Moonmaiden

Warnings: Cursing, kissing, innuendo - Never proof read do feel free to point out my mistakes

He held your gaze as the dance turned you in a slow circle.

“You must be glad” you said after a moment “That tomorrow everything will be settled”

“Settled?” He says voice lower now.

“When my sister becomes your betrothed. When we return home after the wedding” You forced a polite smile. “You will have peace again. No more interfering sisters” you joke lightly.

But he does not look amused as you expect. You falter a step, quickly correcting yourself.

“Have I misspoken?” you asked quietly, unsettled by the seriousness in his face.

“Return home?” he repeated, as though testing the words.

“Yes” you said lightly “Once you are wed, my presence will hardly be required. I imagine you wont miss our arguments” you say teasing.

His hand at your waist tightened, not playful, startled ”You mean to leave Storm’s End” he said like he could not absorb the words.

“Of course” You gave a small shrug “I was never meant to remain”

He stared at you as though the notion had never occurred to him “You will return to your father’s keep” he pressed.

“Yes” you say slowly your eyebrows scrunching in confusion of how he was not getting this.

“And then?” He prompted

You blinked “And then nothing” you say confused.

The word settled between you, simple and unadorned.

You attempted a smile “I shall manage the household as I always have. There is no shortage of work for an unmarried daughter past her prime” you joke aware of your spinster title.

His expression darkened at that “You are not past-”

“It is hardly a tragedy” you interrupted gently “Not everyone is meant for grand romance” you say referring to him and your sister.

The music shifted, the dance drawing you closer again “You speak as though it is decided” he said, something rough in his tone.

“It is decided” you replied with quiet certainty “My sister is the beauty. It was always my duty to see her settled”

“And you?” he asked again, voice lower now.

“I am content” It was a well practiced lie. You delivered it smoothly, almost convincing yourself.

Lyonel, however, did not look convinced. His eyes searched your face as though trying to understand something you had already accepted.

The music came to its final note. You stepped back at once, despite the slight flex in his hands almost like he didn’t want to let go.

The feast swelled around you once more after the dance, music and laughter surging back in as though nothing had shifted at all.

Yet something had, you felt it in the heat still lingering at your waist where Lyonel’s hands had rested. In the way his words had struck somewhere too deep to examine. In the way your pulse had not yet settled.

You had barely returned to the edge of the hall when the herald called for silence.

Your father stood first, looking fearsome and proud, your sister was brought to his side, cheeks flushed, eyes shining. Yet something in her expression gave you pause, a flicker of hesitation.

Your father’s voice rang through the hall “I am pleased to announce that Lord Baratheon and I will join our houses, with the marriage of Lord Baratheon and my daughter” The hall erupted in cheers before the final syllable had landed.

Your sister laughed, though her smile tighter than you expected. You smiled too, because that was what you were meant to do. Because this was right. Because this was fitting. Because the sharp, stupid burn in your chest at the sight of Lyonel’s hand in hers, had no proper name and therefore no right to exist, your feelings were not important.

Across the hall, Lyonel did not lift his sister’s hand the way you expected. His smile remained, but he did not beam at her like a man triumphant, his gaze moved once through the crowd.

You ducked behind a pillar, even if your mind scolded you for being so delusional to think he was looking for you.

You spent the rest of the feast making yourself useful, because usefulness had always been the cure for foolish feeling.

You directed servants, settled your sister when she grew overexcited. So when your father sent for you later that evening, you went at once, expecting some practical matter.

He stood in the solar with a letter in his hand, eyebrows scrunched in concentration.

“You sent for me, Father?” You ask simply, hands folded behind your back.

“I have received word from home” he said evenly “There is an issue with the west granary accounts and a dispute among the lower household servants, that has grown far out of proportion. It seems that the steward was ill equipped to even perform a simple task whilst we were away” he spoke voice getting angrier

You stood very still “I see” your eyes not leaving him as he decided his next action.

“You will return tomorrow” he ordered

The words struck harder than they should have “Tomorrow?” you repeated, before you could stop yourself “But the wedding”

“Will proceed as planned” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for sentiment.

Your jaw tightened “I had thought to remain” you said carefully despite your rising anger “until my sister was settled”

“She will be settled” he replied, clearly not believing you where necessary here “And you are needed elsewhere”

Needed, the word sticking in your throat. Of course, the only word he ever truly afforded to you. His needed dutiful daughter.

You drew in a careful breath “She is my sister, a girl I raised from birth, it was my duty to see her married”

“Your duty is to your house” he reminded sharply, his expression hardening into something like impatience “And now you will do what you have always done. You will be useful where you are required”

Silence pressed in around you.

You had imagined many things in your life. A wedding of your own once, long ago, before you learned better. Then later you had imagined your sister’s wedding, all the little details she would forget, all the things you would quietly put right and watch her walk down the aisle.

It had never occurred to you that you would not even see her wed.

Your father misread your silence as obedience “Good” he said clapping his hands together “Your carriage will be ready at first light” dismissing you with the same ease one dismissed a servant.

“Yes Father” you say tightly, your hand in a fist behind your back. You never did say no to him.

You made it down the corridor and into your chambers before you let out a scream of frustration. You pressed your forehead against the cold wood of the door and forced yourself to breathe.

Tomorrow. You would leave before the wedding, before your sister married. Before Lyonel married her.

The last thought was the one you shoved away first.

———————————————————

You said nothing to anyone that night, not your sister and certainly not Lyonel.

You packed up yourself, there was little enough to gather, only one trunk of clothing there was no point bothering the handmaid. She would be staying with your sister anyway.

Once packed, you went to bed early, but sleep did not come easily. Finally drifting off to the sound of rain.

Not a soft misting, but a proper Stormlands rain. Hard and slanting, bashing against the stone and windows. It was a soothing sound. You realized suddenly you would miss it.

The next morning, you woke before the rest of the house, dressing in your simple blue dress and cloak.

Your father had arranged for the household carriage and its driver to accompany you. The man was skilled with a sword, so your father saw no need to send further guards.

The trunks were loaded, the horses were harnessed in the early morning darkness. Part of you felt like a thief in the night parting without a word, part of you felt it was better this way. You were not sure for whom.

Your sister found you in the courtyard moments before departure, still in her nightdress beneath a hastily thrown cloak “What is this?” she demanded, sleep and panic mingling in her voice.

You forced a small smile “Father has had word from home. I am needed”

Her face fell “Today?”

You nodded, reaching up and fixing the tie of her cloak, because your hands needed something to do.

Her lower lip trembled in a way that made her look suddenly much younger “But the wedding”

“Will still be beautiful and happy without me” You assured with forced cheer, despite the words sitting heavy in your chest “You will be beautiful and if you cry before the septon reaches the vows, I shall hear of it and never forgive you” you teased.

She let out a watery laugh and hugged you, sudden and fierce. You held her just as tightly. You stayed like that for a moment, holding eachother in the dim morning light.

When she pulled back, her eyes were red, that odd look coming to her face, the same one as the night before “Have you told Lord Baratheon”

You tried not to still and forced lightness into your voice “I am sure he will not care if the spinster sister of his bride departs before the vows”

She studied you carefully then took a breath like she was about to reveal something long carried “I think he-“ However you father appeared before she could say any further.

“It is time. You best make headway before this storm hits” he stated.

You nodded, hugging your sister tightly once more. The unsaid words hanging in the air.

You climbed into the carriage without once looking toward the keep, unable to watch as Storms End faded into the distance.

—————————————————

The storm worsened by the hour

Wind howled, pulling at tree branches, rain hammered the roof in relentless sheets, and the sky had gone from iron grey to something darker, heavier, meaner. Your mood seemed to match.

Your mind went over your last conversations, how you should have fought your father, your sisters unsaid words, the uncertainly on her face at the marriage and how you should have said goodbye to Lyonel.

That last through twisted your gut above the others. You where not a weak woman, your were skilled, capable and practical.

So why did you stall outside his door that morning, your hand raised but never knocking.

The memory of his eyes and his hands at your waist burned through you. It was foolish to think that way, he did not want you, he simply enjoyed the game.

So why did you run from him?

You were still asking yourself that question when the carriage lurched violently.

You caught yourself against the wall with a gasp as the horses screamed outside, harnesses jangling wildly. The whole carriage lurched at an angle and stopped so suddenly your heart leapt into your throat.

“What in seven hells” you started, but before you could finish, the door was flew open.

Rain poured in at once and there, drenched to the bone, hair plastered to his forehead, chest heaving from the ride, stood Lyonel Baratheon.

For one stunned heartbeat you simply stared at him. Then you found your voice “Have you gone mad!”

He was already turning from the carriage, shouting something over his shoulder to the driver about the road ahead.

Only then did you see what had happened, his horse stood directly in front of yours, forcing the sudden halt. The carriage team danced in panic, whites of their eyes showing as the storm lashed them

Lyonel turned back toward you, rain running down his face “You left” the accusation was simple, blunt, and far angrier than you expected.

You stared at him in disbelief “That is your defense!” you demand, climbing down from the carriage into the storm before anyone could stop you. Your boots sank into the mud immediately “You stop my carriage in a storm, nearly kill yourself and your explanation is that I left!!!”

“Yes!” he bellowed back over the rain “You left without saying a damned word to me!”

“I was not aware I required your permission!” You shot back, marching toward him.

“That’s not what I said!” He replied coping your movement.

“It is very much the point!” You challenge uncaring about the sudden proximity, your chest nearly brushing his.

The driver, poor man, was trying desperately to soothe the horses while also examining the back wheel, now lodged nearly to the axle in the mud.

“My lady” he tried weakly.

Neither of you heard him, too busy staring each other down.

“You were going to vanish!” He accused.

“I was going home!” You shout back.

“You were going without telling me!” He let out, sounding almost hurt.

“What should I have said?” you shouted, rain streaming down your face “Farewell, my lord, enjoy marrying my sister while I return to balancing grain stores and servant squabbles?”

His face changed at that, not softening, if anything, it grew wilder “Yes! he snapped “You should have said farewell. So I could stop you and tell you where being a damned fool!”

The words hit harder than they should have. Your breath caught, but your anger held “You have no right, to tell me what a should and should not do!”

“Like hell I don’t!” He returns his eyes pinning you to the spot.

The driver cleared his throat louder this time “My lord”

“Not now!” Lyonel barked without looking away from you. The driver wilted.

You stepped closer to Lyonel, close enough now that rain rolled from the end of his nose and onto your bodice “You cannot simply chase after women through storms because you dislike their departure” ignoring that warmth building in your chest, that same warmth from the feast.

His eyes flashed “I can if the woman is you”

The rain seemed to vanish for one stupid, impossible second as you stared at each other.

Then the carriage gave another awful lurch behind you. All at once reality returned.

“My lord!” the man finally shouted, voice cracking with desperation “The wheel is stuck fast!”

You both turned.

The back wheel had sunk deep into the mud, half swallowed by the road. One of the horses was trembling so violently the driver keeping them from bolting altogether.

The road behind leading back to Storms End, had half collapsed where the rain-swollen river had burst its banks. What had once been passable ground was now little more than a churned slope of mud and racing black water.

Lyonel dragged a hand over his face “Seven fucking hells”

You folded your arms, rainwater dripping from your sleeves “Well done!” you said acidly “You have stranded us”

For one reckless second he looked as though he might laugh. That only made you angrier.

The driver straightened with visible dread “My lord, there is an inn up the road. Not far, walkable in this terrain. If the horses are taken to the stables there and the wheel seen to once the rain eases, the carriage may be freed by morning”

Lyonel looked toward the road, then back at the sinking wheel.

You looked too. The inn stood dimly visible through the curtain of rain, a squat shape of yellow lamp light at the crest of the rise.

You took a breath, trying to steady yourself.

Lyonel exhaled sharply “Fine”

The driver looked relieved enough to weep “I’ll take the horses to the stables, my lord, if you and my lady go ahead”

Lyonel nodded once and started walking.

You, however, did not move “You cannot possibly think I am walking there with you as though this is a perfectly ordinary evening!”

He looked at you, drenched and furious and somehow still infuriatingly handsome “My lady” he said, voice dropping into that awful teasing warmth that usually made you want to hit him “we are already soaked through, stranded in a storm. I fear ordinary has left us behind”

You glared at him “And whose fault is that!”

He said nothing and held out his hand.

You stared at it and then at him. Then, because the rain was freezing and the horses were trembling and the road was now more river than road, you slapped your hand into his with bad grace.

“Say one smug thing” you warned “and I will push you into the mud”

His mouth curved “You have threatened me with worse.”

“I mean it” you replied, ignoring the heat of his hand in yours.

His hand tightened around yours as he started up the road beside you, dragging you into the rain “I mean to keep you where I can see you”

“Lyonel!” you say not thinking.

But he only kept walking and because your hand was trapped in his, and because the warmth of his grip refused to disappear despite the storm, you had no choice but to follow him toward the inn with your temper unraveling step by step.

Behind you, the driver muttered a desperate prayer and led the miserable horses toward the stables.

———————————————-

By the time you reached the inn, you were both dripping onto the floorboards.

The innkeeper took one look at the pair of you and wisely asked no questions at all. He merely bowed nervously and apologised that the storm had driven every traveler for miles under his roof and informed you there was only one room left.

You laughed in disbelief. Lyonel looked delighted.

You rounded on him at once “If you grin at me one more time, I shall smother you”

He seemed to smile even wider.

The innkeeper went very still. Then, with the instinct of a man who valued his continued survival, he handed over the room key without another word.

——————————————-

The inn room was small, painfully small.

A narrow bed pressed against one wall, a little hearth with fire, a washstand and a single chair that had clearly dated back to the time of the conqueror.

You stopped just inside the doorway, dripping onto the floorboards. Behind you Lyonel shut the door firmly.

The room immediately felt even smaller.

You turned on him at once “This” you started, gesturing to the soaked state of both of you “is entirely your fault!”

He leaned back against the door, rainwater still running down his jaw, looking entirely too relaxed “My fault?” he repeated mildly.

“Yes!” you snapped.

“You were the one leaving storms end” he accused his eyes not leaving you.

You stared at him in outrage “I was returning home!” You began, fully prepared to continue the argument when the cold finally seeped through your dress. You shivered violently.

Lyonel’s expression shifted at once “You need to change”

You blinked “I beg your pardon?”

“Your clothes” he said, already stripping off his soaked coat and tossing it over the back of the chair “You’re freezing, you will catch your death”

You stared at him like he had lost his mind “And into what exactly do you suggest I change?”

He paused, seeming to remember your trunk was still on the carriage. Then slowly ran a hand through his wet hair “Ah ”

“Yes” you said sharply “Ah”

There was a small trunk at the foot of the bed containing spare blankets and linens.

He pulled one free and held it out to you. You stared at it for a moment, wanting to refuse but the cold drips of water down your spine made you think twice.

You snatch it out of his hand, throwing your own cloak on top of his. You began untying your dress laces and immediately noticed he was still watching you, amused but something else in his eye “Turn around” you demand.

His brow lifted in amusement “You distrust me that much?”

“Yes” you challenge, not wanting to acknowledge the spike in your heart rate.

“Fair” he smiled, then he turned around, with one last quick look.

You changed as quickly as possible, peeling the soaked dress away till you where only in your shift. You wrap yourself tightly in the rough wool blanket, pulling it over your shoulders “Done” you say.

He turned back, his eyes casting over you looking darker somehow. Your eyes dropped from his intense gaze, but your breath caught, your eyes fixing on how his shirt clung to his chest, soaked through, hair still dripping down his neck. He caught you looking “Your turn to turn around” he said with a smile.

You did not move at first, then flushed clearing your throat and spinning at once.

You heard the rustle of fabric as he stripped his damp shirt and boots. A moment later the bed creaked as he sat “You can turn back now”

You turned back and froze. Because Lyonel Baratheon was sprawled comfortably across the entire bed. Shirtless.

Your face flushed instantly and your eyes flew to the ceiling. He laughed.

“Move” you snapped trying to cover up your embarrassment as he pulsed the blanket loosely over himself.

“Where?” He challenged with a smile.

You lowered your gaze slowly, fixing him with a glare that could have set the mattress alight “You are occupying the entire bed and you will move”

He stretched lazily across the mattress as though he had every right to it, eyes never leaving you.

“You chased me halfway across the Stormlands, stranded my carriage, and now you are stealing the only bed in this miserable inn” you argue.

“That seems an unfair summary of events” he starts mildly, looking far too amused “Where exactly did you expect me to sleep?”

“The chair” you state with a grin.

He glanced at the chair. Then back at you and laughed “You are serious”

“Yes” you say getting angry again

He leaned back on his elbows, still not getting up “You are very determined to fight me about every single thing”

You marched forward and shoved his shoulder “Move”

He grinned but did not move “You are remarkably strong” he rolled slightly to one side, though his grin only widened “There, no don’t accuse me of not sharing” a challenge in his tone.

Unfortunately you could not help but take the bait. You stared down the empty space next to him “That is barely a quarter”

“You are very difficult to please” he replied, despite sounding very pleased.

“I am very cold” you complain

At that his amusement faded a fraction. He pushed himself up onto one elbow “You are still shaking”

You hated that he noticed “Well whose fault is that?” you snapped.

He did not answer right away, You opened your mouth to continue the argument, then stopped seeing the almost guilty look on his face.

You studied him suspiciously for a moment longer before climbing stiffly onto the far edge of the mattress, keeping as much distance between you as physically possible.

You wrapped the blanket around yourself like armor.

He lay back on the other side, hands folded behind his head. For a moment neither of you spoke.

Then another shiver ran through you.

He noticed immediately “Gods” he muttered.

Before you could react he reached over, grabbing the edge of the blanket and tugging it away from your shoulders.

“Lyonel!” you snapped, trying to pull it back.

He ignored you completely. In one smooth motion he pulled you closer, pulling the blanket off so you were just in your shift, turning slightly so your back was pressed against his chest. The blanket was then dragged over both of you.

You stiffened in outrage “What are you doing!”

“Stop fighting” he said calmly, settling the blanket around you both.

“This is highly inappropriate!” You say trying to wiggle away.

“You’re freezing” he smiled behind your back.

“I was perfectly fine!” You say feet kicking him

“You were shaking like a leaf” he argues, arms settling around your waist to hold you still.

You tried to shove his arm away “Lyonel”

“This is an old hunting trick” he said after a moment. “Share body heat under the blanket. Works better than freezing to death”

You glared at the wall, settling down your movements “I was not freezing to death” you mumble, despite enjoying the warmth seeping into you.

“You were on your way” he mumbles, seeming too close to your hair.

You hated that he was right. Gradually the shaking in your limbs began to ease. The warmth of him seeped through the blanket and into your bones.

For a while neither of you spoke. Only the sound of the storm and the crackle of the fire filled the room.

Then, quietly, he said behind you “You left me”

You stared at the wall “I was simply going home”

“You didn’t say goodbye” that hurt coming into this voice again.

Your jaw tightened “You were celebrating your betrothal, I did not wish to ruin that”

“I was looking for you” he whispered

You went still “That seems unlikely”

“It’s not” his voice lower, his arm tightening slightly.

You hesitated, for once you where glad you could see his face “Why?”

His chest rose slowly behind you “Because when you told me you were leaving Storm’s End” he said quietly “you said it like it didn’t matter”

You frowned slightly “It doesn’t”

“It does to me” he says sounding far too honest.

You suck in a breath but do not answer.

After a moment he continued “You weren’t just leaving the castle” His arm shifted again tightening just a fraction, like he was making sure you could not escape “You were leaving me”

The words settled into the quiet room. You swallowed “That is ridiculous”

His lips brushed faintly against your hair “Is it?”

You did not reply.

But you did not move away either.

——————————————————

Morning arrived quietly.

The storm had burned itself out sometime in the night, leaving only pale grey light filtering through the shutters. The air smelled faintly of wet earth and wood smoke.

You woke slowly, feeling a lovely warmth. For a moment you simply lay there, eyes closed, enjoying the rare comfort, your body felt heavy and relaxed. It was, you realized vaguely, the best sleep you had had in years.

You shifted slightly. Something tightened around your waist.

Your brow furrowed, not yet able to grasp what the unfamiliar weight was.

Slowly, cautiously, you opened your eyes blinking at the unfamiliar room. For a moment you did not understand what you were seeing.

Then you pulled the blanket down slightly and saw the broad arm draped around your waist

You turned your head slowly. Lyonel Baratheon slept behind you, his chest warm against your back, his arm loosely wrapped around you.

He was shirtless. You were very aware that you were wearing nothing but a thin shift beneath the blanket.

For a brief, dangerous second your traitorous mind wondered if perhaps the entire night had been some strange dream. Then the memory returned all at once “Oh gods” you say slapping a hand over your face.

Lyonel stirred immediately with a low groan, blinking awake as he pushed himself up onto one elbow, his arm falling away from you “What” he starts confused by the loss of your warmth.

You were already scrambling away from him, clutching the blanket around yourself like armor “This is a disaster!”

He squinted at you through sleep heavy eyes “Good morning”

“A disaster!” you repeated, pacing the small room in growing horror.

He rubbed a hand over his face, still waking “Why?”

“Why!” You spun on him, aghast “Because I have spent the night in an inn room with my sister’s betrothed!” You gestured wildly between the two of you “You are half dressed, I am half dressed, and we have spent the entire night in the same bed!”

He sat up fully now, watching you pace the length of the room.

“If anyone discovers this” you start to ramble, as he yawns completely unconcerned, eyes following you.

“Come back to bed before you freeze” he said with a lazy grin, clearly missing the warmth of you.

You spin on your heel, your eyes pinning him “You do realise” you say dangerously “that if anyone discovers this, the only possible solution is marriage”

You expected him to laugh. To get angry. To recoil at the thought of being forced to marry the spinster sister. Yes, you had expected all of those things from a lord you were still convinced did not want you.

Instead he simply shrugged “Fine”

You blinked, he said it like you had just suggested breakfast. “Fine? Fine! That is not an acceptable response!”

“Yes it is” he replied, stifling another yawn.

“You are betrothed to my sister!” You yelled “And you think marrying me instead of her is FINE!”

“Yes” he said easily, a slow smile spreading across his face as his eyes raked over you.

You stared at him in disbelief “You are enjoying this”

“A little” he smiled

You groaned and pressed your hands over your face “My sister will be devastated”

“She won’t” he replied simply

“What does that mean?” You asked confused.

He smiled like he knew something you didn’t. He leaned back slightly on the bed, looking entirely untroubled “It seems like a very simple solution to me” yhe replies not answering your question.

“I have ruined everything!” you mutter, dropping your head back into your hands.

“I was the one stopped you leaving” he replies gently getting up and taking your hands away from your face so you will look at him

“It is not the same” you mutter, eyes locking with his.

“It is to me” he says with a small smile, thumbs tracing back and forth on your wrists.

You stared at him, completely exasperated And realized, with mounting horror.

He had never looked calmer in his life.

You stared at him, completely exasperated.

“Lyonel” you said slowly, dangerously “this is not amusing”

“I’m not amused” he replied easily.

“You are speaking of marriage as though it were a tavern wager!” You argued

His grin softened slightly “No” he said. “I’m speaking of it as though it were inevitable”

You blinked at him.

“I chased you through a storm” he continued mildly. “Stranded your carriage. Ruined my boots. Slept in an inn with you half the night” His hands slid gently around your waist again before you could retreat. “I think at this point it would be rather foolish not to marry you”

Your breath caught

“I should have said it last night” he interrupted, voice roughening slightly “But you were shaking and I was busy keeping you warm”

Your cheeks burned “You cannot possibly mean”

“I mean exactly what I said” His thumbs brushed slowly along your waist “I am not letting you go back to that keep to manage grain stores and servant quarrels like none of this mattered”

Your heart hammered painfully.

“You were leaving” he said quietly “And I discovered I had no intention of letting you”

You swallowed “You cannot simply decide such things”

“Watch me” He smiled

And before you could summon another argument, he pulled you forward and kissed you. A reckless, breath-stealing kiss that felt exactly like the storm he had ridden through to reach you.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting briefly against yours, his voice was warm with satisfaction.

Lyonel tried to be good, but his mischievous side would often take over in the upcoming days. What he liked the most was riling up your poor father every time he was in his presence. It started almost accidentally, with Lyonel referring to you as his wife the very next morning at breakfast.

“You are not married yet, Lord Baratheon,” your father remarked between bites, his voice full of clear annoyance and irritation. Lyonel laughed and winked at you, and you knew it was the best he could do. And honestly? You found it quite amusing, especially when “my wife” progressed into “Lady Baratheon.”

You noticed immediately that the Laughing Storm liked the attention and spotlight, but most of all, he was driven by boredom. He missed the war, and tourneys could only do as much. Sitting in your library, going through page after page of the history of the Stormlands, you wondered how long it would be before he got bored with you as well, a painful pang knotting deep in your stomach. It was inevitable, you told yourself, slamming the book shut.

“Ouch,” a velvety voice behind you said, eliciting a gasp and a startle out of you, “surely not all of the Stormlands are so bad?” Another giggle. Lyonel walked towards you with his hands behind his back, looking at you in the same way he did yesterday evening. 

“How long have you been lurking here?”

“Long,” he whispered in your face, removing a strand of your hair away from your eyes, his other hand sliding down your waist, pulling you to him.

Your breath hitched, your hands resting on his shoulders again. He didn’t smell of wine today, but you could swear there was that salty scent all around him.

“You look shorter without your crown,” you teased, but your eyes were fixed on his earring rather than his face.

Although he tried feigning an outrage, Lyonel sensed something was wrong. In a rather unusual fashion, instead of being all snarky, he pulled you to his chest, tight, and peppered your temple with sweet, calming kisses. Although initially soothing, they soon fanned that fire deep in you, and you pressed yourself tighter to him.

“I should have never let it get that far,” Lyonel mumbled against your forehead, drawing circles on the small of your back.

He sounded so serious, almost torn, holding you safe in his arms, afraid you’ll break. You looked up to him, searching for his eyes in the low afternoon sun. His brows were furrowed, and if you didn’t know him, you’d think he was angry rather than worried. Your hands shot up, to touch his bruise, and tangle in his hair, to slide down the bridge of his nose, and tap his chin.

“I have no regrets, Lyonel,” you whispered, flashing a faint smile. “But yesterday’s actions are not a real representation of me.”

“No?” he coaxed you further, that glint flashing in his eyes again.

“No. I’m tedious and much more like my father than I would care to admit. Just plain boring.”

You bit your lip, and Lyonel’s eyes immediately drifted down, before going back up.

He didn’t speak for a moment. You knew he wanted to be funny and possibly sarcastic instead of being direct, but was weighing his response. Your Strom Lord, thinking something through for a change.

“I’ll take whatever you want to give me, my love,” he finally spoke, and the sincerity in his voice took your breath away.

“My, my, Lord Baratheon,” you mumbled, your breath hitching again.

“Do not call me that,” he repeated your words back to you, without the accompanying slap. You laughed.

 “Storm Lord? My Lord? Lord Paramount? Storm King?”

He playfully pinched your waist, leaning closer.

“You know what I like you to call me,” back to that velvety voice that sent shivers down your spine and made your ache unbearable.

“Lyonel,” you whispered into a corner of his mouth, exposing your neck. He didn’t need to be nudged, as his head immediately slipped lower, trailing the line of your neck with his nose, leaving open kisses on your exposed skin.

“No,” he murmured against your collarbone, the vibration sending a wave of heat through you so strong you immediately clenched your thighs together.

“Lyonel,” your head was leaning back against Lyonel’s hand, jaw open, slack, and you pressed your pelvis to his, feeling his hard manhood straining against his breeches.

“No,” his tongue was sliding all over your neck, hungry, desperate, demanding.

“Lyo!” you finally gasped after he bit into the crook of your neck.

“Good girl,” he muttered under his breath, now greedily eyeing your lips.

Gods, he has tried to steal a kiss for weeks now, pinning like a child. You would allow it, at least in this moment, but instead of leaning in, he was stubbornly demanding you make a first move.

“Please, just give me one,” he cooed, and you were so close to submitting to his terms, but unfortunately for Lyonel, you were as stubborn and strong-willed as he, if not more.

You stepped back again, Lyonel following again, until you hit the edge of the table. Then, you slowly kissed two of your fingers and brought them to Lyonel’s lips. You thought he’d dismiss you and tease some more, but he grabbed your wrist before you even had a chance to touch him and feverishly pushed your fingers against his face, kissing and licking and sucking.

He was like a man possessed, and it made you so needy you almost told him to take you on the table. Instead, you pushed your fingers a little deeper, resting them on Lyonel’s hot tongue, gathering his spit. You sat on the table, Lyonel wedging himself between your knees, his shallow breath on your face, forehead resting on yours. Gathering up your skirt, you impatiently plunged your fingers into your cunt, spilling a long moan into Lyonel’s mouth. The sound was obscene. Lyonel’s hands roamed under your dress and held firm on your thighs, searing into your skin. Your free hand was planted on his neck, keeping him close while you were working on yourself in front of him.

It brought you a different type of excitement, and you knew you wouldn’t last long, especially after Lyonel started begging to touch you. As you moved all your attention to your sensitive bud, Lyonel begged again, his pupils completely blown.

“Use me,” his voice trembled, “please, please, use me. Let me touch you, please.”

You wanted to tell him to push his fingers into you, and you would, were you not blindsided by a sudden wave of pleasure crashing through you.

Lyonel hungrily lapped your fingers, taking in your taste and your scent.

“You taste so good, my love, so sweet.”

The door opened abruptly. You flinched but Lyonel didn’t move a muscle.

“What is the meaning of this?” your father asked, his hands on the handle of that ridiculous dagger of his that he carried on his waistband. 

“Cunt,” Lyonel muttered under his breath, just for you to hear him.

He kept you steady, brushing the excess sweat of your brows, but couldn’t do anything about your flushed cheeks.

“Find me later,” you whispered, “I’ll use you later.”

Lyonel laughed, turning around.

“My lady wife and I…”

“You are not married yet, Lord Baratheon,” your father interjected.

“Every time you say that, it sounds like you would prefer us not to marry,” Lyonel’s voice dropped dangerously low, that rage you’ve seen him succumb to yesterday lying in wait. 

“My Lord, this is not what I meant,” your father tried arguing, but Lyonel was staring daggers. He looked like he was ready to murder your father right there on the spot, if only he brought the matter up one more time. Lyonel opened his mouth again, to give your father a piece of his mind and yell a little, but he glanced at you, and his face immediately softened.

︶︶︶ ❉ ︶︶ ♡ ︶︶ ❉ ︶︶︶

The later couldn’t come quickly enough. Pacing in nothing but a shift and your robe, you were already on your second glass of wine. You were a little surprised that your father hadn’t forced any of your friends or at least a septa in your solar to keep watch, but he probably assumed that Lyonel wouldn’t be as daring, or if he would, that you would never allow him to enter your chambers. Not in a million lifetimes could he imagine that his only daughter would invite Lord Baratheon to visit her, especially not in a way so debauched and improper.

You lit another candle, feeling a little hot already, fire roaring in your hearth, when the door opened, carefully. Your heart jumped watching Lyonel slipping in, his shirt unlaced, that ludicrous crown on his head. His hair was still a little wet and combed back, his usual curls now a wavy mess, and he trimmed his beard. 

The warmth pooled between your legs, wetness already threatening to spill all over your thighs. Lyonel was smiling, taking in your form, your brushed hair, and the way you were squeezing your hands together.

For a moment, you wondered if you were making a fool of yourself, allowing your cunt to make decisions for you that would ultimately only lead to humiliation and hurt.

Lyonel approached in one long stride, reaching for your hand. His skin was so hot, much hotter than yours, and you just wanted to press yourself against him, hard.

“I didn’t know you could keep quiet for this long,” you batted your eyelashes at him, tilting your head up.

Lyonel’s laugh filled the room, his hands on your waist now.

“I have nothing appropriate to say,” the Storm Lord countered.

“Say it anyway.”

“No,” he brushed his thumb over your lower lip, “you said you wanted to use me, so I came to respectfully submit. Although…” his eyes were devouring you, fixated on your lips.

“Yes?”

“Just one, please,” Lyonel was whispering, his voice trembling. He was fighting the urge to toss you on the bed, but he promised himself that he would indulge only you, at least until the wedding. And he really, really wanted to see what makes you tick.

You pushed him to sit on the bed, his crown slipping from his head, forgotten next to him. 

“Just one, hm?” you climbed into his lap, your knees outside his, your hands immediately pulling his shirt over his head.

“Or more!” Lyonel replied enthusiastically, grabbing you by your ass, trying to tip you forward, but you were holding steady against his chest, tracing the edge of his pendant, kissing the tender spot between his collarbones. “I’ll take anything, really,“ he moaned.

You sat up, facing him.

“Do you think you deserve it, Lyonel?”

His body went a little rigid, and for a moment, he just stared at you. “Gods be good.”

“You almost murdered both of my brothers yesterday and took a little too much joy in tormenting my poor father today, no?” you teased and teased, pressing light kisses to the corners of his slightly opened mouth. When he didn’t answer, you rolled your hips at him.

You were sweaty and needy, and tormenting yourself just as much as Lyonel, your poor Lyonel, whose whole body trembled under you. He moved his clammy palms onto your thighs to prevent you from teasing him some more, because he knew if you rolled your hips at him one more time, he wouldn’t be able to control himself anymore. He took a sharp inhale when your lips touched his earlobe, after you took his earring into your mouth. His eyes were closed, and he was gripping you so hard you knew your skin was going to be bruised, but you didn’t care.

You couldn’t torture him anymore, and you crashed your lips against his, and Lyonel inhaled your scent as he would otherwise perish, pressing himself against you. You tangled both of your hands into his hair, continuing the kiss. It took both of you a little time to find the right rhythm, but you realised immediately you both liked it wet and sloppy and a little wild.

You fell onto the bed, Lyonel finally yielding and pushing his tongue onto yours; you smiled against him, playfully biting his lip. Both his beard and his moustache scratched against your skin, sending electrical jolts through your body. You somehow shrugged off your robe, as a result, you suspected, of Lyonel’s sneaky fingers.

When you finally parted, your lips were swollen, and the bruises on your thighs already formed. Lyonel kissed them, bunching up your shift, before getting up and reaching for the wine.

“That was a great kiss, hm?” Lyonel teased, gulping.

You, on the other hand, suddenly realised you were mesmerised by his crown. Sure, you fantasised about riding Lyonel while he had it on, but surely you’d have enough time for that during your wedding night.

“A kiss?” you heard your voice coming out, but you were feeling so hot, and the antlers felt so cold and smooth under your fingers. You shouldn’t, you thought to yourself, chewing on your already battered lip.

You were so wet, and Lyonel didn’t even move his hands toward that particular body part the whole night. Surely, he didn’t think you were depending on him to come?

“Fuck,” a slow moan escaped you, and Lyonel turned to face you just to see you rubbing against the crown through your shift. His eyes went wide, not that you could see, wide in awe. His cock was straining even harder against his breeches, not that he believed it to be physically possible, but he had never been harder in his life.

“Don’t you dare come on that crown!” his voice was all raspy and low again, full of lust.

“No?” you moaned, continuing, “We can’t get the crown dirty?”

“Fuck the crown! I want to finally taste you.”

“You tasted me today,” you managed to angle yourself against one of the antlers in a way where you’d need to roll your hips just a little bit to reach that desired tension, and the heat was slowly building in you. “What more do you want?”

You opened your eyes a little, just in time to see Lyonel kneel at the foot of the bed. He looked fucked out despite no actual fucking taking place. 

“Lyo,” you moaned, “tell me what you want.”

“I want you to come on my face.” He hadn’t had it in him anymore to be teasing or sarcastic. No, Lyonel wanted to bury his face into your bare cunt, as he watched you slip off your shift and swallowed hard. My beautiful wife, he thought to himself, clenching his fists to quench the urge to ruin you immediately.

He maneuvered one of your legs over his shoulder and licked a long stripe through your folds. You moaned, loud, expecting him to continue gently, but Lyonel, tasting directly from the source, went feral. He fixed you with one hand, while the other started exploring, pushing one of his fingers in. He started sucking and licking, his tongue working on you, his finger swirling inside.

Breaths and moans were slipping out of you, louder, and you knew someone was going to hear you, but you stopped caring. Lyonel pushed another finger into you, a stretch you’ve never felt before on account of his fingers being that much fatter than yours.

“Lyo,” you breathed out and looked down, your juices smeared all over his black and grayish beard. You were close, but it felt different, stronger than anything you managed to goad out of you before.

“Come on my face,” Lyonel muttered into you, his voice sending another jolt into you. “Come, love, let it go. Let it all go.”

He curled his fingers, hitting that one spot you never could quite find, and you unravelled completely, the white bliss hitting you. Your body trembled, and you grabbed Lyonel’s hair; he moaned, not stopping yet, not until your harsh breathing quieted down a little and you let go of him.

“Lyonel,” you whispered as he gently lay you down on the bed, lying next to you, “this was…” You never finished your trail of thoughts, still feeling a slight tremble in your legs. Lyonel was already blabbing, burying his head into your neck, his hand roaming all over your breasts. He kept calling you gorgeous and divine, kept muttering about your taste and how he can’t wait to make you come on his face again and again, all while still having the remains of your juices smeared all over his face.

You barely registered what he was talking about, while being acutely aware of a tent in his pants. Now, he wasn’t pushing, not even implying, and you were not quite sure you were ready. But surely, you could at least see it? Feel it in your hands? Just to prepare yourself for what to expect in two days, of course. Maybe, just maybe, lick it once or twice?

Still in a haze from the pleasure you received and smitten by Lyonel’s continued blabbing, you got up on your knees and started to untie his laces; he kicked the boots off ages ago anyway. He paused and stilled, raising his hips so you could unclothe him completely. 

You couldn’t help staring.

You knew how it was supposed to look, but Lyonel’s cock was so much bigger than you expected. Long and girthy, and already glistening with precum. He was breathing hard, just watching. His cock twitched, and you touched it, just put your fingers on its hot skin, and Lyonel groaned loudly. You liked how he sounded, feeling a little bit of that excitement building in you again.

You wrapped your hand around it, and it felt heavy. A little precum spurted out of the ti,p and your breath hitched. Wondering how Lyonel’s cock would feel against your tongue, you leaned down and licked the tip, desire to taste him overcoming all of your senses. Another moan, drawn out, followed by that uncharacteristic Lyonel silence. He himself couldn’t really believe what was happening, in a good sense. The most he was hoping for was a wife who would tolerate him most of the time and who would give him an heir. Just the thought that he was so lucky, so blessed to have such a hungry wife, made his cock leak even more.

You took it as a sign you were doing something right, so your tongue continued to swirl around his tip, before you licked his cock down the shaft, following the most prominent vein bulging out on it. Then, back up, taking in Lyonel’s still salty and a little sweaty scent. 

And then you opened your mouth, putting just the tip in, drawing more groans out of Lyonel as he reached out for your hair, just to feel you. 

It didn’t feel too bad, so you tried to take more of him, feeling his cock stretching out your lips. He tasted much better than you expected, so you slid your mouth even lower, your saliva leaking all over his fat cock.

It went well, initially, before you gagged, your eyes teary. 

“T’sokay, t’sokay,” Lyonel groaned, dragging his hand through your hair. “You’re doing amazing.”

But you wanted to make him feel even better, you wanted to make him come, now. At the same time, you were burning to feel him against your own heat, so without thinking, you straddled him.

Lyonel’s whole body twitched, looking down at where your folds were brushing against his cock. His pupils were blown, and his chest kept going up and down.

“We don’t, you don’t have to,” he breathed out, but you cut him off.

“Shut up, Lyonel.”

Now, you didn’t want to push yourself into something you would later regret, but you were quite sure you devised a plan that would still make Lyonel come. And gods, it felt so good to feel him against you, to feel him pressing against you. Slowly, your hands on his chest, you rolled your hips, sliding up and down his cock, spreading your slick all over him.

By the way Lyonel groaned, you knew he wouldn’t last long, so you continued, slowly, watching how his cock was pressing against him.

“No, no, no, stop,” Lyonel breathed out, and you did, at the first no, but it was too late. Poor, overstimulated Lyonel couldn’t control himself anymore, and he came with a long grunt, spurting his seed all over himself, up to his chest.

Not only did he come hard, but he came a lot, streaks of white liquid adorning his torso. It felt like such a waste, because you wanted him to come in your mouth.

Having no idea what possessed you, except for an insatiable need to have more of Lyonel in you, you leaned down and licked a long stripe over his chest, licking and sucking his spend.

When it started to run down his sides, you scooped it all up, greedily licking your fingers, then continued all the way down, finally reaching his still glistening tip, until his body was covered with your saliva and none of his seed.

“Come here,” Lyonel said, and it was more a command than an ask.

“Hm?” A short jolt of panic shook your core.

“Come here,” he repeated, sitting up and pulling you close, his teeth colliding with yours, but he was undeterred to taste himself on your tongue. “You perfect, fucking woman,” he breathed between love bites, his hands grabbing ar your ass again, squeezing. “Slap me all you want, it’s worth it,” he mumbled against your neck, making you laugh.

You fell asleep on his chest, listening to him drone about the history of Storm Kings. When you woke up, the first rays of the sun peeking into your chambers, Lyonel was gone, but the crown was proudly set on the table, right next to the wine pitcher.

Link to part one.

If you like my writing, all interactions are greatly appreciated-`♡´-

Masterlist౨ৎ

The sun wasn't even up when Steve's eyes popped open. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was, but then you shifted next to him and the events from the night before came flooding back. Eddie wasn't on your other side, though. Then a sharp, metallic click brought Steve's attention across the room; Eddie sat half-naked, on the window seat, lighting a cigarette. The cherry lit up his face for a moment and he blew the smoke out of the window he cracked open.

There was a delicate vulnerability to Eddie's silhouette that made Steve pause. Eddie really was very nice to look at; the ever-lightening sky gave his skin a blue hue that looked so touchable, and his features, though still in shadow, made for a mesmerizing profile. Steve wouldn't really know about how soft he really was though; the touching between him and Eddie was limited.

His cock, man, you full-on grabbed his cock, the intrusive thought blared loudly in his head, leaving Steve feeling dazed.

He was just being helpful, really. And the moment called for it. Steve already came, you were on the brink and Eddie was right there, but he needed a little extra push. There was a moment when your eyes were closed, moaning loudly and the desperation in Eddie's eyes called out to him. It would only take a few rubs and he was right; the moment Steve wrapped his hand around the shaft and met Eddie's strokes, he was coming all over you with loud, breathy moans.

The only cock Steve wrapped his hand around was his own and while he knew it was something he could easily write off as "in the moment", he couldn't help but...like it. A lot actually.

It was too goddamn early for that kind of thinking.

Steve blinked a few times, pushed the blanket back, and sat up to throw his feet over the side. It took a second to find his own boxers but he found them under your skirt, sliding them on. That skirt would forever be his favorite from now on; he was going to have some serious self-control issues when he saw you in it again. Making sure you weren't disturbed, he tip-toed over to Eddie.

"How are you awake right now, man?" He whispered. His arms crossed over his bare chest, suddenly feeling a chill from AC on his body-warmed skin.

"I couldn't lay in bed anymore." He took a long drag then blew it out, a smirk on his lips. "She's a pretty heavy sleeper, we don't have to whisper."

Taking the spot in beside Eddie, Steve couldn't help but look out the window to watch the sky turn from midnight blue to pinks and oranges with the rising sun. The trees were starting to take shape now and birds were starting to sing out between them. It seemed like they were the only people in Hawkins awake right now; the sacred moment passed between them almost reverently.

"It's been a long time since I woke up early enough to see the sunrise," Steve said, leaning back against the wall. "I didn't realize I had such a great view."

Eddie nodded, "Yeah, better than the trailer park that's for sure."

It was quiet, then you sighed and both of their heads turned to look at you.

"Hey man, listen," Eddie started. "I don't really know what's going to happen after-" he paused, gesturing with his free hand "-last night. And part of me doesn't want to know. I think I like the chaos of it all."

Steve smiled, "Chaos?"

"Yeah! The King of Hawkins High and the Freak dating Miss Magic over there at the same time? Talk about scandalous." A wicked grin crawled across his lips. "I can't even imagine the looks we would get."

It was hard for Steve to imagine, too. Being in a relationship with you while you dated Eddie felt very foreign to Steve; almost too much. Or did he mean they would all be dating each other? As in, he and Eddie would be dating too? His stomach rolled uncomfortably around a few times.

"Is...that what you want?"

Eddie shrugged, "I dunno. Kinda hard to make a decision about that if everyone isn't into it." His eyes were searching Steve's for the answer, some kind of solace in knowing that last night wasn't a total fluke. He felt the connection, but he didn't know what to do with it.

"I'm not...sure either, honestly. I've never done anything like this before."

"Neither have I," Eddie agreed. "But whatever happens between us, just don't hurt her, okay? She's the most amazing, beautiful, pure-hearted person I've ever met. I don't think I could-"

"I wouldn't. Not ever." Steve interrupted resolutely. He glanced over at you, smirking at the way your mouth was slightly open. It was so, incredibly cute. The thought of doing anything to hurt you was not even a reality in his mind so he didn't even entertain it.

"Good," Eddie nodded, tossing his cigarette butt out the window. "I'm not the toughest guy around but I'll kick your ass." Leaning closer, Eddie's eyes flicked to Steve's mouth for a moment before meeting his eyes again. "Even if we are fucking." He winked and patted Steve's bare leg with his hand before standing up and heading toward the bathroom.

Staring after him, he felt his cock twitch under the material of his boxers. Jesus-H-Christ, Steve thought, letting his eyes land on your form underneath the crumpled blanket. His entire reputation, the need to be the "cool guy" and have everything under control was starting to slip out of his grasp. Now that he was thinking about it, having control of any kind was a big ol' joke. The world around him didn't make sense, so why try?

You stirred again and he watched as you stretched, making sweet little moaning sounds.

"Where's Eddie?" You called out hoarsely.

"In the bathroom," Steve stood and joined you back in bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Uhm...good question." A smile was playing on the corners of your mouth. "I think I feel pretty good. I slept like a fucking baby, I know that much."

"Your snores are super cute, by the way." He propped his head up with his hand, "Like...a little bear."

"Oh shut up," you chided, but your tone was playful. "How are you feeling?"

Steve considered for a moment, then his eyes met yours, "I feel okay. A little weird, but okay."

"Bad weird or good weird?"

"Haven't figured that out yet. Most of it is good. You being in my bed - good weird. I didn't ever think-"

"Yeah, me either." You jumped in. "I gotta say I was super impressed though. I was almost convinced you wouldn't be into it."

Your admission surprised him. "And you still went for it?"

"Yeah. Since no one else was doing anything, I had to take the risk." You rolled to face Steve fully.

"Way to call me out," he grumbled.

Shrugging, your fingers absentmindedly rubbed little circles on the sheet. "I had to get your attention somehow. We would have been sitting there all night before you made a move."

"That is not even true. I would have done something…eventually." A full-bellied laugh came out of you and he shook his head, "What? It's true."

"I know, I know. You were just so polite about it."

"I'm not always so polite, you know." His free hand moved under the blanket, searching for a body part, any body part when he found your thigh. His hand wrapped around the meat of it, squeezing gently.

You gasped slightly, allowing him to pull you closer. "Believe me, after last night, I won't question that ever again."

"Now that I know what you're really like, I won't be able to be 'polite' about it anyway." His mouth was inches away from yours now, begging to be kissed.

"Good. Don't." You closed the distance, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He could really get used to this. Waking up to you in his bed, touching and kissing you as much as he wanted. Well, as much as Eddie wanted anyway.

Who, by the way, was leaning against the door frame of the bathroom, grinning at the two of them.

"Okay, this is disgustingly cute." He commented.

Steve couldn't help but stare at him and you were turning your head to get a better look; he was lean but had enough muscle definition to be noticeable and his tattoos practically called attention to his chest and arms. Not to mention, the boxers he wore were only slightly better than being naked so all other details were very noticeable to Steve.

You touched his cock and you liked it, so you better start dealing with that now, he thought, swallowing the sudden overabundance of saliva in his mouth.

Eddie had to still himself with his hands gripping both sides of Steve's sink, exhaling shakily. His reflection showed a scared, little coward who ran away when the moment became too much for him. Here he was, hiding in the bathroom, still afraid to make a move when he had the audacity to give Steve shit for not kissing you in the kitchen.

He also couldn't get the image of Steve's hand, without prompting, wrapped around him. Not on accident, either. He was getting hard all over again just thinking about it. Eddie didn't have to wonder what this meant, but he wasn't about to put a label on it just yet. Even if Harrington meant to do it, there's wasn't a sure fire way to know he was going to explore that further; he looked super nervous after Eddie teased him with that comment about them fucking. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if Steve denied it out right.

The weight of all of this sat heavily in his guts and he wondered if you were awake yet. He needed you to be awake right now. The sound of your laughter from the bedroom confirmed this and he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. There was a comfort that you brought him - no one else on this Earth could do that; seeing you laughing and happy would calm his nerves. Upon opening the door, he was taken aback to see Steve's mouth exploring yours and he couldn't help but smile.

Stevie wasn't so scared now was he?

They were very cute together. If there was even a chance that he could have both, he would do everything he could to make that happen.

His comment brought their attention to Eddie with a mixture of surprise and half-guilt (mostly from Steve). Huffing out a laugh, he moved away from the wall, pulling the covers back and sliding in next to your body, his arms wrapping around your waist. You were so warm, your skin so velvety smooth that Eddie couldn't help running his hands over every part he could find. And incidentally touching Steve's hand in the process, which he didn't move away so maybe that was a good sign.

You immediately turned, cupping Eddie’s face and planting a big kiss on his lips. "Good morning, handsome." You lightly nipped his bottom lip and Eddie groaned.

"You gotta watch out for this one. She's a goddamn tease." He clicked his teeth together in a mock bite and you rolled your eyes.

"Eddie is just as guilty of being a tease, so you have to watch out for him too." You glanced back at Steve. "By the way, did you see the bite mark he left on me?!" Showing him one shoulder, realizing it was the wrong one, then laid on your stomach to show him the other. "See?"

Eddie leaned over, seeing the clear definition of teeth marks in a red-ish, purple hue on your shoulder and his stomach immediately dropped. "Oh, baby, I'm sorry! I guess I didn't realize how hard I bit you, jesus..."

He touched it gently with just the tips of his fingers, feeling the raised skin and subsequent goose bumps that came up from it. Steve placed butterfly kisses on the marks and you giggled. "Poor, sweet baby," he cooed.

They were so close, Eddie and Steve. One push forward and he could kiss him so easily. He was right there, there was no reason not to. Unless Steve absolutely denied him and Eddie wasn't sure he could take that. Right when he was sure his will wouldn't fail him, you yawned and flipped on your back.

"I need coffee, STAT, ASA...P." The last letters of your acronym fell off upon seeing the way Eddie was looking at Steve. But you didn't draw attention to it, thankfully. Harrington blinked and smiled down at you.

"I got you, don't worry." He hopped up, disappearing to the kitchen.

You looked at Eddie like he just lost his puppy dog. "Why didn't you kiss him, Eds?"

Eddie laid on his back, blowing out a breath. "Because I'm scared."

"Why? He wants you to! I could see it all over his face." You placed a hand on his cheek, gently moving his head to look at you.

"It changes everything though, babe." He could feel the sting of tears prickling at the corners of his eyes so he sniffed and blinked quickly. Nothing got past you, though. Sitting up, you leaned over, kissing the outer corner of his eyes and Eddie's eyelids fluttered closed, feeling everything from the last few days welling up in his chest.

"Baby, it only changes how you feel about yourself. Nothing has changed between us as far as I'm concerned and Steve is right there with you, believe it or not."

He sniffled again, "How do you know?"

You chuckled, "If only you could see the way he looks at you sometimes. It's a good thing I'm not the jealous type." You teased, moving your hair behind your ear.

Eddie tried to smile but it faltered. "You're...really okay with it?"

"Of course I am. Unless that means you're leaving me for Steve and and in that case, ain't no one gonna touch my man, so he can go to hell." This made Eddie laugh out loud. "I cannot and will not get in the way of your happiness, Eddie Munson. This isn't about me or Steve. It's about you and what you want. So, what do you want?"

Eddie could hear Steve moving around in the kitchen and he decided he was going to do something about this, once and for all. Without a word, he gave you a quick peck and practically leapt out of the bed. By the time he got to the entrance of the kitchen, though, his momentum had slowed quite a bit. What the fuck was he doing? He had zero ideas about how to bring it up, especially because feelings were involved. Plus he and Steve were in their underwear, for crying out loud. If things were going the way Eddie hoped they would, that part wouldn't matter.

Steve was humming to himself, pulling a mug out of the cabinet when he turned around. God, he looked good; shirtless with a dish towel hanging on his shoulder, hair slightly disheveled. It took Steve calling Eddie's name a couple times before Eddie responded.

"What?" Eddie asked, swallowing.

"Did she need something?" He asked again.

"Nope. She's good, just uh..." He searched for a good excuse to be in the kitchen, but when none could be found he sighed, "Ah, fuck it."

Eddie crossed the floor in three steps, grabbed Steve by the face, and pressed his mouth to him in a clash of teeth and tongues. For a heart-wrenching second, Eddie thought Steve was pulling away. Instead, he was setting the mug down so he could wrap his arms around Eddie's waist, pulling him closer.

He’d been picturing so many different scenarios with Steve, kissing him was a new one. It was different than anything he experienced but it was actually really fucking great. His lips were soft, yet firm and pliant against Eddie's as he deepened the kiss further. He smelled like sex and coffee and it just about brought Eddie to tears.

“Thank you,” Steve breathed out when they finally pulled away for air.

“For what?”

“For not being a chicken and doing what I was too afraid to.” He smiled. "I've been thinking about that since last night."

Eddie smirked, "I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing, honestly. All of this is-"

Steve nodded, "Yeah, I know."

"Is this what's taking so long for coffee? How in the hell are we ever going to get things done with you two making out all the time?"

Eddie and Steve turned their heads. You were leaning against the fridge in your underwear and Eddie's shirt, a wide, shit-eating grin on your face.

The days following "That Night" were a little disorienting to the three of them. Steve, for one, felt like the real world was an annoyance now; all he wanted to do was hang around you and Eddie. Even Robin could tell something was up.

"So are you on your period too or are you just avoiding talking to me specifically?" She asked over a basket of late-night fries. "You've hardly said a word since we left work."

He rolled his eyes, "If I was, would I be here? With you specifically?”

"Fair," she bit down on a fry, "but you have been acting weird today."

"I think I'm just...uh-" he considered telling her about the circus of feelings and images that played over and over in his head, but he decided against it. "-just tired I guess."

Robin stared at Steve. Then her eyes narrowed. "What happened at movie night?"

"What? What do you mean?" The basket of fries was suddenly very interesting to him.

Robin pulled them away before Steve could grab one. "You may have everyone else fooled, but I know you, Steve Harrington. Something is up. Did you kiss her?" She gasped. "Did you and Eddie fight?"

"No, we did not fight." He sighed. "I did...kiss her though."

Pushing the basket off to the side, Robin leaned in closer and clasped her hands together. "Tell me everything and don't skimp on the details."

"It's not what you think it is. It's actually so far out of left field that you will be in shock and awe, Robin. Shock and awe."

"Dear God, just spill it already!" She half-yelled.

Steve swallowed, trying to figure out how to start. All the different words and phrases didn't seem good enough to explain everything and there was no sense in beating around the bush when you were probably going to tell her at some point. "Basically we all...slept together."

Robin blinked at him. "Say what now?"

"I said…we all-"

"No, no, I heard what you said but it's not quite computing. You and y/n and...Eddie...had sex? At the same time? Like...together?"

"Yes, that's what a threesome is." He lowered his voice, shifting in the booth uncomfortably.

A snort of laughter escaped Robin, her eyes wide. "What? I mean...what? You said left field, I was expecting something like...you kissed her and now you guys are having a secret affair but this? This is like outer space! Like...a star being born or-"

"Okay, I get it. I'm just as surprised as you are, believe me."

She paused for a second. "So, wait. Did you and Eddie, ya know...?"

"No," Steve answered. It wasn't a lie. Robin didn’t need to know the nitty-gritty, helping-Eddie-come-part. "But he definitely kissed me in the kitchen the next morning."

"OH. Well. That's...something. How did that make you feel?" Robin was looking uneasy, but he didn't think it was about the kiss necessarily. Steve figured she was afraid he didn't want Eddie to kiss him.

"I think I'm bi, Robin."

His split-second decision to confess was met with silence, but then she smiled bigger than he'd ever seen and moved to his side of the booth to hug him so tight he couldn't breathe. In that moment, he was so grateful to have Robin as a friend, knowing he could tell her anything without fear of judgment. It made the wriggling insecurity in his chest die down a little more.

"Okay, can't breathe here." Pulling back, he saw tears glistening in her eyes. "What?"

"I'm just...so glad I'm not the only gay person in our group anymore, geez," she laughed, nudging him with her shoulder. "But honestly, I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks," He smirked. "It feels weird. I don't know what to do with it."

"You've already done something about it. The real question is: how is this going to play out? Are you going to be dating her and Eddie or just her and Eddie's a fun, little side piece?" He scoffed and Robin chuckled, "I'm just trying to help you, that's all."

Steve shrugged, resting his head against his hand. "We haven't really talked about it."

"Well, what do you want?"

He moved his head to look at her, "Good question."

This is stupid. This is stupid, stupid, idiotic, stupid.

This was the rotating monologue in Eddie's head as he sat in front of Steve's house. In his van. At 10 o'clock at night. Talk about being a stalker. He showed up at Steve's house with the intent to talk, but he couldn't seem to open the goddamn door. He should have waited until you were with him, but his impatience was giving him heartburn.

It was girl's night and while you insisted on being there when everyone talked, Eddie had bigger fish to fry.

He needed to know if Harrington was for real or not.

The only excuse he had for finally getting out of the van was running out of cigarettes. No weed either. He'd smoked a joint before coming but the high wasn't kicking in like he wanted.

He kissed him and Steve reciprocated. Not just reciprocated, but aggressively dove in with arms wrapped around his waist and a tongue down Eddie's throat. He kept trying to play the moment over in his head, hoping to find a sliver of Harrington hesitating or trying to pull away too quickly. Maybe catching Steve with a little bit of insecurity would make him feel better.

His uncle's favorite metaphor was always, "Quit trying to sink your own damn ship."

Eddie never really knew what that meant until now. He was wishing, hoping, that Harrington wasn't serious and he wouldn't have to deal with this ugly, dark fear nestled in the bottom of his stomach.

He was a queer. Or at least partly anyway. There was no denying he loved you, mind, body (dear god, that body), and soul. And he knew that there were feelings for Harrington but this was an entirely new class of emotions he wasn't sure he could handle; there wasn't a hardback DM manual for this predicament. The news that Eddie "The Freak" Munson was even more of a freak by being into dudes would not be easy. Fuck all if he cared what anyone thought of him, but he was already on people's shit lists and this town didn't take kindly to those that swung the other way.

By the time he reached Steve's door, he'd already turned and gone back to his van twice, the last time almost getting back inside. Finally, he took a deep breath, nodded to himself, and went directly to the door. Before he actually got a chance to knock, though, it swung open.

Steve, in all his mousse-y glory, answered the door with a big grin plastered on his face.

"Did you know I was coming or-" Eddie frowned.

"I saw as soon as you parked. Thought you were going to knock sooner and at one point I was going to invite you in, but I liked seeing the little pep talk you gave yourself out there." The grin opened into a laugh and Eddie sneered at him.

"Shut up, man."

Harrington stepped aside and Eddie walked in, suddenly very aware of his teeth. And his hands.

"Is it just you?" Steve asked, walking to the kitchen.

Eddie followed behind, slowly. "Robin demanded a girl's night or whatever."

"That makes sense, considering I told Robin about the other night." He went to open the fridge, but Eddie stopped him, his hand holding the door.

"You told Robin? What the hell for?"

Steve shrugged, not picking up the hint. "I didn't see why not. I mean, she does hang out with us all the time and y/n was probably going to tell her anyway."

Eddie sighed, closing his eyes for a second. "What did Robin say?"

"What do you mean? She was cool with it." He chuckled. "She said she was glad she wasn't the only gay person in the group anymore."

Opening his eyes, he wet his lips slowly. "So, you told her about the-" Eddie made an awkward, stroking gesture with his hand. "-and the kiss?"

"Yeah. But...hold on." Steve stepped back, frowning. "Is there something wrong with me telling her?"

The other shook his head almost too enthusiastically, "No. I just thought we were going to talk about things before we started telling the whole world."

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, "Okay, well, 1) Robin isn't the whole world. She's my best friend; I thought she needed to know and 2) what happened to you not caring what people thought about you? Suddenly you're worried if people know you're bi?"

"I dunno, Harrington, do you feel excited about being called a fairy everywhere you go?" His tone was sarcastic, but his glassy eyes showed panic.

The air in the kitchen was very, very thick. Steve stared at Eddie, frozen in his spot. Eddie couldn't seem to look at Steve, as much as he actually wanted to.

"Is that what you're worried about?" Steve took a step closer to Eddie who didn't move. "We aren't the first gay guys in Hawkins, Eds. Not even by a long shot."

Eds. It rolled off his tongue so smoothly like he'd been saying it for ages. The sound of your nickname coming out of his mouth was enough to meet Steve's gaze.

"I know," Eddie sighed. "It's just...I'm already super hated around here and I don't need to give them any more of a reason to-"

Harrington interrupted with a scoff. "If you think you're the only person that has things to lose, then you're wrong. Not only is the "King of Hawkins High" potentially in a polyamorous relationship, but I'm also bisexual on top of it. Bye-bye open invitation to the Harrington House, ya know?"

Eddie suddenly felt very ashamed for being so scared. He didn't even think of Steve having to deal with the blows to his reputation. Forget how good of a guy he was, being even a little gay meant he was a perv, and that glimmering picture of heroism would be torn to shreds.

"Dude, I'm - shit - I didn't even-"

"It's okay," Steve smirked. "I think you and I have been in the same boat for a few days."

Eddie nodded, "Yeah, I think so too." Steve was standing really close to him now, but he wasn't sure if it was an invitation to kiss him or if he was trying to be comforting. Either way, Eddie couldn't stop staring at his lips.

"Did you wanna hang out for a little bit, have a beer or something?" Steve's fingers absentmindedly played with a button on Eddie's jacket.

"Or something." Eddie's lips curled into a smirk and Steve kissed over it, placing both hands on Eddie's hips.

That "something" was a heavy make out session against the fridge, followed by Steve roughly pulling Eddie into his bedroom. Maybe the high finally hit or the pure adrenaline flooding his nervous system kicked into overdrive, but it was sending him to another level. Every kiss, every nip to his neck and collarbone felt like electricity moving through his veins. This was such a different feeling than being with you. It was a craving, an addiction he had to satisfy as often as he could. With Steve, however, it was more animalistic. The need to be in and around him as much as possible was overwhelming.

He'd never done anything like this before, though. But lucky for him, Steve hadn't either. So when Steve was rapidly trying to disrobe him, Eddie could feel the nerves taking over his horniness.

"Uh, Steve?"

Harrington was too busy attaching his lips to Eddie's neck while simultaneously unzipping his jeans.

"Steve, hold on." His fingers were inching to the waistband of his underwear, making Eddie's breath hitch.

"What? What's wrong?"

"I haven't ever-" He breathed out. "Have you?"

"Definitely not." The brunette rasped with a laugh.

"Let's start with some second base stuff and see where we go from there, okay?"

Steve, keeping his eyes on Eddie, moved his hand further into the other's boxers, sliding a whole handful of his aching cock through his fist. "Like this?"

Eddie gasped out, clutching the back of Steve's shirt. "Mmhmm, yeah, that's a good start."

It was embarrassing how close to the edge Eddie already was. Harrington was guiding them down until Eddie was sitting and Steve on his knees in front of him. Letting go of him for a moment, Steve pulled the waistband of his jeans and boxers down at the same time until they were pooled around his shoes. The absolute carnal look in Steve's eyes as he took Eddie's freed dick in his hands was just fucking rude as hell.

"Shit," Eddie moaned, his eyes snapping shut.

"Don't you want to watch?" Steve asked in a deeper voice that he'd never used before. Eddie's eyes opened right as Harrington was taking him into his mouth.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!" It was almost too much for Eddie to take. He had no idea how he was going to be able to handle having two partners that were good at giving head. A sudden, sharp sting of teeth on the underside of Eddie's cock made him hiss and Steve pulled off quickly.

"Sorry, did I hurt you?"

Eddie shook his head, "Just a little too much with the teeth. Otherwise, it feels really good." His fingers caressed Steve's chin and throat. "Don't stop."

Eagerly, Steve started again, holding his cock still as Steve went back to his ministrations. It wasn't long before he was starting to take Eddie deeper; the fingers on Steve's chin gripped harder, keeping his jaw wider to allow for harder thrusts down his throat. Steve's eyes were watering, but he kept going.

"Oh my fucking god, your mouth feels so fucking good, jesus christ." Eddie huffed out loudly.

He wished you could be there to see how good Steve was doing, taking his cock so well, just like you. The thought of you being on your knees right beside Steve, sharing him between your pretty mouths made Eddie come so hard, he thought he blacked out for a second. The sound of soft gagging brought Eddie back to life. He was met with a slobbering, wet-eyed Steve Harrington right as he was swallowing his load down and pulling off of Eddie's cock with a cute little 'pop'.

"H-holy shit." Eddie stammered. "That was-"

"Youre-' Steve licked his hips and exhaled, "-you're welcome."

Eddie shivered, letting the after shocks settle into him. After a second, he leaned down capturing Steve's lips with his own. He tasted beer and remnants of his own cum with his tongue, making his cock twitch against his thigh.

"Now your turn," he sighed.

Steve wasn't about to argue. And after the look Munson gave while he was coming down his throat, he was ready for that boy to do anything he wanted to him. The whole experience was something Steve never thought he would find himself in. But now, as he wiped his face of spit and pre-come, the brunette knew he wanted to make Eddie come like that over and over again.

But he was also so hard that he might bust through his pants and Steve needed relief.

Eddie awkwardly stepped out of his sneakers and pants, leaving Steve on his knees as he stood over him, naked and half-hard again.

"What do you want right now? Don't even think, say it right now."

"I want you to fuck me," Steve replied, his voice low and hushed. The idea terrified the shit out of him, if he was honest. Normally, he would be the one taking control and for the most part, that's what felt most natural. In this case, he needed to feel Eddie take that control away from him. He wanted this beautiful, slightly grumpy weirdo to change his life forever.

Eddie crooked a finger, signaling for the other to stand up. "You're wearing too many clothes for that." His skilled, ringed fingers seemed to disrobe Steve and lay him down in a matter of seconds, leaving him breathless.

"I'll go slow," Eddie promised. He pressed his index finger to Harrington's lips and Steve took it in, sucking and tonguing the pad of the digit. "You look really pretty like that."

Surges of lust coursed through the brunette's body faster than lightning. No wonder you were so crazy about Eddie; he was so fucking sexy, Steve could barely contain himself. Once the other was satisfied with the amount of wetness on his finger, he moved his hand to the underside of Steve's cock, landing first on his perineum.

A gasp flew out of his mouth, inhaling deeply.

"Just breathe, baby. Breathe." Eddie's voice was soothing. "Just relax your body against me."

Steve exhaled, trying to force his body to uncoil. "You-you said you've never done this before."

The curly hair shook with a chuckle, "I've fingered a virgin or two, it's the same, really. But I won't be able to fuck you if you don't relax. Really relax."

As Eddie rubbed that same spot, moving closer and closer to his goal, Steve concentrated on Eddie's voice and the way it guided him. Just his voice alone was making him leak all over his stomach incessantly.

"That's it, big boy, that's it."

His finger brushed against his asshole and he inhaled sharply, but his counterpart was shushing him gently. "It's okay. Take a deep breath for me and on the exhale I'll go deeper. If you need me to stop, just let me know." The look in his big doe eyes reassured the other immensely.

Before tonight, Steve would have never imagined Eddie to be so gentle. Or so understanding, for that matter.

Steve nodded, filling his lungs up with air. As he let it out, the pressure of Eddie's finger pushing into him almost caused the other to panic until he managed to get in far enough that it didn't hurt anymore. Not as much, anyway.

Eddie grinned wickedly. "Does that feel better?"

All Steve could do was nod, pressing his lips together. His eyelids fluttered closed for a moment.

"You're so tight, though. Not sure how I'm gonna get my cock in that little asshole."

Moaning at the lewd statement, the brunette's eyes opened and reached for his cock, but Eddie swatted his hand away. "I got you, don't worry." Wrapping his hand around the wet shaft, he pumped slowly. At the same time, Eddie worked his ass open turning Steve into a shaking, whimpering mess.

"Ah fuck, keep doing that, please," Steve begged.

"You like this, Harrington?" The hot breath of his words fanned over the other's lips. "Me playing with your pretty ass while I jerk you off?"

Steve cried out, "God, yes, yes!"

Eddie's eyes were boring into his, making Steve completely speechless. "Ready for another finger, pretty?"

Before he chickened out, Steve nodded. Eddie stopped his movements, making the other whine to keep going.

"How do you ask?"

You were right, he was an awful tease. But Steve would have given him all the money in his grandmother's bank account if Eddie asked him to. Harrington was wrapped around his finger, literally, and that's where he wanted to stay. If Eddie wanted a "please", Steve would give it to him as many times as he wanted.

"Please," Steve begged, biting down on his slightly swollen bottom lip.

"Only because you asked so nicely." A wink and Eddie's middle finger joined the index, spreading him apart and pushing inside again and again. Steve's back arched, letting filthy, mewling moans fall out of his mouth. If there was this much pain and pleasure with just Eddie's fingers, he couldn't even imagine his cock.

"'M so close, Eds."

"So soon? You don't want to wait for this cock?" Eddie almost sounded disappointed and considering his own rock-hard cock rutting up against Steve's body, he was aching for it.

"I can't...I can't, it feels too good." Harrington convulsed as the hand around his cock twisted just right. "Fuck."

Leaning down, Munson kissed him deeply. "If that's what my pretty boy needs, then that's what he gets."

My pretty boy. Oh if he could have recorded just that little blip in time, he would listen to it every single day. It felt as though this magical creature was claiming his entire being and Steve was going to let him, completely. He didn't care about any of the fears and worries, or what anyone else would think.

You and Eddie not being in his life was not an option anymore.

Moans and praises permeated the room while Eddie brought Steve to his climax, his hips lifting off the bed as he shot ropes of come over Eddie's knuckles and his own chest.

"Good, pretty boy, that was beautiful." Eddie cooed, keeping his hands still as Steve came back down to earth.

"Fuck me," Steve exhaled.

"Next time, baby," Eddie smirked, pressing his lips to the outer shell of Steve's ear. He slowly removed his fingers, making Steve hiss a little.

"I like when you call me that."

"So does y/n. I'm gonna have to get name tags for you guys." Eddie joked. Rolling off of the bed, he haphazardly stood up, trying to make sure he didn't get jizz on anything else. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom and cleaned his hand off before throwing it to Harrington.

"Speaking of-" Steve started wiping his chest, "-are we gonna tell y/n about this?"

"Of course we are," Eddie said indignantly. "I promise, she'll want to know," He laid back down, next to Steve. "She won't be mad. I mean, I don't think so."

Sitting up on his elbows, Steve frowned deeply at Eddie. "You don't think so?" Well shit, if there was a possibility you were going to get upset, he wasn't sure what he was going to do.

"I guess we'll find out tomorrow. She wants us to all have dinner together." Eddie shrugged, placing fluttery kisses on Steve's shoulder. "It'll be fine."

"Famous last words," Steve muttered, throwing the soiled towel on the floor.

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"No." He sighed and beelined toward the couch, plopping down next to you with his eyes closed. He still had his name tag on. "It was a shitty day, I bloody hated it."

You gently grabbed the tag and took it off, placing it on the table before pushing a hand in Steven's hair so that he could rest on your chest, face smushed between your breasts. He loved being there, he loved moving his hand up to your tits and just holding onto them while you petted his hair. He thrived during those situations, he felt safe.

Steven whimpered and clung to you, his eyes were still closed, his hands were gripping your arms tightly and he was breathing a little too fast for your liking. He needed to unwind, he needed to relax and let go for the night, forget about everything so that he could be happy, even for just a few seconds.

"Come here, let me take care of you." You murmured in his head, he nodded and curled up next to you on the couch. "Relax."

You kept petting his hair, you kept brushing your hands up and down his shoulders while Steven kept buzzing with anger and nervousness. It should have worked by now, but he was still lost in his thought, he was still uneased by it all and you didn't know what else to do. Nothing, not even the gentle rubbing of his ears, seemed to work.

"Okay, no, stop. Sit up."

"Why?" Steven let out a deep sigh and looked up at you. "I'm comfortable here."

"You're not relaxed enough, darling. We need to change that or you'll never fall asleep."

You started to take off his jacket, then his shirt and his jeans. Steven let you do it all, he didn't let out a single word, he didn't even open his mouth, he just raised his arms, his bum and then his legs to allow you to take care of it all. You kissed his forehead before straddling his lap, his hands immediately shot up to your hips, holding you while your soft fingers traced lines up and down his toned chest.

His nipples pebbled up when your nails gently brushed over his happy trail, his cock twitched and you chuckled, pressing a kiss on his jawline while you started to grind down on him. He sighed, head dropped to the side and eyes closed, blissed out and a little calmer than before.

"Are you feeling better, baby?" He hummed, low and gentle. "You just wanted me to take care of you, mhm?" He nodded. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Didn't want to seem needy."

His voice was so low and so quiet that you chuckled, holding him a little tighter while your pussy brushed down on his fully erect cock. "Do you wanna talk about what happened today?" He nodded again, his tongue poked out to lick his lower lip. "Can do you do it like this without getting mad and overworked again?"

He stilled, brows knitted together as he stared at you and then at the ceiling. He was struggling to not get mad and not lose his composure, he was trying, for you. He was doing his best. You knew he was already starting to panic again, you could feel it under your palm, his heart was beating fast and loud.

"Let's try something new, baby."

"I don't feel like experimenting tonight." He whispered.

"No funny business, but I know that this will relax you and calm you down." He perked up, a small smile on his face as you undid your bra, letting your breasts bounce down. "If you're good, I'll let you play with them before work tomorrow."

Steven stayed still as you took off your panties and his boxers, you gripped his cock in your hand and it twitched in your palm, making you chuckle and kiss him on the lips. You got lost in there for a few minutes, kissing Steven was your favourite pass time, you couldn't stop pressing your lips on his while your tongue invaded his mouth, chasing his characteristic taste and the faint residue of tea.

You sank down on his cock and he moaned on your lips, his hips bucked up, trying to chase your heat and tightness. You shook your head and cleared your throat, he was so big and the stretch was so pleasurable that you almost forgot what you were even supposed to do.

"No, stay still. I'll sit here, you'll talk and then I'll jack you off."

"Oh god, don't think I can last that long." He joked and you rolled your eyes, thighs tight around his. "I'll try."

"Good boy."

He beamed at that and went slack under you, his cock twitched in your pussy and your walls clenched around him. You had never tried this before, you had never kept his cock inside you just because you wanted to. However, it was quickly becoming your favourite thing. Steven seemed so at ease, so peaceful already, that you wished you had done that sooner.

"Donna said I was late today, which I wasn't because you drove me there, yeah? I was on time. I told her, she said it wasn't true and that JB didn't see me get in until much much later." You cocked an eyebrow at that, prompting him to go on. "Told her he isn't a reliable source, right? She said it was my fault anyway and that I'm going to do inventory for the rest of the week." He licked his lower lip and looked up at you. "And I can't do that because I wanted to take you out on a date and then maybe sleep. I haven't caught a wink of rest tonight, and I've knocked down a few hangers at work today because I lost my footing."

He was rambling, but he wasn't panicking nor fussing over anything, he was just telling you what had happened. You had never seen Steven that calm, you had never seen him so placid and at ease before. You slightly moved, feeling him shift deeper inside you, a whine left your lips and Steven looked up at you, head cocked to the side as he kept staring, lips parted in a small smile.

"Anyway, I talked to Donna about the inventory duties, I don't wanna be stuck there for the whole week, I already made our reservations and I don't wanna cancel, it took me a month to finally find a table. She said it's my problem and that I shouldn't be late if I want to be treated right." You snorted and Steven's hand moved up to your chest, resting it on one of your tits. "She fucked up with that. I went to the department manager, and told him what had happened and he said that it was not fair. So now they're checking all of my clock-ins and clock-outs."

You nodded quietly, he was still hard inside you, you could feel him twitch and throb whenever your walls pulsed around him. A vein was slightly popping out on his neck, his fingers were brushing over your nipple and his eyes were relaxed, barely closed, as he kept staring at you.

You loved when his eyes got hooded, you loved when you could see the white sclera under his iris, he looked extremely fuckable like that, almost wicked. You leaned in, your hands gripped his shoulders and you tentatively raised your hips before grinding down on him.

"I'm not done."

You were not expecting that. You looked at him with your lips parted, you settled back down and he sighed, going slack under you and harder inside your pussy. He had the self-control of a god, that was for sure, you didn't know how he was managing to last that long, he was hard as a rock but he was refusing to let go and fuck you.

"They checked my clock-ins and clock-outs, saw that I've been working a lot, like, a lot and Donna is the one who basically forced me to take those shifts due to her personal vendetta against me, god knows what I've done wrong in her opinion." You nodded, you were starting to lose track of what was going on, he had moved under you and now the tip of his cock was brushing and pressing right against your sweet spot. "So now there's this whole... issue- you're so bloody tight."

You huffed out a laugh and kissed him on the lips. "Do you want me to get off?"

"No." He swallowed hard and shuddered. "I can last a bit longer."

"Do you want me to tell you what I think of this?" He nodded as you adjusted yourself. "You can't cum, though."

You kissed him on the lips, soft and gentle while your hands moved up to his hair, fisting his curls as you started to grind down on him, swaying your hips left to right as his hands tightened around your breasts, nipples caught between his index and middle finger.

You were trying to stay still but you couldn't, Steven was hot and big and thick and you didn't have the willpower to slow yourself down and not ravage him with your hands and lips. You trailed kisses down his neck, he tilted his head back with a whimper when you gently bit on his Adam's apple.

"I find you so hot when you get all bothered and stand up for yourself." Your lips trailed up to his ear so that you could whisper in his ear. "You did good baby, you did so good and I'm so proud of you for speaking up. Donna is scum, she will lose her job if she keeps being like this." You kissed the spot behind his lobe and Steven gasped, nails softly scraping the soft skin of your breasts. "And you booked us a fancy dinner out of nowhere, I can't believe you."

Steven's breath was ragged and short, it was fanning over your skin and it was making you clamp around him like a madman, you couldn't wait any longer and he couldn't wait either, you could feel strain inside you and struggle to not blow inside you. You grabbed one of his hands and brought it down to your dripping pussy.

"Oh." He whispered, eyes fixed on your clit. "Can I?"

"Yes, baby."

His fingers started working on your swollen nub of nerves, Steven put the right pressure on it, he was rubbing you hard and fast, making you squirm on top of him as you slowly moved on his cock, slightly bouncing up and down on him while he squeezed one of your breasts in his free hand.

You didn't want to hold back, you didn't want to pretend you weren't already on edge and ready to cum all over him and his strong hand and cock. You gasped when the pressure increased, your lower belly tightened and your walls started to pulse around him.

"Oh Steven, oh baby, that's... yeah, like that, you're doing so good." Your hips started rocking back and forth while your hands rested on his chest. "Just like that, just like that, I'm gonna come, shit, shit."

Your thighs trapped his legs and you jolted forward, your pussy clamped on his cock and he yelped, his vein was even more protruding and you stared at him as you came, gushing over him and wetting his cock and groin even more. You shivered and panted, high and breathy, while you kissed him, pulling him up toward you by his jawline.

"You did so good." You whispered over his lips, staring down at his body. "You did so good, baby, I know it must've been hard to not come with me."

Steven nodded, too lost to reply and too overstimulated to even think about anything but his cock still buried inside you. You softly pulled up, letting his dick slide out of you and bob on his belly. You stood up, you kissed him once more before kneeling between his open legs.

His cock was red, swollen and hard under your touch, the tip was leaking profusely and his thighs were shaking, straining to be good for you and not come until you said so. Steven was great when it came to following little rules or orders.

You kissed his cockhead while you started to pump his length just how he liked it, your thumb brushed over the slit and the frenulum while your soft palm enveloped his shaft - or at least tried to. He whined and threw his head back, eyes tightly shut while his chest heaved wildly,

"I can't." His voice was quiet and broken, you were positive he had tears in his eyes. "Please."

"You can come when you want, baby, I'm not stopping you." You kissed the tip again, swirling your tongue around it.

You jacked him off a little faster, your hand twisted lightly around him and his thighs tensed, he arched his back and his toes curled. He throbbed in your hand and you leaned forward, his hot release ended up splattered on your face, covering in streaks your cheeks, your lips and chin.

Steven kept breathing heavily until you let go of his cock, it had softened in your palm and you had kissed his thighs and hips until he had stopped quivering and shaking under you. You might have overworked him, you weren't sure, but you had managed to make him come all over your face for the first time ever.

He groggily raised his head and rubbed his eyes, he looked at you and hummed to himself. He furrowed his brows, tilting his head to the side and chuckling.

"What?"

"Nothing, you look pretty like this, the light is making your eyes shine bright."

Steven’s lips come to the inside of your thigh, pressing gentle kisses meant to soothe, but the sandpaper brush of his stubble makes everything inside you that more wound up, your nerves raw like everything is going to splinter. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, and the soft caress of his breath is searing against your skin, wreaking havoc on you. The low rumbling of his voice, so uncharacteristic of him, is dipped in hunger and greed, and it skitters up and down your spine until it's difficult to breathe. It's a perfect counterpoint to his surprisingly skilled mouth and fingers on you, to the heat spreading under your skin and building to an explosive pitch between your legs. 

“Want you to come all over my mouth, yeah?” he says, with none of his trademark shyness, before he dives back in, tongue laving at your slick folds.

You can’t help but give him what he wants.

You come, your cunt clenches down, spasming around the thick girth of his fingers where he has you stretched open. Everything else disappears for a moment, your body weightless with pure unadulterated bliss. You are so disorientated that you are almost certain you are floating in zero gravity. You can’t even hear your heartbeat anymore. Can’t feel it thump against the cage of your chest. For all you know it might have stopped entirely. All you’re capable of feeling is an abstract tingling sensation that buzzes pleasantly in your veins.

Then you hear his voice, soft and adoring, from somewhere above. His fingers slip out of you, and you whine--even overwrought as you are, you feel empty at the loss.

There’s a gentle palm with soft-worn calluses stroking down the side of your ribs. Comforting kisses press your thighs, as he murmurs quiet praises about how good you are for him and how pretty you look like this.

You can’t help but snort a laugh at that last bit, not sure what he’s on about because you’re sure you look anything but right now. Your hair is soaked with sweat and clinging to your temple; your face, sticky and clammy. You’re certain you must look a complete mess as you lie here in a shambled heap on your bed. Your vision is so blurred you can barely see the white of your ceiling, but you're still able to make out the man above you, gazing down at you like you’ve hung the moon in the sky.

“Think you can give me another one, love? Jus' one more, yeah?”

Fucking hell. This man…  

He doesn’t even give you a moment to gather yourself. You barely have a chance to nod before the saliva-slicked thumb gently presses down on your clit again. For all his sweet cooing and gentle touch and care, he is always merciless in his pursuit to make you come like there’s a prize for him at the end of it. 

"Fucking finally," he huffs under his breath, and if you weren't so completely out of it, you'd tell him it's his own fault for dragging that last orgasm out so long.

As cliche as it sounds, you’re so blissed out of your mind you can’t tell anymore, where the pleasure begins and ends. All you feel is clever fingers already curling inside you again; a greedy hand cupping your breast; a hungry mouth nipping at the hollow of your throat. He’s everywhere, and you spread your legs wider, open yourself up, so he can have every single inch of you. 

The bed shifts, and you blink rapidly, trying to clear the watery edges of your vision. After a moment, your eyes finally refocus on the man in front of you. 

He’s kneeling above you, cock in hand, as he gives it a slow lazy stroke that makes your mouth water. A slick sheen of sweat graces the muscular line of his shoulder, bathed in amber gold of your bedroom light.

“You alright, baby? Want me to keep going?” The look in his eyes is as gentle as ever he checks in on you to make sure you’re okay. Makes you feel precious and cared for. 

The only thing you can do is nod.

“You say stop if it gets to be too much,”  he rasps out as lines himself up against you. 

The first thrust is deep and consuming, and you cry out as the perfect stretch of him has white sparks burning behind your eyelids. You’re so worked up, everything makes a little bit less sense; mind almost a little bit numb. You can barely think straight and you think to yourself ironically, this is probably why they call it being cockdumb. 

And it's not being made better by the way that he’s running his fucking mouth. 

"So fucking perfect,” he murmurs into your ear, rasped and breathless as he nips on your ear. “You feel so good wrapped around my cock. So wet and warm. Fuck, you're so tight right now. Always so tight after you come for us."

He stays there, buried inside you to the hilt to allow you some reprieve and to accommodate around him. You can feel his eagerness to move in the way his cock twitches excitedly inside of you. Can tell he’s resisting that very urge when he grips the bedsheets tightly with his fingers until they go bone-knuckled. It strikes heat and pleasure all at once into the pit of your stomach. It’s so good; too much; and it teethers on the edge of the overwhelming. 

A warm hand comes to cup your cheeks. He’s consoling you, brushing away the hair in your eyes, and the touch of it grounds you. “Does that feel good, baby?” 

His eyes are ridiculously gorgeous, deep and rich, you find yourself easily lost in him. All you can see is his sweet half-smile, one corner of his mouth curling upward just for you. All you want to do in your overwrought state of mind is to please him, to praise him on how good he always makes you feel, so you do. 

"So good. Feel so full. No one fucks me like you do, Steven."

He stills. 

From above, you see it, the moment his expression changes. Gone is the indulgent softness. The curl of his full lips turned into a scowl. Those deep rich eyes bleed into sternness fixed with a dark glower. You realise a bit too late that Marc is the one inside you now, not sweet Steven. 

You try to think back. When did his voice change? His accent? His eyes are narrowed instead of wide adoring affection. Everything about his body language is different, must have changed before this, and how stupid is it that you didn’t notice until now? As much as you hate to admit it, you're just a little bit out of it; a little bit come dumb from how the two of them have made you come again and again. 

The next thing you register is the emptiness inside you as he slips almost entirely out of you; until only the blunt tip rests inside you. There’s a look in his eyes, a flash of something determined and almost dangerous, as he adjusts his hips against you. 

There’s no warning as he thrusts all the way back inside, in one long and slick stroke back inside you. Deep and hard. It strikes something absolutely fucking devastating in you until it steals away your breath and makes you cry out. 

“Fuckohfuck, Marc!” 

“That's right, baby.” He leans over with his lips to your ear, voice low and dark and demanding as he rolls his hips, and then grinds deep within you. “Say it again. Who fucks you like this?”

Everything’s sharp and bright inside you; the rush of pleasure that comes with every thrust mind-numbing. You don’t know how Marc expects you to give him an answer; can’t even stutter out the ‘you’ that’s right on the tip of your tongue. Instead all that comes out is a pitiful sob. 

"No? Still not good enough for you?” Marc demands. 

You thought at first, with what little brain power was available to you, that he was jealous, and maybe there’s some of that in there too, but there’s something else. Something almost teasing that makes you think he’s not even all that upset about your mistake. The bastard that he is, he just wants to capitalise on the opportunity to push you to your limit. 

“Our girl is so greedy, isn’t she?” he continues mercilessly, ”Always wanting more. How about—" two hands come to rest on the inside of your thighs, lifting you off the mattress until your legs are hooked over his shoulders as he presses the delicious weight of his body on top of yours, folding you nearly in half. "How about this?"

His voice is pure savage glee, a kid that gets to play and pull apart his toy in whatever manner he wants. Your fingers twist into the sheets, trying to grab on tight because it feels like you are falling off the edge of the very world. Then Marc rolls his hips into you at the devastating new angle and it knocks the breath out of your lungs, tipping you past that very edge. 

It doesn't matter that you're ready to repent. Doesn’t matter that you’re trying to moan your explanation in between insistent, merciless strokes. "That's not— fuck, ooooh shit, Marc, I didn’t mean—"

That man is not letting up, and with how hard you came just mere minutes ago, he's already got you so keyed up that you can feel that all familiar pressure and heat settle against the line of your spine with an alarming speed. 

There’s a brief hesitation in his rhythm, like his concentration was broken for a moment, and you catch him glancing at the mirror. You wonder if Steven's there telling Marc to stop. Steven’s always looking out for you; would do anything for you, and that includes taking care of you in bed. But when you turn your head sideways, the mirror shows you the same perfect reflection of reality it always does. 

If Steven's there, you can't see him. Instead, all you can see is the image of yourself being split open by Marc. How Marc towers over you, with his lean stature. The firm muscles on his back sloping down to the generous curves of his ass like he was a carved marble statue meant to depict the ancient Greek deities themselves. Those thick raven curls furl with heat and sweat against his forehead. He’s so fucking beautiful it’s unfair. 

“You looking for Steven to save you?” Firm fingers grip the edge of your jaw, forcing your gaze back towards Marc. “Well too fucking bad. Steven’s not here. You’re stuck with me.”

Alright, nevermind. Definitely jealous then.

Marc’s next thrust drives a strange squeaking noise from your lungs, and you’d probably be embarrassed if you weren't so far gone. 

"What was that,—” Marc taunts, huffing out a dark laugh between thrusts, “—did you want me—to stop?"

His voice is unbearably smug, and you almost want to tell him to stop just on principle, but fuck that. You don’t want him to stop. Even though it's so fucking much that it borders on the unbearable. You shake your head frantically. You never want him to stop. “That’s what I… thought,” Marc grits out, thrusting hard on the last word.  

He’s driving up against something perfect and molten inside of you, and heat rises up in you like a tide, seething under your skin. You think you might actually be going to come again, but the sensation is immense, nearly unbearable, and you clutch at Marc, whimpering as it threatens to swamp your already overwhelmed and overstimulated system. 

“It’s alright. You’re alright, baby,” he rasps out, not even slowing down. “You can take it, can’t you? Take it for me like a good girl.” Then he tilts your hips up even farther, and that’s it. You’re done. 

Fierce, electric heat explodes outwards, crackling rapturously through your limbs, submerging you entirely until you lose track of reality for a minute. 

When you come back to yourself, Marc is still thrusting into you. The rhythm of it is soothing, drawing out your pleasure in a way you’ve never known before, like you've hit a plateau rather than travelling up and down a mountain. Distantly you note that everything is a slick mess. That you are soaking Marc’s cock with how wet your cunt is for him. You can feel it leaking out of you with every press and retreat of him inside you, dripping down over the curve of your ass onto the bed sheets.

Then, out of nowhere, Marc does stop.  

The sound you make is damn near inhuman. Fuck, why?? Why is he stopping when all you need is more of him? 

Your eyes flutter open to see Marc staring at the mirror, his full attention focused on his reflection. On Steven. 

You don’t know what Steven is saying to him, but whatever it is, has Marc chuckling. 

He turns away from the mirror with a toothy grin full of mischief, and he leans back down towards you, pressing his mouth close so he can whisper in your ear like it's a secret; like Steven can't always hear him no matter how quiet he's being.

“He wants me to fuck you harder. Stretch you all the way open on our cock. Make you come again.”

You have no way of knowing if that’s true or if Marc is just saying that to get a rise out of Steven. You can’t exactly hear Steven’s end of the conversation. But it doesn’t matter, because Marc’s doing it. 

You don’t know if you want to escape the sensation or demand more of it. But you can’t do either. In fact, you seem to have lost control of your body completely. All you can do is shudder and whine under him as Marc follows Steven’s alleged request and pushes himself hard and deep inside of you—oh God, just like that—again and again. 

The pleasure twines and spreads slowly though your heavy limbs until you're completely drunk on the sensation of Marc's cock driving into you. He’s reduced you to a heap of bones, flesh and skin without any sentient thought left in your brain. Until you have lost all other sensation to the point where you almost miss the way that Marc is murmuring a string of filth into your ear. 

“That’s right, baby. You’re not done yet.” 

You can’t look away from him, the way that sweat is dripping down his collarbone, the mesmerising rise and fall of his chest as his breath is rasping in and out of his lungs. 

“Gimme one more,” he says. “You come on my cock one more time, then I’ll fill you up. Make a mess of you, and Steven can clean you up with his tongue.” 

This man is the devil. 

You don’t know what that makes you when you’re so aroused by the picture he’s painting for you. 

You’re exhausted. Every inch of you feels tender. You have been strummed and plucked and pushed over the edge again and again until all of you has become one single raw overwrought nerve. At this point you’re not even sure you’re physically capable of coming again. But still, white heat sparks and cracks and invades your numb limbs until you’re thrumming with it.

He's rutting into you, hips in an uneven jerking place, grinding as if he needs to get deeper, as deep inside you as he can to stake his claim and never leave. And fuck, you wish he could. You want him to fuck you like this forever and never stop.  

Your cunt flutters around the thick girth of him involuntarily, and it does something to Marc too. He gasps and swears, hips stuttering forward into you, and it's almost enough.... almost... almost...

"Marc..." your voice breathy, pleading, barely recognizable to your own ears.

"Fuck," Marc huffs out. His hips stutter in its pace. If you didn’t know any better, from the way he closes his eyes for a brief moment, as if to gather himself, you’d think his trademark control is slipping. But then he seems to rally himself and pulls back, almost all the way out.

You clutch at him. If he stops now, if he dares to deny you, you swear to god, you will actually kill this man, or failing that, die on the spot in protest. Your fingers digging into the firm meat of his shoulders, sobbing his name. You need—more, need everything, need him, need to— 

“Shh,” he hushes you with a soothing coo, comforting fingers brushing back the sweat-slicked hair clinging to your forehead. “I'm right here, baby. Let go, I've got you.”

His tone doesn’t match his actions. Marc thrusts back in, driving so deep you can fucking taste it, and you dimly realize that you're screaming as the pleasure streaks outward, tearing your world apart.

It’s a flickering light that is dimming and finally dies out from the surge of electricity. Your brain completely loses all higher functions and all that is left is the rush of heat that spreads all over you. It pours and pours until you’re lightheaded and the whole room spins with it. Everything feels blissfully tight; too much and just enough. Then you come.

When you open your eyes, you see those gorgeous dark eyes rolling back, baring the long line of his throat and it’s a beautiful fucking sight. The sharp edge of his jaw, pink pouty lips all shiny and slick from you. You swear those thick sweat soaked curls glisten in the dim light. He’s so ridiculously gorgeous, you can hardly believe he is real. 

Marc isn’t far behind you. His cock pulses, spilling warm heat inside of you with a strained moan. Every muscle in him goes rigid against you. 

Then Marc collapses onto you, arms wrapped all around you as he lands on top of you on the bed, his firm weight resting on top of you. Both of you are a boneless and sweaty tangled heap against the mattress. His firm chest is pressed against you, so close the beat of his heart is hammering against your skin. 

In the silence of your bedroom, your harsh, panting breaths echo as if you just finished the most harrowing marathon of your lives. There’s a gentle hand stroking the plane of your back. It’s so gentle, the touch of it so adoring that you’re not sure if it’s Marc or Steven, but you don’t think it matters much at all.  

As you come down, your senses slowly flicker awake. You can feel the soft gentle comfort of a reassuring touch running along your thighs. A warm hand petting you over the wideness of your hip bones, soft stroking caresses to coax you back down from your high. 

Eventually, your breaths slow, and he pushes himself up, and away from your chest with shaky arms, until you can see his soft gorgeous face that is practically glowing as he smiles down at you. Utterly boyish, utterly charming. 

Steven, you realise. Steven’s back…

“You alright there, love? Was Marc too rough?” His thick brows knit together in worry. An expression of guilt bleeding into his handsome face. 

In your exhaustion, you find yourself still breathless as you try to answer him, “Yeah. No, I’m alright,” you pause, and lower your voice, feeling suddenly, inexplicably shy. “I… I liked it."

At your response, that worried expression breaks out into a beaming grin that makes your heart leap and skip several beats with unadulterated fondness. 

“Good. That’s good, yeah.” 

Steven is a fucking sight onto himself. Your eyes trail downwards, from his chest, that’s glistening with sweat down to his torso and— bloody fucking hell. Your eyes widen at the sight. You don’t even know how, but Steven’s already hard again or maybe he just never went down for the count at all. His other hand is fisting his cock, a slick mess of white lines of cum that’s dripping down the aching length of him as it twitches and jumps with undeterred eagerness. 

“Then, um…. Sorry to ask, but do you think…” It’s Steven’s turn to look down bashfully, then back up at you. His cheeks are flushed with a deep pink; hair, a tousled mess with a pleading expression in his eyes, that you cannot possibly turn down.

“Do you think we could go again? …please?”

Dear fucking God, these men. Steven may be all sweet and polite about it, but deep down he’s just as greedy and demanding as Marc. Maybe worse. 

You’re not sure how you’re going to survive these two, but you’re going to enjoy the ride. 

Dedication and Credits:

@krissology for chasing her dreams with such boundless courage and gumption, I'm forever proud to have a friend like her who is so absolutely fucking fierce and fearless. She's one of the most talented writers I've come across and she is publishing her debut novel Forget Me Now, available for pre-order here. Go support this brilliant human being, you won't regret it.

@thirstworldproblemss to my most beloved and brilliant co-writer, who stays up with me all night and all day to prawn like no one has prawn ever before. I never have more fun than when I am in a google doc with you, screaming about the beauty of this man and writing out the exact same suggestions to each other at the same time.