It was something he'd been saying he was gonna do for two weeks, but he kept putting it off. Too hot, big campaign to plan, tired from being a rock god in for a few hours in a steaming garage or on a tiny stage for an audience of five.

So you'd chosen today to make your move.

"Too hot."

"Temperature's not supposed to peak 'til afternoon, we've got time."

He rolls his eyes, turns away, and returns to his room. At least he didn't slam the door in your face.

"Fine, I'll do it myself," you call to his back.

You leave the door open, set your boombox down, and press play on a tape he'd made for you.

Then you remove the towel from your neck to reveal your secret weapon.

Secreat weaponS.

White shirt. No bra. Please, God, let the neighbors be sleeping late today.

You grab the hose and the overturned bucket that's always beside it, return to the corner of the van closest to the trailer, and get to work.

You bend over and scrub the front fender with the sponge you brought from home, wondering how long this would take. If he didn't break by the time you finished this side of the van, you'd bring that soapy bucket inside and give him a real reason to be pissed at you.

When you turn to dip your sponge back in the bucket, you spy one of the living room curtains fluttering. You have him.

You drop the sponge and decide it's time for a drink. It's gonna be a scorcher today, after all. It's important to stay hydrated.

You lean forward, angling your chest toward him, and hold the hose to your mouth. You take a drink from the stream, letting the surprisingly cold water drench the front of your shirt.

Which hadn't exactly been doing a great job of concealing you in the first place.

Any time now, nerd.

You give yourself a little shake, to get some of the excess water off.

Where the fuck are you, Munson?

You pick the sponge up and turn back to the van, ready to get back to work. He'll crack. You knew he'll crack.

And then you feel hands on your hips.

He spins you around and hauls you over his shoulder before you can even see his face.

He stomps back into the house, slams the front door shut, and takes off down the hallway.

"Does this mean you're still mad at me?"

A sharp crack to the cheek peeking out of your wet denim shorts says yes.

He marches you into his room, drops you on the bed, and points to your shoes. You sit up to kick them off and unbutton your shorts. He kneels between your legs on the floor and smacks your hand away as you reach for the zipper. He unzips your shorts himself, and reaches for the belt loops. You lift slightly, and he slides them down your wet legs and throws them over his shoulder. They smack against the wall and fall to the floor.

You're wearing panties that are entirely inappropriate for washing a fucking van. He stares at them for a second, then glares at you.

"This was a setup."

"A setup? How dare you. I would never." You grin cockily.

You reach for the hem of your wet shirt, and he smacks your hand away again.

"Shirt stays on."

You lay back on his bed and lace your fingers behind your head, arching your back a little to give him a better view. He stands and palms himself through his boxers, staring down at you hungrily.

"I'm dryin' over here, Munson," you smirk.

"Shut up," he orders, coming down to silence you with his mouth.

You can taste the smile on his lips.

The Secret Weapons never fail.

his hands on your hips, your ass, your throat. his mouth on your neck, his tongue on your clit. you can almost feel the warm puffs of breath he’d huff down at you as he fucked you, splitting you open with his cock and leaving you empty-headed and spent.

the mental images alone are enough to send you reeling, and right as you’re about to pass the threshold into the white-hot, blinding pleasure of another orgasm, the persistent hum of your vibrator abruptly cuts off.

you could throw up. you could cry. you could exercise sound logic and just charge the damn thing, but instead of any of the above, you find yourself rummaging through your drawers for whatever clothes you can find. sweats and a band tee, a mismatched pair of socks. nothing else.

eddie’s behind the counter again when you pull the door open. the shrill chirp of the entrance sensors draws his eyes to you, and you’re unsurprised to find him smoking another cigarette, body huddled over the edge of the counter. his brows lift in surprise when he sees you.

“back already?” he asks, putting out his cig with a bit less haste than last time. “must’ve gone really well. or maybe really poorly?“

you don’t miss the way his eyes roam over your figure, lingering on your chest; you’re not wearing a bra, and the peaks of your nipples are visible beneath the thin fabric. your back straightens.

“it died.”

“oh,” eddie says. “did you… charge it?”

“no, i wanted to—i thought maybe i could try something else.” you chew at your lower lip, casting a glance at the wall of toys from which eddie had plucked your vibrating bullet the first time you’d come here. you turn back to eddie just in time to see something dark glimmer in his eyes. he nods.

“yeah, of course. think you’re ready for something more intense? c’mon.” he nods his head towards the toy section, his curls cascading over his shoulder. you follow him and watch as he surveys the wall of toys, the sheer volume of packages just as overwhelming as last time. eddie reaches out for a hot pink box, shiny lettering spelling out Boss Lady across the top. you grimace.

“what kind of name is that for a sex toy?” you quip, reaching for the package. eddie snatches it out of reach.

“ah-ah, sweetheart, don’t doubt the Boss Lady. she packs quite the punch.”

“really, now?” you ask, cocking a brow. “you know from experience?”

eddie just smiles, dimples in his cheeks. “if the name is just too unfathomable for you, we can find something else. but i recommend this—i think you’ll have lots of fun with her.”

“okay, fine. you pulled my leg.” you reach for the box again, and eddie lets you grab it this time, his gaze on you as you flip the package over and read through some of the metallic pink text adorning the back. the only rabbit vibrator you’ll ever need, it reads. powerful dual stimulation will keep you satisfied!

it occurs to you then, as you follow eddie to the register and dig in your pockets for some cash, that you should probably be embarrassed. here you are, a week after your first ever vibrator purchase, ready to fork over some hard-earned cash for a second one—one with a questionable name, no less. your cheeks warm as eddie regards you from the other side of the register, the heels of his hands pressed to the counter. there’s a knowing look on his face, his lips curled into the faintest hint of a smirk, that dark look from earlier still dancing in his eyes.

god, he probably thinks you’re a sex addict. he totally thinks you’re a sex addict.

“is it weird that i’m back so soon?” you ask, before you can think to filter yourself. eddie’s brows knit together in confusion.

“huh? no, no, not at all—we have plenty of regulars, you know.” he types something into the register, eyes still fixed on you. “i’d say it’s weirder that you’re here at two in the morning.”

you blink. “two?”

“two twenty-one, to be precise.” eddie nods at the clock on the wall, the hour, minute, and second hands made of three different flesh-toned penis cutouts. “but hey, i get it. your vibrator died.”

you clear your throat. “how much do i owe you?”

“well, i did promise a friends-of-the-shop discount last time.” eddie drums his fingers on the formica countertop, gaudy silver rings clinking against one another. “answer one question for me, and Boss Lady is yours for free.”

“i’m awful at trivia,” you confess.

“trivia? jesus christ.” eddie barks a surprised laugh. “i’m not—it’s not trivia.”

narrowing your eyes, you shuffle up to the counter and nod. “okay, fine. ask away.”

eddie moves in closer, too, head dipping ever so slightly to allow him to peer down at you. it takes everything in you to keep your eyes from lingering over his frame and drinking in every inch of him: the bold lines of his tattoos, the burn-holes in the collar of his shirt, the faint kiss of freckles on the bridge of his nose. but while you attempt to reign in your wandering gaze, eddie doesn’t hold back. he takes his time looking you over. bites the plush, pink swell of his lower lip.

then: “what were you thinking about?”

“huh?”

“earlier, when you were touching yourself. before the vibrator died. what were you thinking about?”

“that’s your question?” you chew on the inside of your cheek. embarrassment roils in your stomach; he has to know that, while your body writhed in the center of your mattress, clit puffy and twitching, you’d been thinking of him.

eddie smirks. “you don’t need to answer if you don’t want to.”

“no, it’s… it’s okay,” you murmur. your palms are clammy and you force your gaze to Boss Lady, waiting patiently on the counter for her chance to help you see god. “i was thinking about, um… you, actually.”

you’re still staring at the gaudy pink package on the counter, hands squeezed into fists at your side. you can feel the half-moon indents of your nails digging into your palms, and just as the silence stretches a bit too long for your comfort, eddie laughs.

it’s a wicked thing, a biting sound. all self-satisfaction and enthrallment. you dare to steal a glance at him, and he’s grinning like a maniac, his cheeks tinged the prettiest shade of red.

“can i tell you something?” he asks, stuffing a hand into his pocket and pulling out a wad of cash. his fingers glide over the cash register, clicking at a few buttons, and he slides the money into each respective slot before pushing the drawer closed with a satisfying click. “i’ve been jerking off to the thought of you, too.”

mouth going dry, you gawk at eddie like he’s got four heads; he simply beams at you like he didn’t just admit that he’s thought about you with his hand around his cock. he leans over the counter, one tattooed hand reaching towards you to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“you seem nervous,” he says.

“i’m—i don’t…” you trail off, cheeks positively flaming.

“tell you what,” eddie begins, retracting his hand. he moves back from the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. your eyes flicker over the whorls of ink that decorate his skin, biceps flexed just so; your cunt throbs. “you can go now, if you want. i won’t stop you, angel.”

“or,” he says, voice dipping low, husky, “you can lock that front door, and i can show you how much fun you can have with this ol’ thing.”

he reaches a hand out and taps the box for emphasis, and you’re struck by how at ease he seems. how comfortable he is with your mutual attraction and the opportunity to act on it. it lights a fire in you, one that engulfs every last trace of doubt.

you lock the front door, of course.

eddie’s mouthing at your cunt not long after, his head pushed between your legs where they’re hanging over the checkout counter. his lips are sinful, pursed around your clit and sucking, his tongue splitting through your folds and lapping up the heady wetness leaking from your pussy. he moans while he eats you out, like spreading you open and tasting you is enough to get him off, and the vibrations from every rumble in his chest send shockwaves of pleasure rocketing through you. short, whiny breaths fall from your lips, along with the occasional curse, or a wanton cry of eddie’s name. he’s fucking good at this. sloppy and shameless about it, dark eyes flitting up to look at you every now and then, pupils blown with lust as he lets his tongue explore every inch of your cunt.

you’re so worked up from the head alone that you hardly process a blur of movement beneath you, then the sudden buzz of your new vibrator turning on. through the haze of lust clouding your thoughts, you manage to recall the reason why you’re propped up on the counter like this, eddie’s head bracketed by your bare thighs.

“think you’re ready?” he asks, vibrator in hand. you peer downward to find him smirking at you; the lower half of his face shines with the combination of his spit and your slick.

you nod, hips twitching forward. “y-yeah, ‘m ready.”

“mm,” eddie hums, “good. because i’m dying to know what kind of noises you make when you come.”

his words make you dizzy. all you can do is nod, but when he stands up to full height again, your brows pull together in concern.

eddie must see the questions written all over your face: what happened? why did you stop?

“relax, sweetheart, i’ll get there,” he says with an airy laugh. “just need you to get this ready for me.”

he clicks at the toy again to shut off the vibrating function, lifting the pink silicone to your mouth. he taps it against your lips; once, twice. gently, but firmly. you don’t take long to part your lips around the toy, letting eddie slide it further into your mouth until the tip of it nudges the back of your throat, prompting you to gag and sputter around it.

“that’s a good girl,” eddie praises. saliva floods your tongue and you let it soak the toy in your mouth, tears stinging in your eyes as you fight back another gag. eddie’s voice rasping good girl makes you feel dizzy all over again, arousal twisting up tight in your belly - you’re not sure this is going to last very long.

once eddie decides the vibrator is sufficiently wet, he pulls it from your mouth with an obscene squelch and turns it on again. he watches you with those lust-filled eyes of his, attentive to your every moan and sigh as he presses the toy into your entrance. you’re so wet that it’s an easy glide through your folds, but when the very end of the toy nudges against the very end of you, you see stars. and if that weren’t enough, the pleasant buzz of the vibrator against your clit has you crying out, voice ragged.

“holy fuck,” you gasp, “eddie, that’s—“

“—not too much, is it?” eddie grins. he’s got one hand between your legs, pumping the toy in and out of your gushing cunt, and the other curled around the swell of your hip. his fingertips dig into the soft flesh and you keen, overwhelmed.

“it’s a lot,” you slur.

eddie moves his thumb to the power button and clicks it once. your hips jerk forward when the vibrator speeds up, a strangled moan ripping from your throat; you grab his forearm and dig your nails into it, not particularly worried about being too rough. you could make him bleed right now, and you wouldn’t have the clarity of mind to know it - you’re too lost in pleasure.

“you can handle it, can’t you?” eddie leans in closer, the warm, heavy scent of his cologne pervading your senses. his hand works relentlessly between your spread thighs, and you’re hurtling quickly towards that blinding, white-hot high you’d been craving all night.

and then eddie angles the toy a little bit differently. something in you catches fire, and you’re probably squeezing the life out of eddie’s arm now, but if it hurts, he doesn’t show it.

“yeah? feel good, angel?” eddie noses at your jawline, presses a kiss to your supple skin. you nod, feverish.

“g-gonna come,” you breathe. every thrust of the toy, every squelch of it inside your swollen cunt, makes you erupt into flames anew. “fuck!”

eddie chuckles, and he says something else in that same gravelly, taunting voice as before, but it goes unheard as your orgasm hits you all at once. your cunt pulses around the gaudy pink toy, your hips rocking against it as you gush, fluid spurting from your cunt and soaking eddie’s hand. he lets out a quiet laugh, watching with unbridled amusement as you ride out the last few moments of ecstasy.

eddie notices when you cross the line into overstimulation, clicks the vibrator off and rubs his hand down to your thigh. he pulls the toy from your cunt, shining with fluid. you wrinkle your nose.

“what’s that face for?” eddie asks, though he’s sporting that all-knowing smile again. “it’s your cum.”

“oh my god, shut up.”

“can’t believe you squirted.” eddie lets out another laugh and sets the vibrator back onto its packaging, then reaches down to grab your discarded sweats from the floor. “you’ll probably need these.”

“are you kicking me out? jesus christ.” you touch your palm to your chest, in true pearl-clutching fashion.

“no, i’m protecting your decency,” eddie corrects, sarcasm infecting his every word. “what if someone sees you like this, darling? what will we say?”

rolling your eyes, you stretch out your legs and hop down from the counter. you grin up at eddie, who’s grinning down at you.

The ends of the red silken ribbon tied tightly at your throat slide through his elegant pale fingers. His dark curls striking contrast with the blood red of your velvet cape, the only thing separating your naked body from the wet mouth of the wolf. 

“Eddie,” you moan as his fingers part the folds of your cloak, exposing your skin to the night air. When he uncovers your breast, he growls. His sharp teeth graze your nipple before his mouth closes over it, sucking in as much as his jaws will allow. 

“Fuck,” you cry, one of your hands tangling in his hair, holding him tightly against you, while your other smooths through the soft bed moss you lay upon, searching for something to grip.

He sucks at your skin long enough to have the ache in your belly turn to fire and slickness coating your thighs.

 “You’re so lovely and soft, my dear,“ he says, hovering over you. His eyes look black in the light of the full moon, much closer in color to the bare branches of the trees. “But now,” his lips are wet and glistening, “it’s time to eat you up.”

The rest of your cape is spread open. Red wings framing your bare form. His hands slide over your skin–your breast and stomach. The tops of your thighs–where his grip tightens and roughly pushes them apart. His head dips to bite the tender flesh inside your thigh, leaving the heat of your wet cunt exposed to the shock of cool air. He bites just hard enough to leave the skin bruised but intact. Just hard enough for your gasps and pleas to drive the frightened birds flapping from the trees and disappearing into the night. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes as you wait for him to soothe the throb at your center. Finally, his hot flat tongue licks a slow stripe up your center–once and then twice more. Until his plush lips close around your swollen bud and your back arches as your scream echoes into the deserted forest. 

“Eddie,” you cry, “Eddie, your mouth… you feel so good.”

“The better to eat you with, my dear.”