⏾⋆.˚ Gem ⋆ ⏾⋆.˚

You were sitting on the top step of the shallow end, legs stretched out. A red Solo cup rested on your knee. Across from you, Eddie floated on his back on one of those ridiculous floaties, arms spread wide, tattoos catching the light every time he breathed. Robin sat on the wide ledge near the diving board, knees tucked up, sipping whatever concoction Eddie had made her. Steve was right beside you on the edge, feet dangling in the water, a joint between his fingers and that loose, half-drunk smile he only wore when it was just the four of you.

Eddie sat up with a splash, water streaming down his face. “Okay, but hear me out — I’m telling you, if I can just get the timing right on the bridge, this song is gonna slap. It's dark. It's sexy. I had to write a badass song about surviving the apocalypse, right? Like I didn't get these fuckin' scars for nothing.”

Robin made a noise like she was choking on her own laughter. “Munson. You're insane.”

“Insane? Maybe. But,” Eddie said, pointing at her with the joint before passing it to you. “You know you'd do the same shit Buckley. Some of us are just more musically talented than others.”

Steve snorted, reaching over to steal the joint from your fingers after you took a hit. The smoke curled warm in your lungs, making everything feel a little softer around the edges. “Dude, you survived one apocalypse. Try surviving four. Plus Buckley is great with music. Don't shit on her trombone talents.”

You laughed so hard you had to grab Steve’s arm to keep from sliding off the step. “Yeah Munson. That girls got good blowing skills. Don't shit on her.”

Eddie clutched his chest dramatically. “I would never shit on my dear Buckley. You know I love you. Maybe I could use some of your blowing skills on this song.”

“Blowing skills?” Robin echoed. “Christ Munson. If you want me to blow you, you're gonna be waiting a long ass time.”

Steve was laughing too hard to come up with a coherent thought. Eddie looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole. Steve just splashed water at Eddie with his foot and said, “You’re all lucky I let you live here. I could’ve had peace and quiet. Instead I get you three idiots bickering and someone— someone — keeps stealing my good towels and leaving them on the bathroom floor.”

Robin raised her hand. “That was me. They’re softer than mine. Sue me.”

You leaned back on your elbows, the water lapping gently at your waist. “Speaking of stealing… Eddie, you owe Steve like six pairs of socks at this point. I saw them in your room.”

Eddie looked down at his feet in the water like he’d been caught. “They’re comfortable. And Stevie already stretched them out so they're perfect.”

“It’s theft,” Steve said, but he was grinning, the kind of grin that crinkled his whole face. “You know what else is theft? The last of the good cereal. I bought that box of Lucky Charms yesterday. It was gone by breakfast. I’m looking at you, Buckley.”

Robin didn’t even try to deny it. “I have no regrets. You can’t leave name-brand cereal in a house with three other people and expect it to survive. That’s on you, Harrington.”

The joint made another slow circle. You took a hit, passed it to Robin, and felt that warm, floaty buzz settle deeper into your chest. Everything felt good — the way the pool lights made Eddie’s wet hair look almost black, the way Steve kept bumping his knee against yours like he didn’t even notice he was doing it, the way Robin’s sarcasm had gone soft around the edges tonight. With the four of you the conversations could change on a dime but everyone kept up. You all loved each other.

Eddie paddled closer, resting his arms on the edge near your legs. “You know what I still can’t believe? That time Steve tried to make lasagna for all of us and used sugar instead of salt in the sauce.”

Steve groaned and dropped his head back. “It was dark! The containers looked the same!”

“It tasted like someone murdered an Italian grandmother,” Robin said solemnly. “I still have trauma. I had to wash it down with three beers just to be polite.”

You grinned at Steve. “And then you tried to fix it by adding more cheese and it just became… cheese soup with noodles.”

Steve pointed at you, mock-offended. “You ate three bowls. Don’t act like you weren’t into it.”

“I was high,” you said. “Everything tastes good when you’re high. That doesn’t make it good.”

Eddie cackled and flicked water at Steve. “She’s got you there, Harrington. Face it — you’re a menace in the kitchen. But we keep you around for the pool and the hair care products. Your shampoo collection is the only thing keeping this house from falling into complete chaos.”

Steve ran a hand through his wet hair on instinct. “It’s a routine you heathens. You wouldn’t understand. Some of us like to look like we didn’t just crawl out of a hedge.”

Robin leaned over and ruffled his hair on purpose, making it stick up in every direction. “There. Now you look like the rest of us. Welcome to the hedge club.”

Steve swatted at her hand but he was laughing again, that easy, bright sound that always made the night feel safer. The four of you drifted like that for a while — splashing each other lazily, trading stories about the ridiculous little disasters of living together, the past year. It's become something you never wanted to let go of. Your safe space in the chaos of the world.

Your skin was starting to prune. The high had turned everything warm around the edges. You felt loose and happy and stupidly fond of all of them.

Robin was the one who finally called it. “Alright, my fingers look like raisins and I’m pretty sure if I don’t eat something solid soon I’m going to start chewing on the pool noodles. Inside. Now.”

You pulled yourself up onto the edge, water streaming down your legs and bathing suit. Robin tossed you a towel. It smelled like Steve’s detergent — clean and expensive and somehow like home now. You wrapped it around yourself, goosebumps rising as the night air hit your wet skin.

Steve stood up, a little wobbly, towel slung around his neck. “Yeah… couch is calling my name. Just for a second. I’m good. I’m great. Not way drunker than I thought I was sitting down.”

Eddie climbed out after him, shaking his head like a dog and sending water flying. “Harrington, if you faceplant I’m not carrying you. You're gonna have to be an outside dog from now on.”

Steve waved him off, already heading for the sliding glass doors. “Yeah, yeah. Is the world spinning for anyone else?”

Inside, the house was dim and quiet. Steve made it three steps into the living room before the big sectional couch pulled him in like gravity. He dropped onto it with a heavy thump, one arm dangling off the edge, eyes already half-closed.

“Just… resting my eyes,” he mumbled. “You guys keep… having fun. I’ll be right…”

His eyes fluttered once. Twice.

And then he was gone — out cold, soft snores starting almost immediately, completely dead to the world.

Robin stared at him for a beat, then pressed both hands over her mouth to smother her laughter. “Oh my god. He didn’t even finish the sentence.”

Eddie leaned in the doorway in his low-slung towel, grinning wide. "Such a lightweight. Look at him. King Steve, defeated by vodka and like two joints.”

You stood there in your damp towel, water still dripping from your hair onto your shoulders, and felt that same warm, bright feeling from earlier swell in your chest. Steve, safe and passed out. Eddie watching you with that spark in his eyes. Robin already heading toward the kitchen with a mischievous little bounce in her step.

“Well,” Robin called over her shoulder, “since our fearless leader has officially tapped out… who wants to see if there’s any pasta left in the fridge? Or are we going straight for the liquor cabinet?”

Eddie looked at you, one eyebrow raised, smile slow and easy.

The three of you left Steve snoring softly on the couch and drifted into the dining room like it was the most natural thing in the world. The big wooden table still had a couple of chairs pulled out from earlier in the week when you’d all tried to eat a real meal together. Robin grabbed a fresh beer from the fridge and dropped into one of the chairs, kicking her feet up on the one next to her. You and Eddie stayed standing for a second, the wet ends of your hair still dripping onto your shoulders and the tops of your towels.

Eddie dug another joint out of the crumpled pack he’d left on the counter earlier and lit it with a flick of his lighter. The flame lit up his face for a second — sharp grin, dark eyes, water still clinging to his collarbones. He took a long pull, then passed it to you without a word. You leaned against the edge of the table and took your own hit, the smoke curling warm and familiar in your lungs. The high from the pool hadn’t fully faded yet— this one just layered on top of it, making the dim overhead light feel softer and the air between the three of you feel closer.

Robin twisted the cap off her beer and took a long drink. “God, work’s been so fucking weird lately. Jimmy's gone so it's just been me and Harrington running the show. Who decided that putting us in charge was a good idea? Dingus over there wouldn't know good music if it weren’t for us. He'd be playing ABBA all day and wonder why we'd get hate mail.”

You laughed, the sound a little looser than usual. “That sounds exactly like him. Just be glad you're not working under Keith anymore. Dude was a total fuckin' creep. Remember that time he tried to hit on Nancy and she brutally destroyed every bit of confidence he had left?”

Eddie chuckled from where he was leaning against the wall, joint between his fingers again. He wasn’t saying much — just chilling, listening, that lazy little smirk on his face like he was happy to let the two of you talk while the smoke curled around him. Every now and then he’d take a hit and pass it back to you, his fingers brushing yours for a second longer than necessary.

Robin groaned and took another sip. “And don’t even get me started on my mom. She keeps asking when I’m gonna ‘bring a nice boy around’ like I haven’t been gay as fuck my whole life. I told her I’m busy surviving the apocalypse and working, but apparently that’s not a good enough excuse.”

You took the joint from Eddie again, the paper warm against your lips. The high was settling deep now — that sweet, heavy feeling behind your eyes that made everything feel a little more honest. You exhaled slowly and looked at Robin across the table.

“Honestly? You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with any of that shit,” you said, the words slipping out before you could overthink them. “The last guy I was with was… god, he was bad. Like, aggressively bad. All confidence, zero skill. Kept asking if I was close. I had to fake it just to get him to stop. And then he had the nerve to look proud of himself after.” You shook your head, laughing a little even though it wasn’t really funny. “You’re seriously so lucky you don’t have to deal with that mess, Robin.”

Robin raised an eyebrow, but she was smiling — the kind of smile that said she knew exactly what you meant and was grateful she didn’t. “Yeah, well. That’s one bullet I’ve managed to dodge.”

You took another slow hit from the joint, then passed it back to Eddie. The question came out casual, curious, the kind of thing that only got asked when everyone was a little drunk and a little high and the house was quiet except for Steve’s distant snoring.

“Have you ever actually had sex with a guy?”

Robin made a face but didn’t look offended. She just shook her head. “Nope. Never.”

You tilted your head, genuinely curious now. “What about kissing? Have you ever kissed a guy?”

She snorted. “Yeah, duh. Had to pretend to be straight at some point, right? High school was a whole thing. There was this one guy who wouldn’t leave me alone until I let him kiss me at a party. It was… fine. Wet. Weird. I spent the whole time thinking about how I’d rather be anywhere else.” She shrugged, taking another drink. “But it got the job done. People stopped asking questions for a while.”

The room felt smaller suddenly. Warmer. Eddie was still quiet, but you could feel him listening — that sharp, attentive energy he got when something interesting was happening. He took a hit from the joint and held it, watching the two of you with dark, amused eyes.

You leaned forward a little, elbows on the table, the high making your voice come out softer and more honest than usual.

“Okay, but… if you had to have sex with a guy,” you asked, “who would it be?”

Robin didn’t even hesitate. She looked you dead in the eye, a little smirk tugging at her mouth, cheeks faintly pink from the beer and the conversation.

“Well, I only trust two guys,” she said. “And since Harrington’s passed out cold in the other room, I guess Munson would do.”

The words landed in the quiet dining room like a spark on dry wood.

Eddie let out a low, surprised laugh — not mocking, just genuinely caught off guard. Smoke curled from between his lips as he exhaled. “Wow. High praise, Buckley. I’m flattered. Truly. I’ll try not to let it go to my head.”

You felt your own pulse pick up a little, the high sharpening everything — the way Robin was looking at you both, the way Eddie’s grin had gone a shade more dangerous, the distant sound of Steve’s soft snoring from the living room like he was still somehow part of this even while he was dead asleep.

Robin just shrugged, but there was something playful and a little charged in the way she held your gaze. “I’m just saying. If the world ended tomorrow and I had to pick… at least I know he might not be a complete disaster about it.”

Eddie took another slow hit from the joint, then held it out toward her like an offering, his voice low and teasing. “Careful, Buckley. Keep talking like that and I might start thinking you actually like me.”

Robin rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she reached for the joint. “Don’t get cocky, Munson. It’s a hypothetical. And you’re the lesser of two evils right now.”

The air in the dining room had shifted — still light, still a little giggly from the drinks and the weed, but underneath it something warmer was humming. Something that felt like it could tip in any direction depending on what happened next.

Eddie’s eyes flicked to you for a second, like he was checking to see how you were taking all of this. His smile was easy, but there was a spark in it that hadn’t been there before.

The words hung in the air for half a second.

Robin’s answer — casual, a little smirk on her face, eyes flicking between you and Eddie like she was testing the temperature of the room. Steve’s soft snoring drifted in from the living room like background noise.

You looked at Robin.

She looked at you.

And there it was — that look. The one the two of you had perfected over the last year of living in this house together. The we’re about to do something really fucking stupid and we both know it look. Half challenge, half invitation. Your mouth twitched. Hers did too.

Eddie blinked between the two of you, brow furrowing. “Okay… what the hell is happening right now? Seriously. You two are doing that thing again. The creepy telepathic eye contact thing. I don’t like it when you do the creepy telepathic eye contact thing—”

Robin was already sliding out of her chair.

You met her halfway.

The second your mouths crashed together it was heavy. No hesitation. No testing the waters. Just the sudden, hungry press of her lips against yours, the sharp little inhale she took when your hands found her waist and pulled her in. She tasted like beer and the faint cherry of her lip balm and the weed you’d all been passing around. Her hands were in your damp hair immediately, tugging, angling your head so she could kiss you deeper, messier. The high made everything sharper and blurrier at the same time — the slide of her tongue against yours, the way her body pressed flush to you, the little sound she made in the back of her throat when your teeth caught her bottom lip.

You barely registered the dining room table behind you until your ass hit the edge of it. Robin followed, crowding between your legs, one hand braced on the wood beside your hip while the other slid up under the edge of your towel, palm hot against your still-damp skin.

Eddie made a noise like he’d been punched in the stomach.

“What the fuck,” he said, voice cracking in the middle. “What the hell is happening seriously. Is this— are you two— Jesus Christ, I’m right here. I’m standing right here. Harrington’s passed out in the next room and you two are just— okay. Alright. This is fine. This is totally fine. I’m not freaking out. I’m not freaking out—”

You broke the kiss just long enough to laugh against Robin’s mouth, breathless and giddy and a little wild from the high. She was laughing too, forehead pressed to yours for a second, both of you grinning like idiots who’d just decided to set something on fire for fun.

Then you turned your head, still half-tangled with her, and reached out.

Your fingers curled around Eddie’s wrist.

He looked down at your hand like it was a live wire.

“Come on,” you said, voice low and rough from the kissing and the smoke. You gave his arm a tug, already sliding off the table, Robin’s hand finding yours on the other side. “Bedroom. Now.”

Robin was still giggling as the three of you stumbled out of the dining room — her free hand grabbing the mostly-smoked joint and the lighter on the way past the table. Eddie let himself be dragged, half-protesting, half-laughing in that high-pitched, overwhelmed way he got when his brain was short-circuiting.

“I— you can’t just— what is happening right now,” he kept saying, even as he followed you down the hallway toward his room. “I was minding my own business. I was being chill. And now I’m being kidnapped by two extremely hot, extremely high girls who were just making out on Steve’s dining room table like it was a normal day—”

“Shut up, Munson,” Robin managed between laughs, shoving his bedroom door open with her shoulder. “Consider this your lucky day.”

You were both still giggling as you pulled him inside — the sound bright and stupid and full of that reckless, drunk-high energy that always seemed to hit hardest at three in the morning. Eddie’s room smelled like him— weed, old leather, that cologne he stole from Steve and never gave back. Posters on the walls, clothes on the floor, his guitar propped in the corner like it was watching.

The door clicked shut behind you.

Robin was still pressed against your side, her mouth finding the curve of your neck for a second just because she could. You were still holding Eddie’s hand, thumb brushing over his knuckles like you were grounding all three of you in the moment.

Eddie stared at the two of you, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, that wild grin starting to break through the confusion.

“Okay,” he said, voice a little hoarse. “Okay. I’m listening. I’m extremely listening. Someone please tell me what the game plan is here before I have a heart attack in my own bedroom.”

You and Robin exchanged another look.

And then you were both laughing again — soft, breathless, already moving toward him like the night had always been headed exactly here.

Robin broke first, a soft, nervous giggle escaping as she looked at you. “Okay. So. We’re really doing this.”

You felt that same reckless, high-drunk spark from the dining room table flare hotter in your chest. You stepped in close to her, one hand sliding around her waist, and spoke low enough that it felt like a secret even though Eddie was right there.

“I’m gonna teach you how to give a blowjob.”

Eddie made a strangled noise from somewhere behind you. “I— what— teach—?”

Robin’s eyes flicked to him, then back to you. She looked a little dazed, a little turned on, a little like she couldn’t believe she was nodding. But she nodded anyway.

You turned to Eddie, who was still standing there looking like his brain had melted. His cock was already straining hard against the front of his swim trunks. You exchanged a silent look of permission with him, stepped right into his space, hooked your fingers into the waistband, and tugged them down in one smooth motion.

His cock sprang free — thick, ruddy tip, already leaking. Bigger than average. Heavy.

Robin’s eyes went wide. “Jesus Christ. Are they all that size?”

You wrapped your hand around the base and gave him one slow stroke, just to watch the way his stomach jumped. Then you glanced at Robin with a crooked little smile.

“Nope. I’m just as surprised as you are.”

Eddie let out a shaky laugh that turned into a groan the second you dropped to your knees in front of him. You didn’t waste time — you leaned in and took the head of his cock into your mouth, warm and wet, tongue swirling around the sensitive underside while your hand worked what you couldn’t fit yet. The taste of him, the weight of him on your tongue, the way his hand immediately found the back of your head like he didn’t know what else to do with it — it all hit harder because of the high. Everything felt magnified.

“Fuck— fuck—” Eddie’s voice cracked. He was staring down at you like you’d just personally rewritten the laws of physics. “Okay. Okay, this is happening. This is really— Jesus, your mouth—”

Robin watched, transfixed, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Her cheeks were flushed. After a minute she cleared her throat, voice a little hoarse.

“Can I… can I just start with a handjob? I don’t think I’m ready for the whole… mouth thing yet.”

You pulled off Eddie’s cock with a wet pop, lips shiny, and looked up at her. “Yeah. Come here.”

Robin knelt down beside you on the floor. She hesitated for only a second before wrapping her hand around him — tentative at first, like she was testing the heat and weight of him. Eddie made another broken sound above you both, hips twitching.

You covered her hand with yours.

“Here,” you murmured, guiding her. “Like this.”

You started slow — long, steady strokes from base to tip, your fingers curled over hers so she could feel exactly how much pressure to use. Eddie’s cock twitched hard in your combined grip, a bead of pre-cum welling at the slit. You used it to slick the way, dragging both your hands up and down in a smooth rhythm.

“See?” you said softly, close to her ear. “He seems to like it when you twist your wrist a little at the top. And you can use your other hand on his balls if you want — gentle, though.”

Eddie was losing his mind above you. One hand braced on the edge of his dresser, the other hovering like he didn’t know where to put it. His voice was wrecked.

“I— I don’t— what the fuck is my life right now— god, that feels— you two are actually going to kill me—”

Robin let out a shaky little laugh, but she didn’t let go. She was watching your hands move together over him, fascinated, biting her lip. The high made everything feel warmer, slower, more electric — the slide of skin on skin, the way Eddie’s cock pulsed between your fingers, the soft sound of his breathing breaking apart above you.

You kept guiding her, slow and patient, showing her how to stroke him just right while Eddie stood there completely at your mercy, confused and painfully, desperately horny, and very clearly not wanting any of it to stop.

The slow, guided strokes had Robin breathing a little harder. You could feel the shift in her — the way her grip got more confident under yours, the way she kept glancing at Eddie’s cock like she was daring herself.

Robin licked her lips.

Then she leaned in.

Her tongue dragged slowly up the underside of Eddie’s cock in one long, tentative stripe from base to tip. She made a soft, surprised sound at the taste and the heat of him, but she didn’t pull away. Instead she did it again, slower this time, like she was getting used to it.

You didn’t hesitate. You dipped your head right beside hers and followed.

The two of you worked him together — tongues sliding up the thick vein on the underside of his cock, getting him messy and wet. Saliva and pre-cum mixed as you licked over the same spots, sometimes your tongues brushing against each other in the process. Robin let out a shaky little laugh against his skin, and you answered it with one of your own before you both went back in, lapping at him like you were sharing something filthy and sweet at the same time.

Eddie made a sound like he’d been shot.

“F-fuck— fuck— you two— Jesus Christ—” His voice was wrecked, high and strained. One hand was white-knuckling the edge of the dresser so hard the wood creaked. The other hovered uselessly in the air like he was afraid to touch either of you in case he lost what little control he had left. His thighs were trembling. “I’m— I’m not gonna last if you keep— god, your tongues—”

You and Robin ignored the warning.

You met in the middle again, tongues curling against each other over the head of his cock before sliding back down together, coating him in shiny wetness. Then you were kissing — really kissing — right there on his dick. Mouths open, tongues sliding hot and slick against each other with the thick length of him caught between you. Every time your lips met you could taste him on her, and she could taste him on you. It was messy. It was obscene. It was so fucking hot you felt dizzy with it.

Eddie’s hips jerked forward without his permission. A broken, desperate noise tore out of his throat.

“I’m serious— I’m— fuck, I’m gonna come if you don’t stop— I’m trying— I’m trying so hard not to—” His voice cracked on a moan as your tongues met again over his slit, lapping up the fresh bead of pre-cum that had leaked out. “Please— Jesus, you’re both gonna kill me—”

Robin pulled back just enough to look up at him, lips shiny and swollen, a wicked little smile on her face even though her cheeks were flushed dark. She gave the head of his cock one more slow lick, then glanced at you like she was checking if you wanted to keep going.

Eddie looked like he was hanging on by a thread — eyes glassy, chest heaving, every muscle in his body locked tight as he fought not to come all over both your faces right then and there.

“Can I… watch you get fucked first?”

You were still on your knees, one hand loosely wrapped around the base of Eddie’s cock. You glanced up at her, a slow, wicked little smile spreading across your face.

“Only if you sit on my face.”

Robin’s eyes went wide for a second. Eddie made a noise like his brain had short-circuited again.

You didn’t wait for more discussion. You stood up, grabbed Eddie’s hand, and tugged him toward the bed with you. Robin followed, still looking a little stunned but not saying no. You crawled onto the mattress and laid back, legs spreading automatically as you looked up at both of them.

Eddie hovered at the side of the bed, swim trunks still around his thighs, cock flushed and shiny from both your mouths. He looked wrecked already — hair wild, eyes dark, chest heaving.

“Are you guys sure?” he asked, voice hoarse. “Like… we can stop at any point. This is— this is a lot. I don’t want anyone to—”

“Munson,” you cut in, staring straight at him, “if you don’t fuck me right now I’m going to be mad at you.” Your tone was light but firm. Then you turned your head toward Robin and patted the space above your face. “And Robin… come sit on my face.”

Robin hesitated. Her cheeks were flushed dark, one hand twisting in the hem of her swimsuit. She looked at Eddie, then at you, then back at Eddie like she was checking one last time that this was really okay. Eddie just gave her a helpless little shrug, like I have no idea what’s happening but I’m not stopping it.

She climbed onto the bed.

You helped guide her — hands on her hips as she swung one leg over your head and slowly lowered herself, pushing the gusset of her swimsuit to the side. The second her cunt brushed your mouth you licked up into her, slow and deliberate, and Robin made a soft, shocked sound above you, thighs trembling on either side of your head.

Eddie was still standing there like he couldn’t believe any of this was real.

You reached down between your own legs and peeled your bikini bottoms off. Y you looked at Eddie upside-down from between Robin’s thighs.

“Eddie.”

That was all it took.

He climbed onto the bed, shoved his trunks the rest of the way off, and lined himself up. The head of his cock dragged through your folds once, twice, collecting wetness, before he pushed in with one long, smooth thrust.

You moaned into Robin’s cunt.

Eddie groaned like he’d been punched. “Fuck— you’re so— god—”

He started fucking you in deep, steady strokes, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. Every time he bottomed out you cried out against Robin, the vibrations making her gasp and rock down harder onto your tongue. She was watching everything — the way Eddie’s cock disappeared into you over and over, the way your tits bounced with every thrust, the way your mouth worked between her legs.

Robin leaned forward.

Her fingers found your clit and started rubbing in tight, desperate little circles, matching the rhythm of Eddie’s thrusts. The added stimulation made your whole body jerk. You sucked harder on her clit, tongue flicking fast, and Robin’s thighs clamped around your head as she moaned.

Eddie was losing it.

He was trying so hard to hold back, but between the way you felt around him, the wet sounds of you eating Robin out, and the sight of her fingers working your clit right above where he was buried inside you — it was too much.

“Fuck— I’m— I’m close—” he gasped. “I can’t— you feel too good— Robin, if you keep— shit—”

Robin rubbed your clit faster, leaning down so she could watch Eddie’s cock splitting you open while your tongue fucked into her. The angle let her grind down harder on your face.

You came first.

It hit hard — a full-body, shaking orgasm that made your back arch off the bed and your moan get muffled against Robin’s cunt. Your walls clenched tight around Eddie’s cock, pulsing hard, and that was it for him.

Eddie came with a broken, guttural sound, hips stuttering as he buried himself as deep as he could and spilled inside you. Thick, hot pulses that you felt with every twitch of his cock. He kept fucking through it in short, desperate thrusts, like he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

Robin followed right after — thighs shaking around your head as she came on your tongue with a soft, surprised cry, her fingers still moving on your oversensitive clit until the overstimulation made you whimper.

For a few long seconds the only sounds in the room were heavy breathing, the wet slide of Eddie slowly pulling out of you, and Robin’s shaky little laughs as she carefully climbed off your face.

Eddie collapsed onto the bed beside you, one arm thrown over his eyes, chest heaving.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, voice completely wrecked. “What the fuck just happened.”

Robin was still catching her breath, looking down at both of you with wide, dazed eyes and a stunned little smile.

You just lay there between them, flushed and satisfied and still buzzing from the high.

The three of you were still catching your breath, bodies loose and warm on Eddie’s bed. Robin was the first to move, pushing herself up onto her elbows. Her hair was a mess, lips still shiny from where you’d had your mouth on her. She looked down at Eddie, who was flat on his back with one arm thrown over his eyes, his cock soft and half-hard against his stomach, shiny with a mix of your wetness and his own cum.

“So like—” Robin started, voice a little hoarse, “when your dick works again… can I try?”

Eddie dropped his arm and turned his head to stare at her like she’d grown a second head.

“When my— what the hell are you talking about, Buckley?”

Robin sat up a little more, tilting her head as she studied him with open curiosity. “Y’know… like when it gets all hard again like before. I wanna try. For real this time.”

You snorted, still lying between them, one hand resting on your own stomach. “I know a way we can get him hard again.”

Eddie lifted his head, eyes wide. “Hello? I’m— I’m right here, you menaces!”

You and Robin glanced at each other.

“Should we?” you asked, already smiling.

Robin hummed, pretending to think about it. “Hmm. Think we should.”

Before Eddie could get another word out, you rolled toward Robin and kissed her.

It started slow — lazy, post-orgasm kisses, your mouths moving together soft and wet. But it didn’t stay soft for long. Robin made a quiet sound and leaned in harder, one hand coming up to cup your jaw as her tongue slid against yours. The kiss got deeper, messier, the two of you making out right there on the bed like Eddie wasn’t even there.

Eddie made a wounded noise from beside you.

“This isn’t fair,” he complained, voice rough. “I want a kiss. I’m the one who just— I participated! I did labor! I deserve— hey— hey—”

You broke away from Robin with a grin and turned to him instead.

The second your mouth met his, Eddie melted. He kissed you back desperately, one hand sliding into your hair as he licked into your mouth like he’d been starving for it. You could feel him starting to twitch against your thigh already.

Robin watched for a second, then leaned in and nudged you aside so she could kiss him next. Eddie made another broken sound as she kissed him — slower at first, exploratory, then deeper once she got the hang of it. His cock gave a visible twitch against his stomach, starting to fill out properly.

You took your turn again, kissing him slow and filthy while your hand drifted down to wrap loosely around the base of his cock, giving him one lazy stroke. He was getting harder by the second.

“Fuck— you two are evil,” he muttered when you finally let him breathe. His voice was already wrecked again. “I was trying to be good and recover and now I’m— god— I’m hard again. This is your fault. Both of you.”

Robin glanced down at his cock, now fully hard and flushed in your hand, and bit her lip.

She looked back up at you, eyes bright and a little nervous but determined.

“So… can I try now?”

Eddie sat up a little, running a hand through his messy hair. His cock was fully hard again, resting against his stomach as he looked at Robin with that same soft, slightly overwhelmed expression he’d had since the dining room.

“Hey,” he said, voice gentle even though he was still catching his breath from the kissing. “I’m serious. You can stop at any point. Like… any point. You say the word and we’re done, no questions asked.”

Robin rolled her eyes so hard it was almost impressive.

“I know, Jesus Christ,” she muttered. “You’ve said it like six times already. I’m not gonna shatter.”

Eddie held his hands up in surrender, but he was still watching her carefully. “Okay. Okay. Just… making sure.” He hesitated, then asked, “Do you want to do it missionary? Or, like… any position you’re comfortable with.”

Robin made a face like he’d suggested they do it in the middle of the grocery store.

“Fuck no,” she said immediately. “I’m too shy to even talk at you right now, let alone look at you while you’re fucking me.”

Eddie blinked, then let out a short, surprised laugh. “Reverse cowgirl it is, then.”

You helped shift things around on the bed, moving pillows and making space. Robin climbed over Eddie’s lap, facing away from him — toward you instead. Her hands braced on your thighs for balance as she hovered over him. Eddie wrapped one hand around the base of his cock, the other resting lightly on her hip as he lined himself up.

Robin took a shaky breath, then slowly started to sink down.

The second he bottomed out inside her, her eyes went wide. A sharp, punched-out sound left her throat. She froze there for a second, adjusting to the stretch, fingers digging into your legs.

Eddie’s hands tightened on her hips. “You okay?” he asked immediately, voice low and careful. “Robin? You good?”

She didn’t answer right away, just breathed through it.

“Robin?” he tried again, a little more worried. “Hey, talk to me. You okay?”

Robin finally turned her head just enough to glare at him over her shoulder.

“Shut the fuck up, Munson,” she gritted out. “I can feel you in my throat.”

Eddie let out a startled laugh, the sound bright and relieved all at once. “Jesus. Okay. Noted.” He gave her hips a gentle squeeze. “Just checking. You’re calling the shots here.”

Robin took another slow breath, then rolled her hips experimentally. A tiny, involuntary sound escaped her when she felt how deep he was. She glanced at you, something between overwhelmed and determined in her expression, like she was still processing the feeling of being this full.

Eddie was still grinning, even as he stayed perfectly still beneath her.

“Guess I’m just a human dildo tonight,” he joked, voice warm and teasing. “At your service.”

Robin let out a shaky little laugh despite herself, still adjusting, still getting used to the stretch of him inside her. She hadn’t started moving properly yet — just sitting there, breathing, getting her bearings while Eddie waited patiently underneath her and you stayed close in front of her.

You could feel the tension in Robin’s body — the way her thighs were trembling slightly where they bracketed Eddie’s hips, the way her breathing was still a little too careful. So you leaned in and kissed her again, slow and grounding, one hand sliding up to cup the back of her neck. She melted into it almost immediately, some of the rigidness easing out of her shoulders as she kissed you back.

When you pulled away, she turned her head just enough and said, voice a little rough, “Eddie… start moving.”

Eddie didn’t need to be told twice.

He started slow, rolling his hips up into her in careful, shallow thrusts. Robin’s breath hitched, her hands tightening on your thighs as she adjusted to the feeling of him moving inside her. You stayed close, one hand sliding down between her legs to rub her clit in slow, steady circles with your thumb — matching the rhythm Eddie was setting.

Robin let out a shaky moan against your mouth when you kissed her again.

You didn’t stay up there long.

You broke the kiss and lowered yourself further, settling between Eddie’s spread thighs. From this angle you had a perfect view of where they were joined — his cock glistening as it slid in and out of her. You leaned in and dragged your tongue slowly over Robin’s clit first, then lower, licking along the base of Eddie’s cock and his balls on the next pass.

Robin clenched hard around him the second your tongue touched her.

“Fuck—” she gasped, hips jerking.

Eddie groaned, his hands gripping her waist tighter. “Jesus Christ, what did you just do to her?”

Robin let out a breathless, slightly unhinged laugh even as she rolled her hips down to meet Eddie’s next thrust. “She’s— fuck— she’s licking both of us. I can feel her tongue on your— god.”

Eddie let out a shaky laugh of his own, still fucking up into her in those deep, steady strokes. “You're so fucking tight Buckley. Pretty sure I'm going to fall in love with one of you after this.”

Robin reached down blindly and grabbed a handful of your hair, not pushing or pulling, just holding on as you kept licking — slow, deliberate strokes over her clit and the parts of Eddie’s cock that weren’t buried inside her.

“Shut up,” she managed, voice breaking on a moan when you sucked gently on her clit. “You’re— it feels like you're fucking me with your arm. H- How the hell do you walk around all day with— fuck— with that in your pants? Where the hell— Jesus Christ— do- do you put it?”

Eddie grinned, even as his breathing got rougher. “Y'know Buckley. That might be the nicest thing you ever said to me.”

Robin let out another shaky laugh that turned into a moan when you licked a particularly sensitive spot. “I hate you. I hate both of you. This is— fuck— this is your fault.”

“Pretty sure it’s your fault for asking if you could try,” Eddie shot back, voice strained but still teasing as he fucked her a little harder. “I was being a gentleman. You’re the one who decided to use me as a human dildo for kicks.”

Robin’s only response was a broken moan and another tight clench around him as your tongue worked between them.

Eddie groaned, head dropping back against the pillows for a second. “Yeah. Okay. Keep doing that. Both of you. I’m not complaining.”

Robin was breathing hard now, caught between Eddie’s cock and your mouth, her body starting to move more instinctively with every thrust. She was still holding onto your hair like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

The room was filled with the wet sounds of sex, Eddie’s low groans, and Robin’s increasingly desperate little noises every time your tongue dragged over her clit or Eddie hit a spot that made her clench.

Robin was getting close — you could feel it in the way her thighs were starting to shake on either side of Eddie’s hips, the way her breathing had gone ragged and uneven. You kept your mouth on her, tongue working her clit in tight, focused strokes.

Eddie was clearly struggling. His grip on Robin’s hips had gone tight, and his thrusts were getting a little less controlled, a little more desperate.

Robin must have felt it too.

She turned her head just enough to glare at him over her shoulder, voice breathless but sharp.

“If you cum anywhere near me, Munson, I’m going to murder you. I’m serious. I will actually kill you.”

Eddie let out a strained, half-laugh, half-groan. “Noted. Loud and clear. No coming near the lesbian. Got it.”

You pulled your mouth off Robin’s clit just long enough to speak, voice low and a little hoarse from how long you’d had your face buried between them.

“I’ll take it,” you said, looking up at both of them. “Cum on me. Face, tits, wherever. I don’t care.”

Eddie made a broken sound at that, hips stuttering for a second before he forced himself back into rhythm.

You went right back to work on Robin — two fingers rubbing tight and fast right where she needed it. Eddie kept fucking her through it, deep and steady, even as he fought to hold himself back.

Robin’s whole body went tight.

“Fuck— fuck— I’m—” Her voice cracked as she came, clenching hard around Eddie’s cock in rhythmic pulses. Her thighs shook on either side of your head and she grabbed at your hair again, holding on as the orgasm rolled through her. A broken, gasping moan tore out of her throat as she rode it out on Eddie’s cock.

The second she started to come down, Eddie carefully lifted her off him with shaking hands. His cock slipped free, shiny and flushed dark, and he barely had time to stroke himself once before he was coming from between her legs.

Thick ropes painted across your face and chest — hot and messy, landing on your lips, your cheek, and streaking down over your tits. Eddie groaned loud and broken as he came, hips jerking with every pulse, one hand braced on Robin’s thigh while the other worked himself through it.

Robin was still catching her breath above you, looking down with wide, slightly dazed eyes as she watched Eddie finish all over you. She let out a soft, breathless little laugh.

“Holy shit.”

Eddie was still breathing hard, staring down at the mess he’d made on your skin like he couldn’t quite believe any of this had actually happened. His cock gave one last weak twitch in his hand before he let go, slumping back against the pillows.

Robin carefully climbed off him and flopped down beside you on the bed, still flushed and breathing heavy. She looked at the cum on your face and chest, then at Eddie, then back at you.

“…Okay,” she said, voice a little shaky but amused. “That was… a lot.”

Eddie let out a weak, exhausted laugh from where he was sprawled out, one arm thrown over his eyes.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Yeah, it really fucking was.”

The three of you were sprawled across Eddie’s bed in a messy, sweaty pile. Robin was on her back beside you, one arm thrown over her eyes, still breathing hard. Eddie was half-sitting up against the headboard, looking thoroughly fucked-out and a little stunned. You were in the middle, cum cooling on your face and chest, the high still humming pleasantly under your skin.

Robin was the first one to break the silence.

“Wait—” she said, turning her head toward you and Eddie with genuine curiosity. “Is this what Steve’s is like? Has anyone here seen Harrington’s dick? Like… for science?”

Eddie let out a weak, disbelieving laugh, running a hand down his face.

“….Yeah, I don’t think you’re gonna be a lesbian anymore after this.”

Robin snorted, propping herself up on one elbow to look at him. “Nah. Still a lesbian. Have you seen how nice her tits are?” She gestured vaguely at your chest with one hand. “And she doesn’t have a dick that split me in half.”

Eddie clutched his chest dramatically, even as he was clearly fighting a grin. “Glad to know that I’m just an afterthought?”

You turned your head to look at him, still a little breathless, a lazy smile tugging at your mouth.

“If it makes you feel better… I’d have sex with you again.”

Eddie’s head snapped toward you so fast it was almost comical. His eyes lit up, that familiar cocky little smirk sliding back onto his face despite how wrecked he looked.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he drawled, voice low and teasing, “Is that an invitation?”

You let out a soft laugh, reaching over to wipe a bit of cum off your bottom lip with your thumb.

“It’s more of a standing reservation.”

Robin groaned and flopped back down, covering her face with both hands even as her shoulders shook with laughter.

“Oh my god. You two are actually disgusting. I can’t believe I let either of you near me.”

Eddie was still grinning at you, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who’d just been used as a human dildo and then immediately discarded in the rankings. He reached over and lazily dragged two fingers through the mess on your chest, smearing it a little before bringing his fingers to his own mouth and licking them clean with zero shame.

“Standing reservation,” he repeated, like he was tasting the words. “I like the sound of that.”

Robin peeked at him through her fingers. “You’re not allowed to do that Munson. It’s rude.”

“Rude is my brand, Buckley,” Eddie shot back, but his voice had gone softer, warmer. He glanced between the two of you, something fond and a little overwhelmed flickering across his face. “You two are gonna be the death of me. I hope you know that.”

You smiled, still loose and satisfied, and reached over to rest your hand on Robin’s thigh while your other hand found Eddie’s.

“Worth it though,” you murmured.

Robin didn’t answer right away. She just let out a long, dramatic sigh and turned her head to look at you, then at Eddie, then back at you again.

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.

Steve sat up just enough to point his beer bottle at the group like a scepter.

“Alright, my turn again. Never have I ever… gotten high and tried to cook at three in the morning.”

You lifted your bottle immediately. So did Robin, Eddie, and- after a guilty pause- Nancy.

Robin cackled, nearly spilling her drink. “The toaster incident! I stand by it. Pop-Tarts are a perfectly valid midnight meal.”

“You put the Pop-Tart wrapper in the toaster,” Steve shot back, wheezing. “I had to unplug the whole damn thing before the kitchen caught fire. You’re a menace.”

Eddie threw his head back with a theatrical groan. “Amateur hour. I once tried to make grilled cheese at three a.m. while stoned out of my skull. Used a fork. On an electric stove. There were sparks. I named the scorch mark on the wall and we had a funeral for it the next day.”

Nancy was giggling into Jonathan’s shoulder, trying and failing to look dignified. “I made… I think it was supposed to be pancakes? But I used cornflakes instead of flour because the bag looked similar and the labels were blurry. It was… crunchy.”

Jonathan’s quiet laugh rumbled under her. “I remember that. You tried to serve it to me like it was intentional. ‘It’s deconstructed,’ you said.”

“Shut up,” Nancy muttered, but she was smiling.

Robin pointed at you, eyes sparkling. “You drank too! What was your crime against the culinary arts?”

You shrugged, fighting a grin. “Tried to make mashed potatoes but ended up just sticking the potato in the microwave and forgetting to cook it. Bit into a raw fuckin' potato.”

The group lost it. Steve actually rolled onto his back in the grass, clutching his stomach. Eddie sat up so fast he almost fell off the table.

“Legendary. Absolute madwoman.”

Robin wiped tears from her eyes. “Okay, okay, my turn. Never have I ever… had a secret hookup that I never told anyone in this circle about.”

A beat. Then Eddie and Steve both drank without hesitation.

Robin’s jaw dropped. “EXCUSE ME? Both of you? At the same time? Separately? Details. Now. I demand details.”

Eddie grinned, all teeth and chaos. “Relax, Buckley, it wasn’t with each other. Though that would’ve been a hell of a story. No, this was… senior year. Very short-lived. Very ill-advised. She thought I was mysterious. I thought she was hot. We both realized we were wrong by morning. End of saga.”

Steve took a long sip like it might save him from the interrogation. “Mine was… after senior year. Different person. We agreed it was a one-time thing. Haven’t thought about it since. Until right now. Thanks for that, Robin.”

Robin was vibrating. “I hate both of you. I tell you everything and you’re out here hoarding girls like dragons. Unfair. I want names. Or at least embarrassing details. Did anyone cry? Was there a walk of shame? Was it in a car? Be specific.”

Nancy raised an eyebrow, amused. “I feel like we’re one question away from a full confessional.”

Jonathan just shook his head, small smile in place. “I’m staying out of this one.”

Eddie pointed at him. “Smart man. Jonathan knows the value of silence. Unlike some people.” He shot a look at Steve, who flipped him off lazily.

Robin was still going. “I’m circling back to this later. Mark my words. This is not over.”

The laughter died down into comfortable, tipsy quiet for a second, the kind where everyone was just enjoying the buzz and the night air. Then Eddie shifted on the picnic table, rings catching the light as he leaned forward with that signature glint in his eyes- the one that always meant trouble was incoming.

“Alright, my turn again, you beautiful disasters. I’ve been saving this one.” He paused for dramatic effect, looking around the circle like he was about to drop state secrets. “Never have I ever… not come during sex.”

The air shifted just slightly. Steve made a face like he’d tasted something sour. Robin shook her head immediately. Nancy didn’t move. Jonathan stayed still.

You lifted your bottle and took a slow sip.

For three full seconds, nobody said anything.

Then the backyard exploded all over again.

Robin made a noise like a dying seagull and actually fell sideways onto the blanket. “YOU DRANK?! You actually drank?! But you’re- you! How is that even possible? Was it recent? Was it that one guy? Oh my God, tell me it wasn’t that one guy with the weird shoes-”

Steve sat upright, beer forgotten in the grass. “No. Absolutely not. Rewind the tape. You’re telling me some absolute clown had the privilege of being anywhere near you and just… tapped out? Like the job was done for him and he clocked out early? That’s not even selfish, that’s a federal offense. I’m personally offended.”

Eddie had gone very still, the usual manic energy sharpening into something focused and almost offended on your behalf. He stared at you like you’d just announced the end of the world.

“Sweetheart. No. We’re not doing this. Who the fuck was it? Give me a name, a description, a license plate number- I’m not picky.”

Nancy blinked rapidly, her analytical brain clearly fighting the tequila. “I… okay. That’s surprising. From you. Are you- I mean, obviously it wasn’t great if- wait, that came out wrong. Do you want to talk about it? We can talk about it. Or we can drop it completely. But also we’re all very invested now, so. Your move.”

Jonathan’s voice was quiet but sincere under the chaos. “That really sucks. Like… actually sucks. Sorry that happened.”

The questions started flying, voices overlapping in drunk, protective, nosy waves.

Robin, half-sitting up again- “Was it bad-bad or just ‘eh’ bad? Did you fake it or just lie there like ‘well, this is happening’? Because I have strong opinions about faking it and I need to know if I should be adding this person to my shit list-”

Steve, pointing dramatically- “On a scale of one to ‘I want to key their car and also their life,’ how bad are we talking? And do I need to go do recon tonight or can it wait till I’m sober?”

Eddie, already in full dramatic mode- “I’m in mourning. Actual mourning. The concept that you have experienced subpar anything and didn’t immediately tell us so we could form a council of war? Rude. Disrespectful. I demand emotional damages.”

Nancy, trying to sound reasonable while clearly spiraling a little- “Statistically it happens more than people admit, especially if there’s alcohol or if the other person’s… not great at listening. But still. You? Really? Do you want advice or just… collective judgment of this mystery idiot?”

Jonathan, dry as ever- “Or we can just sit here and roast them in silence. That’s also an option.”

Eddie was still staring at you, something unreadable flickering behind the theatrical bullshit. Steve looked ready to stand up and demand an address. Robin was vibrating with secondhand outrage and best-friend protectiveness. Nancy had that little crease between her brows. Jonathan just watched you, steady in the middle of the storm.

The game was forgotten.

The night, however, felt like it had just cracked open.

The group was still staring at you, the night air thick with weed smoke and the kind of drunk, high curiosity that made everything feel like the most important conversation on earth.

You shrugged, keeping it short because the buzz in your head made long explanations feel impossible.

“It was that guy I went on a couple dates with. He got his and that was it. Didn’t really care if I did or not. It just… didn’t happen for me. I didn’t make it a thing.”

Silence for half a second.

Then the backyard lost its collective mind all over again.

Robin made a noise like she’d been personally stabbed. “He what?! He got his and just- rolled over?! Like a fucking seagull that stole a fry and flew away?! I’m going to kill him. I don’t even remember his name but I’m going to find him and I’m going to-”

Steve sat up so fast he almost face-planted in the grass. “No. Nope. That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works. You don’t just- Jesus Christ, what a fucking loser. I’m actually angry. Like, real anger. My blood pressure is up.”

Nancy’s voice was tight, the tipsy analytical tone cracking into something sharper. “That’s not even selfish sex, that’s just… using someone. That’s unacceptable. I’m sorry that happened to you. Really.”

Jonathan just shook his head slowly, quiet but firm. “Guy sounds like an asshole. You deserved better than that.”

But Eddie-

Eddie went very, very still.

The manic energy that usually lived in his hands and his voice had narrowed into something focused and almost dangerous. He slid off the picnic table in one fluid motion, boots hitting the grass with a soft thud, and crossed the circle until he was crouched right in front of your chair. Close enough that you could see the way the string lights caught the silver in his rings, the faint scar on his bottom lip, the way his dark eyes had gone hot and serious in a way you’d never seen directed at you before.

His voice came out low, rough around the edges from the smoke and the drinks.

“No. Fuck that. That’s not okay. That’s not even in the same zip code as okay.” He shook his head once, hard, curls falling into his face. “You’re telling me some mediocre, selfish little shit got to touch you- got to have you- and didn’t even have the decency to make sure you came? That’s not a mistake. That’s a crime. And I’m taking it personally.”

He reached out, slow enough that you could pull away if you wanted, and rested one warm, ring-heavy hand on your knee. His thumb brushed once over the fabric of your jeans, barely there, but the touch lit up every nerve ending like a live wire.

“I’ve always liked you,” he said, voice dropping even lower, just for you even though the whole group could hear. “Like… liked you. I’ve thought about you a lot. More than I should’ve. Way more.”

Robin made a tiny, high-pitched noise somewhere behind him. Steve muttered “Oh shit, he’s really doing this,” but didn’t sound mad about it.

Eddie didn’t look away from you. His hand stayed on your knee, thumb still moving in that slow, deliberate stroke.

“And now I find out some asshole left you hanging? Nah. Not happening. Not on my watch.” His mouth curved into something that was half grin, half promise. “So here’s what’s gonna happen, sweetheart. I’m making it my personal fucking mission to give you an orgasm so good you forget that guy’s name, his face, and the entire concept of bad sex. If you’ll let me.”

He leaned in closer- his lips just shy of your ear-  his whispering voice turning darker, flirtier, filthy in that Eddie way.

“I’d take my time. None of that ‘get mine and dip’ bullshit. I’d learn what you like. What makes your breath catch. What makes your thighs shake. I’d use my mouth, my fingers, my cock- whatever you wanted, however long it took. I’d make you come so many times you’d be begging me to stop… or begging me not to.” His thumb pressed a little firmer against your knee. “And I’d enjoy every second of it. Because I’ve wanted to hear you fall apart for a while now. And I’m really fucking good at getting what I want when I decide something matters.”

The group had gone mostly quiet behind him, the air crackling with secondhand tension and drunk fascination.

Robin whispered, “Holy shit,” like she was watching a car crash in slow motion and couldn’t look away.

Steve cleared his throat. “Munson, you’re really out here shooting your shot in front of all of us? Bold. I respect it. But also… maybe give her a second to answer before you start planning the victory lap?”

Nancy’s voice was a little breathless. “I mean… he has a point about the mission part. The delivery could use work, but the intent is… surprisingly pure? In a very Eddie way.”

Jonathan just gave a low, amused hum. “He’s been staring at you for months. We all noticed. This isn’t news.”

Eddie didn’t even glance at them. His eyes stayed locked on yours, dark and hungry and suddenly very, very serious under all the theatrical bullshit.

“So?” he asked, voice soft but rough, thumb still stroking slow circles on your knee. “You gonna let me fix it? Or you gonna make me work for it first? Because I’m good with either. I like a challenge. And I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you for a long time.”

The open backyard felt smaller suddenly. Just his hand on your knee, his voice in your ear, the way the buzz in your head made every word feel heavier, hotter, more inevitable.

And Eddie Munson was looking at you like he’d already decided you were the only thing that mattered tonight.

You didn’t even hesitate. The buzz made everything feel simple, inevitable.

“Okay,” you said, meeting Eddie’s eyes. “Yeah. I’m in. Fix it.”

Steve made a noise behind Eddie as Robin excitedly poked him in the ribs.

“Oh my God. No. Nope. Absolutely not. I am begging you two. Not here. Not tonight. Not while we’re all sitting in my backyard like this. The pool does not need to see whatever the hell is about to happen. I’m serious. Take it inside later. Or tomorrow. Or never in front of me. I’m begging. On my knees. Metaphorically. Please.”

Eddie threw his head back and laughed- loud, bright, delighted, the sound cutting through the night air like it belonged there. He didn’t even look at Steve. His eyes stayed on you, dark and shining, like Steve’s panic was the funniest thing he’d heard all week.

You tilted your head at Eddie, feeling bold and bratty and loose from the weed and the tequila and the way he was still touching your knee like he owned the right.

“You better mean it, Munson,” you said, voice light but edged with challenge. “You talked a real big game just now. Don’t pussy out on me later. I hate when guys talk shit they can’t back up.”

Eddie’s laugh cut off like someone had flipped a switch.

For a second he just looked at you- really looked- and something in his expression shifted. The hunger that had already been there sharpened into something hotter, darker. His pupils blew wider. His hand on your knee tightened, fingers flexing once like he was physically holding himself back from doing something stupid in front of everyone. He liked that. The brattiness. You could see it in the way his jaw flexed, in the slow, dangerous little smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth before he schooled it back into something cocky.

He didn’t say anything about it out loud. Just let the moment hang there, thick and electric between you.

Steve was still muttering prayers under his breath. Robin had her face buried in her hands, peeking through her fingers like she was watching a horror movie she couldn’t look away from. Nancy looked equal parts scandalized and fascinated. Jonathan just raised his eyebrows and took a very long, very deliberate sip of his beer like he was pretending he wasn’t there.

Eddie finally dragged his gaze away from you long enough to glance at Steve, still grinning like the devil himself.

“Relax, Harrington. I’m a gentleman. Sometimes.” He gave your knee one last slow squeeze before finally- finally- pulling his hand back. But he didn’t go far. Instead he dropped down onto the grass right beside your chair, close enough that his shoulder pressed against your leg, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him through his jacket. He leaned back on his hands like he had no intention of moving for the rest of the night.

The group, blessedly, took the hint and started bullshitting again- Robin launching into a rant about some customer at the video store who tried to return a tape with peanut butter on it, Steve jumping in with his own horror stories, Nancy adding dry commentary that made everyone laugh. It was easy, familiar noise. The kind that usually filled nights like this.

But Eddie stayed exactly where he was.

Close.

His shoulder stayed pressed to your leg. Every so often his hand would drift back- casual, like it belonged there- resting on your calf, or brushing against your ankle when he gestured while talking to the group. When the conversation got loud he’d lean in a little, voice dropping just for you.

“You’re really gonna make me work for it, huh?” he murmured at one point, low enough that only you could hear, the words curling warm against your ear. “Good. I like that.”

Later, when Robin was mid-story and everyone else was distracted, he tilted his head back against your chair and looked up at you through his lashes, voice even quieter.

“Still thinking about what you said. The way you said it.” His fingers traced one slow line along the seam of your jeans, barely there. “Bratty looks good on you. Real good.”

You knew it.

He didn’t push it further. Didn’t drag you off into the house or make good on any of the filthy promises from earlier. Not yet. But he stayed glued to your side for the rest of the night- laughing at the group’s bullshit, throwing in his own dramatic commentary, passing the joint when it came around again. Every time someone wasn’t looking his hand would find its way back to you. A thumb stroking slow circles on your knee. Fingers hooking lightly around your ankle. Once, when the laughter got loud, he turned his head and pressed his mouth to the side of your thigh through your jeans- just a quick, hot press of lips and teeth that no one else saw.

The night kept spinning around you in a haze of smoke and laughter and string lights.

But Eddie Munson didn’t move from your side.

And every time you glanced down at him, he was already looking back- dark eyes full of heat and something dangerously close to a total loss of control.

The house had gone quiet.

Everyone drifted off one by one- Steve muttering something about “no sex in my backyard” under his breath as he headed inside, Robin still giggling about the night’s chaos, Nancy and Jonathan disappearing into one of the guest rooms with quiet goodnights. You tried to sleep in the room Steve had given you, but your head was too loud, your body too wired from the weed, the tequila, and the way Eddie had stayed glued to your side all night.

So you slipped outside again.

The backyard was cooler now, the string lights still glowing faintly. You lit a cigarette and leaned against the side of the house, letting the first drag burn slow in your lungs.

Eddie was already out there.

He was sitting on the picnic table, boots on the bench, a cigarette of his own between his fingers. He looked up when the door clicked shut, and the second your eyes met, the air changed.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stubbed out his cigarette, stood up, and crossed the space between you in a few long strides.

The kiss was immediate and rough.

His mouth crashed into yours like he’d been holding back for hours. One hand slid into your hair, gripping tight at the roots, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise as he walked you backward until your ass hit the edge of the picnic table. You gasped into his mouth and he took full advantage, tongue sliding deep, teeth catching your bottom lip. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t careful. It was exactly what the tension between you had been building toward all night.

When he finally pulled back, both of you breathing hard, he kept his forehead pressed to yours, voice low and ragged.

“You couldn’t sleep either?”

You shook your head.

His hands stayed on you- one still fisted in your hair, the other sliding under your shirt to grip bare skin at your waist.

“Do you know what you like?” he asked, voice rough. His thumb stroked once over your hipbone. “Be honest with me.”

You swallowed, pulse hammering. The bratty edge from earlier was still there, loosened by the night and the way he was looking at you like he wanted to ruin you.

“I think I like it rough.”

Eddie’s eyes darkened. A slow, dangerous smile curved his mouth.

“Yeah?” He gave your hair a deliberate tug, just enough to tip your head back. “Good. ‘Cause I like you bratty. Mouthy. Makes it hotter when I get to shut you up.”

He kissed you again before you could answer- harder this time, rougher- and then he was lifting you onto the picnic table like you weighed nothing. The wood was cool under your thighs through your jeans. He stepped between your legs, hands already working your button and zipper open with impatient fingers.

“You gonna be good for me?” he murmured against your mouth, even as he shoved your jeans and underwear down your thighs in one rough motion. “Or you gonna keep running that mouth?”

You couldn’t help it. The brattiness slipped out easy.

“Depends. You gonna actually do something, or just talk about it all night like you did earlier?”

Eddie laughed- low, dark, delighted- and the sound went straight between your legs.

“There she is.”

He pushed you back until you were lying on the picnic table, the string lights blurring above you. Then he dropped to his knees on the grass between your spread thighs like he belonged there.

The first drag of his tongue was slow, deliberate, almost teasing. Then he groaned against you like he’d been starving for it, and everything got rougher. His hands gripped your thighs hard, fingers digging in as he held you open. He licked and sucked with focused intensity, tongue working your clit in tight, relentless circles before dipping lower. When you tried to squirm, he growled and pinned your hips down with one forearm across your stomach.

You couldn’t stay quiet. Couldn’t help the way your hips tried to rock against his mouth.

“Fuck- Eddieeee-”

He pulled back just enough to speak, voice wrecked and smug.

“Still mouthy. Good.” He nipped at the inside of your thigh, sharp enough to sting. “Keep talking, sweetheart. See what happens.”

Then he went back in- hungrier this time. Rougher. Two fingers pushing inside you without warning while his mouth stayed locked on your clit, sucking hard. The stretch burned in the best way. He curled his fingers just right, fucking you with them in time with the relentless drag of his tongue, and the picnic table creaked under you.

You reached down, fingers twisting into his hair, and tugged. Hard.

Eddie moaned against you like you’d given him a gift.

“Yeah,” he rasped between licks, voice muffled and filthy. “Pull it. Be as bratty as you want. I’ll just make you come harder for it.”

He didn’t let up. Didn’t slow down. He ate you like he had something to prove- tongue relentless, fingers rough and deep, the hand not inside you gripping your thigh so tight you knew you’d have marks tomorrow. Every time you got mouthy- every gasped “fuck you” or “is that all you got?”- he responded by being meaner with his mouth, rougher with his fingers, until your back was arching off the table and your thighs were shaking around his head.

The orgasm hit hard and sudden, ripping through you with a broken sound you couldn’t bite back. Eddie didn’t stop. He worked you through it, tongue gentler now but still moving, fingers slowing but not pulling out until your whole body went limp against the wood.

Only then did he lift his head.

His mouth was shiny, eyes blown black, curls messy from your hands. He looked wrecked and triumphant at the same time.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then leaned up to kiss you- slow and deep so you could taste yourself on his tongue.

“See?” he murmured against your lips, voice hoarse. “Told you I’d fix it.”

His hand was still between your legs, two fingers still buried inside you, lazily stroking like he wasn’t done yet.

“And we’re just getting started.”

Eddie didn’t give you much time to come down.

He stood up, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then his hands were on your hips, flipping you over so your stomach pressed against the cool wood of the picnic table. The position was sudden, a little rough, exactly the way you’d told him you liked it. Your jeans were still around your thighs, keeping your legs close together as he kicked your feet a little wider.

“Stay just like that,” he muttered, voice wrecked.

You heard the clink of his belt, the sound of his zipper. Then the hot, heavy drag of his cock against your ass as he leaned over you, one hand braced on the table beside your head.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he breathed against your ear. He rubbed the head of his cock through your folds, teasing, not pushing in yet. “All this from my mouth? Or you been thinking about this since I had my hand on your knee earlier?”

You pushed back against him on instinct, trying to get him inside. He laughed softly and pulled his hips back.

“Uh-uh. Not yet.”

“Fuck you.”

“Trying sweetheart. But someone's impatient even though she just got what she wanted. Didn't she?”

“Need more.”

“Ah ah- don't be greedy.” He growled and your cunt clenched down in reaction. You had a taste and you needed everything.

He kept teasing- slow drags of his cock over your clit, the tip catching at your entrance before sliding away again. Every time you tried to rock back or get mouthy, he’d grip your hip harder and hold you still.

“Eddiee-”

“Yeah?” He sounded way too pleased with himself. “Something you want?”

You twisted enough to glare at him over your shoulder, still a little breathless. “Stop fucking around and put it in already.”

His laugh was low and dark. “There’s that mouth.” He finally notched the head at your entrance and pushed in slow, stretching you open inch by inch until his hips were flush against your ass. The groan he let out vibrated through both of you.

He started fucking you in long, deep strokes- rough enough that the picnic table scraped against the grass and the edge bit into your waist with every thrust. One hand stayed on your hip, the other sliding up your back to fist in your hair, pulling just enough to arch your spine.

It felt good. Too fucking good. You were still sensitive from his mouth, and every drag of his cock hit exactly right. Your breathing got ragged fast.

Eddie noticed.

He slowed down immediately, hips rolling in these deep, grinding circles instead of the hard pace from before. “Not yet,” he said, voice tight like he was holding himself back too. “You don’t get to come until I say.”

You made a frustrated sound and tried to push back harder. He tightened his grip in your hair and gave one sharp thrust that made your vision blur, then went right back to that slow, torturous grind.

“Eddie, come on- ”

“Beg nicer,” he teased, even as his voice cracked a little. “Or keep being a brat. I like both.”

He edged you like that for what felt like forever- fucking you hard and fast until you were right on the edge, then slowing down or pulling almost all the way out until the feeling faded. Every time you got close he’d laugh under his breath and call you a brat, and every time you snapped back at him he’d reward you with a few brutal thrusts that made your legs shake.

The last time he pulled you right to the edge and held you there, you were shaking, forehead pressed to the table, cursing him under your breath.

“Please,” you finally bit out, voice wrecked. “Fuck- please, Eddie- ”

“Yeah,” he groaned, like the word broke something in him. “That’s it.”

He fucked you hard after that- fast, rough, the hand in your hair pulling tight as his other hand slid around to rub tight circles over your clit. You came with a broken sound, whole body locking up. Your vision whited out and your ears were ringing.

And then you were squirting- sudden, hot, and completely unexpected. It splashed against his thighs and the front of his jeans, your cunt pulsing hard around him as the orgasm ripped through you.

Eddie made a shocked, punched-out noise behind you, hips stuttering.

“Fuckin’- holy shit- Jesus Christ-”

You were still coming, still gushing with his fingers locked on to your overstimulated clit. The sound he made was half groan, half stunned laugh. He kept fucking you through it, short and desperate, until he pulled out at the last second and came across your lower back with a low, broken curse.

For a second neither of you moved. Just the sound of both of you breathing hard in the quiet backyard.

Then Eddie let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh.

“Did you just-?”

You twisted enough to look back at him, equally stunned, face hot. “I- I didn’t know I could do that.”

He was staring at the mess on his jeans and your thighs like he’d witnessed a miracle. Then he started laughing harder, the sound bright and a little wild. You couldn’t help it- you started laughing too, the two of you cracked up and messy and still half-dressed against the picnic table in Steve Harrington’s backyard at god-knows-what hour.

Eddie leaned down and kissed the back of your shoulder, still grinning against your skin.

“Jesus Christ. We’re doing that again. Like… soon. A lot.”

You were both still giggling as he helped you up, using his shirt to clean you both up as best he could. Your legs were shaky. His hands were gentle now, the roughness from earlier softened into something careful as he pulled your jeans back up and tucked himself away.

“Come on,” he murmured, still smiling. “Before Harrington comes out here and actually murders us.”

You snuck back inside quietly, shoes in hand. Most of the lights were off. Eddie didn’t even pretend to go to a different room. He followed you into the guest room Steve had given you, shut the door behind him, and pulled you straight into the bed with him.

The sheets were cool. His body was warm. He kicked his jeans the rest of the way off and tugged you against his chest, one arm slung heavy around your waist. His rings were cool against your skin where his hand rested under your shirt.

Neither of you said much. Just quiet breathing, the occasional soft laugh when one of you remembered the picnic table, and Eddie pressing lazy kisses to the top of your head.

You fell asleep like that- tangled up in him, still tasting him on your tongue, the faint ache between your legs a reminder of exactly how thoroughly he’d kept his word.

The morning light was already leaking through the curtains when you woke up. Eddie was still half on top of you, one arm slung heavy across your waist, curls a complete disaster against the pillow. He made a low, sleepy noise when you tried to move, pulling you closer instead of letting you up.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled into your shoulder.

You stayed like that a little longer anyway.

Eventually the smell of coffee and something sweet pulled you both out of bed. You threw on yesterday’s clothes- Eddie stealing your hoodie since he really can't eat breakfast in a cum covered shirt-  and headed downstairs together.

Steve was in the kitchen in an apron that said “Kiss the Cook” like an asshole, flipping pancakes with the focus of a man on a mission. The rest of the group was already scattered around the table and island- Robin perched on the counter, Nancy nursing coffee, Jonathan quietly scrolling on his phone. They all looked up when you and Eddie walked in.

The staring started immediately.

Robin’s eyes narrowed. Nancy raised one eyebrow. Jonathan’s mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. Steve didn’t even turn around from the stove, but you could feel the judgment radiating off him.

Robin was the one who broke first.

“Okay, so… why is Eddie’s shirt literally just lying by the picnic table outside?” she asked, way too casually. “Like, full-on abandoned. We found it this morning. It was just… there.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed- short and bright and a little guilty. Eddie muttered “Hope you didn't touch it.” under his breath, low enough that only you could hear it.

Steve finally turned around, spatula in hand, and gave you both the most exhausted dad look imaginable.

“I heard you last night,” he said flatly. “Both of you. Through the window. My window. The one that faces the backyard.”

You groaned and dropped your face into your hands.

Eddie, the traitor, just grinned and stole a piece of bacon off the plate Steve had already started stacking.

Robin pointed at you with her coffee mug. “So wait. Does this mean the game from last night is officially over? Like… mission accomplished?”

Nancy actually looked a little proud. “Glad your little problem is fixed.”

Jonathan just nodded once, quiet but sincere. “Good for you.”

Steve flipped another pancake with unnecessary force. “I’m not saying I’m happy about the volume, but… yeah. Congrats on finally coming during sex. Truly. We were all rooting for you.”

Robin raised her mug like she was toasting. “To finally getting to finish during sex!”

Eddie slung an arm around your shoulders, smug as hell, and pressed a loud kiss to the side of your head.

“See?” he said, way too pleased with himself. “Told you I’d fix it.”

You elbowed him in the ribs, but you were smiling anyway.

Steve just sighed and started plating pancakes.

“Sit down and eat before I change my mind about feeding any of you.”