoppable rush of blood?   

And what does it matter that every time he hugs you goodbye, you wish it had been a kiss? 

None of it matters. You’ve kept your feelings hidden for this long, and hidden they must stay.  

“Found you!” 

You look up to see Eddie standing at the top of the slope, his expression triumphant. “What'ya doing all the way out here?” he asks, before plopping himself down beside you. He hasn’t sobered up at all since you’d last spoken. If anything, he’s even more drunk.  

“Fancied some fresh air” you explain, watching as he pulls up a handful of grass and sprinkles it into your lap.  

“Oh thanks, just what I wanted” you tell him, and he grins.  

“Should come back inside,” he suggests, gently elbowing you in the ribs. “Kinda looks like you're hiding”. 

You make a show of looking back at the party, and then sigh like you’ve just remembered something. “I should probably make a move actually, I have to be in class for half seven”. 

“Aw, come on!” 

Eddie leans into you, one arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you into a hug. “Wanted to party with you!” he slurs, eyes wide.  

You can’t help but smile at the puppy dog expression he’s pulling, something he tries whenever things aren’t going his way. Doe-eyes wide and pleading, lips soft and pouting... it nearly always works on you, so you’re going to have to stay strong if you’re going to leave any time soon.  

“We can party together another time” you assure him, which doesn’t seem to make a difference. 

“Won't enjoy myself if you’re gone” he grumbles, pouting exaggeratedly.  

“I’m sure you’ll be just fine, Mr Popular”. 

“You've enjoyed it though, right?” he asks suddenly, genuinely concerned. “I kinda dragged you out, but -” 

“I’ve had a great time, I’m glad you dragged me out” you insist. Another lie, to save his feelings.  

“So you don’t hate me?” 

You frown at him, intrigued as to why he seems so hung up on this tonight. “Why do you think I hate you? Like I said, you’re one of my best friends”  

“Oh, friends!” 

Eddie rolls his eyes dramatically, throwing his head back in drunken disdain. “Frieeeeends,” he repeats, dragging the word out as long as possible. You stare at him in confusion, wondering just how much more he’s had to drink.  

“Are you okay?” you ask, shuffling round to face him properly. This level of Drunk Eddie isn’t one you’re familiar with, and you're not sure what to make of it.  

He laughs bitterly. “Why wouldn't I be! We’re friends!” 

“Why do you keep saying it like that?” 

He ignores this, swaying away from you to rest against the slope. He folds his arms across his chest, staring up at the sky with an indignant expression on his face.  

“Eddie? Talk to me, I don’t get it” you implore, and he snaps round to face you. His expression changes from indignant to serious, his molten gaze focused on your face. He stares intently at you as he sits up straighter and swallows hard.  

“Fuck friends” he whispers back, his eyes dark and his brow furrowed. And again, with more certainty, “Fuck friends”.  

His hand comes up to caress your cheek, before he leans in slowly. He pauses just inches away from your face, those deep brown eyes staring into your own as if searching for objections. 

Entirely hypnotised by his touch, you have none.  

His expression softens entirely when he realises this, and he closes the gap between you with his lips pressed softly against yours.  

It’s gentle at first, cautious even, but it soon deepens as he feels you kiss him back. He kisses you with passionate enthusiasm, leaning into you as he lets himself be swept up in the moment.  

This is a moment you’ve hardly dared to dream about, and finally it’s happening. Eddie is kissing you. What does it matter that he’s drunk and… he’s… 

Eddie is very drunk. 

You can taste the alcohol on his lips, a sharp reminder that he isn’t altogether lucid right now. One drink alone has blurred the edges of your mind, and who knows how many he’s indulged in?  

Eddie is kissing you, but…  

No. 

This isn’t how you want it to happen.  

Your eyes snap open as you part from him suddenly, heart beating rapidly. He moves with you, his body swaying forwards as a soft sigh leaves his lips. You place a hand firmly on his shoulder, holding him up before he can fall into you entirely. “Eddie, I –“ 

“Hey Eddie! You out here?” 

The voice comes from the direction of the patio, and the pair of you crane your necks to see above the slope. “Down here!” Eddie yells back, his slurred speech confirming everything you’re thinking.  

He turns back to grin at you, a hand reaching out to tuck some stray hair behind your ear. “I’ll be right back for you” he mumbles softly, before staggering to his feet. You can only stare mutely up at him as he stumbles away, tripping over the uneven ground. 

For a moment you sit in silence.  

That kiss… it had felt so right, so electric, until you’d let overthinking get in the way.  

But maybe you aren’t overthinking. Eddie is undeniably drunk, so how can you possibly know if the kiss had been sincere on his part? He’s always been an affectionate drunk, and maybe this is just an extra, accidental step in that direction.  

Maybe he hadn’t known what he was doing at all.  

Maybe it was a mistake. 

It has to be a mistake. 

This is all wrong. You pull yourself to your feet and walk back into the house, hoping for some kind of distraction. More chatting, more dancing, less thinking - that sounds like a good plan.

It even works for a while, an hour or so passing as you surround yourself with strangers and do your best impression of someone enjoying a party.

You're always keeping one eye out for Eddie, though.

You just can’t face him right now. What would you even say? You can’t pretend that everything is okay, but you can’t have a serious conversation with him either.

Maybe you could just... leave?

Chances are he’s so drunk that he’ll forget you were there. Hopefully he’s so drunk that he’ll forget you’d ever been there. 

Forget that he’d kissed you.  

Yeah, leaving sounds really good right now. All you need to do is catch a ride home and you're in the clear.

It's only when you find yourself out on the street that you remember Eddie is your ride home.

Shit.

He's clearly not in any state to be behind the wheel, that's for sure. This isn't the first time he's been too drunk to drive, but usually he just tosses you his keys and lets you take the driver's seat. That option is looking like your best shot at getting home tonight, but a knot in the pit of your stomach stops you from just heading in and making it happen.

The thought of being stuck in the van with a still drunk and totally clueless Eddie is unbearable. He was so soft, so happy when he left you - and here you are, tense and confused and barely thinking straight. No, you can't deal with that right now.

It's too far to walk, though, and you don't know anyone else here. There's no chance of finding a cab in this part of town either; yeah, you're not going anywhere.

You're just gonna have to wait.

Maybe this is a good thing. You need a little space to cool off, and perhaps by the time Eddie emerges you'll have processed things enough to have normal conversation. Yeah, this is good.

This is great.

At least it's not cold, right? And there's a bench over there you can sit on whilst you wait for god knows how long, kept company only by your racing thoughts and the faint taste of his lips still lingering on yours...

Fucking hell.

Resigned to your fate, you settle onto the bench with your arms folded tight across your chest. The longer you have to wait, the longer you have until you need to face him again.

***

It's hard to tell how much time passes as you sit and watch the world go by, but a fair amount of partygoers have left already when you hear a familiar voice calling your name. You find yourself looking up without thinking, heart jumping in your chest when your eyes land on him.

The first thing you notice is how sober Eddie looks in comparison to a few hours ago. No swaying, no stumbling, no giddy grin on his face. Just a look of relief and a steady gait as he approaches, hand shoved deep in pockets.

Eddie slides casually onto the bench beside you, letting his knee knock gently into yours. “Hello, you” he says softly, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips. And then, after a moment’s pause – “I think we need to talk”. 

Your chest tightens. “What about?” you ask nonchalantly, watching as Eddie pushes a stray curl out of his face. 

“You don’t have to pretend” he sighs, rubbing his cheek. His gaze drops, and he stares down at the ground for a moment. You don’t try to fill the silence, unable to find the right words.

Suddenly he’s staring directly at you again, his wide eyes filled with the same seriousness you’d seen earlier. “I didn’t want this” he begins, a troubled frown creasing his brow. “I just thought… but…” 

You watched as he trails off, realising that this is just as hard for him as it is for you. “Eddie, I –“ 

“I shouldn’t have kissed you” 

The words hang in the air as you stare mutely at him, hardly wanting to believe your ears. This is the type of scene your imagination produces in your darkest moments of self-doubt, but this is real.  

Eddie had spoken those words and he meant them.  

The certainty in his voice ensures that you’re under no illusion: He regrets the kiss entirely. 

He can barely look at you, head turned away and shoulders hunched.

You will yourself to say something, anything, to make this a little easier. The tension thickens unbearably and finally you open your mouth to speak, hoping that the words will just form themselves. They don’t have to – Eddie finds his words first. 

“I fucked up” 

He clenches his fists, avoiding your gaze as he looks down at the table. “I’m sorry I ruined this. I’m sorry I got drunk and I’m sorry I acted like an idiot and I’m sorry I kissed you. I was so… stupid” he continues, jaw set and shoulders hunched.  

You stare at him in disbelief. 

“Eddie, you didn’t ruin any-“ 

“Yes, I did. You left without saying goodbye and now you're sat out here all by yourself? I really fucked up and I’m so sorry –“ 

“Stop saying that!” you protest, his constant apologies only making you feel worse. You aren’t angry at him, you’re angry at yourself. If only he knew how you really feel, but you can hardly tell him now when he seems to regret kissing you so much. It will only make this worse. 

Eddie rubs a hand across his face, swallowing hard “Can’t believe I thought it was a good idea. One drink would’ve been fine, fuck, even two, but no. Fucking stupid idiot had to overdo it”. 

He laughs bitterly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I thought you felt the same”. 

Your breath catches in your throat.  

Did he just… does he mean… 

Wait. 

This isn’t what you’d thought it was at all. Your heart begins to race, sitting up straighter as a swell of adrenalin rushes through your bloodstream.  

You’ve got it all wrong, and so has he.  

Eddie is doing exactly what you always do, letting his negative thoughts take over until he’s blinded to any other scenario. He hasn’t even heard your opinion and yet he’s assumed the worst.  

Your mind races as you think of the right words to say. If this is what you now realise it has to be, you need to stop him.  

You need to make this right.  

Eddie lets out a deep sigh, not noticing your sudden change in demeanour. “Our friendship is so fucking important and it was dumb of me to ruin that. I didn't wanna make you hate me but –“ 

“I don’t hate you. I love you”. 

Eddie looks up at you for the first time, his eyes wild and his lips parted. You stand as you continue to speak, the words bursting free in a rush of emotion. 

“I wanted you to kiss me! I kissed you back, Eddie, don’t you remember? But then I remembered you were drunk, so I thought maybe you didn’t mean it and I couldn’t deal with that. That’s why I left. But if you did mean it and we’re on the same page here I need you to tell me because I’m going to feel really stupid if I’ve just –“ 

“You love me?” he interrupts, his voice barely more than a whisper. 

“Yes,” you reply, “I’m in love you”. 

There’s a moment of silence as the two of you stare at each other. You’ve made your move, and now it’s all down to him.  

There’s a different tension in the air, filled with potential and fear and relief and everything in between. Your heart is beating so loud you’re sure he can hear it, but you hardly care.  

Slowly, Eddie stands, drawing his lip between his teeth as he takes a few steps towards you. "You love me?"

You can only nod, afraid that the slightest word will shatter this delicate moment.

"Shit" he breathes, "This is really happening".

Eddie stares at you in wonder for a moment, his dark eyes fixed on yours as he lets the sweet reality of the situation fully soak in. “Fuck, I love you too” he says, “I’m in love with you". 

He nods to himself, a gentle smile playing across his lips as he takes another step towards you. “I’m in love with you” he repeats, the smile broadening until it lights up his whole face. 

His beautiful, beautiful face.  

“And you’re in love with me”. 

He closes the distance between the two of you, his hand coming up to caress your cheek as he stares deeply into your eyes. All you can do is smile back, as everything falls into place.  

“How long?” he asks softly, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips and back again. 

“Years, probably” you tell him, and he lets out a shaky breath. 

“Years… I could’ve been telling you I loved you for years.” 

Eddie moves in closer, his face inches from yours. “I love you,” he whispers, his eyes full of tenderness and conviction. “I just... it feels so good to say it, y'know? I love you, I love you”. 

His other hand comes up to rest on your waist, pulling you even closer until your bodies are flush against each other. He tilts your chin gently, letting his lips brush softly against yours as he speaks; “I Love You” 

And with that, he presses his lips to yours.  

The kiss is slow, as the pair of you savour every second of it. Quickly, though, it heats up, his lips moving hungrily against your own and conveying all the deep emotion he’s kept locked up.  

It’s nothing like the kiss you’ve previously shared; where that had been rushed and uncoordinated, this is deliberate and refined and oh so perfect. It feels natural, so right, your hands moving up to lace themselves in his hair as his fingers stroke soft circles against your hip.  

You don’t know how long you’ve been kissing for, and you don’t care. Eddie loves you, and you love him, and that is all that matters. 

And it's not even a dominance thing.

Sometimes he just gets so needy that, if given the proper opportunity and consent, he'll take what he needs.

Laying his body on top of yours, arms wrapped around the back of your thighs, pulling them apart so he can sink deeper into you.

And he's desperate about it. His hips snapping into you so fast before just harshly grinding against yours because you feel so perfect and he doesn't want to leave your heat.

Whining into your neck the whole time. Whimpering thank yous and pleases.

And even in that moment where he was so desperate to fuck you and cum, he needs to make you cum first. Needs to feel your hands pull at his hair, to hear you gasp his name, to feel you clench around him. Needs it like oxygen, before he could even imagine cumming.

And when you do his jaw goes slack as he let's out the most pathetic whining moan as he ruts into you faster. Breathy mixes of your name and pleases falling from his tongue begging you for nothing and everything at the same time.

And if you tell him 'inside' and pull him so close and tight he couldn't get away (as if he'd try) his entire brain will short circut for a moment before he looks up at you with big eyes.

"B-b-but-"

"Be a good boy and fill me with cum," you coo, cutting off whatever half-hearted objection he was trying get out. And it works.

If you thought he was a desperate mess before, he's a new level of beast now.

Breath and body trembling with every thrust, big wet kisses and bites on any skin he can reach, big hands pushing your legs back as far as they can physically go.

Then he goes completely rigid, your name a strained cry as his orgasm hits him.

His entire body turns to jello and he just shudders in your arms as you stroke his hair.

"You like that? Hm? You ready for more?" Eddie asked as he smoothed your hair out of your face.

"Please daddy."

Eddie froze, his mouth slightly agape as his eyes studied your face. "What did you just say?" He asked with a smirk.

"I said please," you teased, hooking your leg higher up on his hip so he sank in deeper with a groan.

"No, no, no... You said something else, baby. Say it again," he crooned, rubbing his nose along your jawline. "Please."

Your stomach fluttered as he begged, something you never got tired of hearing. You had never called him that before, always afraid it would be too weird, but he seemed to like it.

"Daddy," you breathed against his temple. He leaned up on his forearms, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head suddenly.

"Oh, you have no idea what you've just done, princess," he smiled as you could feel his cock hardening inside of you, throbbing as he started fucking into you at a faster pace, snapping his hips harder as you couldn't stop the sounds that came from your throat. You'd normally cover your face but he had your hands restrained, like he'd done it on purpose, so you had no choice but to cry out for him.

"Oh my god, yes... Daddy, yes!"

Eddie let out a deep groan as he clenched his jaw, his hips stuttering and you knew he was close, his hand freeing one of yours to reach down between you and circle your clit. You gasped as your second orgasm crept up rather quickly, washing over you without warning.

"That's it, babygirl. Fuck, that's it-"

Eddie fisted the sheets above your head as he buried his face in your neck, nipping at the skin as he emptied himself inside your swollen, used cunt.

You whined as he pulled himself off of you, feeling cold as your damp sweaty skin took in the cool air of the room, sore as he left from between your legs.

"Come on, I'll run us a bath. Let daddy take care of you."

---

End.

@multyfangirl @marshmallow--3 @marathesimp

Too bad you're already in a tizzy. Steve's hand, his other, dominant hand, pushes against the fabric of your dark tights, fingers stuffed snugly into your tight cunt. Your breath hitches as he spreads them wide, a familiar and numbing feeling.

Your grasp on his muscled bicep slackens as he curves them inward, two thick fingers prodding at your swollen soft spot again and again. You tighten around him and he groans right there into your neck, hair damp with sweat as it tickles your face.

"Fuck. You alright?"

"Faster," you whisper.

"Whatever you want, pretty girl."

You keen as his rhythm recalibrates and the pad of his thumb pushes into your clit, practiced circles drawn into the sensitive skin over and over and over. Each full turn has you limp. Steve has to abandon your neck entirely to keep you upright, holding your back away from the shelves behind you.

"Easy," he says, mouth hot and open as he searches for that little slice of skin under your ear that's gonna make you cry. He kisses you in time with his thrusts, lips a gentle brush compared to the thud-thud-thud of his index and pinky finger slapping into your sticky cunt. "Easy, baby."

The sound of his voice is a tether if nothing else, a reminder to calm down and keep quiet. You nibble your lip raw as the tightness in your core coils. Like he can tell —like he knows from the feel of you on his fingers alone — his thrusting slows. Turns gentle. He presses his hand flat to your skin whilst the other pulls you in, pushing you down onto his stilled fingers enough to make you whimper.

He pauses his hickeying to check your face.

Held tight to his chest like this in the near-dark with only your upturned phone to light his face, he has the deepest brown eyes you've ever seen. His lips are pink with blood bitten to the surface and slick with spit, so so soft that you can't help but lean down.

He pulls his wet hand from your cunt and presses it to your hip, holding you steady as he lifts his chin for a kiss. He's receptive — it's like you're in sync. You wade and he ebbs, breath hot and mismatched and ragged.

"You're okay," he says. A firm sterness. "Tell me."

He doesn't mean, Tell me you're okay. He means, Tell me how you feel. Tell me if this is too much for you.

Tell me if it's not enough.

You rub your thighs together as you pull down your tights, nylon at your knees as you guide Steve's hand back to your cunt.

"Please, Stevie," you say under your breath, chest heaving so hard it kisses his black polo. "Need you."

Your breathlessness has Steve's pupils turned to dimes.

He pulls you back toward him and kisses your neck ardently, forcing your head up and back so you can't see his wandering hands. One eases under the material of your shirt to spread wide across your lower back, hot as the heart of a star, and the other falls to his zipper. Your heart pounds with how much you want him, and it skips with every sound. The metallic shuddering of a zipper being pulled down, the light plink of his elastic waistband.

His teeth scrape your skin as he encourages your panties down to join your tights, the fabric ruined by his ministrations already. He gives your neck two quick kisses like apologies and then pulls away, his face shining with perspiration.

He spits into his hand. "Sorry," he says, eyes travelling down. You follow.

"S'hardly-" You gasp at his fingers against your slit, gaze thrown to the ceiling on impulse. "Hardly the worst thing I've seen you do, Stevie. Can you-" You hiss at the sudden return of his fingers, not hurt in any capacity but definitely not expecting it as he works you open. "Oh my god."

"Can I what, sweetheart?" he asks.

You pant. There's no other word for it, your lips part into a small 'o' and you struggle to catch your breath as he fills you up to the last knuckle.

It's a necessary step. Steve's shoulders aren't the only wide thing about him.

"Princess."

You come back into yourself. "Fuck," you say, desperate in the worst way when you see the way he's pumping his cock. Erratic, no rhyme or reason, mushroom tip leaking pearly precum. He slides his fingers up the shaft and pinches it between his fingers.

It ribbons as they come apart, as he strokes down his length and squeezes the heavy sack hidden at the base by a thicket of dark curls.

Impatient, you think. But no, not impatient.

Waiting for you.

"Fuck me," you say weakly. "Please."

"Come here."

Come here. How much closer can you get? Steve leans back and his arm wraps around your back as he pulls you up, forcing you on tiptoes. There's a mess of slick and fabrics between you, the two of you uncoordinated in your hurry, and he yanks your skirt out of the way so hard you hear the stitching stretch.

"There you go," he murmurs, hand guiding the tip of his cock to your hole, a sobbing wetness creeping down the inside of your thigh. He wipes it like he can read your mind, and then your clinging to him as you sink down. "Fuck, there you are. Good girl." His eyes shutter closed. His breath trembles. "Good fucking girl."

Your turn for kisses. You wrap you arms around his neck likely too tightly, a hand scraping back his pretty silky hair so you have a clear view of the side of his throat. You kiss him much nicer than he'd kissed you, attemps to hickey him all dismantled as he rocks you down onto his cock.

"Baby," he says, he praises, hand grabbing at your thigh to hold it up against his hip. You groan as he pulls out enough to fuck back in, doubly when he ruts his hips up and fills you completely.

An ache spreads all the way to your hips. Steve gives pause, kisses the side of your face, whatever skin he can reach as you hiccup into his neck. "Ah- Ah- Steve."

Wiry curls rub against your clit as he starts to move, slow, tentative movements.

"Harder," you mouth against his neck. "It's okay. I'm not gonna break." You're surprised he can hear you.

"I'm not trying to break you." His attempt at whispering is lackluster, voice heady with lust. "M'trying to make you feel good."

"I feel good," you reassure. You're all beggy and you know Steve can't withstand it, not while he's fucking into your heat like he is, not with your mix of slick on his hands.

His pace hastens after that. His arms grow tight around you as his cock kisses your sweet spot, pleasure heightened by the chesty sound of his breathing in your ear. You can't do much beside hang onto him, lips closing urgently over his skin until it burns with bruises. You're wet enough that every thrust is easy and loud, the closet you've found yourself in a vestibule of sex. You moan into his skin pleadingly, no clue what you're asking for as he fucks you dizzy.

Steve can't keep quiet either. His high approaches, his breathing wavers, his rugged panting suddenly coloured with a deep groan. You shiver at the sound, amazed at how close his moans sound to his laugh.

"Fuck-" he says, pained. "Fuck, baby- shit- so fucking wet." Too far gone to tease or mock you, Steve's fallen straight to praise. "Always so wet, pretty thing. Pretty cunt fucking sobbing on me."

It's like he's telling you a secret, the way he confesses.

His pace loosens. Sporadic, your hip aches as he pulls your leg higher and fucks into whatever new depth he can find.

You card your hand into his hair and tug gently.

His breathing hitches and you tug again, startled but not quite surprised as he whines. "Shit, shit, where can I-"

"Inside," you say immediately, "it's okay."

He groans as he cums, each sound loud and intoxicating, cock sliding up into your gummy walls until he's spent and panting into your hair, arms clinging to you as you'd been to him. He stays inside and you try not to move, knowing he's too sensitive.

"Steve," you whisper eventually, "leg's hurting."

He helps you get your foot on the floor, wincing at the shift but quickly recovering. His eyes light up and he smiles sweet as anything, chest rising like he's just run a mile.

"Baby," he says, always like it's more a praise than a pet name. His hands rub up your back soothingly. "Got you all twisted up, huh? I'm sorry," and he means it, kissing your jawline gently. "Sorry," he repeats, lips skipping over you skin. "How about you turn around for me, okay? No more gymnastics. Take care of my girl."

You nod speechlessly and Steve turns you around, the heat and wet of cum dripping down the inside of your thigh.

"Hold your skirt up for me, okay?" He chuckles, a laugh all to himself. "There you go. Thank you."

Steve pushes in and drags your hips up against his own, hand wrapping around your lap to rub over the bump of your cunt. Mess is everywhere and his fingers fight for purchase, three hot fingertips to your clit.

"Make some more mess," he murmurs, shifting his hips slow in time with his circles as he warms up again. You mewl as the speed increases and he gets a little deeper, circles timed with his thrusts, bringing your hand to his yo make him go faster. You're pleased to tears when he understands and fucks in as deep as he can. Tight tight circles and quick thrusts.

You bounce against his hips and it doesn't take much for you to cum, your breath hiked and panicked as the coil snaps. Steve murmurs encouragements, fucks you just that little bit longer to keep it going. You moan his name without thinking, a teary-eyed gasp that has him covering your mouth.

"Shhh, baby... Fuck. Best feeling in the world," Steve says quietly into your ear, almost indecipherable over the sound of you fighting for air. His hands squeeze and relax in time with your tightening cunt. Air hisses from between his teeth and tickles your neck.

He waits for you to catch your breath before he pulls out, the both of you sticky and sweaty and aching. He guides you into his side and gives his softening cock a few sadistic tugs.

You reach across yourself to tuck him back into his pants. He pulls your panties and tights up in turn. You stare at each other, and then you burst into contagious giggles.

"Think it's obvious?" Steve asks, fingers braceleting your wrists so he can wipe your wet palms down the front of his shirt before he zips up his jacket.

It's definitely obvious. You both look like sex, and now you're done the sounds from outside seem quieter than before.

You shift from foot to foot, thighs sliding against each other.

"I'm slimy," you complain good-naturedly. It would take a freight train of problems to dampen your happiness.

He brings your damp hands to his mouth and kisses your curled fingers.

"Sorry," he says to each one. "It's my fault. Couldn't wait."

Your legs tremble, your knees are weak. You feel languid and glowing as you hide your face into his neck, completely in love with how swiftly his lean arms needle over your shoulders. One hand behind your head, one between your shoulders. Protective.

"Should be," you mumble, your smile audible.

"I'll make it up to you."

But, there’s one thing that Eddie finds helping him more, when the itch becomes an undenying need.

It’s you—and your own guilty fixation.

Satiating your own guilty pleasure is just as good as helping himself, if not more, and he’s the one that figures it out initially.

It’s never your own hands, always his, mouth always begging to be filled, stretched, something to keep you occupied. And Eddie is undeniably innocent about it in the beginning, attempting to wipe the dust of the chips from his fingers, having dipped into your own bag despite his constant protesting of him not being hungry—and now he was going to wipe it all over his jeans, it drove you nuts.

“Gimme.” You order with a soft mumble, holding your palm out in a grabbing motion until Eddie gives in, laying his hand down, palm up. He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but it’s definitely not what you chose to do next, flipping his hand over carefully and picking the fingers apart one by one, laying the pad of his fingertips over your tongue—and you don’t make a big deal about, like you’re doing him a favor. Besides, it’s not like you haven’t already had worse inside of your mouth—though, you could argue that Eddie’s dick is far from the worst, it was arguably the best.

Either way, Eddie can’t help the twitch he feels in his dick at the sight, having to shift uncomfortably at the lunch table to avoid weird stares from his peers—not that they are paying any attention anyways.

It doesn't take long for you to realize that the only thing that helps your fix is Eddie’s hands, and in turn, it helps him too.

Occasionally it’s just pulling his hand until the back of it rests against your lips, pressing faint, gentle kisses into the skin—if you were cuddled up on his bed or sitting in the passenger seat of his van, you always had his hand in yours.

And Eddie loves kissing you—like, if there was a more expressive or forceful way to describe how much he enjoyed it, he wasn’t sure even that could measure it; though to Eddie’s fault, he didn’t have much to compare it all too, but it was still pretty fucking great.

Sometimes he’ll press his lips into your hair, that sweet vanilla scent of your shampoo invading his smell, or your ear, resting against the shell of it—but, that was usually reserved for the public, keeping his more lewd, dirty thoughts at bay.

When you were alone, it was all a completely different story.

It was rough, wild, and messy—it took a while to get into the rhythm of the things you enjoyed, but when it cliqued—it was like a light switching on and everything was intensified tenfold.

There were good days—the gentle ones, hours spent wrapped up in one another, thankful that his uncle Wayne worked such late nights. It wasn’t always about the sex either, just being in Eddie’s company, but it allowed for a small moment of calm in a relationship that was nothing but eclectic.

Then there were the unpredictable days, like tonight. It could’ve been either of you that set it off, but Eddie was particularly bothered. It could’ve been a number of things, none of them really important. All that mattered is that you were there, waiting, ready to be whatever he needed.

You make it back to his trailer before him—a late Friday night of Hellfire for himself, and you were too impatient. You ran into Wayne on the way in, which wasn’t nearly as surprising as it should be—he saw you often now and almost always had a plate set aside for dinner in case you were hungry, but it also meant that Eddie would surely eat that night, knowing his nephew was often too distracted to remember. There were nights when he would crash immediately, jumping into his bed without so much as a word or nod your way, just a kiss and a needy pull at you until you’re snug and tight at his side. He couldn’t always communicate what he needed, but you didn’t need him to, and it got easier over time.

He trodded in around midnight, not nearly as exhausted as you were expecting— “Got derailed again?” You ask amusingly, forcing him into the kitchen until he’s taking a seat on the counter, food being shoved forcefully into his already waiting hands. He smiles warmly, tapping you with foot until you’re squeezing between his legs, peering up at him with tired eyes.

“Yeah—“ He replies idly, shoveling the food into his mouth with a severe lack of grace and care, but it was endearing, “—Dustin can turn a thirty second turn into ten minutes if he wants to, I really need to reign that kid in sometimes.”

You huff a laugh, soft and barely audible.

He lifts the plate up that’s obstructing his view of you, peering from underneath the dishware, “Are you tired?” He asks with a small glint of hope, the glaze of something mischievous covering his features.

“Of course not.” You reply with a grin, pulling at the hem of his shirt as you stretch to the tip of your toes, pressing a quick kiss to the curve of his chin, “Are you?”

Eddie grins, mouth closed and tosses the plate off to the side.

“Fuck no,” He replies crudely, swiftly slipping himself off the counter and squeezing his hands underneath your thighs, baring your weight until he can settle your legs around his hips, pulling back to look at your giddy expression, “go wait in my room?”

Eddie knows when to be demanding—and you know he’s not really asking, but the playful tone excites you, a thrum of pleasure pulsing through your body.

“Don’t take too long.” You warn him softly, “Or I might change my mind.”

He knew you weren’t, but it was cute that you tried to play it as leverage. He leans forward, the biting kiss he gives you is a tell of how the night will probably play out—all fierce and teetering on that careful balance of pain.

And Eddie’s kind enough to carry you the short distance to his room, plopping you on his constantly unmade bed with a laugh, disappearing into his bathroom for a few minutes, water running through the silence of the trailer.

“Put a record on or something.” Eddie suggests through the wall as you scramble from the bed, sifting through his constantly growing collection of music.

“Because the soothing beats of Dio are such a mood setter.” You comment back snidely, flicking the record player on, letting whatever record he had in it already play lowly, the volume up high enough that it wasn’t dead silent—it did enough to drown out the chirping crickets and low buzz of the trailer park lights.

Eddie crowds around your back suddenly, pulling a startling squeal from your chest, hands gripping tight to your waist.

He hums a noise into the curve of your neck, “Look at me, sweetheart.” He asks softly, pulling back as quickly as your head turns, peering over your shoulder until he comes into view, eyes dark and piercing , still as wide as they always were—it made his gaze even more intimidating.

He sees the teasing, hopeful smile that pulls at your features.

“Open,” He instructs gently, the pad of his thumb rubbing at your chin, coaxing your lips wider and wider, his middle finger grazes over your bottom lip as it catches against your teeth—you see your opportunity, defying his order and clamping down over his finger gently, laughing softly as he stops dead, a sneaky smile pulling at his face, “—is that how tonight’s gonna be?”

You nod with giddy confidence and Eddie pulls his finger away suddenly, not much resistance on your end, but then he’s gripping your cheeks between his hand harshly, eyes tearing up in response—you couldn’t help but love the small tinges of pain it caused. Eddie always joked about you being a masochist, but you really couldn’t laugh—it was true.

“I can make it better,” You tease, speech muffled by the tight grip on your face, “I know what you need.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow in question, head tilting slightly. He can feel your curious fingers working at the hem of his jeans, yanking at his belt lazily.

“M’gonna get down on my knees,” You explain hotly, feel the grip on your face loosen and travel down slowly to the base of your neck, resting gently, “and suck your cock until you’re begging to come down my throat.”

Eddie wasn’t sure he had ascended to heaven just yet, but it was pretty damn close.

He allows you to lead him toward the edge of his bed, falling heavily into the mattress. He quickly forces off of his dirty Reeboks, watching as you settle onto the shag carpet, working at his pants with defined precision—it was so much easier now, like a routine. You yank at his jeans until he’s lifting his ass, letting you pull the pants the rest of the way down, his boxers joining soon after.

“That’s not fair,” He complains, fingers sifting through the hair at the crown of your head, “—already got my pants off and I haven’t even touched you how I want to.”

You take the bait, peering up at him between his widened legs, cocking resting against the base of his toned stomach, his shirt ridden up halfway.

“Fine—“ You respond with playful annoyance, lifting your shirt over your head and tossing it to the floor, your already bare breasts bouncing at the movement, “better?”

Eddie shakes his head like a nuisance, leaning forward with startling speed, head dipping down to mouth at the swell of your breasts, the soft bud of your nipple being pulled delicately between his teeth.

“Much better.” He comments against your skin, leaving a wet trail of open-mouthed kisses against the center of your chest until he reaches your mouth, pulling you in for another searing kiss that you have to force yourself to break away from—if you hadn’t, there’s no telling how quickly this would be over.

“My turn?” You ask hopefully, his hand reaching over his shaft and under his balls, palming at himself openly, watching your eyes drag from there to his face, smugness evident in his face. He nods slightly, letting you knock his hand away with ease.

You’re far too impatient to waste more time, eagerly mouthing at his heavy sack, tight from how easily you riled him up. You weren’t going for longevity or intimacy, you wanted the intensity that came with Eddie, how quickly he could throw over the control to you and let you take hold.

You lick a long stripe up the line of his cock, tongue flat against the thick vein the followed the underside of his shaft until you’re mouth closed around the tip, your lips pink and wet and downright sinful as you glanced up at him, his own lips parted in desperation. His hand rested gently against the crown of your head, not guiding or forceful—he just wanted a reason to touch you, not that he needed it.

“God, you look so fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth.” He comments, finger tracing along the side of your mouth, cheeks hollowed out. He wants you to move, wants to feel it as you go, taking him deeper and deeper—so you do. The hand that’s not resting against your hair forms around the underside of your jaw, fingers pressing gently against your cheeks, “Can you take more?”

You nod gently, nostrils flaring slightly as you force yourself to breathe, letting Eddie guide himself into your mouth until he budges against the back of your throat, holding until you can’t anymore, pulling back with a forceful gasp, eyes watering from the pressure. Eddie looks concerned for a half-second before you break out into a short fit of laughter, quickly taking him back into your mouth, hands forcing his shirt higher up his chest until he gets the idea, blindly tossing the material into the corner of his room, palms resting behind him as he watched, admired, tried desperately to memorize and catalogue every last moment of your mouth around him.

“Look at you,” He coos, “I know you love my hands in your mouth but you should see yourself right now,” His hand returns to the back of your head, cradling softly as he adds a small amount of pressure, quickening your pace as you forced his cock deeper into your mouth, pressing testingly against the back of your throat, “fuck—can I—“

You nod furiously, not even bothering to let him finish the sentence. He scoots ungraciously closer to the end of the bed, giving him a better angle to grasp your face, angling his hips slightly to rock his hips back into your mouth, trying your best to relax yourself as he moved himself deeper, feeling the muscles of your throat as you swallowed involuntary— a wet, hot blanket of pressure over his aching cock. He groans loudly, eyes downturned and hazy as he watches you, desperately at work trying to bring him to the edge—he was already there.

“Fuck—gonna come, sweetheart.” He warns, both hands twisting into your hair gently, angling your face up until he can watch himself disappear into your mouth with ease, eyes never leaving his own, only going blurry when he thrusts a little too rough, but it doesn’t matter once he falls apart, letting out a strangled moan as he comes down your throat, the hot and sticky strings coating your mouth in waves, his cock pulsing against your tongue as he rides it out.

He pulls your face away gingerly, fingers massaging at the hinge of your jaw as he pulls you toward him without question. He can feel your throat flex as you swallow his come, a sheepish smile pulling at your face. Eddie has no shame, eagerly pulling your mouth to his, tongue slipping past your bottom lip and into your mouth, the heady taste of him mingling with the taste of cigarettes; all encompassing and him. You moaned softly, keening into the gentle touch of his hands as they tightened around your throat.

“You’re unreal.” He comments in awe, grin pulling at his face as he pulls you up and over his lap, a violent reminder of how you still had on far too many clothes. “I’m gonna need a minute though.”

“Well,” You sing, fingers grazing over the outline of his lips, “I know what you can do to keep your mouth occupied—“

“What?” Eddie asks with mock offense, “Are you trying to silence me? Me? You’re really trying to silence Eddie The Banished—“

“Eddie.” You drag out with frustration, leaning back far enough in Eddie’s hold that he has to grab you tighter to keep you from falling, he squeezes, fingers digging into your side playfully.

“Get your ass on the bed,” He growls into the the underside of your jaw, ducking his head down swiftly to mouth at the concave of your chest, fingers still relentless in their attack to tickle you—a quick escape is made to put you out of your misery, nearly knocking him over in the process until you’re laid out on the bed, leaning up on your elbows as Eddie turns to you, his cock hanging heavy and thick between his thighs, the pale of his skin against ink black tattoos, it was a beautiful sight, “—see something you like?”

“Something,” Your voice replies airily, “someone.”

Eddie chuckles at that, roughly pulling at your loose sweatpants, pulling them down with ease—no panties either.

“Oh, you’re such a fucking deviant.” Eddie tells you, tossing the pants to the floor and relaxing on his stomach between your legs. “You take a shower at my house—get dressed in my clothes and you wait for me? You really want me to fuck you that bad?”

You nod sheepishly, watching with excitement as he pulls your legs further apart, fingers dancing along the skin carefully, around your ankle and up your leg, squeezing at the squishy flesh of your thigh, “Don’t act like you don’t want it just as bad.”

Eddie perks up at that, the bratty, condescending tone to your voice. He bites at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh with care, only enough pressure to make you jump, but it’s a warning. “Gonna let me have you how I want?” Eddie asks redundantly, “Because I have no problem fucking you until you can’t speak—not that I can just shove my fingers in your mouth and get the job done that way—“

Your pussy clenches at the thought, something Eddie noticed with rapt attention, smirk pulling at his features.

“Yeah—you’d like that. So fucking needy that I can shove my fingers in your mouth and you’ll be begging for me to stuff my cock inside you,” His ringed middle finger glides through your cunt, through your folds as the milky wetness gathers over his finger, stopping just over the sensitive bundle of nerves that pleaded and begged to be touched, but he pulls his finger away, slipping it into his own mouth, tasting with a look that has his eyes falling shut, breathing through his nose heavily.

“Tastes so fuckin’ sweet too,” He brags, shoving the fallen hair out of his face to look at you, “wanna taste?”

You’re not compelled to say no, so you nod—it was your own body, after all. Eddie grins salaciously, dipping his finger inside you this time with a quiet shush at your sudden gasp, quirking his finger teasingly. He pulls the finger away just as quickly, glistening with slick as he brings it to your mouth, pushing it past your waiting lips, barely any resistance as the heat of your mouth closes around his finger, dragging along your tongue until his ring bumps against your now closed lips.

“Shit,” He curses, eyes dilating at the sigh, honey irises now nearly black, “you’re a dream, you know that?”

You pull your mouth away with a noisy smack, “So I’ve been told.” You reply with a coyish grin, guiding his hand down to your throbbing cunt, awaiting the same desperately needed attention as him. “I hate to be a buzzkill, but if you don’t get to work—we’re gonna skip straight to the next step and I really don’t want to miss out.”

Eddie snorts with endearment, “Of course—sorry, princess.” He responds snarkily, knowing how much you hated the word.

You yank at his hair, earning a soft grunt as he buried as his face into your cunt fully—there was no gradual build up or teasing licks, his tongue flattening against you and gliding up the seam of your cunt in one fluid motion before his mouth was closing over your clit, working diligently and furiously—it was almost too much.

“Finally,” You sigh out, “—of everything you like to stick in your mouth, I didn’t think this is what would work the easiest.”

“Oh, I did.” He admits guilty, take a short break to sneak in the snide comment, “I’m a simple man—and this pussy is just—“

“Okay, okay.” You reply impatiently, bumping the side of his head with your thigh, urging him to continue, “less talking, please.”

Eddie has a way of ravishing you to the point of breathlessness, face heating up at the ungodly noises your arousal made when mixed with his mouth, his fingers joining in greedily, sinking inside you with ease, fitting perfectly, like they were right where they should be.

Your fist tightens his curls as the feeling builds, stomach tightening at the intense coil of pleasure at the base of your abdomen, you whine softly, legs shaking in anguish.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks hopefully, “Baby, you’re shaking—“

You nod desperately, urging him to keep going, blunt nails scratch at his back, “Eddie, please.” You beg for no reason in particular, but Eddie adores the way his name falls from your tongue like this, desperate for release—so he gives it to you without questions, pulling you right to the brink with his mouth against your clit, tongue working over the sensitive bundle of nerves until you’re moaning out, a harsh gasp ripped from your chest as you curl forward, hips involuntarily rocking through your orgasm that Eddie guides you through.

“I—“ You try to speak, feeling loss for words and gasping for air, chest heaving quickly, “—fuck, I can’t even think.”

Eddie laughs softly, adjusting his way up your body until he’s settled over you, arms encircling your waist and covering you in warmth, the sharp coldness of his bracelet shocking you back to reality.

“Are you calling it quits already?” Eddie asks petulantly, bottom lip forming into a subtle pout. You smile tiredly, raising your hand to drag along the faint stubble of his chin—he’d gone a few days without shaving and it was barely noticeable unless you were this close, invading his space.

“No,” You say wearily, Eddie senses your uncertainty and bursts into a fit of laughter, pulling back until he can lift you up and into his lap, supporting the majority of your weight, “—maybe, I don’t know?”

Eddie chews at his bottom lip in thought, a horrible habit that’s caused one too many bloody lips—you tap at his face lightly, pulling him out of his deep trance of thinking, giving him a soft look of warning.

“Sorry,” He replies earnestly, “—was thinkin’.”

“About?” You press, voice tipping up an octave.

You drag your thumb along his bottom lip, letting him pull the finger between his teeth gently, eyes boring into your own with intensity.

“You trust me?” He mumbled around your thumb, earning a jerky nod from you in response. “Good.”

And like that, Eddie’s flipping to his back, settling you over his lap with ease, “Not like that.” He instructs, making a motion with his fingers for you to turn the other way. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion but you listen anyways, turning until your thighs are spread out over his lap, “yeah—fuck, that’s—“

Eddie’s at a loss for words, for once.

“Don’t give up on me now.” You tease, pulling at his hands until they’re settling over the base of his own cock, allowing him to guide himself to your cunt, sliding and to the hilt in one gentle motion, his hand grasping back at your hip to keep you steady as you fall forward, mouth hung open in a groan as your fingers gripped the sheets between his legs. The angle was better, deeper, you couldn’t even fully describe it, but you could tell Eddie was affected just the same, doing the soft laugh he does when he’s overwhelmed with pleasure, elated and happy.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie sighs, hands squeezing at the dips in your hips, “this view is—fuckin’ amazing.”

“Eddie, it’s so—“

“Deep,” He answers with a strained chuckle, “trust me—I know.”

“Come on, baby.” He urges, assisting in the slow lift of your hips, the first slam of your ass back against his groin pulling a deep guttural groan out of both of you.

Your legs are weak, still recovering from the intensity of your orgasm, the muscles twitching in protest as you bounced over Eddie’s lap, his dick disappearing inside of you as he watched on in awe, until he notices the muscles of your back contracting, palms pressed out in front of you as you struggled to keep upright.

It was a losing battle.

Eddie quickly sits up, adjusting himself until your back is pressed against his chest, arms wrapping around your stomach, he leans down to mouth at your back, whispering hot-breathed words of adoration into your skin and something closer to “Baby, baby—“ over and over again until it all blurs together, a similar tone to your desperate plea of his name, not entirely sure what you’re asking for.

“Look at me,” He asks breathlessly, hand reaching around to pull at your face, bringing your tired eyes to his gaze, lips parted slightly, “feels good, yeah?”

You nod slowly, his thumb heavy against your lip, parting further without question. Eddie can see the question in your eyes, he doesn’t need you to say it.

“You sure?” He asks.

You nod furiously, eyes squeezing shut on a rough thrust of his hips, his ring and middle finger slipping over the flat of your tongue, cold metal knocking against your teeth gently.

“Suck, sweetheart,” He encourages, the flat of his palm pressing against your stomach, his hips snapping into you from below, moans strangled out by his fingers.

“All it takes is my fingers, huh?” Eddie asks teasingly, “Is it that simple?”

You don’t answer, the inability made by Eddie’s fingers pressing further against your tongue, before pulling out and pressing the spit slick fingers to your core, the slide over your aching clit has you gripping to his forearms, letting Eddie take hold and pulling you to your second orgasm that night, the hand that’s pressed firmly against your stomach reaching up to grab you shoulder to keep you steady.

Eddie widens his thighs slightly, the stretch pulling at your already aching muscles, “Eddie, it’s too much.” You tell him, “I can’t—“

“You can,” He soothes, using every last ounce of energy he has to keep you upright, his steady pace falling off, more unpredictable as he nears his own end, “M’almost there, sweetheart.”

“Fuck,” You whine, Eddie’s fingers insistent as he circles your clit, determined to bring you over the edge with him, “I’m gonna—“

Eddie feels you tense around his cock, mouth falling open wordlessly as you come, letting him keep you pressed against him, tipping over the edge just as quick, the tightness of your cunt around him too overwhelming in the moment and he swears he nearly backs out.

It takes a moment for you two to come down, breath mingling together as Eddie slipped out of you, carefully adjusting your strained thighs until you could sit on the bed comfortably, his fingers brushing away a few wild strands of hair from your face, smiling through his own mused hair, bangs obscuring his eyes slightly.

You’re not even totally conscious again until you hear the familiar flick of Eddie’s lighter and the tinge of smoke invading your senses, cigarette placed between his lips.

You look at him with a subtle glance of scrutiny, admiring his unashamed nakedness, leaning back on his mattress in full glory, plucking at the cigarette with his thumb and forefinger, offering it up to you.

“No,” You reply softly, pressing up on shaky legs to climb over him—Eddie grips at your wrist instantly, eyes turned up in question, “—bathroom, hot shot.”

“Do you need help?” Eddie asks softly, rubbing at the tender spot on the inside of your wrist.

“I think I can manage.” You tell him, pulling at his grasp until you can lean over him, pressing your lips against his tenderly, the soft bellow of smoke pouring into your own mouth.

Eddie chuckles softly, tracing his pointer finger over your lips slowly, a smile pulling at your face.

“God, I fuckin’ love you.” He says warmly, finger pressing under your chin to tilt your face up to look at him. “You have no idea.”

You hum softly in response, “I beg to differ.”