alanis

he sees you near his locker, eyes slanted and shimmery lips spread in a mean smirk. there's another girl in front of you scowling furiously even though there's a couple of tears in the corners of her eyes. eddie mumbles a string of curses and quickens his steps when he sees your mouth open. grimaces a little when he hears your voice.

"you really think a silly little note will make him look at you?" you pout in mock pity, "you're not even his type, sweetie."

eddie will give it to her, she certainly is braver than most. her back straightens and her arms cross. "and you are? you think someone like him would like someone as mean as you?"

your face drops immediately.

"shit, shit, shit," eddie whispers. he fights the sea of people walking along the hallway, hauls his backpack over his shoulder when it threatens to fall off.

you rip the note in half and then rip it again until the paper is reduced to nothing by miniature pieces that could never be pieced together again. the girl watches them fall to the floor, her heart ripped just like that note. and to add more insult to injury, you step over them with your heels, making sure to rub them against the dirty school floor.

eddie thinks the girl whimpers as you step closer to her, the spontaneous bravery she felt gone as quickly as it came.

"you little—" he manages to wrap his fingers around your wrist and drag you into the closest bathroom before you cause irreparable damage to that poor girl's self esteem.

you're fuming and spewing insults his way for ruining your fun as he pushes you against the sink and helps you sit on the edge. he falls to his knees, ignoring your words, and spreads your legs.

you fight against it pettily, pressing your blocky heel against his shoulder to push him off balance. but eddie just grabs your ankle and forces your leg up.

"you're such an— oh." the second his lips wrap around your clit, your body goes lax, back melting into the cold mirror.

his tongue delves between your folds and your eyes flutter shut, body warming up as shocks of electricity run down your spine. you slide your foot over his shoulder and use it as a hook to pull him closer to you, moaning when he groans against you and you feel the vibrations.

it doesn't take you long to cum, too worked up from the lack of nutrients. and eddie knows exactly how to make you unravel, knows when to suck on your clit and when to push his tongue into your weeping hole. knows when to go slow and gentle and when to go feral, head shaking between your quivering thighs as he slurps and slurps and slurps.

when he gets up, he stands between your legs and cradles one of your cheeks so you can look up at him. you lean into his touch like a kitten, rubbing your face against his palm and smearing a tender kiss there.

"feeling better?" he asks. his thumb strokes your cheekbone.

you blink tiredly at him. "mhm," you hum. you take his other hand and play around with his ring, twisting the metal skull around his ring finger. "i'm sorry," you say quietly. you know he doesn't like it much when you make fun of people, especially in front of others.

"i know." he presses a kiss to your forehead. hovers his lips for a couple of seconds. "but i'm not the one you have to say sorry to."

you pout. "she wanted to slip you a note. to ask you on a date."

he struggles to keep his amusement at bay. thinks he's lucky that you care so much even though it's clear he's as obsessed with you as you are with him. that he would never in a million years even think of looking at another girl when he has you.

especially not mindy from history who didn't want to share her textbook with him when he forgot his copy a year ago.

"i don't give a shit about anyone else, you know that." he rubs the dip between your eyebrows gently. your face relaxes.

"but—"

"no 'but's, sweetheart. you're the only i want." he helps you down and holds you up steady, legs still a bit wobbly. "so how about you say sorry to mindy for breaking her note? if you do it before lunch we can skip our last period and go back to the trailer."

you ignore his attempt at bribery and cross your arms over your chest. "you know her name?"

eddie laughs, the sound echoing in the otherwise empty bathroom. he untangles your arms and places them over your shoulders, hands stroking your arms on his way to intertwine your fingers together behind his neck. "hard to forget the girl who ratted me out to the teacher for cheating on a test. pretty sure that's why i failed history that year— teach held a grudge."

"and you still want me to apologise to that snitch?"

his eyes twinkle like he knows you actually meant to say "bitch". he's happy with your attempt at niceties. "mhm. 'cause we're nice people."

"i'm not nice," you scowl.

"yeah, you are."

"no. i'm not."

eddie's hands slide down your arms and to your waist, squeezing it. his head tilts to the side as he takes you in; silly, lovesick smile showing.

by any standards, you are probably not very nice. you laugh at people with your cheer friends and more often than not spread rumours around. you can't keep a secret and you gossip too much. you hold grudges and you mock people for saying stupid things.

but you're also nice to him and his friends and his uncle. you've gotten jason to stop picking on him. you've brought him trays of cookies and cupcakes and tupperwares of warm food you claimed were leftovers but he knew you baked from scratch for him and his uncle to have around the trailer. you've gone to hellfire meetings and listened to his favourite bands and wore one of their shirts when you went to one of his gigs at the hideout.

so, in eddie's book, you are pretty nice.

"yes. you. are." each word is punctuated by a kiss on your lips. "when you want to be. so d'you want to be nice today?"

you look at him. at his puppy eyes filled with so much love and adoration and hope. you know he won't resent you if you don't apologise, but you know he'll be even prouder if you do. know he'll smile until his dimple shows and he'll squeeze you against his side and kiss your head. he'll call you metal.

your insides feel like goo just from thinking about it.

the dress you wore rippled in the breeze as you lean back on your hands. looking around you notice most of the graduated senior class is piling onto the sand, beach chairs and charcoal grills in hand. there’s a couple of girls who hop out the back of a pickup truck and boys who’s eyes linger way too long on them. there’s already people in the water, splashing around and playing chicken.

this is exactly what summer felt like.

you pulled your dress off and dig through your bag for some sunscreen. once you find it you start to apply it all over. you swear you hear a whistle when you start to put some on your chest, but you try your best to ignore it. once youre done, you lay back hands under your head as a makeshift pillow, finally relaxing.

“henderson,” a familiar voice greets you, taking a seat next to you. you peek over with one eye and you see jeans. black jeans on the hottest day of the week. you recognize it immediately.

“don’t call me that, im not my brother,” you roll your eyes with a smile. “what convinced you to come here? i know it wasn’t being surrounded by these jerks,” you question.

“thought i’d try to make peace, be the bigger person.” he says matter of factly.

“you’re hoping to deal, aren’t you?”

“yep,” he laughs, pulling his knees to his chest, his sneakers digging into the sand.

you chuckle back. bringing you hands down to prop yourself up on your elbows. “the least you could’ve done was wear some shorts,”

“thats not metal, babe.” he smirks, pulling his bag to his side, “but don’t worry, i came prepared.”

“good, because your making me hot,” you shake your head at him and turn to look at the lake in front of you. “this place is much better when its just our friends.”

“yeah yeah, we know you love to watch steve take his shirt off.” he teases.

“no, i watch you take your shirt off, get it right.” you quip, grabbing your sunglasses out of your bag and laying back down. you slide them onto your face and place your hands under your head again.

you don’t miss the way his ears go red, or the way his eye dart around trying to think of something to say. “what convinced you to come?” he asks, “i thought you were over hawkins high,”

“robin called yesterday, said she wanted me to come and that i owe her for using her discount at family video.” you explain, bending your left leg so your foot is flat on the sand.

“bribery, im starting to like her more and more you know..” he chuckles, leaning back on his hands. he looks over at you and your glowing body. he couldn’t help but try and sneak a look at the necklace that laid between the valley of your breasts. or how the strings of your cherry red bikini were pulled so high on your hips. his eyes trailed down your sparkling legs and to your perfectly done toes; painted red to match your suit.

he was hooked. hooked on his “prodigy’s” sister.

“i can feel you staring you know.” you mumble, eyes closed under the sunglasses.

“what? its a cute swim suit,” he says all too quickly.

“did you want to borrow it or something?” you giggle, “id have to wash it first of course, but i dont mind sharing,”

“laugh it up, i know you stare at my ass in these jeans sweetheart.” he smirks and watches your face darken half a shade.

you roll your eyes under your shades and stay quiet for a moment before sitting up. “gotta stay even.” you explain before flipping onto your stomach. you prop yourself up on your elbows again as you search for the sunscreen once more.

“get my back?” you grin, holding the bottle up to him. he freezes for a second, but eventually nods.

he mumbles a quick sure before taking the cream from your hands and squeezing it into his hands. as he readjusts you lay back down, head facing his old seat as you pull your hair to the side.

“ready?” he asks, rubbing his palms together.

“yes,” you answer quickly, “is it cold?” before you finish your question, his hands are on your shoulders, making you wince. he spreads the sunscreen across your upper back. thumbs coming up between your shoulder blades and you sigh happily as he starts to massage it in.

“feel good?” he mumbles, eyes trailing down your spine and to your butt, where your bikini seems to be smaller. you hum in response, nodding your head with a giddy smile.

he lifts his hands, reaching over to get more lotion and you whine, missing the contact. “oh relax, im back you big baby,” he shakes his head, bringing his hands to your middle back and sliding them under the string of your bikini.

he drags them down to the small of your back, massaging your back again, and smirking at the blissed out expression on your face. he brings his hands around your hips and rubs his thumbs into them before lifting his hands away.

he pats the highest point of your butt twice signaling his completion. “all done, doll. and yes i do except tips.” he jokes, making his way back to his ‘seat’.

you frown, looking up at him and the stupid smirk on his face as he looks down at you. “you should do that more often, makes up for the stress of hanging out with you.” you joke back with a cheesy smile.

“someones fiesty after getting a free massage,” he shakes his head at you, feigning disappointment.

“i never said i wouldn’t pay you back.” you retort, reaching around behind your back. you pull at the thin strings of your swim suit and sigh as they fall down the sides of your back. he raises a brow at you and you smirk back up at him.

“what? i didn’t want a tan line.”

As you waited for Eddie to answer the door, you wondered if you had time to go back to your car and drive off. It was too much to ask. He'd just said yes to be nice, but really he was uncomfortable. It had come up after you'd both been smoking... maybe a little more than you should have. You were pent up, irritated.

"You know, I haven't had sex in over a year."

He'd burst out laughing.

"Poor you, Y/N. Me neither."

"I'm so frustrated I actually bought a vibrator. Not that I've had the chance to use it."

Eddie had perked up at that. You parents were always home, either one or the other. And that thing was loud. It was borderline pornographic; even the buzz of it turned you on. The only reason you'd told Eddie about your little problem was the slim chance that he might take pity on you. God, so desperate you'd take a pity fuck from your best friend? Then again, you'd accept any reason he had for him to touch you.

One thing had led to another, like most things did with the two of you, and the night had ended in Eddie offering you the privacy of his own room. And you'd accepted.

Eddie opened the door, looking as if he had been in the middle of something. A thin sheen of sweat covered him. He had his dark curls pulled back into a messy bun, strands clinging to his throat. He was wearing a beaten white tee, the sleeves ripped off, and a pair of stonewashed jeans torn at the knees. He flashed you a smile.

"You're early. Are you that eager?"

It might have been just a joke -- everything was a joke with him -- but you still felt your cheeks heat up at the accusation. It was all you could think about that morning, your new vibrator weighing heavy in your bag. You had a little knot in your belly, which flipped and clenched with anticipation. Every bump in the road to his trailer sent shocks through you and made you clench your thighs.

"I, uh..." You cleared your throat.

Eddie stepped aside, letting you in. "Sorry," he laughed, shutting the door behind you. "Didn't mean to make things awkward. You're still alright with this, yeah?"

You nodded. "Only if you are."

He shoved one hand in his pocket while the other gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. "Well, I'm planning a long walk around the neighbourhood. See whose Christmas decorations are still up and all that. And I'll be in good company." He withdrew a new pack of cigarettes from his pocket. "So, take as long as you need."

"I'll keep the door locked until I'm done. Deal?"

He seemed so nonchalant. So cool about something that was very much not cool. You gripped the strap of your bag with both hands as he nodded and tugged his sneakers on.

"Deal," he said. "And relax, will you?"

"Huh?"

Eddie grinned and opened the new pack. "You're shaking like a leaf, Y/N. If you wanna have a good time, you have to relax. Nobody's walking in on you, okay?"

You took a deep breath. He was right. "Okay."

He put a cigarette between his lips and stepped outside. You heard the door lock behind, and it shook in its frame when he tested it to make sure it was shut firm. You wasted no time, stepping out of your shoes and heading to his bedroom.

It seemed you had interrupted something. You'd never seen Eddie's room so clean. His records were in their sleeves and placed in boxes, his cassettes stacked, and the bed -- God, it was made. You half expected to throw the comforter back to find rose petals and a bottle of champagne. Tingles rushed through you. He really did care about you having a good time.

You undressed, first quickly, stumbling out of your skirt. Then you took a breath. Relax. You undid your shirt, spending time on each button, feeling your skin as you exposed inch after inch. You shivered under your own touch. Over a month of trying to find the privacy. Finally, it was time.

You sat down on the edge of his bed and slipped one hand into your bag. It wasn't large or gaudy. You wanted something compact, subtle. Something gentle for your first toy. And this was perfect. You turned it on and off, testing the three intensity settings, your thighs clenching at the sound of it. You flopped down onto your back. Head against his pillows. You forced yourself to put the toy down beside you, feeling yourself first. Hands skating up your sides, down your thighs, over your tits, scratching your nails over your bra cups.

Hopefully, it's a long walk.

--

Shit. Shit shit shit.

It had been five minutes and one cigarette before Eddie came sprinting back to the trailer. Sure, he knew that Y/N was in there and needed privacy. But what if Wayne came back early? He had a key and every right to be there. Eddie cringed at the thought of his uncle walking in and hearing... that. Y/N would never forgive him.

So he came running back, deciding to guard the trailer until you unlocked the door. He parked himself on the front step, elbows on his knees, and waited.

Eddie tried to think about his plans for that night. The guys were getting together for a practice sesh at five, and he still needed to finish hammering out the last details for Hellfire's next session. They'd leveled up, and he wanted something to test their mettle.

But the more he tried not to think about you in there, the more his mind turned to it.

How could he say no to you? It was a terrible problem to have -- one he never had to worry about, given how often Wayne was gone. More than that, you were his best friend. And even more than that...

Eddie rubbed his chin. The thought of you laying in his bed, writhing, moaning, pumping that vibrator in and out of your hot, soaked --

He shut his eyes. No. He wouldn't think about that. It wasn't right, in fact it was selfish, using the opportunity to think of you that way. Not that thinking of you that way was anything new to him. But just the thought had desire stirring deep in his belly, his face heating up. He stood up, stretching. Maybe he could walk around the trailer, keep his mind off of it.

But as he rounded the far side, where his trailer faced the woods that stood between the park and the main road, he heard it. That singular buzzing that made his heart stutter and his cock twitch. Unmistakable. He found himself beside the window to his bedroom, the thin drapes drawn but the window cracked open to let out the stifling heat.

Eddie stopped. It was wrong, so, so wrong. But that only made it more fun. He had his back to the trailer, and turned his head just a fraction of an inch. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see your silhouette, stretched languid on the bed.

And you were... Oh, God.

--

You let the tip brush your nipple, which stiffened to a hard peak at the vibrating touch. You let out a gasp, your free hand playing with your other tit as you circled your nipple with the vibrator. It was on the lowest setting, and already it sent thrills through you. It wasn't the same, but you imagined someone's tongue teasing your stiff peak. Licking, flicking, twisting, biting.

His ringed fingers on your sides, keeping you still.

Fuck. You didn't want to think about Eddie. But you were surrounded by him. His clothes, his music, is scent. You turned your head, your nose pressing into his pillow, inhaling the smell of his shampoo. God, it was wrong. But it felt so good.

You couldn't hold back any longer. One hand grazed down your body until you reached your clit, two fingers spreading your folds. You were already so wet, but you needed more. You brought the vibrator to your lips and dipped it into your mouth, wetting it, as far as your throat would allow. You moaned around it, pretending it was him.

And the second you withdrew it, you touched it to your clit and gasped.

Electric shocks shot through you, a wave of pleasure rising and crashing over you. You let out a groan that turned into a sigh. You spread your legs wider, lifting your clitoral hood and grazing it again, this time just on the side. You couldn't control the moan that fell from your lips. You cunt clenched around nothing, begging for something to squeeze.

Soon, you promised yourself, forcing your ass back down onto the bed -- when had you lifted it? You circled your clit, one way and then the other, pausing where it felt the best. Knots tightened and undid in your belly, your heart racing. It felt as good as an orgasm, and you weren't even close to finishing.

Everything fell away from your consciousness. All you could focus on was that feeling, that buzzing, clenching, gushing, convulsing between your legs.

--

Eddie had his back against the trailer, palming himself through his jeans. He'd tried to resist, to keep that one boundary uncrossed. But the second you shoved that toy in your mouth and moaned around it, he went from semi- to rock-hard in less than three seconds and had to relieve some of the pressure.

He bit down on his lip, forcing back a groan as he rolled his hips, grinding into his hand. You had your back arched, your chest heaving, perfect tits catching the slat of sunlight that peeked in.

"Oh my God," you exhaled, the pitch of your moans growing higher, higher. "Oh my God, ohmygod..."

Eddie tipped his head back, eyes shut now. He didn't have to watch anymore -- God help him if he was caught. All he needed were the sounds you were making. Your quick, gasping breaths. Your groans, your cusses, your panting. The buzz of the vibrator as it went up one setting.

"Fu-fuck!" you stammered. "God, yes."

Eddie wanted to burst in. To bust open the door and climb on top of you, to show you that if you thought that was good, his mouth could do even better. He licked his lips and squeezed his erection through his pants, aching for more friction.

"More," you gasped, begging yourself to push further. Eddie turned his head and opened his eyes.

--

You slid the vibrator between your folds, and with a little stinging that quickly turned from pain to pleasure, pushed it inch by delicious inch inside of you. You couldn't decide whether to spread your legs further or squeeze them together. Your knees buckled, your orgasm rapidly approaching.

Your toes curled, one hand clenching the sheets as you dipped the vibrator in and out, slowly, savouring the filthy, wet sounds.

You didn't mean to picture him. But being stretched like that, laying back in his bed, knowing that he knew just what you were doing at that moment, you couldn't help but imagine him leaning over you, grunting with every slow, hard thrust --

"Eddie," you whispered, turning back to muffle your cries in a pillow as white-hot pleasure exploded in your belly and rippled out from you, making your whole body go fuzzy. You slammed the button, forcing the vibrator to its highest setting as you rode out wave after wave as it crashed over you.

All at once, it was too much. Your whole body twitched, overstimulated. You turned the vibrator off and, slowly, pulled out. Wetness gushed between your legs and -- unbeknownst to you -- pooled on the bed.

--

Lick it. God, please lick it. Half of him was ashamed of the thought, but the other half chanted it like a prayer. Eddie covered his mouth, biting a knuckle as you lifted the vibrator to your lips once again, swallowing it.

"Fuck," he breathed.

You laid there for a few moments, and he could hear you catching your breath. He slipped a hand into his pants, fighting back a moan at the contact and readjusting himself so that he didn't have an obvious boner when you answered the door.

It felt like hours before you unlocked the door, and he was halfway through another cigarette, sitting on the step, when you did. He glanced over his shoulder. Cool, be cool.

"Was it everything they say it is?"

You nodded, and did that cute thing where you tucked your chin down to hide your smile.

"Thanks again," you said, but he barely heard you. You said your goodbyes, and your legs wobbled as you walked back to your car.

If it were up to him, you wouldn't be able to walk at all.

The second you drove off, he stamped out his cigarette and went inside. It was cooler in the trailer, but his skin was burning hot. His shirt was off before he even got to the bedroom. He went over to his records, ready to put one on to mute the sounds he'd make just in case Wayne came home.

Then he stopped. Eddie's gaze slid to his bed, a record in his hands. There was a wet spot on his bed.

Fuck. This was bad. Disgusting.

His pants and boxers pooled at his feet, one knee on the bed, one hand balancing him while he stroked his cock. His tip was bright red, swollen, and soaked. The bed was still warm in places, especially the wet spot. He ground into it, one hand gathering the sheets to rut into them.

Eddie shut his eyes, imagining you cumming around his cock. Soaking it. He let out a high-pitched moan, gnawing at his lower lip at the thought of you licking your juices off of his cock.

He had both knees on the bed now, holding the sheets around his erection, moving his hips as if he were slamming into you. He replayed your moans in his head, every oh God and more. Just minutes earlier, you were here, soaking his sheets.

That thought undid him. Eddie choked on his next moan, hips stuttering as thick ropes of cum shot out, ruining his sheets even more. He let the sheets fall, looking at the mess he'd made but not seeing it. All Eddie could see was you, laying underneath him, mouth open and tongue out.

Eddie, right.  Your eyes glanced to the side, remembering he’d been sitting under your feet, but he was gone now.  You sighed slightly, gaze moving back to Barry the bear who was wrapped up in your arms close to your chest.  You gave him a kiss on the head, only then remembering that was the same place Eddie kissed him yesterday.

The TV was still on, just near-silent static now, and knew Eddie wouldn’t have left for school yet— maybe he just went back to bed, you couldn’t blame him for that.  There was this weird feeling in your stomach, it was almost like… no.  You didn’t miss him, right?  That would be beyond bizarre.

‘Cause, you know, it’s Eddie— loud and obnoxious and invasive and annoying.  He didn’t always smell springtime fresh, either, even forgetting the cigarettes (which you couldn’t forget anyways, because he always came home reeking of them).  He made a mess in your room, he made fun of you, he made you feel weird and strange and you really didn’t like feeling anything.  So, yeah, it would be pretty odd to miss Eddie just because he left the couch at some point after you fell asleep.  Shit, I should make sure he didn’t draw on my face with marker or something, you realized, because that seemed like exactly his move— but just then, the clock struck six.  That only matters because it meant that the six o’clock news began, which only matters because you must have sat on the remote or something— it was insanely loud, startling you out of your skin.

“TOP OF THE HOUR, THIS IS THE SIX A.M. NEWS—” the anchor bellowed, the loud chime of the station’s news hour just as deafening, and you let out a scream instinctively in reaction to the sudden noise.  You were trying to find the remote so you could turn it down or even just off, but your legs had fallen asleep at some point during the night on this tiny couch, and, well, you weren’t especially coordinated in the wee hours of the morning, just scared out of still being half asleep…

And that was how you fell off the couch.

Correction: that was how you fell off the couch and onto Eddie.  

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Eddie greeted with a purr as he grinned up at you, hands settling on your hips as you realized what that firm heat against your thigh, through his pajama pants and the thin blanket on his lap, actually was.

Several things happened at once, then.  You swatted Eddie’s hand off of your hips, face starting to burn with embarrassment; Eddie found the remote and muted the TV; and Wayne came storming in in just his stained undershirt and boxers, clearly still half-asleep yet emphatically wielding a baseball bat.

“What’s goin’ on?!” he slurred.

“Nothing— nothing!” you insisted.

“Heard you scream!” Wayne explained.  “And there was— a man’s voice?”

“That was just the news, gramps,” Eddie informed him with a smirk.  “You thought Chuck Anderson broke into our house?” 

Wayne leaned in and peeked at the TV, seeing the aforementioned anchorman silently explaining some important news story, and sighed.  “Sorry, I just— what did you scream for?”

He looked at you both, and raised an eyebrow.  It seemed that that was the moment everyone collectively realized you were still straddling Eddie’s lap; you jumped up and off of him in a blink, pulling your nightgown down to cover your thighs. 

“I— it was— it’s not— we didn’t—” you started over probably a thousand times before Eddie finally saved you.

“She was startled by the news coming on,” Eddie explained to Wayne, who relaxed a bit and lowered the bat with a nod.  “Guess you’re both a couple of scaredy-cats.”

“Yeah, guess so,” Wayne agreed.  “G’morning, by the way.”

“Sorry I woke you up,” you blinked quickly, holding your arms across your chest.

“S’fine, sweetheart,” he shook his head.  “I’m… I’ll just go back to bed…”

And he wandered back to the master bedroom, you and Eddie waiting with bated breath until you heard his door shut; Eddie sighed through a grin as he looked up at you, sitting on the carpet with his upper body propped up by his hands behind his hips.  “He likes you way more than he likes me,” Eddie informed you, “if I woke him up like that before he had to go to work, he’d start yelling about how I need to quiet down, boy!”

You weren’t paying attention to any of that, including his impression of Wayne’s more pronounced accent— instead, you swung your leg and kicked Eddie on the arm, making him yelp and grab his bicep.

“Hey!” he frowned at you.

“Fuck are you doing on the floor?!” you whined, kicking him again.  “You scared me half to death!  I fell on you!”

“Yeah, I noticed,” he laughed proudly.  “Next time you wanna jump my bones, feel free to wake me up before you start.  Just a heads up, I like getting yelled at.”

“Shut up,” you snapped, snatching the blanket off the couch to cover yourself with— your pajamas weren’t that revealing or anything, you just suddenly felt sort of exposed with Eddie looking at you like that.  “You’re disgusting.”

“Yeah, that’s a good start,” he hummed, biting his lip.

“I fucking hate it here,” you grumbled under your breath as you stormed off to your bedroom, dragging the blanket behind you like a cape.  Your room was a little darker than the rest of the house still, since it had darker curtains than the living room window, and you wished that would be enough to let you get back to sleep— but your heart was still racing.

You were about to slam the door behind you but Eddie grabbed it first.  “Don’t forget Barry,” he reminded you, holding the bear out, and you snatched it away quickly. 

It’s hard to say what compelled you to glance down, but when you did, your throat went dry at the sight of the bulge in his pants.  “Jesus Christ, Eddie!” you yelped, slamming your hand down over your mouth first, then your eyes.  “Can’t you cover that up?”

“U-uh, sorry,” he mumbled, grabbing a picture frame off of your desk and holding it over his crotch.

“Why are you—?  God, I don’t even wanna know…” you trailed off.

“Just how guys wake up,” he insisted, “don’t take it too personally.”

“I won’t,” you promised, turning around and walking towards the bed.

“Hey, what if I wanna go back to sleep, too?” he asked.

“You seemed just fine on the floor,” you returned, kicking the door shut behind you so it slammed in his face.

You collapsed onto your bed face-down.  Though you knew you had no chance of sleeping now, you shut your eyes and just tried to think about anything else— anyone else.

Just when it seemed like maybe you and Eddie could get along, he had to ruin it with raunchy jokes and that smug grin of his.  Just when, for a split second, you saw him in a new way, he fell back on old habits.  Truly, Eddie Munson hadn’t changed much since high school: he was just as goofy and self-assured as you remembered, if anything even more boisterous.  

You hadn’t changed much, either; though you’d never admit it, even to yourself, he still made this strange feeling stir in your chest.  You still wished you could be more like him— more irreverent, more confident.  

Having him here was bringing back all those old feelings, all those memories you’d buried of watching him grandstand in the cafeteria or ignore bullies and jocks or do something stupid to make his friends laugh.  All those times you’d seen him and felt this sick feeling in your stomach because he just didn’t care what people thought of him and you couldn’t imagine how.  He almost seemed to enjoy the negative attention, he craved it, he invited it!  That was why you hated Eddie— because he didn’t have this need to please everyone that you did.  He looked so free.  You hated him the way a bird in a cage must hate the others it sees in the tree through the window; you hated him for breaking all the rules you’d imposed on yourself.

You spoke it in your mind over and over like a mantra: I hate Eddie Munson, I hate Eddie Munson.

But it wasn’t working.  

The next morning was a much-needed reprieve from the chaos.

When you woke up, Eddie was already at school, Wayne was at work, and it was just you and your mom— you know, how life was before everything went bonkers?  Best of all, you didn’t have class until the afternoon and it was one of your days off from your relatively-new job at the Rite Aid photo counter, meaning you could actually enjoy a quiet morning.  You could pretend everything was normal for a while, and so you did, waking up on your own terms and getting up eventually to step out into the hallway and follow it until you found your mom standing by the stove.

“Morning, honey!” she greeted sweetly.

“Morning,” you returned, sitting at the breakfast bar, and adding, relevantly: “what’s for breakfast?”

“Fried eggs and bacon,” she replied— not your favorite, but you didn’t have to cook it, so you weren’t complaining.  “How much do you want?”

“Two eggs, one strip, please,” you answered; a moment later, a plate to your exact specifications appeared— arranged, of course, in a smiley face.  Apparently, you still weren’t too old for that.  You said thank you before digging in, of course, but mainly you were just focused on how everything tasted better when it wasn’t a “family meal.”

"You want some orange juice, honey?" she asked.

"Not if it's got Munson germs on it," you grimaced, recalling that time you caught Eddie drinking straight from the carton one morning, and she laughed.  

"It's a new carton, I just bought it last night."

"Then I'd better enjoy it while it's still untainted, huh?" you smirked.  She poured you a glass, and you quietly made it through your first meal of the day.

When all that was left of your food was half a strip of bacon and the traces of runny yolk on white porcelain, you got up out of your chair and stretched.  “Thanks for the food, mom,” you offered politely, but of course, she wanted more in return than just thanks.

“Sweetie, will you get yours and Eddie’s sheets and put them in the laundry, please?” she asked.

“Sure,” you replied, taking the last swig of your orange juice before setting the glass down and returning to your room.

You started by stripping your sheets and tossing them into a pile on the floor before climbing the ladder to untuck Eddie’s next.  Of course, they were in total disarray, and you found a Walkman and some candy bar wrappers tangled up in them.  That, though, was nothing compared to when you pulled the fitted sheet out from around his mattress and saw something dark and glossy slide out from the side of the frame.  Leaning in, you pulled it out all the way but dropped it in disgust when you realized you were holding a porno mag.  

“Ewwww,” you whispered to yourself, lifting the mattress to find another left open to a page where two women were on top of each other in bed, open-mouthed and just about to kiss, nude spare for the one sporting some fuzzy handcuffs.  “Bet you read this one for the articles, huh, Ed?” you mumbled to yourself, turning the page just to grimace at the picture of a blonde spread eagle— she wasn’t blonde everywhere, though.

A weird feeling twisted in your chest, one you couldn’t describe or even name.  I don’t look anything like these girls, you kept thinking, but you weren’t sure why that mattered at all.  

You really considered throwing them out— you could already imagine walking in on Eddie rifling through his bedsheets, before shooting you a sharp glare and yelling did you touch my stuff, again?!  And you’d say I found your stash, perv and he’d grab your shoulders and start the interrogation: What’d you do with them? And you’d shrug and glance at the trash can, just for him to growl you know, just because you’re a prude doesn’t mean you can go around trashing my porn.

You smiled to yourself; that actually sounded kinda fun.  But no, you could skip the whole ordeal and just leave them neatly stacked under the mattress after you put new sheets on it, a silent message that you saw his filth and let it be.  You hoped he’d be even just an ounce embarrassed, but you weren’t sure if Eddie even had the capability for shame; you were surprised he even had the discretion to hide the magazines under his mattress in the first place!  Especially considering you’d already overheard his… evening activities once or twice.  Like that very first week, when you kicked his bed— you remembered that like it was yesterday, even though Eddie and Wayne had been here over a month now.

To his credit, he’d been more thoughtful since then, apparently waiting longer for you to fall asleep or just doing it while you weren’t home.  What Eddie didn’t know was that you’d heard him again— but you didn’t say anything, you didn’t whisper-yell at him to cut it out or kicked the underside of his mattress.  You weren’t sure why, but you just… listened.

It was faint anyways, for the first couple minutes you kept wondering if you were really hearing what you thought you were— but then you heard him spit, presumably into his hand.  And you figured he didn’t just do that to pass the time.

The memory made that feeling come back, the heavy one in your stomach that was warm and yet made you shiver.  You’d listened silently, not even stirring in your bed in case it would make him stop; you’d clenched your thighs together, shutting your eyes and tuning in to every sigh, every hiss through his teeth, every wet sticky sound that you knew had to be his hand on his cock.

And then there was yesterday morning, when you felt it.  You’d been trying ever since to force that memory out of your head, but if you thought hard enough it was almost like it was still pressed to your inner thigh, still hot through his pajamas and the blanket, still… thick.

You swallowed and cleared your throat, shutting the magazine and delicately stacking it atop the other.  Sheets gathered in a bundle in your arms, you stepped down off the ladder and took them to the laundry room.

Of course, this was the season of major mid-term assignments at school, so you should’ve seen it coming.  Still, the assignment for your portraiture class was going to be especially irritating; you only gained more and more anxiety about it the harder you tried to find some way to complete it.

And now here you were, out of options.  You’d been psyching yourself up for this all day, waiting for the right time to ask him only to chicken out.  You knew you needed to get it over with— maybe some part of you was still hoping you would be able to get out of it through divine intervention, but that didn’t happen.  Which is why you waited until quite literally the last minute and didn’t approach him until nearly midnight.

He was on the couch, watching TV like his eyes were glued to the screen, ignoring you completely while he munched on microwaved popcorn and you stood by nervously.

You sighed slowly.  “Listen, Ed…”

“Mm?” he mumbled, half-listening— if that.

“I, um… I need a favor,” you explained.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up and his eyebrows raised.  He looked away from the TV, which he muted, and leaned in towards you with a grin.  “How can I help you, sweetheart?” he purred.

Your skin crawled, but you kept going.  “Um, well, my photography class— we have a big project, you know… portrait photography.”

His smile grew wider; he must’ve known where this was going, so you just got it over with.

“I need a model,” you admitted.

He leaned back on the couch, running his tongue over his teeth.  “So, naturally,” he continued, voice a little deeper and smoother than usual as he stretched his arms out along the back of the couch and brought one of his legs up to cross over the other, “you came to me.”

“Yeah,” you rolled your eyes, “fifth.”

He shrugged a little, turning his face to the side.  “If that’s how many phone calls it takes for you to realize you’ve got the perfect specimen of the male form at home already…”

You scoffed.

“And now I know you’re all out of other options,” he looked at you again with a sparkle in his eye, “so I’m gonna negotiate pretty hard.”

Shit.  You shouldn’t have played your hand early.  "If you do this for me, I'll… take the bus to my classes for two weeks," you offered.  "You can be early to school!"

"I love that you think being early to school is that important to me," he grinned.

“I’ll get you the new Van Halen record on vinyl,” you countered.

“Eh, heard the singles on the radio, they went too ballad-y,” Eddie shrugged.  “Why Can’t This Be Love?  More like, Why Can’t This Be Over Yet.”

“Fair,” you sighed.  "I'll… do your laundry for a month?"

You regretted that idea instantly; he probably had a tube sock somewhere so full of Munson genes that it was already committing misdemeanors.

Thankfully, he rejected his offer with a shake of his head.

“I know what I want already,” he explained.  “The van’s seen better days… thinking you could give her a nice sponge bath.  And a wax.”

“Oh, a sponge bath and a wax, sounds like your pre-date routine,” you scoffed.

“Yeah, full Brazilian, what’s it to you?” he joked— at least, you were pretty sure he was joking.  “So, you want a model or not?”

“You’re not serious,” you insisted.  “I’m not washing your car.”

“Then I’m not posing for your little… boudoir session.”

“It’s not boudoir, it’s portraits—”

“Not listening,” he informed you with a smile as he picked up the remote again and unmuted the show.  You snatched the remote out of his hand and turned the TV off, leaving the room dark as you sighed.

“Fine.  Fine!” you groaned.  “I’ll wash the van tomorrow.”

Of course, you just imagined yourself with the hose and a bucket on the driveway, getting the van clean.  You hadn’t realized Eddie would be there, too.  On a lawn chair.  In shorts and shades.  Drinking a beer, watching you.

“It’s like a fucking oven out here,” you explained with a frown, crossing your arms.  “Why did we have to do this at high noon again?”

“Longer you bitch, longer it takes,” was all he offered.

He watched you silently— spare the radio next to him floating some annoying-as-fuck metal tunes into the burning hot mid-day air.

“You missed a spot, sweetheart!” he called out at you as you leaned over the hood to try to wash the rusting metal.  

“Bite me!” you yelped in return.

“Mm,” he hummed before he took another long, slow sip from the bottle, making you regret saying anything he could make perverted somehow.

Oh, by the way, speaking of perverted… he’d picked out your outfit, too: jean cut-offs and a t-shirt.  You wore a bikini top underneath, knowing you’d need to be prepared to get wet during a process like this, especially considering how stupidly hot it already was in Hawkins.  It was uncharacteristic for this early in the year— in fact, a cold front was due to come in tomorrow.  Just your luck, of course.

You grimaced as you saw the suds running down the sides of the doors— they were brown, already, as you ran your soapy sponge along the dirty frame.  Where the fuck was he driving this thing that it got this dirty?!

After scrubbing with the sponge for a while, you used the hose to rinse off the soap and then started all over again.  You had to stand up on your tiptoes to try to reach the top, but that was the best you were going to do, no way you were climbing up there to wash a part of the vehicle no one ever sees; when you glanced over at Eddie, you found him with his head tilted as he— well, you couldn’t be sure where he was looking with the reflective aviators on, but you could guess.

“Enjoying the show?” you asked with a sneer.

He raised his glass bottle towards you, like you were toasting or something, and you groaned as you got back to work.

“Stupid fucking freak,” you grumbled under your breath as you aggressively scrubbed with your big yellow sponge, “just ‘cause my mom’s banging your deadbeat uncle— I hope you choke on the next sip of that Budweiser and drop fucking dead—”

“What was that?” you heard him coo at you from the lawn chair, uncrossing his ankles so he could lean closer slightly.

“Nothing,” you cooed in a sarcastically-saccharine sing-song.  “I’m so glad you’re my stepbrother— or whatever the fuck you are.”

“Step-cousin-to-be, but yeah,” he grinned, “something like that.”

“Dead man walking’s what you are,” you got back to mumbling to yourself as you knelt down to wash the van’s grill.  

You were so focused on it— even though you hated doing this, you wanted to do it right— that you didn’t notice he was walking up to stand behind you until he cast a massive shadow over your work.  You turned around, squinting up at his silhouette before you stood and set the sponge down on the hood.

“Is this fun for you?” you asked, tilting your head at him.

“Yup.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms.  “So basically, you get off on making me do stupid things for you like this?  Dressing me up like a total idiot and watching me wash your nasty old van?”

He thought about it for a second.  “Um, yeah, basically.”

“You’re disgusting,” you groaned.  “Making me work in the heat just for your sick little game… I’m so sweaty, it’s awful.”

“Want me to cool you off?” he offered.  You were stupid enough to nod, and he held up the hose and put his thumb over the end so it would spray you.

“Ugh!” you yelped, shoving him back.  “I hate you!”

“What?” he laughed.  “It’s just water.”

“Is the van to your liking yet?” you sighed.

“Almost,” he smiled— not mockingly, though.  He tilted his head back all the way, giving you a view of his neck as he drank the last of his beer before tossing the bottle aside into the yard.  “I’ll help you do the rest, okay?”

“You’re gonna clean that up, right?” you glanced at the brown glass in the green grass— which sounds poetic and all but was a little more ‘white trash’ than you were going for with your lawn.

“Of course, I’m not an animal,” he rolled his eyes, “just gonna help you first.  You want help, right?”

You sighed, picking up the sponge off the hood.  “Let’s get this over with.”

You’d picked the woods, mostly on a whim, as your photoshoot location— your strength was nature photography anyways, and you didn’t want to do this anywhere that people might see you both.  “The assignment is to submit two photos of the same subject, showing two facets of their persona,” you explained as you started loading film into your camera.

“Oooh, facets of their persona,” he repeated in an uppity sort of voice that made you roll your eyes, “very psychobabble, love it.”

“Hey, I didn’t come up with the rules, I just have to follow them, okay?”

He nodded, crossing his arms.  "So, what are my facets?"

"You tell me,” you challenged.

"...What?  I don't know,” he scoffed, “I only have one side.  I'm just me."

"Oh please, you probably have more sides than a D20."

"I love when you talk D&D to me," he growled seductively.

"Shut up," you rolled your eyes, “I only know that ‘cause you never shut up about that stupid game.”

“You only know ‘cause you read my rulebooks when I’m gone,” he announced smugly, and you sputtered over a couple excuses.  “You’re not that slick, sweetheart!  I can tell when you’ve been through my stuff.”

“Well, that’s not the only literature of yours I’ve read,” you shot back.  “Your under-the-mattress collection is really nice.”

He smirked, though you did see his cheeks turning pink.  “Those?  Yeah, thanks, just like to do a little light reading before bed.”

“That’s… gross,” you shuddered.  "I'm serious, though— we need to figure out this photography assignment.   Come on, what's your, like… dark side.”

He gave you one of those smirks that made your heart jump.  “Babe, this is my dark side.”

“You’re not as tough as you look,” you reminded him.  “Just a softie under all the leather and denim.”

“Well, it’s not much of a dark side,” he shrugged, “but it’s all I’ve got.  I just am who I am!  Not everyone is so terrified of authenticity.”

“Okay, that’s bullshit but whatever,” you decided, “the point of the assignment is—”

“What about your dark side?” he wondered, leaning forward and poking you on the chest as you wrinkled your eyebrows together.

“What about it?” you returned.  

“You probably don’t even have one,” he decided.  “I’ve gotta have one, but you don’t?”

“I do!” you denied.

“Bull,” he snapped, “you’re a good girl, all the way down.”

You rolled your eyes.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know!” he threw his arms up.  “A people pleaser.  Goody two-shoes.  Teacher’s pet.”

You crossed your arms, scoffing defiantly.  “I got detention once, you know.  I got caught in the janitor’s closet with Gary.”

“But isn’t that the same thing?” he pressed, tilting his head to the side.  “What were you in the closet with Gary for, anyhow?  For your own pleasure, or to try to make him happy?”

Widening your eyes, you tightened your fists; Eddie just dropped his chin down to his neck and looked at you expectantly.  “I’m not the subject, okay?” you deflected.  “I need to take two pictures of you, showing two different sides.”

“One from the front and one from the back!” he suggested proudly.

You sighed and shut your eyes.  At this rate, the remaining five hours of daylight might not be enough to get this done; it was like taking pictures of the Hellfire Club again, having to bark at them to get back in line and stop making faces and not blink so much.  

eddie loved your bedroom.

now, it was clearly not to his tastes— but it was so distinctly you. it was always the perfect temperature, no matter the weather outside. it was always clean and tidy, no empty beer bottles hanging around or smoke lingering in the air much alike his own room. your girly interior was always blanketed in a warm glow from your bedside lamp and the candles you had lit. everything was so delicate and pretty, and he stuck out like a sore thumb — but he’ll get into that more later.

eddie munson had a thing for turning up unannounced. truthfully, it was because he was hoping to catch you changing or better, fresh out the shower. often when he’d be climbing the wooden grid littered with flowers along side your house that he used as a ladder up to your room, he’d fantasise. his cock would bloat in his jeans as he imagines what it would be like to show up to your window, hiding himself as he realises you’re just exiting your shower— hair dripping, towel long discarded, steam still emanating off your hot, damp, naked body. he’d let the fantasy play out, imagining you become aroused in the safety and privacy (so you think) of your room and straddle a pillow, grinding into it as he watches— hopefully thinking about him. but perhaps that was a step too far— from what he had gathered he wasn’t even too convinced you knew how to get yourself off, or that it was even an option.

besides this, he really did like hanging out. you were best friends after all, an unlikely pair — and perhaps he did take great advantage over the fact you were so accepting towards him and gentle in nature, not bothered by your differences. he simply preferred your company the most — and eddie had lots of good friends, whether it be from band or his hellfire club minions. you were just his best friend. his best friend who he was totally besotted with.

 on this day, when he popped up at your window hopefully he was met with the serene sight of you laying on your stomach on your pink bed. the bed was made as usual, pillows and seemingly unnecessary decorative cushions stacked high— stuffed animals of all variety practically taking up half of the bed. you were wearing the tiniest white pyjamas he’d even seen, and from this angle he could even see how your ass was practically swallowing the material, tits pushed together as you leant on your elbows invested in a book.

he enjoyed the sight for a second longer before wrapping his knuckles twice on the window, glancing around incase someone might be watching him— a neighbour perhaps. he looked back at you to see you smiling fondly at him, calm as ever. you were never alarmed when he’d turn up, always welcoming him in with no skittishness or fast movement, only adding to how dreamlike it felt being in your room. perhaps he made you feel safe, and that thought warmed his heart (and crotch.)

you gestured with your hands to simply lift the window, mouthing a happy “its open!” and he did so, palms turning white against the glass as he pushed it up, panting a little as he stumbled through the window, adjusting the khaki coloured jacket and tightening the black bandana wrapped around his head.

“hi.” you smiled softly, turning back to your book, skipping back a few words having lost where you were, tracing your manicured finger along the lines to find an appropriate sentence to backtrack to. your voice was quiet, sleepy almost and he assumed that could be the case— white antique bedside clock reading 9:01PM, the sky outside bruised with a inky violet tint to further provide evidence and to his knowledge, you went to bed at 10 each night.

“what are you reeeeading?” he sung, dimpled smile on his face as he swaggered over to the bed and leant over you, placing two hands beside you to peer over your head at the book, which caused you to flip the book over to show him the front cover. he didn’t really have much interest, the purple front cover showing a couple wrapped in loose yet revealing fabrics embracing eachother on a beach. “you wanna read to me again?” he pushed himself off his hands, laying himself horizontally on the end of your bed, having a direct view up your covered ass if he turned his head to the left.

“oh i can’t read this out loud.” you giggled, eyes still on your book as you were distracted— still trying to find the spot you were at before eddie emerged.

“oh c’mon, why not?” he complained, tickling the back of your leg making you squirm and kick him.

“theres lots of…kissing scenes. it gets very heated and i can’t bring myself to say all of that out loud.” you brought your voice down, almost as if you were scared of being caught talking about reading such books. a grin spread wider on his face as he turned his head, eyes on your ass as he replied. though you weren’t looking at him he feigned a shocked expression, hand coming up to clutch his chest.

“kissing scenes? now that is just scandalous.” he shook his head, curls rustling on your soft bed sheets.

“i know.” you replied in the same tone, not quite grasping that he was being sarcastic. he huffed a laugh to himself and faced the ceiling again, deep brown eyes taking in the glittering chandelier.

“y’mind if i hang here for a while? things were getting pretty boring over on my side of the tracks. i was trying to plan for a new campaign but i have zero creative flow. decided i needed t’hang out in an overwhelmingly pink bedroom for a while to shock my system back awake.” he smirked, picking up a stray teddy bear you had kicked aside and fiddling with it continuing to lay on his back.

“of course eddie. you’re always welcome here.” you turned your head round to send him a smile and he turned his head again your way, taking in your beauty for a second as he smiled back.

“thats very kind, sweetheart. you can go back to reading your book now— i’m just gonna chill out, don’t worry about me.”

so you enjoyed eachothers presence for a while in comfortable silence— the only sound being of the odd pitter patter of rain on the window, indiana prone to the odd unreliable shower this time of year, and the turning of pages from your book.

one thing eddie loved more than your room, was being in it. never in a million years would you expect to see someone like him in the bedroom of someone like you. there was pink everywhere he turned, plushies at every corner— and him, slap bang in the centre of it all, all spikes and hard edges. he always was branded a freak, and he never cared too much for being branded as different his whole life but this was one of those times where he’d fucking revel in it. he wasn’t sure why at first, often entertaining the idea that the caveman side to his brain just was exhilarated by colour contrast— but on further examination and acceptance of his pervert ways he came to the conclusion it was because it aroused the fantasy to be an intruder.

many nights he spent fucking his fist thinking about what would happen if your parents barged in to find their sweet little girl spread open by the hawkins newspaper’s current muse for satanic panic, he thought about stealing your used panties and jerking his cock raw until he was spilling his hot seed into the pink cotton, now soiled for life by his deviance. he wanted to take your first orgasm, have you corrupted until the innocent girl he knew was unrecognisable, crying and begging to be fucked by him again. he wanted to climb into your room at night and find you sleeping naked, only to slide in beside you and rub your sleepy body up against his. he wanted to be gross, and he couldn’t even hate himself for it anymore because it felt too good.

it had probably been 20 minutes of comfortable silence as he laid there in deep thought, listening to you quietly turn pages. as expected, these dirty thoughts had consumed his brain and being so close to you with a direct view of your ass, legs parted just enough for him to see the slit of your pussy prominent through the white material, fabric folded up into it slightly— he felt his dick getting harder with each passing second.

the thing about being horny, is that it kind of clouds your judgement. makes you do things you wouldn’t normally do. your book had reached an incredibly steamy scene, the two characters kissing and rubbing on eachother in a way you didn’t know could make you feel the way you would. you were so invested, pretty much having forgot eddie was even there to begin with. as you read, you felt your core grow tight, shorts feeling a little damper and you body heat rising. without even realising, your legs parted a little further, and if you squint — you were squirming, absentmindedly rubbing your covered pussy on the bed like a little kitten in heat.

you turned the page with trembling fingers, and eddie simply watched in curiosity. he already had a palm laying over his crotch, rubbing himself guiltily staring at your ass as you read— but it appeared his fantasy was coming alive before his very eyes as he watched you squirm heatedly, parting your legs just that little further to reveal a small but obvious wet patch in your shorts.

eddies eyebrows pretty much shot into his hairline. there was no way he got this lucky right? he must’ve fallen asleep laying there for so long and was having some kind of torturous wet dream. he stared, watching you— feeling the body heat seep off you from where you were as the damp spot grew. it was real, right in front of him. somehow, the heavens had opened and the stars had aligned that night and he had been gifted with his very own horny angel. if he didn’t atleast try his luck, he’d regret it forever. now or never, he thought. let’s just test the waters.

he moved slowly, calculatedly. his eyes were big and blown out as they flickered between his hand and you as he edged it towards you— not wanting to make any sudden movements and break you out of your trance. he laid his hand on the back of your thigh gently and you jolted slightly making him bite back a wince, seemingly having reminded you of his presence. however, you clearly thought you were being subtle enough — and quite liked how his hand felt there in your heated moment and decided not to say anything, continuing to read your steamy book, feeling more flushed than ever.

he relaxed a little, massaging the back of your thigh slowly, thumb rubbing circles into your soft skin— and just like that it seemed your legs spread just a little wider. he grinned like a wolf, tongue coming to rest on his lower lip for a moment as he felt himself become fully hard— the pulsing in his jeans feeling neglected. he held his breath, moving his hand slowly towards your ass and you didn’t stop him. you didn’t really know what was happening to you, but you knew you liked it.

he moved onto the soft doughy flesh of your ass and he felt your body relax more into the bed with a sigh.

“eds, why you doing that?” you mumbled. your voice sounded weak, strained. poor little sheep, doesn’t even know what she’s getting herself into. all she knows is that she likes it.

“i like your pyjamas. you — uh— m’ gonna be honest, you look so fucking pretty.” he comment breathily with a sheepish chuckle, gripping the soft fabric between his fingers for a moment. he saw your head bob with a nod.

“oh, okay.”

“‘that alright? me touchin’ you?” he stroked his hand over your ass again.

“yes, makes me feel… strange. a good strange. i quite like it.” you whispered shyly, not daring to turn round and meet his eye. his smile only widened, teeth bared like a predator sneaking up on its prey.

“yeah. like a massage right? you just keep reading your book, i’ll have my fun back here.” he waved you off casually— like this was totally normal between best friends. you seemed to pause like you wanted to say something, but instead turned the page.

he was now groping your ass with both hands, he couldn’t believe his luck. how far could he get away with taking this? he was hard as a rock and it was becoming increasingly clear that you had desires of your own — just unsure what to do with them. and boy oh boy was he the perfect teacher for you, he just had to ease you in…slowly.

he was beginning to pity you, really. squirming on your bed, soaking through your shorts at just a romantic book and a pair of hands on your ass. he couldn’t call it pathetic, knowing all the deprived shit he had thought about— better yet gotten himself off thinking about— but it was enough to bite back a chuckle at how easily excited you clearly were. he liked to think of himself as someone who was sent to help you and relieve you of this ache, and that’s just what he was going to do. he pushed your thighs open a little wider, beginning to thumb at the puffy covered lips between your legs, feeling the damp material on the pad of his thumb.

“eddie! now why are you doing that?” you gasped, but the moan threatening to spill from the back of your throat betrayed you as you pushed back ever so slightly into his thumb.

“does it feel nice? best friends do this kinda thing all the time, you know. pretty normal to just… help eachother out like this.” he continued, pushing his thumb through your fabric covered folds up to your clit making your legs jerk, a whimper forced out your throat. his voice was oddly calm and collected, despite how much adrenaline was pumping through his veins. “oh yeah?” he laughed quietly at your reaction.

“yes.” you tell him, arching your back a little into his touch. you didn’t question anything else. you trusted him, and often what he said you’d just accept as bible.

“good. you can keep reading, i know that helps.” he was using two fingers to rub you now, sat up on an elbow to get a better look. whilst his fingers ground into your mound, his thumb snuck up, caressing the slit up to your ass, rubbing lightly over your asshole.

before long, you were panting— and he was convinced he could probably make you cum just from this. but he wanted to get his moneys worth, not sure if you’d ever let him do something like this again. he wanted to see how far he could push his luck. he pushed himself up slowly, kneeling between your spread legs and placed two hands on both ass cheeks, chuckling quietly as he jiggled them, chin to his chest as he admired the recoil.

“why’d you stop?” you asked rather abruptly, voice whiny and yet meek — a hint of guilt, knowing you shouldn’t necessarily be letting him do this to you whilst your parents are downstairs.

“talk about eager, you really like being touched by your best friend huh.” he snickered, ring clad fingers looping into your shorts, tugging them down little by little— revealing your peachy ass. “ah, fuck me. perfect little thing aren’t you?” he muttered.

“what you were doing before felt really good.” he sensed the sulky-ness in your tone as you rested your cheek on your hands defeatedly, pout on your face. he shook his head with an adoring smile at this, cock practically leaking at how badly you wanted him.

“yeah, yeah. i’m gonna help you out— but you gotta help me too you know. that’s how this works.” he yanked your shorts completely off now. he collapsed back, as if satisfied with his undressing work— sitting on his feet. his eyes were glued down, now checking out your pretty pussy glistening under the dim lights. he winced, making a little o shape with his mouth as he furrowed his brows, enamoured by delicious it looked. taking two thumbs, he placed them either side and spread you— relishing in the way a distinctly ‘wet’ sound hit the air from this. “you ever get this soaked before? jesus.” he raised his brows and you shrugged, eyes closed enjoying his touch. “mm. anyway—” he pushed himself back onto his knees, starting to undo his belt buckle.

“uh, can you pick your least favourite stuffed animal for me?” he request and you opened your eyes, half lidded and distracted, reaching out for a big brown bear and handing it back to him. “yeah. yeah, this’ll do.” he took it with his free hand.

once his belt buckle was undone and his jacket was thrown somewhere off your bed he took your hips in his hands and easily hoisted them up— shoving the bear beneath you, ass now elevated slightly and your pussy spread on the brown fur— already leaking a little onto it. poor bear!

now let’s get one thing straight, eddie was a perv— but he wasn’t a bad man. he wasn’t going to fuck you today, no no. that would hurt way too much, and honestly take too much time to get you ready for that— he needed to get off, and if he didn’t start jerking his dick soon he was pretty sure his balls were gonna explode. he just needed his pretty little muse to lay there and be good, and if you could still look him in the eye afterwards then maybe he’d be happy to go further. like mentioned before, being horny really fucking clouds your judgement.

now he got you positioned how he wanted you, he pulled out his cock, not even bothering to pull his jeans all the way down — just undoing his buttons and pulling them down just enough to free himself. he spat into his hand and shuddered as he tugged his cock a few times, taking in the sight below him as he kneeled between your spread legs. at this moment, you chose to crane your neck round, eyes widening at the obscene sight behind you.

his deep brown eyes locked on yours, slowly spreading his saliva along the shaft. something about the sight had you gushing onto the bear, shifting your hips again and your eyes fluttered, nearly rolling back as the fur passed up over your clit. you ground down experimentally on it, mouth falling open as your feet hooked round the back of his legs where he was kneeling.

“fucking jesus.” he huffed, watching you grind on your teddy bear, pussy smushed against it— audibly opening and closing making him jerk himself faster. “keep doing that. you sweet, sweet girl. keep doing that.” he leant forward, hand pressing onto your back, letting it take some of his weight as he hunched over you. you were moaning now, thrusting hard into your bear soaking the fur.

“eddie, feels too good. i’ve never— i haven’t ever —” you cried, ass now slapping against his lower thighs with each time you ground back.

“i know. it’s okay, i know. we’re just helping eachother out, yeah? being such a good girl, just like i thought you’d be— my god.” he groaned, his own cheeks heating up at how close he was. he couldn’t blame himself, he had wanted this for so long and it was truly better than what he’d imagined he’d get the first time he made a move on you.

“do you…” you went to ask, but cut yourself off with a moan, book discarded as you buried your head into your cushions.

“do i what, baby? do i what?”

“do you still think— still think i’m a good girl even after this?”

if he wasn’t so focused on not busting just yet to savour the moment, his heart would have warmed at the sweet question. luckily for him, his mouth works on overtime and spoke before he could think.

“you’re always my good girl. i know you like being my good girl. i know you do.” he babbled, rubbing a messy circle on your back with his thumb as his other hand continued working himself. he removed it for a second to lift his shirt up his stomach, feeling hot and bothered as ever.

“i like being called that.” you whined, the most vocal you’d ever been— usual shy persona being discarded more and more with each passing moment. it’s crazy what lust will make you do.

“yeah? want you to let go then. when you — fuck— when you feel your tummy getting all tight just let it happen, ‘kay?” he had to slow down his ministrations, holding back. you replied with an obedient ‘mhm’ and before you knew it you were clenching around nothing, riding hard against the pillow and muffling your loud moans into the cushions— praying to every god that your parents couldn’t hear your bed frame creaking.

“that’s it — oh wow— jesus fucking christ. jesus fucking christ that’s it. good girl.” he groaned, his own voice whiny as he let himself go, sticky white seed releasing onto your bare ass and back as your movements slowed, panting and trying to recover. he pretty much covered you in his load as you laid there motionless, comprehending all that had just happened.

munson caught his breath, cracking his eyes open to stare at the scene he had created below him. damn, if only he had his polaroid with him — he thought. next time.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧

Eddie – who's used to this, who encourages this – nods gravely. "You'll likely never use it again." 

"Good heavens, doc. Is there really nothing you can do?" you implore, leaning away from him with your uninjured hand thrown to your forehead. 

"Nothing… unless you're willing to undergo the most invasive, painful, gruesome operation any one girl has ever undergone." 

"Anything." 

"Close your eyes." 

You close them, always willing to play these fanciful make-believe's with him. He's charming, it's funny, but you can't say you expect the hot press of his lips against your pulse. If it had been a smacking, playful thing with too much spit you would have laughed about it, but it hadn't been. It's gentle. It's sweet. 

He pulls away. You open your eyes to find him lingering, staring at your wrist. A split-second. 

"Fixed, right?" he asks smugly. 

You take your arm back and curl it towards your chest, twinging with pain. "Definitely. Good as new." 

Eddie slams the back doors shut and stretches with a groan, cool night air kissing the shining sliver of abdomen that emerges. He's always sweaty after a gig. You know you should find it gross. 

You should. 

"Alright, get in the van, sweet thing. It's way past your bedtime." 

You laugh and climb into the passenger side, skirt riding up and tights featuring a brand new ladder thanks to some idiot who'd almost broken your leg. You point it out to Eddie as he starts the engine, "Did you see this? S'my last good pair of tights."

He tugs at the ladder and you squeal, pulling your thigh up and over the other so he can't reach it.

"There, they're punk now. Do it on purpose and you're cool," he says sagely. 

"Are you staying?" he asks, the question so familiar it doesn't need a proper end. 

"Thanks for that." 

There's lost minutes of a comfortable silence. You watch the roads change as you draw nearer and nearer to home.

"If you shower first." 

He sighs like this is very tortuous of you to ask but agrees. "Yeah, whatever. Always get what you want," he mutters, taking a rough turn that has you gripping your seat. "My bad." 

"Learn to drive!" you demand, laughing. 

"You learn to drive! Then you wouldn't need a ride every night!" 

"Baby," you say earnestly. "Rides to your shows." 

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye. You turn to him, perplexed by his uncharacteristic silence. Usually he has something quick to say, an uppity comeback, too witty for his own good and twice as fast. 

"What? Wait, don't tell me, you're having a total epiphany right now on why I'm the best friend you've ever had." You nod to yourself, leaning back in your seat with your chin held high. "It's easy. I'm extremely dedicated, I'm sharp as a whip. I'm funny, I'm confident-" 

"Humble." 

"I'm humble. And obviously very pretty."

He hums to himself. "I kind of hate when you joke about stuff like that." 

You blink and drop your chin. "What?" you ask. Weaker than you mean to, your chest feels that heavy weight of an unexpected argument, but Eddie doesn't look angry. 

"Because- 'cos I know you don't mean it." He draws his eyes from the road, a familiar stretch of black top leading into Forest Hills, and gives you a well-meaning grimace. 

"Sorry, I-" 

He clears his throat. "No, don't be. I guess I wished you actually believed that shit. Do you know how many people would come to all of my shows? Listen to the same ten songs, drink the same shitty beer and then help me pack up at the end of the night?" He sounds back to normal. Punchy, a hair's width from incensed. "Nobody but you." 

"I'm your best friend," you say firmly. "Of course I'm gonna do all that." 

"Right." He laughs and scrapes a hand through his dishevelled hair. 

You pull into the parking spot and climb out of the van. You slip like you always do, giggling to yourself as Eddie comes around to roll his eyes at you and shut the door. 

"We'll leave it for tonight," he says after he's retrieved Sweetheart, his prized guitar, traipsing up the steps to the front door. "Don't want you straining your poor wrist any further." 

You kind of agree. "Or you could do it all by yourself and I'll watch." 

"Maybe tomorrow. Are you hungry?" 

You ignore his question and waltz straight into his bedroom, throwing yourself down on his rumpled sheets with a harrumph. He puts Sweetheart back into her rightful place and presses a kiss to his fingers. You can't help thinking of the kiss he'd given you, bringing your wrist to your chest where he can't see. It feels the same as it had before, but different. It still aches. 

Eddie throws himself down next to you and climbs up over your back, a hand on your shoulder. "Is it still hurting?" 

You squeeze it. "Not really." 

"Let me see? If it's swollen I could get you some ice. Or, like, a bag of frozen peas. Not that I think we'd have anything that green in the freezer," he corrects himself.

"I don't think they have to be peas to work." 

"What if that's where you're wrong? What if we totally need the power of the peas?" 

You turn on your back so he can see your wrist. Hovering above you, all his smells and sounds are amplified. The gentle hum as he looks over your arm. The smell of sweat under deodorant, cigarette smoke and something funkier. Then, mixed in with everything, cedar. 

When his kind attention on your wrist becomes too much you wrinkle your nose and make a big show of moving away from him. "God, you stink." 

"You're fucking horrible," he says, putting your arm down carefully. "I'm gonna shower. Find your pajamas." 

"Did you wash them?" you ask as he climbs off of the bed. 

"Nope." 

You grumble about dirty clothes and search for the pajamas you'd left here last time. Eddie disappears into the cramped bathroom and you can hear every sound he makes, the clipping of bottle caps, even his footsteps moving from the cabinet under the sink and into the shower. 

Water sloughs heavily against the glass partition and you try not to listen, try not to think about him and what he's doing and where his hands are. 

When he comes in he's in a towel and nothing else. You squeak and pull his covers up past your eyes. "Christ, Eds." 

"What? It's my room. I forgot to take clothes in with me." 

"You're sullying my eyes." 

"Like you've never seen it before." 

You scowl. "I've never seen you naked." 

"Can you come out? You're being ridiculous." 

You hear him go into the bathroom and let the sheets fall from your face, blinking at the sudden brightness. Yellow lamp light bounces of the poster-covered walls, shiny as egg yolk. 

He's left the bathroom door open. You peer out into the hallway and then stop yourself, feeling guilty. You don't actually want to see him naked. You're curious. 

"Fine," he says as he trudges back in, plaid pants low on his hips. He shrugs into a t-shirt and it sticks to his damp torso, leaving his dark happy trail on show for the second time tonight. "You've never seen me naked. It's not like you've never seen any guy naked." 

You feel a tepid mixture of embarrassment and defensiveness. "Who says I've seen a guy naked?" 

His eyes are owlishly large, dark lashes not far from kissing his eyebrows as they pinch together. "What?" 

You don't repeat yourself. 

"You fucked Jerry Mandoza." 

"Did not," you say, startled. 

"I gave you condoms." 

You resist the urge to glare at him. "And you can have them back, if you like. They've been in my nightstand for a year." 

"I thought you liked him." 

"I did. I just wasn't… ready." 

He holds his hands up in surrender. "That's fine, babe. Swear. But, you never told me. Why didn't you tell me?" 

He sits heavily at the end of the bed and takes the towel from around his neck, scrubbing ruthlessly at his wet curls. 

"That's exactly why your hair gets so frizzy," you chide lightly, climbing on knees to his side. You ease the towel from his hands and are much kinder than he'd been, drying the skin before his hairline and behind his ears and then moving onto his pretty curls. 

"He didn't do anything creepy, did he?" Eddie asks. He smells like toothpaste. 

You laugh as you wring excess water from his hair as carefully as you can. "No. He was actually really sweet. Said all the right things. He was a gentleman," you drawl  dropping the towel back to his shoulders. 

"But?" 

You sit back and smile at him. "I don't know. He leaned in for a kiss and I just… I got so nervous about it. He closed his eyes and I didn't think, I turned my cheek. He didn't call me for another date. Can't say I blame him." 

You're not sure why you never told Eddie that story before. He tilts his head to one side and squints. "Why were you nervous? He was in marching band." 

You snort. "It wasn't about him. I guess I was worried my first kiss would be awful." 

He rubs the back of his neck with his towel. "First kiss, huh?" he asks. 

"Right." 

He pulls the towel away, holds it in his lap. You notice his rings are missing, likely still in the bathroom. "I mean, I think you did the right thing. If you weren't ready it can't hurt to wait. And first kisses, they can really suck. Mine, with fucking- fucking Darren Harmon, that sucked. He spit in my mouth so much I think I tasted his dinner from the night before." 

You laugh in shock and disgust. "That's gross." 

"Tell me about it." 

"Why did he spit?" 

Eddie brings his legs up onto the bed and his tone is gentle. "Well, when you kiss someone, there's like-" He raises his hands and drops them, lost for the right words. "You know, tongue." 

"Is it weird?" 

"Sure. Of course it is. But it's really fucking fun, too. Or it can be, if the spit is kept to a minimum." He purses his lips, eyebrows raised. "Actually, spit can be kinda nice if you like the person you're kissing. It's hard to explain." 

You spread your legs to fall into a W-shape, hands braced on your knees. "Sorry, I'm not trying to harass you for details." 

"You're my best friend. I'll tell you anything you want." 

You smile at your legs. 

Eddie reaches over to put his hand atop yours. He's leaning toward you, hair falling in his face as he catches your eye. "It's fine. Keep your first kiss for someone you actually like, babe. You'll like it better." 

He squeezes your fingers and leaves the room. You can hear him filling a glass of water and turning off all the lights he's left on. 

"Did you want anything else?" he asks, offering the glass. 

"No, I'm just gonna brush my teeth really quick."

"Take your time." 

You take a little bit more than you need to, staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror until your heart is pounding, thoughts coming a thousand a second. Lately, Eddie's touches – his hand around your wrist, his thigh over your thigh, even the thud of his rubber toed converse tapping yours – have become individual events in time. Even when you can't remember the conversation, you can remember his skin on yours. You look at photos from gigs and instead of thinking, Oh, that's the night we made fun of Gareth's new haircut, a truly momentous occasion, you think, That's the night Eddie tugged me by the belt loop. That's when he brushed an eyelash off of my cheek. That's when he leaned in so close I thought he was gonna kiss me. 

Even now, the conversation about kisses is fading though you desperately want to remember what he'd said. The sound of his voice slips away. The heat of his fingers curled around yours remains. 

You wash your hands twice and don't feel any better. 

As if destiny or some higher power feels the need to taunt you, you slide into bed with an amicable handful of inches between your thigh and Eddie's and he totally ignores the gap, sidling up to you with a smile. 

"You'll like this," he says, spreading the paperback in his hands open on your thigh. "'A pockmark of matter that can dissolve any light that threatens to eradicate, to nullify, to quantify. An indelible darkness, spreading from one universe to the other, the pristine pages of a tome sullied by a piercing fountain of ink,'" he reads to you, his voice smooth and unhurried. "Guess what she's talking about?" 

"Dark matter?" 

"What? Keep your astronomy to yourself, dork. She's talking about the Puppet's heart. How sick is that?" 

You grin. It is pretty sick. 

Eddie's smile grows with yours, though his lips part when he notices something on your face. "You have-" He brings his thumb to your mouth and brushes it roughly, tugging the soft pillow of your upper lip up. 

You turn your face. "Jeez. Keep your hands to yourself, Munson." 

"Sorry," he says, not sounding very sorry. 

"You wanna read some more of your book to me?" you ask. "My eyes are tired." 

You lay down flat with one of his pillows smushed under your head and Eddie reads, sitting with his back to the headboard. "'You turn the page and find the ink has eaten into the next page, and the next. The damage is expansive, Dolly says, lifting her chin. But not limitless. Eventually, a page will turn. Eventually, the page beneath remains plain.'" 

"I thought Dolly and the Puppet loved each other," you murmur, watching his finger slide up the back of the book. 

He gives you a knowing smile. "They did." 

"Not anymore?" 

"I don't know. He's not the same anymore. He really is evil," Eddie says. "'The Puppet becomes a man of flesh and bone before her, nothing like she had remembered and yet the same. His voice, slick as oil, becomes a malfeasance of sound where before it had been her most treasured melody. And if the tome were sullied to begin with? The Puppet asks. If the darkness subsisted where I only lay my hand?" 

"They speak in riddles," you complain. 

Eddie shushes you. "'Don't act as though you didn't bring about this war, Dolly says, her voice harsh as tree bark. The Puppet draws ever closer, his wicked grin softened. A puppet once more. I did it for you, he says.'" 

You gasp so loudly it makes your throat burn. "He did not!" you whisper-shout.

Eddie chuckles, hand dropping to your shoulder. "He didn't." 

"Keep reading!" 

"'Dolly refuses to acknowledge his pleading tenor. You did not, she shouts. You created this conflict to become what you wanted to become.

"'Someone you could love. The Puppet places a frozen hand over her cheek. She hits at his chest with the brunt of her palms, hands growing limp as he murmurs. Someone you could kiss.'" 

You miss the rest of his reading, eyes slamming shut as if you'd been stuck. You catch small parts. An attempted reunion, a sword tipped in biting silver from the coldest recess of the moon. A short fight, a retreat. 

"Are you sleeping?" Eddie whispers. 

You swallow. "Almost," you whisper back. 

Eddie tosses the paperback onto his desk and pulls the covers over your shoulders and curls toward you. "You should get some rest, sweetheart. It's been a long day."

You nod and turn to him, refusing to open your eyes. "Goodnight," you say, rubbing your cheek against the brushed cotton of his pillowcase. 

"Goodnight."

Long minutes of silence. You can feel his warmth beside you like a heating pad under the sheets. You know his hand lies an inch away, if that, his fingers lax. You could stroke the length of his pinky with yours. 

As if he knows, as if he can read your mind, a fingertip reaches out to tap yours. "Are you okay?" he asks. 

You open one tired eye and lift your face enough to open the other. He looks beautiful. Hair half-dried and flat to his cheek. You reach out to push it from his face slowly. If you were any braver you'd tuck it behind his ear, scratch his scalp lightly with your nails. 

"Is it your arm?" he asks. 

You drop your hand. "'M just thinking." 

"I can't help with that," he jokes, turning his gaze to the ceiling. 

You laugh under your breath but even to yourself it sounds odd. 

"Do you think you'd ever kiss me?" you utter eventually. 

He doesn't answer for a while. Your heart races fast enough that it's all you can hear, like the wind rushing in your ears. 

"Is that what you want?" 

"I want my first kiss to be a good one." 

"And you think it would be, with me?" 

"You said to keep it for someone I actually like." 

He takes your wrist into a kind hand. Calluses slide over your skin. "I meant someone you have the hots for, babe."

Dangerous territory. Wary to admit anything else, you try to take his rejection with grace. "It's okay if you don't want to. Was just… wondering," you murmur. 

He strokes your wrist. "I'll kiss you if you want me to." 

"No, I-" You laugh, all nerves and too much blood. "I don't want a pity kiss, Eddie." 

"Who said anything about pity?" he says, voice quiet as yours had been and harbouring much less panic. 

He pulls your arm like he's encouraging you toward him and you hiss. His grip slackens. "Sorry, I should've-" 

"It aches, that's all," you say.

Understanding lightens his eyes. Honey melting into a woody brown. "Shit," he mutters, lowering his head. "I'm sorry." He presses his lips to your wrist in a small kiss. "If it's hurting you should've said."

The words come out hot. 

"It…" you drift off as he gives you another kiss. Another. 

Close-lipped, Eddie dots pecks down your arm until he reaches the crook of your elbow. He slows and stays. You take the initiative and drop your hand into his hair, stroking behind his ear like you wanted to, like you've wanted to for a while, and shiver as the tip of his nose ghosts against sensitive skin. 

He draws away, pulls up, his face much closer than you can remember it ever having been before. You try to breathe normally but the look on his face prompts breathlessness, his eyes steady, bordering impassive. His lips hint a soft bemusement. 

He raises his chin. "This okay?" 

"This," you repeat, fingers curling into his hair. 

Eddie moves in, bringing a hand to your face to guide you to one side. His lips bump into yours and you let your eyes close, overwhelmed by this new feeling. There's a tenderness to how he holds you still, worse when he pulls you in, his kiss hot and soft as water. 

He slides his fingertips under your sleeve, palm hot to the breadth of your upper arm. His grip tightens incrementally and you try not to pull his hair in response, your knee hitting his thighs as your body seeks him out. 

His lips part against yours and you both suck in a breath before he's kissing again. You try your best to follow his lead, though quickly find yourself a laughing mess as he wraps his arm around your shoulder to pull you close. 

"What's funny?" he asks. 

You honestly don't know. It's a giddy feeling to be this close, more so when he smiles back and tries to start up another round of sweet kisses, his lips pressing to yours insistently. He caresses the length of your back until you sigh, your open mouth an invitation that he sinks into. 

You scrunch the hem of his shirt in your hand when he sucks on your top lip, nonplussed.

Eddie pulls away. Your eyes open in tandem. 

You're noticeably out of breath and he isn't unaffected, his chest rising and falling almost as quickly as yours. "So," he says, inhale a struggle though he tries to hide it, "how was that? A good one?" 

"I don't know. I don't have anything to compare it to." 

"No?" he asks, already leaning in for another. 

You weave your hand into his hair and he rubs his hand down your arm until your aching wrist throbs under his fingertips, callused by metal strings and somehow impossibly soft.

"I'm sorry about your arm," he murmurs. 

You hope your hum against his lips conveys your forgiveness. 

When you've been kissed to the point of dizziness you break it to hide in the space under his chin, breathing in his new smells, his skin, his hair. The remnants of soap; a sharp citrus, mandora awash in something heady.

He pushes his arm under your chest and wraps you up. You hug him back, languid in his hold as he starts to rub your back. Broad, sweeping lines. Your shirt pulls up and he smooths it back down. 

"Don't get ahead of yourself," you joke lightly, quickly chased by a big yawn. 

"If you're tired, you can sleep," he assures you. 

"It was a good kiss." 

"Tell me all about it in the morning, okay? Sleep, pretty girl." 

You're feeling more and more tired with each passing second. Fatigue hangs heavy and his wandering hands make it worse. 

"'Nother kiss in the morning?" you ask, burrowing your face into his shoulder. 

He takes a little while to answer, turning his lips down into your temple. "Y'always get what you want, don't you?" 

With Eddie? Just about. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! | my masterlist

perv!eddie who cant wait for summer, just to see you in the tiniest skirts and shorts imaginable.

perv!eddie who hangs up a pair of your used panties above his bed as his own reminder of your sickly sweet smell

perv!eddie who keeps a picture of you sleeping naked in his wallet, to get him off in a pinch

perv!eddie who always fake bangs you when you bend over, no matter the kind of relationship you have.

perv!eddie who makes sure theres no seats at lunch so your always sat in his lap, feeling his member grow the more you move.

perv!eddie who always checks you to see if you have matching undergarments because he believes that clashing is a big no no

perv!eddie whos number one house rule is no pants, just so he can see that cute butt scurry around his trailer

perv!eddie who cant help but pinch your nipples when he sees that theyre hard under your shirt.

perv!eddie who only drives so recklessly to watch your tits bounce as he hits every pothole imaginable

perv!eddie who loves to tie your shoes, especially when he gets the up skirt view from the ground.

perv!eddie who can never quite focus when you whine his name and yell at him for not being nice to you.

perv!eddie who goes out of his way to get new porno mags, looking for girls who look like you, and eventually making his own book.

perv!eddie who stole your cheer uniform once when you showered at his place, just so you you run around searching for it in the tiny towel he gave you.

perv!eddie who only gives you the loosest tank tops he owns when you ask for a shirt, just to see some side boob, maybe even get a nip slip

perv!eddie who loves to cuddle, only because when he falls asleep, he can rut against you and hear your whiny sounds

perv!eddie who loves to lay between your legs, face first, and smell your after practice sweat for hours.

perv!eddie who always lays your feet in his lap, imagining lifting your foot to his face and kissing your toes.

perv!eddie who makes you bend over in your skirts and dresses to see if you’ll flash anyone.

perv!eddie who always goes shopping with you, to get the shortest and skimpiest thing possible

perv!eddie who intentionally takes you to lovers lake without bathing suits so you have to go in naked

perv!eddie who loves to make you go outside when it rains so he can see through your shirt