perfectly misaligned requests currently CLOSED

It’s been exactly one week since your spontaneous heart to heart with both Steve and Eddie. 

Since then, things have slowly gotten… amiable. Even friendly. Weekends are spent quietly drinking coffee in the warm glow of the sun rising, nights are spent on the couch, a movie playing on the screen. Smiles aren’t fake, barely contained anger no longer dancing on tongues. 

You regularly listen to music with Eddie, and watch movies with Steve. The two have quickly become ingrained in your daily life, and you don’t… hate it. Quite the opposite. 

You’ve discovered a lot about your roommates since accepting them.

Like how Eddie still likes the crust cut off his sandwiches, and how he is still a menacing flirt. Only now, the flirtation is aimed at you. Constantly. 

You’ve also learned that Steve is a whole heck of a lot different then he was in high school. 

He notices everything. You’re about to sneeze? He’s already got a tissue pressed in your hand. Your shoulders hurt from work? He’s offering a massage (which you never take him up on — you don’t trust yourself. Not anymore.)

Robin is extremely happy, and the air is no longer tense when you visit her and Vickie.  

It isn’t perfect however — sometimes, you wake up screaming for your parents, and mourning that the one boy you trusted most wasn’t there to catch your fall. 

Some days, you spend hours in your room alone, curled under the blankets as you think of what if’s with the two men. 

Today is a good day. 

Eddie and Steve are both home, the latter cooking French toast for all of you as you bask in the warmth of each other. The smell of cinnamon and butter blends together in a heavenly mixture.

“What do you think, Princess?” Eddie asks, grinning when he hears the little way your breath hitches at the nickname. You’ve always hated it — but somehow, someway, you’ve begun to… like it. You like the way the r rolls off Eddie’s tongue, the way he looks at you when he says it. It’s addicting. And terrifying. Because you don’t know what it means. 

“About what?” Comes your response, eyes glued to your laptop. 

Suddenly the screen is shut halfway, only open by your fingers that are now crushed by it. A ring clad hand rests on the back, and you roll your eyes as you look up at the culprit. 

“Edward or Jacob?” He grins toothily, cheeks scrunched adorably. You could kill him, honestly. 

The words he just spoke finally compute. 

Ah, the age-old question. Edward? Or Jacob? 

With a quirk of your lips, you say, “Edward, of course.” 

“No way!” Steve yells from the kitchen, and the both of you turn sideways to look at the tall man. He has cinnamon on his cheek and is whisking the concoction vigorously. For a second, you stare at the way his arms flex and the veins that pop out. Gulping, you glance at Eddie, and he’s doing the same thing. 

Of course he is, they’re dating. The question is… why am I? 

“Uh, yeah way. Edward is hot!” 

“Sorry Princess, I gotta agree with Steve on this one.” 

You pull your hands out from under your laptop and smack Eddie’s bicep, ignoring the way it feels so toned. 

“If you don’t like my opinion, why ask it!” You huff, frowning at the metalhead, though there’s no real bite in your voice. 

“Listen Princess, I have another set in two weeks — be there this time?” He asks, that lip ring that so often appears in your dreams glinting in the warm light. You wonder why he’s bringing it up now. Sure, you had said you'd go to his concert and then never did, and sure you’ve bailed every other time as well, but this just seems random. 

“Okay, I will.” 

“Hey lovebirds, food is done!” Steve hollers, effectively dousing you in cold water. 

Lovebirds? 

Please, as if you would ever like Eddie Munson like that, not least because he already has a boyfriend. 

As you get up, trailing behind the taller man, you start listing reasons as to just why you could never like Eddie. 

He has Steve. First and foremost. You would never break them up. But what if… no, that would never happen. Why even entertain it? 

He’s rude. Though he is so kind most of the time…

He likes Jacob Black over Edward Cullen. Which, with how much hair Steve seems to have, everywhere, you suppose it makes sense… 

So lost in thought over serious concerns, you fail to realize that Eddie has stopped. You bump into his back hard, falling straight to your ass with a yelp. The flooring is unforgiving, and instantly you know you’re going to have a bitchin’ bruise on your tailbone. 

Just great. 

“Jesus! Are you okay?!” Steve yells, eyes wide with shock and barely contained panic at the way your face scrunches in pain. You blink back tears, giving them a tight lipped smile and a shaky thumbs up. 

“Just perfect. Who wouldn’t want to fall on their ass?” 

Eddie helps you up, rubbing your back with his teeth pulled between his lips. You can see the guilt in his eyes, and before you know what you’re doing, your hand is raising to pat him on the cheek. 

“It’s okay. I'm okay.” 

Your thumb traces the curve of his cheekbone. 

His eyes flutter against his cheeks, and you inhale sharply, dropping your hand like he burned you. What the hell are you doing? 

You look wild-eyed at Steve, who’s watching the both of you with an odd expression. Not jealousy, not anger, just… thoughtfulness. The corner of his lip is even quirked up, but it falls when he catches the way you shrink away from Eddie. 

“I — uh, I just remembered I have a work meeting I gotta get to. Uh, I’ll eat later,” you rush out, taking a step back towards the couch to scoop up your laptop. 

Before they can respond, you’re marching to your room like a soldier to their death. 

You stay locked inside the rest of the day. 

The next morning, you wake up with embarrassment coursing through your system. You can’t seriously be falling for Eddie and Steve, can you? After all that has happened between the three of you? No, you refuse to believe that. It’s simply too messy. 

Shaking your head, you swing your legs out of bed and make for the door. You have a raging headache now and you have morning breath. 

Slinking out of your room, you make the short trip towards the bathroom door, pausing when you notice the door is half open, steam rolling through the crack and male voices dancing in the air. You step closer, hesitant, lip between your teeth. 

Eddie and Steve must be showering together. You can hear the water spraying down, and images dance behind your eyelid if the two men. What do they look like, naked? You’ve kissed Steve before, many times, but the two of you had never gone all the way. 

You should back away and go back to your room… yet… you stay. Your hand reaches out, and slowly you push the door — just enough so you can see inside. 

The glass of the shower is foggy, yet you can distinctly see the form of Steve and Eddie. Eddie is under the spray of the water, head tilted back, and hands pressed to the wall. You can just barely see Steve’s face buried in his neck from behind, body jerking against Eddie’s— and it doesn’t take a genius to know what he’s doing, especially when a quiet moan filters from Eddie’s lips. 

Your clit throbs, and subconsciously you press your thighs together. God, you shouldn’t be watching this. This is a private moment between lovers, but then — then why was the door open?

Maybe they wanted you to see? No, that can't — no. 

Steve hunches over the shorter man, arm moving rapidly back and forth in front of him, and you can almost see the shadow of him jerking Eddie’s cock. 

You lean forward imperceptibly, and their voices become clear. 

“Fuck Stevie, j-just like that,” Eddie moans, and liquid fire runs hot inside your veins. 

Steve chuckles darkly, “Careful Ed’s, wouldn’t want her to hear us, right?”

You freeze, breath catching in your throat. 

“Or maybe you do, I know I do,” he says, voice darkening at the end. 

Oh, fuck. 

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. 

You are so epically, royally, fucked. 

Because Steve knows you’re watching, and he wants it… apparently. 

As if to prove his point, his head turns towards you, and his eyes find yours. Yours are wide, filled with fear and dread and anxiety, and his? He looks as happy as a clam, eyes dark with desire. 

Steve’s lips quirk up, and then you’re bolting as quietly as you can. 

By the time you slam the door shut your heart is racing, and you feel like you might honestly throw up. 

God, what have you done? 

Now that you’re back to reality, you feel sick to your stomach — and arousal being vanquished by guilt. You stay pressed to your door for a few minutes, breathing heavy and still feeling sick. 

You cannot believe you watched them, like some pervert. 

I need to apologize.

The thought of facing Eddie and Steve makes you want to curl up and die, but the crushing guilt is worse. So, with a stone in your throat and looking like death and still having morning breath, you step outside into the hallway. 

The bathroom door is open fully, the light turned off. Voices carry down the hall, and you follow. Eddie is on the couch, playing a video game you don’t know the name of, while Steve watches beside him.  

“Um… can I talk to you two?” You say, starling the men. 

You walk to the front, swallowing thickly as Eddie looks up at you innocently. Your eyes flicker to Steve’s, and you wish you hadn’t. He looks so… hopeful? It makes your head swim with endless possibilities, and you don’t like it. 

Things were much simpler when you hated them and hadn’t watched them have sex in the shower. 

“What’s up Princess? Why do you look like you’re about to shit on our floor? Please don’t, we have a bathroom for a reason,” Eddie quips, trying to lighten the mood, and failing spectacularly. Steve elbows him in the ribs, eliciting a pained groan from the metalhead. 

“I think I know what you want to say, and if someone would let you speak, we’d be happy to talk!” Steve smiles, nodding encouragingly. 

You hate that you’re going to rip that smile, that hopeful look from him. 

But you can’t. You just can’t. 

Liking them in a romantic way would just further complicate things, and you can’t afford that. Literally. 

“I was just joking Steve, god,” Eddie rolls his eyes, but you can see his lips twitching in a grin. Your heart twists inside, vines of agony ripping through you. 

This is hard. 

Not the hardest thing you’ve had to do — that included burying your parents far too young — but it’s a close second. 

With a deep breath, you begin, “I’m sorry. I… I saw you.” 

Eddie’s brows raise, confusion clear on his face, “Sorry Princess, not computing to either of us —.” 

He looks at Steve, to find the male already looking at him. His eyes glance at you, then back at Steve, then back at you. 

“… Something tells me you already know what she’s meaning,” he says, looking at Steve. 

Steve nods, and you swallow the stone in your throat. 

“In the shower. Today. This morning. Like, ten minutes ago. I, um. Fuck. I had to go to the bathroom because I had morning breath and I still do but you were showering and the door was open and I saw you!” You rush out, chest heaving with exertion and anxiety. 

The room is filled with a pregnant pause, and you feel less and less like this was a good idea. Maybe Steve really hadn’t seen you. Maybe it was all in your head. Maybe you’re in a coma and you’re dreaming this right now. 

But then Eddie says something entirely unexpected, and entirely him. 

“I had wondered why Steve didn’t shut the door…Well, did you like what you saw?” 

Your whole body heats up, but you try to tamp it down. 

Now is not the time to be horny. Now is the time to break these poor souls’ hearts. 

“That’s not the point. The point is, I’m sorry, and I—,”you pause, swallowing the truth down. “It meant nothing, I swear..I would never ruin anything between you and —.” 

“What if we wanted you to?” Steve says, serious. 

You blink, “To what?” 

It’s Eddie that answers, “To ruin us, of course.” 

Your lips part, brain malfunctioning. Did he… really just say that? You can maybe understand if Steve really liked you sexually — after all, you have a history together, but Eddie? He would never. Said so himself that night. This must be some sick joke between them. 

You laugh bitterly, “Yeah. Right.” 

Steve frowns, “I —.” 

You raise a hand, lip wobbling, “No. Let me finish. I just want to get back on my feet, and I’ll be out of your guys' hair within the year. I’m… okay that we’re friends again, but that’s all I want.” 

“You don’t feel anything else at all?” Eddie asks. 

You swallow the truth in your throat, “No.” 

Steve’s face falls, before a blanket washes over him and he’s staring at you with the nonchalance you remember. 

Eddie, on the other hand, looks downright crestfallen. Which just doesn’t make sense to you — not after that night. 

“That’s all I had to say. I’m gonna head out, Robin mentioned she needed my help with something.” 

It’s a lie, and you can tell they know it. But neither man makes a move to stop you as you head to the bathroom to get ready, and finally get rid of that awful taste in your mouth.

By late October, it’s been one month since you moved in. 

One week since you told the boys you did not like them romantically. 

One week since they witnessed your lie, and knew the truth. You could see it in their eyes. 

You’ve been doing your best to avoid them, but also not make it obvious. You’re happy that you’ve become friends with them again, and you really don’t want to ruin that. Especially since you’ll be living with them for at least a year. 

So that’s why you don’t say no when Eddie asks for a movie night — even though it’s already midnight and you’re dead tired, but at least you don’t work the next day.

When Eddie had suggested a movie night, it never crossed your mind that he would pick a horror movie. You hate horror movies. 

Your eyes are glued to the screen, blanket pulled all the way up to your chin as your fingers shake in fear. Heart pounding, you jump when the demon woman — you think her name was Mary Shaw — jumps out at the poor man.

Eddie laughs, “This movie is so bad. I love it.” 

You glance over at the two lovebirds. 

Steve is curled into him, head resting on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie’s arm is slung over the back of the couch, a big smile on his face. 

A lump builds behind your throat, but you swallow it down. 

Your eyes slide back to the screen at just the wrong moment — Mary Shaw lunges at Jamie with a terrible expression. 

You scream, jumping up, the fluffy blanket tangling around your feet. 

“Whoa, are you okay, Bug?” 

You’re so scared you don’t even realize that Steve has said that, and you don’t think he realizes it either. Eddie does, though. 

“Y-Yeah just… got me good, haha,” you laugh awkwardly, cheeks on fire as they stare at you. Eddie pauses the movie, “We don’t have to watch it. I — I didn't know you were scared, Princess.” 

You purse your lips, uncomfortable. 

You used to like horror movies, before. 

Now, there’s something about the desperateness of the situations, the deaths of loved ones, the guilt the survivors feel that just doesn’t… sit right with you. 

Steve leans over Eddie, brown eyes shimmering with concern. He reaches over and lays his hand atop yours, stroking his thumb along the back of it, like he used to. 

“Let’s finish it, I’ll be fine,” you say, and you mean it. 

They smile, and soon the movie is back on. By the time it’s over, your heart is racing and the back of your neck is prickling with dread. You aren’t sure how you’re going to sleep tonight. 

Standing on shaky legs, you wrap the blanket around you so only your face is visible. 

“Well, we should probably head to bed. Goodnight, guys.”

“Night, Princess.” 

“Goodnight,” Steve says, looking at you with a softness that reminds you of the old days. 

You lay awake in the dark for what feels like hours, staring up at the darkened ceiling. Every time you close your eyes, you see Mary Shaw. 

“Fuck, stop being a baby,” you mumble to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. 

But it’s no use. 

With a huff, you swing your legs out and quietly open your bedroom door, looking up the hall. It’s dark, and quiet, only your embarrassment filling the void. 

Padding to the men’s room, you stand silently, gazing at the dark wood. Nervously fiddling with your lip, you raise your hand to knock gently. 

There’s no answer. 

Of course there wouldn’t be — they’re long asleep, not scared of a stupid little movie. 

Shoulders slumping, you’re about to turn around when the door creaks open, and a bleary eyed Steve is looking at you in confusion. Taking in his form, you notice that he’s without a shirt, hairy chest on display. Eyes trailing lower — no matter how much you want them to stay up — you see blue boxers splayed across his muscular thighs like they’ve been painted on. You studiously ignore the very large bulge in the middle. You can’t think about that. 

“Bug? Are you okay?” 

Bug. He’s still calling you that. You hate the way it feels so right on his tongue. You hate the way it makes your heart jump-start.

“I can’t sleep. Because of the stupid movie,” you mumble, embarrassment clear on your face. Steve hums thoughtfully, looking back into the room before nodding. 

“Do you want to sleep with Eds and me?” 

The thought of being pressed against the two men makes your insides all gooey and that scares you, but you really value your sleep. 

You nod, and Steve opens the door wide. You duck under his arm and step inside the warm room, hit with the smell of them. 

You haven’t been in here since that day with Eddie, when you hurt him. You don’t like thinking about that — even if, at some point in time, he deserved your anger. 

Eddie’s sleeping form is on the left side of the bed, covers thrown off so his bare chest is on display — well, as displayed as it can be in the dark. 

He grumbles when Steve shuts the door with a click. 

“Babe? What’re you doing,” he mumbles sleepily, turning inward. 

“Bug can’t sleep,” he says, guiding you with a hand on the small of your back to the bed. You crawl in the middle with the finesse of a lobster, joints tense. You sit up, staring at the foot of the bed, wishing it would swallow you whole. Maybe it would have been easier to suffer through nightmares and a fitful sleep. 

“Lay down. We’ll keep our hands to ourselves, promise, right Eddie?”

The metalhead doesn’t respond, a soft snore falling from his parted lips. 

You giggle softly, tentatively shifting down in the bed. The mattress is oh so soft, and already you can feel your eyelids grow heavy with sleep. You feel the weight of Steve as he settles beside you with a groan of contentment. All is silent, and your breathing evens out. Visions of the movie don’t flash behind your eyelids, anxiety ebbing away like waves on a beach. 

“Thanks, Stevie. Goodnight,” you murmur, feeling confident in using his nickname. You were the one that first called him that, after all.

You hear the intake of breath from the male, before his hand is tentatively brushing against yours above the covers. 

“You’re welcome, Bug.” 

Warmth and musk greet you, wrapping you in a sense of security. You nuzzle into the heat, clinging closer. Strangely, your front and back is warm — almost impossibly so, like you’re pressed against a furnace. A heavy weight is pressed between your thighs, and something hard pokes into your pubic mound. 

You try to remember where you are — the movie, the anxiety… going to Steve and Eddie’s room. 

Oh, fuck. 

You grumble, blinking your eyes open. 

And you wish you hadn’t, because it only confirms what you feared.

Your face is pressed into a hot and sweaty neck, curly hair tickling your forehead. You freeze, eyes flicking upwards. 

Eddie is still sleeping, and you can tell it’s his knee flush against your nether region. You think of ways to get out of this, but how can you? Eddie and Steve’s limbs are tangled with yours, making movement all but impossible. 

Suddenly, soft lips press to the back of your neck, Steve shifting closer. 

“Just relax, Bug, nothing is going to happen. That you don’t want, anyways.” 

You flush, burying your face further into Eddie’s neck. He smells like leather and musk and oh so lickable. Your cunt pulses, and you curse yourself. 

Just go back to bed. It’s just some light cuddling between… friends, you think. 

And it is still early, the sun barely up behind the half closed curtains. 

So, you close your eyes, and drink in the warmth and mixed scents of Eddie and Steve. 

The next time you awake, you’re alone, the smell of pancakes permeating the air. Your stomach growls loudly. 

Feet carrying you to the kitchen, you’re greeted with the sight of Eddie, a pink apron that says ‘Kiss the cook’ imprinted on the front. He’s flipping pancakes, concentrating intently on the action with his tongue sticking out in the corner. 

It makes you smile — he still sucked at cooking, even after all this time. You ignore the way you long to bring the aprons words to reality. 

“Nice apron,” you laugh, sliding into a barstool at the island. 

He jumps, the spatula flying through the air before crashing on the countertop. 

“Jesus H. Christ!”

“Sorry! I thought you heard me,” you apologize, trying to contain the laugh inside you. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck before picking up the utensil and getting back to work. 

“Well, thanks. Apron’s Steves’. Figured I’d let you sleep in… and try to make pancakes. Failing spectacularly at that, though,” he mumbles the last part, flipping a pancake that looks a little too burnt. 

“I think that one’s done, Eds,” you chuckle, and he looks up at you with doe eyes, before turning back to the food with a whispered ‘fuck’. 

“Where’s Steve?”

Eddie turns the stove off, piling the well-done pancakes onto a plate before answering, “Got called into work. Something about a high priority record deal.” 

Your brows raise, record deal? 

Swallowing thickly, you bite the bullet. 

“How did you and Steve even meet here?” 

Eddie is silent for a long while, focusing on dishing two plates of burnt pancakes, dolloping butter and syrup on them before passing one to you. 

“Eat up, Princess. Please. For my ego,” he laughs, rounding the island and sitting beside you with his own plate. 

Silence reigns between you as you take a tentative bite, grimacing at the burnt flavor that fills your mouth. 

Swallowing, you give him a weak smile and a thumbs up, “Mm. Yummy.” 

Eddie laughs, shaking his head. 

“Eddie,” you say, bringing a hand to stop the fork from going into his mouth. “Please tell me. I want to know.” 

He gazes at you for a long time, before looking down at his plate. 

“Okay. You know he went to California for a business degree, right?” You nod. “He got it, moved to New York to start up a record dealership. Meanwhile, I got signed by One Records. Stayed with them for two years, then heard about Eleven Records.” 

You listen intently, food forgotten. 

Eddie takes a breath before continuing, “Well, turns out Eleven was owned by Steve, just getting started, really. I spent a lot of late nights at the studio with him… and… one thing led to another. Been together for two years, now.” 

You bite your lip, waiting for the raging anger and jealousy to flare within. Only, it doesn’t. 

Eddie turns in the stool, reaching forwards and taking your hands on his. His are callused from decades of playing the guitar, but warm and strong. Your heart seizes, cheeks heating up. 

Eddie hesitates, “Princess, I’m going to be honest. Steve and I like you. Like that.” 

You freeze, “N-No, you don’t. You can’t.” 

His dark eyebrows furl upwards, “Why not?” 

“Because! You — you said so!” 

Clarity dawns on him, and his mouth opens and closes like a fish. 

“I didn’t mean it! Let me explain!” 

You push his hands away, standing up. Eddie huffs, reaching out and grasping your wrist in his palm.

“Princess —.” 

“No, Eddie. It’s done and over with, and I don’t care. Talking about it will change nothing.” 

“But —.” 

“Let me go,” you growl, suddenly very angry at the man and yourself. 

Lying to yourself about how you feel is one thing, but for him to sit there and say they have feelings for you, even after the party, makes you furious. 

Eddie swallows, your attention drawn to his adams apple before flicking up to meet his eyes. They’re filled with sadness and guilt, but he nods, letting you go. 

You stand there for a while, just watching each other. Eddie picks the dead skin around his nails, nibbling his bottom lip raw until the skin is red and swollen. 

“You’ll — you’ll still come to my set, right?” 

You had almost forgotten he had a concert tomorrow. Who the hell has concerts on a Monday night, even if it’s Halloween? Luckily for him, you don’t work Tuesday. 

You could be petty and say no, but the way he gazes at you with hope and stars in his eyes even after the little spat, makes you hold your barbs. 

“I’ll be there.” 

Monday — Halloween —  rolls by fast, and suddenly you’re standing inside the Sidebar — a quaint little bar in downtown Albany. Robin and Steve stand on either side of you, vibrating with excitement. You wish you could match their energy. 

But the lingering emotions from the fight still swirl in your head, dampening your mood. Still, when Robin turns to you with a wide grin, you smile back. 

“This is your first Corroded Coffin Concert, yeah?” She says, bouncing back on the balls of her heels. 

You laugh, “Since they made it big? Yeah. But Steve and I were the first fans of them, cheering them on at the Hideout. Isn’t that right Steve?” 

Said man looks down at you and nods with a grin, and your eyes rove his form once more. 

He’s wearing a cream cable-knit sweater that sits snug across his broad chest, paired with dark wash jeans that have a radio clipped to the belt. His chocolate colored tresses are jelled back, like he used to do in school. He looks so good it’s almost physically painful, and you have to literally rip your eyes away from him. 

“Yeah, I can remember Rick getting angry when we’d try to sneak drinks, always sayin’ how ‘just cause he let us youngsters in didn’t mean we could drink like the adults’!” 

You let out a full body laugh, throwing your head back as Robin stares in horror. She hadn’t been part of the group until the very end, missing out on Eddie’s concerts back then. 

“You guys were little rebels, huh?” Robin snickers, covering her open mouth with her hand. 

“Something like that.” 

Because Steve is Eddie’s record label, the three of you are in the VIP section — which, because of how small the bar is, really just means at the front of the pit. Dozens of bodies start filtering in as stagehands prep equipment. 

“They’re gonna start soon,” Steve leans down to whisper in your ear, and you give him a smile, adrenaline rushing through your veins — maybe you could match their energy after all. 

Thunderous music starts up, as the stagehands rush about. Your heart catches in your throat, nerves alight in anticipation. Looking around, you’re startled — and proud — of just how many people are here, chattering with excitement. You notice many wearing Corroded Coffin shirts, and you remind yourself that you’ll have to buy one after the show. 

Steve catches you looking at the gothic shirt on someone, and says, “C’mon, let’s get you a shirt. I thought Eds would have given you one, but he must have forgotten in the rush. Robs, you comin’?” 

She shakes her head, eyes glued to the stage, “Nah, I’ll hold down the fort.” 

Steve nods, before grabbing your hand gently and leading you away, pushing past crowded bodies before you’re out of the thick of it. Along the side, there’s merch pop up stands littered with shirts and bags and hoodies. 

The line you head to isn’t long, Steve standing in front of you with his hands in his jean pockets. 

“You can wait there, I’ll buy it,” he says, and you frown. 

“What, no! I can buy it myself.” 

“Eddie should have given you one, this is just repayment. Don’t worry about it, Bug.” 

You huff, but step to the side of the line in wait. 

Although the line isn’t long, it does take awhile for people to decide what they want, and more people gather, eventually causing you to lose sight of Steve. You don’t worry though, you know he’ll come back. 

Suddenly, you feel someone stand behind you, very close. And suspiciously not in the line to the merch stand. The back of your neck prickles with discomfort, but you try to ignore it. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ at a shitty bar like this?” 

A raspy voice crawls into your ear, and you shiver in disgust. Pivoting on your foot, you turn to face a greasy haired man, taller than you and holding a half drunk shaker of beer. He grins salaciously, eyes raking down your form. 

“Um, excuse me,” you say, side stepping him and making for the crowd back to the stage. But his hand lashes out, catching your wrist and spinning you towards him. 

“I didn’t say you could leave, doll.” 

Helplessly, you look around. Concert goers mill about, ignoring the two of you. Anxiety crawls into your throat, and your breathing picks up. The man must realize how scared he’s making you, for his smile widens and his eyes grow even more dark with desire. 

“Let me go, I’ll scream,” you say, voice stern, except for the way your voice cracks at the end. 

“No one will hear you,” he says, smugly. 

And you know he’s right. The ambiance is too loud, people will just assume you’re screaming about the band. Tears well up in your eyes, and then —. 

Steve appears behind the man, clasping him on the shoulder so hard his knuckles turn white. The man blanches in pain, releasing your sore wrist. 

Steve spins the man around, glowering at him with a snarl on his lips, “Don’t ever fucking touch her again.” 

The man sneers, “And just who are you?” 

Security guards appear beside you, and your brows raise at how quick they are. When did Steve even radio them? 

“Mr. Harrington, what’s going on here?” 

The two security guards are tall, black sunglasses on their stony faces. The epitome of professionalism. Steve crosses his arms, the bag which must contain your merch shirt swaying with the movement. 

“He was assaulting my girl,” Steve says, and although the situation is serious, your brain short circuits on those two little words. My girl.

The guards are quick to apprehend the man at Steve’s words, and he jerks in the guards hold, but they’re stronger. 

“What should we do with him?” 

“Get him out of here, and make sure he’s banned from any shows Corroded does. I don’t want to see the fuckers face again,” Steve growls, gently taking you by the arm to press you to his side. God, he looks so hot when he’s angry, it almost makes you forget about the anxiety dancing in your spine. 

“Understood sir,” they say, dragging the man kicking and screaming out of your sight. 

You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until it exhales out of your lips, and the throbbing in your wrist draws your attention. You bring your wrist up, gingerly touching it and wincing when pain lances through you. 

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have left you,” Steve apologizes, gently picking up your wrist in his hands. 

He touches the skin, running his fingers featherlight across the burning flesh. You tremble, but not from pain. 

Eyes locked to yours, he brings your wrist to his lips, and presses a kiss to it. Your breath hitches, “It… it isn’t your fault. It’s okay, Steve.” 

He closes his eyes, but he nods in acceptance. Dropping your arm, he holds up the bag with a grin. 

“Got the shirt. We best get back to Robs.” 

He hands you the bag and you quickly take the hurt out, examining it. It’s black, the bold letters of Corroded Coffin splayed across the middle. Bats decorate the sides of the lettering, faces angry and wings flared. It’s a pretty metal shirt, you must say. 

Thankfully, it’s big enough to slide over the top you’re in. 

Steve smiles warmly when he sees it on you, “Looks good on you, Bug.” 

You flush, smiling shyly as you tug the shirt down. 

The two of you make your way back to Robin easily, and then the lights dim and a strong riff cuts through the air. The crowd goes absolutely feral as the band members — Eddie, Jeff, Grant, and Gareth — step out on stage. 

You find yourself screaming along with Robin and Steve, even though a part of you feels guilty for not asking if the original members were still with Eddie. You should have known though, those three would never abandon Eddie. 

Said man steps up to the mic, and the strobe lights focus on him. Your eyes widen as you take in his form. A white dress shirt spreads nicely across his chest, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. You can see the bats on his arm from here, and you wonder what it would be like to trace them with your tongue. A black tie hangs crooked from the collar of the shirt, and black dress pants cling to his muscular hips. 

Arousal floods your being, and you suppress a whimper at how good he looks. You hate how you can’t control how you feel around the two men.

Eddie’s eyes sweep across the screaming crowd, before locking with your own. He grins, and squinting your eyes, you notice that his canines look elongated. 

He did not. 

You snort, and Robin looks over. 

“What?”

“Just noticed something,” you reply. 

She furrows her brows in confusion but then the booming voice of Eddie draws her attention — as well as everyone’s in the room. 

“How are we doin’ tonight folks?” Thunderous noise rises from the crowd. “That’s good, that’s good. Listen — I got a special song tonight for a special lady in the crowd tonight. Everyone, give a round of applause for Princess!” 

Applause rises around you, and you blink in surprise, pointing to yourself and raising a brow at Eddie, who nods with a feral grin. 

Then, he begins playing, and the room fades around you. All you can focus on is him, who plays his guitar masterfully with powerful riffs of the opening. 

Then his mouth opens, and he growls into the mic as he sings, “Blow the bridge to the past,

Wipe the fingerprints,

Meet your heart encased in wax,

Steal it with a kiss.” 

You can feel your heart rate pick up, barely registering the screams around you. You’ve checked out Corroded’s playlists before today, and this song was certainly not on it. So… Eddie wrote it, for you. And didn’t release it on music apps, before you could hear it live. 

Steve smiles down at you, slinging his arm around your shoulder and drawing you closer. 

Eddie continues screaming into the mic until the melody grows a hair softer, and his voice drops an octave lower. 

“In the name of love, 

I’m ready to bury all of my bones, 

I’m ready to lie but say I won’t, 

So tell me your secrets, 

And join me in pieces, 

To rot in this garden made of stones… 

Eternally yours,

Eternally yours.”

He says the last words boring into your eyes, into your soul, passionate voice baring all. And you finally understand — he loves you. Steve loves you. You don’t get it — it’s all too soon, there’s too much past pain and history between the three of you. 

Unbidden, tears well up in your eyes, and not the good kind. You just can’t believe it, it’s one thing for you to love them, it’s another for them to love you. 

You shrug out of Steve’s hold, rushing past people as Robin and Steve call your name. You ignore them, and when you get to the doors you burst through them, chest heaving and feeling like you might vomit. Bracing yourself on your knees, you clench your eyes shut as tears stream down your face. 

You vaguely hear the doors behind you open, but you ignore it. Hands rest on your shoulders, lightly shaking you. 

“Princess? Hey — are you, are you okay? Fuck, are you having a panic attack? Steve what do I do?” 

“I’m fine,” you say, although the tears keep coming. Eddie helps you stand up straight, a pained look on his face. 

“… Did I do something?” He murmurs. 

Robin and Steve stand beside him, watching you closely. 

You look at Robin, and she nods encouragingly. 

“What did you mean — with — with the song?” You ask, determination in your voice. You don’t want to yell, or fight. You just… want to understand. 

Eddie kicks his shoe, lips between his teeth. He’s about to speak when stagehands rush through the door. 

“Boss! You can’t just leave the stage!” 

Steve coldly glares at the workers, “Tell the crowd Eddie is unexpectedly sick, and that they’ll all be refunded and free tickets for the next show tomorrow, got it?” 

They nod, fear in their eyes before scrambling back into the bustling bar. 

You feel bad that the concert is cancelled, but at least the crowd will get refunds and a free show tomorrow. 

Eddie smiles softly, gently taking your hands in his. His left hand runs up your arm, leaving goosebumps in the wake, before he cups the side of your face. 

You stare up into his eyes, and there you find the answers you’re looking for. But you need him to say it. 

“I think you know, Princess,” he murmurs, leaning down ever so slightly — his breath is dancing across your lips, and your gaze slides over to Steve, waiting for anger to blossom to his handsome face. It doesn’t. 

Robin cuts in, “I’m gonna… go that way. Let you all deal with… this.” 

You laugh quietly as she scampers towards the corner of the street, pointedly not looking at the three of you. You don’t blame her. The three of you are a fucking mess. 

“I don’t… I don’t know what to say, Eddie.” 

“Why not?” He whispers, voice laden with pain. 

“You know why, Eddie.” 

And he does. It’s written across his face, the memory of the party dancing across his memory. 

Steve was hosting one last party — one last hurrah before going off to college in Cali. You were there of course, perched on his lap as the two of you — three, counting Eddie — sat on the pristine couch. Dozens of people danced to the disco music blaring through speaks, red solo cups in hand and dazed smiles on flushed faces. 

A Harrington party was like none other, that was for sure. 

Tammy H, a friend of Steve’s, prances to the middle of the room, cupping her mouth before hollering, “Who wants to play truth or dare?” 

You decidedly do not want to play truth or dare, but Steve beats you to the punch. 

“We will!” 

Eddie is quick to follow, as always. 

“I will.” 

When five more people affirm they want to play, the others that don’t clear the middle of the room, so the nine of you can sit in a circle. 

Tammy smirks, “Who wants to go first?” 

“I will,” Eddie says, a smirk of his own tugging his lips. You scowl automatically, turning your attention to the way Steve’s hands are loosely in his lap. He never holds your hand anymore, not since you overheard him and Eddie. 

You wonder if he knows that you know. 

You wonder if he’s going to break up with you, like Eddie suggested. 

Tammy’s eyes rove over Eddie, a flicker of disgust dancing in her orbs. No matter how popular Steve is, they will never accept someone like Eddie into their fold. 

And you hate that you feel sympathetic to the metalhead. 

“Truth or dare, freak?” 

Eddie gives away nothing on his face, but you notice the way his jaw clenches. You glare at Tammy, the words flowing out of your mouth before you can stop them. 

“Don’t fucking call him that, Tammy.” 

No one must expect you to stand up for the boy, as a look of surprise is on everyone’s face. You roll your eyes. You might be jealous of Eddie, and therefore dislike him, but you know what Jason did and you won’t tolerate someone calling him that. With a gentle smile at Eddie, who’s looking at you with an unreadable expression, you nod your head. 

“Um, truth, I guess,” he says. 

Tammy grins like she just won the lottery, and you wonder how exactly she’s going to fuck up your day, like she always does. 

Her eyes slide to Steve, and then land on you.

“Is it true you want to fuck them both?”

Your heart drops, lips parting in disbelief. You can’t believe she just asked that — and neither can anyone else. The idea that Eddie wants to have sex with Steve and you is… outlandish, to say the least. 

And you expect Eddie to agree, only, he does something much worse. 

“Well, wouldn’t say no to King Steve, who would? But her? Not in a million fuckin’ years. Sorry, Princess,” Eddie laughs, and you don’t notice the way the smile on his lips doesn’t reach his eyes, or the way his fingers twitch like they want to grab you and never let go. 

No, you only notice the way everyone bursts out laughing. Besides the fact Eddie just admitted he’d fuck your boyfriend (was it really a surprise, though?), you feel utterly humiliated at the way he looked so disgusted at the idea of you and him. Together. 

Are you really that horrible? And why do you even care? 

Tears line your lashes, and you bolt upright, running to where you know the bathroom is. 

“That wasn’t fucking cool you guys,” Steve’s words barely register as you slam the door shut, a sob escaping your lips. 

Tammy H was the devil incarnate, you decided. Right next to Eddie Munson. 

“I didn’t mean it,” Eddie whispers. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I don’t understand,” your eyes cut to Steve’s, who looks down at the ground. 

“Don’t look at him. This is my fuck up, and I’ve carried that guilt — that pain with me every single day since,” Eddie begins, turning your face so you’re looking at him. “I love you. Have since freshman year when you tripped and spilt chocolate milk all over yourself.” 

You laugh, because it’s ridiculous — how could anyone fall in love with someone over that? You still remember the tickle of embarrassment. 

“But then… Steve got to you first, and I was fine just watching you from afar. I was, really,” he says, eyes stern, and you believe him. “And then something changed. I couldn’t stand the way you smiled at him, laughed with him, kissed him. I thought being his friend, and being close to you by proxy, would be enough.” 

A bitter chuckle leaves his lips, “Newsflash, it wasn’t. I was… jealous. Mean. Especially to you. God, I regret it. I do.” 

Tears brim his eyes, and Steve coos at his boyfriend, stepping closer to gently rub his back. Eddie’s hands grip yours tight, like you’ll disappear on him. And although passersbies look at the three of you strangely, you don’t care. Concert goers finally filter out of the bar, some stopping to watch the three of you with phones out. You ignore it all, for Eddie and Steve. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

He laughs, “How could I? You were with Steve, and I — I didn’t know he liked… guys, at the time. Even if I knew, who would have wanted a loser like me?”

You think, I do.

“So I lashed out, instead of talking about my feelings. But I don’t want to do that anymore,” Eddie says, staring deeply into your glassy eyes, running his thumb along your cheekbone before skating down to the bottom of your lip. 

“I love you,” he says your name, no flourish, no nickname, just… you. 

The tears spill from your eyes, and you sniffle, looking at Steve. 

“But… I love him.” 

At the pained look on Eddie’s face, the defeat, the despair, you realize how badly that came out. So, you scramble to fix it. 

“That came out wrong! I love you, too. And him. I don’t know when it happened and I know I shouldn’t but I do. And I’m tired of running. And I… are you both… okay with that? Steve do you — do you… feel the same way?” 

Your eyes drop, shyness creeping into your voice. 

This whole time, you had gotten so much wrong. First with Steve, and the messages. Then with overhearing Eddie and assuming he hated your guts and wanted you out of the way. When it was just the opposite. He liked you back then, but expressed it absolutely ass backwards. 

The ridiculousness of the situation makes you laugh, and suddenly you can’t stop. Both men look at each other with various shades of worry, but soon they’re joining you. 

Eventually, your laughter dies down, and you just look at Steve, patiently waiting for his answer — even though you’re fairly sure you know it. 

It’s in the way he makes your coffee perfectly, every single morning, waking up over an hour early just so he can say he did. 

It’s in the way he never yells at you for stealing his snacks. 

It’s in the way his eyes soften, crows feet smoothing out, when they land on you and Eddie. 

It’s in the way, with no questions asked, he comforted you when you were so scared. 

You decide you don’t actually want to wait for his answer, letting your hands fall from Eddie’s and thrusting yourself onto your tiptoes, cradling Steve’s face before crashing your lips to his. 

He tastes of Benny’s milkshakes and sneaking through windows after midnight and the 4th of July fireworks where you two kissed for the first time. 

It’s peace, at last. 

He tastes like… home. 

That’s the only way to describe it. 

You pull away, gasping for air. Steve’s lips are swollen, a flush on his pretty cheeks. 

Eddie whistles low, “Well, as hot as that was… where’s mine?” 

The two of you are a mess of tangled limbs as Eddie kisses you fiercely, pushing you towards the bed until your lips part with a wet smack, and you’re falling onto the plush surface. 

Eddie collapses on top of you, kiss bitten lips finding your pulse point and sucking until you’re keening and bucking your hips. 

“Wanna taste you,” Eddie murmurs into your skin, suckling the fragile flesh into his mouth before licking the bruise with his tongue. You moan, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Please…,” you cry. 

“Please what?” It’s Steve that talks, voice filled with cockiness. You peel your eyes open and glare at him, but the sight of him leaves your cunt clenching around nothing. 

In the ten minutes you’ve been home, Steve has undressed save for his boxers. You’re a little afraid of the gigantic bulge in said boxers, but it also makes you salivate. His chest is displayed, wiry hair begging to be licked. The hair trails down before disappearing into his boxers, and you just wish he’d take them off already. 

“Taste me,” you plead, hands reaching upwards to grasp Eddie’s curls. 

He props himself up on his elbows, giving you a kiss on the nose before standing between your parted thighs. 

“Get on the bed, Steve,” Eddie commands, stepping away from you completely. You whine at the loss, lips tugging into a petulant frown. “And take off your underwear.” 

Now that has got your attention. You watch as Steve languidly shucks off the dark fabric, mouth gaping wide when his cock bounces upwards before hanging down heavily. 

Jesus H Christ, you think. 

How the fuck is that going to fit anywhere near you? It’s practically a third fucking leg. 

Steve sees the way you eye him warily, apprehension plastered on your features. He replaces where Eddie just was, leaning over you and caressing your cheek with a warm hand. He kisses you gently, lips overlapping your own in a soothing kiss. He licks the seam of your lips, and you part easily for him, tongues caressing each other in a dance for dominance. 

“It’ll fit, baby, don’t worry,” he whispers into your mouth, and your heart thuds rapidly at the new petname. 

You’ve only ever heard him call Eddie that, in whispered breaths before he leaves for work, and to hear him call you it… it makes your pussy flood with slick.

“Oh, Steve…,” you whimper, grasping into his broad shoulders as your legs hike up his hips, tugging him closer until his cock is grinding into your painfully clothed pelvis. 

A thud draws both of your attention, and you look past Steve to see Eddie removing his dress shirt, along with his pants and tie. Then, his fingers dig into his mouth before he grunts with a satisfied ‘aha!’, producing a pair of vampire dentures.

He grins cheekily at the two of you, “Been wanting to get that shit off all night.” 

You laugh, “Even the fangs?” 

He crooks a brow, “Especially the fangs.” 

You mockingly pout, “Mores the pity, I really do love a little biting.” 

“Who says I can’t do that now?” Eddie laughs, grinning ferally. Steve leans down to press his lips to your ear. 

“Careful baby, he is a biter.” 

Your whole body ignites with fiery blood, skin tingling in anticipation for the rest of the night. 

Steve’s hands trail to your sides, grasping the waistband of your jeans and shimmying them off of you. You’re left in the Corroded Coffin shirt, and your red panties that have a large dark patch in the gusset. 

He lifts the shirt up, before stopping and looking at Eddie for permission. 

Eddie nods, “Take it off. I can fuck her in it later.”

You actually think you might die — the way his voice drops an octave lower, going dark and deep, makes you want to orgasm right then. And honestly, you might. You feel so damn pent up. 

“Only if I get to, too,” Steve says, and you huff, bucking your hips into his pelvis. 

“You both can fuck me however much you want, but only if you do something right no —.” 

You’re cut off by Steve unceremoniously pulling the shirt off, and unclipping your bra so your breasts are bared to their gazes. 

Your nipples pebble in the air, and Steve bends to suck a pointy peak into his hot mouth, rolling his tongue over the sensitive nub. Your back arches instinctively, hands going to take shelter in his fluffy hair. 

“You’re so beautiful, Princess,” Eddie murmurs, and with half lidded eyes you watch as he takes himself out, admiring the girth and length of his cock. 

His ringed hand fists himself, lazily stroking the pulsing length at the view of the two of you. 

“Don’t you wanna taste her Stevie?” Eddie asks, teasing. 

You think Eddie knows just how much Steve wants you, and you them. You haven’t been this soaked in your life, you don’t think. 

“Patience, Eds. Not everything is a race. Gotta warm her up, first,” Steve’s hot breath on your skin makes you whine in want, body heating to insurmountable levels. 

You don’t want to be warmed up, teased, you want to be fucked. 

“Steve, please,” you whine, pushing on his shoulders so maybe he’ll get the hint. But who are you kidding? Steve Harrington has never gotten hints. His lips pucker and trail wet kisses down your sternum, before rising. He licks the curve of your collarbones, nipping the flesh. Steve places his hands on your hips, rubbing the plush skin with his thumbs. 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he mouths the words into your skin, finally sinking to his knees and tugging you sharply to the edge of the bed, so your glistening pussy is level with his face. 

His brown eyes bore into your cunt like he’s inspecting it, and you shyly begin to close your legs — only for him to slap the skin of your thighs so hard it jiggles. 

You yelp, “Steve!” 

“Hush, don’t hide from us. Eds, c’mere,” Steve beckons the other man, who stalks closer until he’s right beside his lover — lovers. 

“Spread those pretty legs of yours, Princess,” Eddie growls, kneeling beside Steve and bullying his way between your thighs. The stretch is almost unbearable — no one ever said you were the most flexible. 

With precision, your left thigh goes across Steve’s shoulder, while your right is on Eddie’s, completely baring your wet cunt for the two men. 

And oh, do they look. 

Steve raises his free hand, and spreads your folds so the opening of your cunt is on display. Slick leaks out of you, and your pussy flutters under their attention. 

“She’s so pretty, isn’t she Eds?” 

“Yeah, she is.” 

You almost think they’re talking about you, but when you look down, their eyes are glued to your pussy. 

Jesus H Christ, you’ve never had a man speak to your cunt like that. 

It turns you on like no other, and you whine pathetically in their grip. 

“Aht aht aht, Princess, stay still,” Eddie commands, flicking his eyes up to yours. 

The absolute power in them makes you quake. 

You’re about to retort when the breath knocks out of your lungs at Steve’s lips encasing your engorged clit. His thick lips suck gently at your nub, tongue carving his own name into the bundle of nerves. 

You wail, hips bucking wildly into his face, making his tongue slide down closer and closer to your hole. 

“Pleasepleaseplease!” 

Eddie laughs, turning his head and kissing the crook of your thigh, sucking the fat into his mouth until it stings. 

“Barely even touched you and you’re already whining,” he teases. 

Your eyes flutter shut when Eddie’s fingers come beneath Steve’s jaw, pressing into your pussy until he’s hilted at the knuckle. Or more accurately, until his rings bite into your sensitive hole. 

Eddie fingers you slowly, hooking his finger until it hits that spongy ridge at the front of your pussy, massaging the area until you’re seeing stars and praying to God. 

“Eddie, fuck, right there — oh!” 

You cry out when Steve nips your clit, humming into your cunt and moaning, sending vibrations running through you. 

God, he’s good at this. They both are. 

“I — I’m close,” you whine, canting your hips to chase that high. At the crescendo, Eddie adds a second finger, roughly plunging them both into you at a brutal pace and scissoring them out. 

“Come for us, baby,” Steve whispers, angling his mouth lower until he’s licking around Eddie’s fingers that pump into you, and your eyes scrunch tightly at the sensations. 

The ball of pleasure inside you snaps, and with a sharp wail you’re coming into Steve’s mouth and onto Eddie’s fingers, which keep thrusting into you, even when you whine at the overstimulation. 

“Fuck, baby, taste’s delicious…,” Steve growls, curling his tongue as far past as he can with Eddie’s fingers in the mix, just to get a taste of your ambrosia. 

Eddie presses the pad of a third finger to your hole, and you tense, because although you’ve just came, and are loosened, you haven’t taken something that thick before. 

“W-Wait, I don’t know if I —.” 

Eddie glances up at you, love and adoration in his eyes, and you feel arousal flood back into your system. You aren’t sure how you got so lucky with them — you’ll have to remember to thank Robin. 

“I gotta add another, otherwise it’ll hurt when you take Steve, Princess. Trust me, I know.” 

At the sound of taking Steve and Eddie being all too aware of the sheer size of your shared boyfriend images flood into your mind. 

Images of Eddie on his knees, Steve fingering his ass and making him whine into their pillows. 

Images of Steve fucking him in the shower. 

And you decide you’d quite like to see that, without the foggy shower door in the way. 

“Show me… how you take him,” You say, cheeks on fire. 

“Tonight’s about you, baby,” Steve says, kissing your clit chastely like he hadn’t just been sucking the soul out of your pussy. 

“But later’s another story,” Eddie grins. 

The disappointment doesn’t even blossom in your chest, because you know you’ll have plenty of time to learn their sexual habits, and because Eddie just pushed his third meaty finger inside you, and holy fucking god —. 

The stretch isn’t quite painful, but isn’t quite pleasurable, either. 

“It hurts,” you whimper, and immediately Steve is cooing into your pussy. 

“Shh shh , it’s okay baby, doin’ so well for us.” 

Eddie begins moving all three fingers at a slow pace, the earlier orgasm making the stretch easier. A sinful schlick schlick schlick fills the room each time his fingers bottom out against your soaked pussy, and the sound is so erotic you can’t help but moan. 

Steve shifts lower onto his knees, angling your hips upwards so your asshole is easier to access. 

“Gotta prep you here, too,” he says, staring up at you for permission. 

You nod, the thought of either one of you taking you there exciting and new. 

He spreads your cheeks, darkened hole winking at him, and he buries his face into your ass, tongue circling the outer ring before suckling the puckered skin. 

It feels… odd, but not uncomfortable, and coupled with the sensation of Eddie’s fingers, you’re quick to jerk your hips down into them, needy for anything they’ll do to you. 

Steve rears back and spits on his fingers, pressing his index finger into the tight coil of muscle, rubbing the makeshift lube around the darkened area. 

“Ready?” 

With the way Eddie’s fingers are bringing you to new heights of pleasure, you feel ready, and you give an eager nod, causing both men to chuckle. 

Steve pushes his finger past the ring, pressing into your asshole until he reaches his knuckle. He waits, and Eddie picks up his ministrations to distract you. 

His tongue licks a big strip up your pussy, saliva soaking your folds even more. Suckling your bud into his mouth, you keen as his lip ring rubs against your clit. The metal is cool, and feels heavenly against your over heated cunt. 

You barely notice when Steve begins to remove his finger, before he thrusts it back into your hole gently. 

You arch your back, burying your hands into Eddie’s curly hair and tugging so hard the man whimpers into your pussy. 

“Fuck Princess, could lick your pussy all day,” Eddie groans, motorboating his mouth into your nethers. 

You whimper, second orgasm reaching closer and closer with each passing minute — and they haven’t even fucked you. 

Sweat clings to your skin, dribbling past a nipple and making you shiver. You feel like you might actually alight in fire, and you’re okay with that, actually. 

“Gonna add another, okay baby?” 

You don’t remember what you slur back, too drunk off pleasure. 

The second finger added into your asshole makes you clench around it tightly, and Eddie whines, gyrating his hips into the end of the bed. 

His tongue presses past his fingers, fucking into your hole and tasting your essence. 

“Fuuuck,” he whimpers, eyes scrunched shut. 

“Move, Stevie, please,” you beg, chest heaving. 

You’re so close, you can almost taste it. And from the way Eddie looks wrecked, you think he might be, too. 

Both men thrust their fingers into your holes rhythmically, the squelch of your pussy and your cries of rapture ringing into their ears. 

You come into Eddie’s mouth, liquid gushing around his lips, eyes rolling into your skull and thighs shaking so hard you think they’ll break off. 

Eddie grunts in surprise as liquid keeps flowing out of your spasming pussy, though he’s eager to lap up the fluid. 

Eventually, you whine and press your hands against their shoulders, forcing them out from between your thighs. They huff like they really could live between your legs, but acquiesce. 

Eddie crawls over you, grinning like a madman. 

You frown at him, “What?” 

“I made you squirt,” he sings, giggling to himself like he just won the lottery. You think he’s downright insane. 

There’s no way you did… right? 

“I… don’t know what to say,” you mumble, only a little embarrassed. 

“Don’t say anything. Just lemme do it again,” he pleads. 

Your brows raise, glancing at Steve with a ‘is he serious’? look. Steve just shrugs, but with the way his erect cock jumps, you think he’s more than wanting to see that happen. 

“Be my guest,” you laugh.  

They help you stand on shaky legs, and Steve crawls onto the bed, laying flat in the middle. 

“Ride him, Princess,” Eddie says, and you’re quick to scramble onto the long legged man. You straddle him, bracketing his thighs and resting your hands on his hairy chest. 

The hair is coarse, and absentmindedly you play with it, curling the follicles with your fingers. Steve grasps your hips, raising you up while you shakily line his cockhead up with your pussy. 

You glide his cock up and down your folds, head catching on your opening and bumping into your clit with each stroke. Finally, when it catches, you gently sink down, whimpering as his thick cock stretches your cunt wide. 

You feel Eddie climb into the bed, kneeling behind you. His lips press into your shoulder, placing a kiss while rubbing your arms. 

“Doing so good, Princess,” he murmurs into your ear, and with those words of praise, you spear yourself to the hilt in one smooth go. Steve chokes on his breath, eyes rolling back and hands painfully digging into the fat of your hips. 

“Oh, fuck,” he mumbles, nostrils flaring as he takes a steadying breath. 

Eddie presses into your spine, forcing your body into an arch. You cry out as Steve’s cock twitches inside you, and involuntarily you rock your hips to chase the feeling. 

You hear Eddie spit, and a moment later his cockhead is pushing into your asshole, and you tense for only a second before relaxing. The pleasure is intense, stars bursting behind your eyelids. 

When Eddie bottoms out, the three of you stay seated into each other for a moment. 

Steve’s eyes flutter open, staring up at you as you lean closer and closer, ass pressing further into Eddie’s hips and cock. 

You trace the constellation of moles on his face, hand cupping his cheeks while the other brushes his hair off his sweaty forehead. 

He looks beautiful, always has, but there’s something indescribable with how he looks in the throes of pleasure. 

Leaning your forehead against his, your breath fanning his lips, you whisper, “I love you, Steve Harrington.” 

“And I love you,” he says your name, voice raw with emotion. 

From behind, Eddie presses a kiss to your spine, lowering his hands until they’re overtop Steve’s. Their fingers intertwine against your skin, and Eddie’s tongue traces letters you know all too well into your skin. 

I love you. 

As steady as you can, you snake your hands behind you, resting them on the men’s in a silent response. 

Then, you begin to move. 

Steadying yourself once more on Steve’s chest, you roll your hips, clit rubbing deliciously against Steve’s pubic hair. 

Eddie follows your lead, pulling his cock out of your ass and gently thrusting back in, building a pace in tune with your own. 

Steve whimpers beneath you, and you press your lips to his to swallow his moans, cunt clenching every time you roll your hips. 

The pleasure builds fast and hot as you three work in tandem, Steve thrusting upwards when Eddie pulls back, you rolling your hips to sink further down into Steve’s cock. 

“Shit, fuck, Jesus H Christ baby, you feel so fuckin’ good,” Eddie cries, burying his face in the crook of your neck. 

“S-Should feel her pussy,” Steve brags, jerking roughly up into you and making you keen. 

“Next time I will.”  

You whimper at their banter, and they must know you’re close, because Eddie’s hand snakes forward so he can rub his thumb hard against your clit, rubbing tight circles into the sensitive nerves. 

“I’m — I'm gonna —.” 

You don’t finish before you’re squirting — again — hard on Steve’s cock, pussy and asshole clenching so tight it makes the two men wince. Your fluid bursts around his cock, coating his thighs and abdomen and running down onto the bedsheets.

Steve isn’t far behind, “Where can I —.” 

“In me! Come in me, please. Both of you!” 

Thick and hot ropes of Steve’s cum paint your walls, leaking out of you and splattering onto his dark pubic hair. 

You slump on top of him, ass arching further into the air for Eddie, who begins to fuck your ass even more roughly, grip bruising as his cock pierces you again and again and again. 

And then Eddie is coming inside your ass, and you feel impossibly full with both of their cum leaking out of you. 

He sighs as he pulls out, slouching on the bed beside you. All is silent as you regain your breathing, and you feel like you could just fall asleep right then and there. 

Until Steve ruins it. 

“You didn’t make her squirt again, Eds.” 

Eddie growls, “Pretty sure I did. It was my hand on her pretty clit, wasn’t it?” 

You flush at their bickering. 

“But it was my cock inside her pussy.”

“Bet I can make her squirt faster than you can.” 

“Challenge, accepted.” 

You think you’re in for a long, long night. 

Because now that Eddie and Steve have you, they’re not letting you go. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Megaton wasn’t the first, nor the fifth, and certainly not the tenth choice Cooper would have chosen. But his girl was too much of a bleeding heart, and when a poor ghoul mother mentioned how she wished she knew if her son, Gob, was still alive in Megaton, off they went to the shithole of a town.

Cooper had been here before, many, many years ago, and nothing had changed. Sure, some fool has disarmed the giant bomb in the middle of town years ago, thus ensuring the townsfolk weren’t eviscerated by the nuclear bomb smack dab in the middle of town (Cooper would have said good riddance, but alas). But the people in question were still ungrateful, still bigoted in their views of ghouls, and still willing to do whatever it took to get a few caps, chems, or fucks. He supposes that’s what every place was like these days.

“Come on, Coop! We’re almost there!” You yell excitedly, and he rolls his eyes — he’s told you countless times that it’s dangerous to be loud in the nightmare that is the Wasteland. Sure, it had only been a year since you crawled out of your vault in search of your daddy, but still. He thought he had taught you better.

Megaton is a sight for sore eyes, literally. The walls are huge pieces of scrap all stitched together like pre-War Frankenstein. Cooper sees that the robot, who he can’t remember the name of, is still on duty.

“Hel-lo, welcome to Meg-a-ton.” The robot says, and his girl cooes at it. You’ve always had a fascination with the automatrons.

“Hello! Thank you!” You giggle, and Cooper could feel what was left of his lips twitch in a smirk. God, he would never understand how someone so innocent could be as depraved as he knew you were. His cock twitches in his pants at the thought. If he remembers, Megaton had a ‘hotel’…

The humongous doors open with a deafening screech that makes his girl's face scrunch up in a grimace.

“Wow, would you look at that…,” you murmur, eyes wide with wonder. Cooper snorts, she’s taking in the landscape — more houses dot along inside the walls than twenty years ago, but other than that, the place is still a dump.

“Howdy, name’s Lucas Simms,” a black man in a duster and sheriff hat stalks up the metal stairs, before stopping in front of you. You grin kindly at him, reaching out to take his offered hand in a shake. Cooper inwardly groans — you’re far too kind.

You introduce yourself, and nod to Cooper who just narrows his eyes at the sheriff.

“I’m looking for a man. A ghoul? Um, his name is…. What was it, Coop?” You turn and look up at him, a slight pout to your lips. He smirks, you’ve always had such a bad memory when it comes to names. He’s surprised you even remembered the name of Megaton.

“Gob.”

“Gob! That’s it! So, have ya seen him?”

Lucas nods, “Oh yeah, only ghoul in town is Gob. He runs Moriarty — sorry, Gob’s Saloon. Just up that there rampart.”

The skin where Cooper’s eyebrows used to be raise in surprise. He remembers Moriarty, an asshole who was obsessed with sex and beating on his workers — or, indentured servants.

“Thanks!”

With that, you reach behind and grab Cooper’s hand, tugging him along. As you both pass the bomb, he can tell you’re fascinated by the sight. Maybe he’ll give you a history lesson on it while your mouth is wrapped nicely around his cock later tonight.

The ramparts creak and sway as they make their way up, until the view of Gob’s Saloon comes up. Cooper looks at the sign, noticing that Moriarty’s name is scratched out in red paint.

“Do you know Gob?” You ask, turning to look at him.

“Not every ghoul knows each other, darlin’,” the southern drawl of his is thick and low.

He watches as your eyes widen in realization at how crass your question sounded.

“Oh God I — I just meant — well, you’ve been here before so I thought maybe —.”

Cooper turns you around, backing you up against the door to the saloon. He grabs your jaw, gently rubbing a gloved thumb along your cheekbone.

“Relax, darlin’. I’m jus’ kiddin’. Nah, I don’t know ‘im.”

Cooper generally doesn’t care for public displays of his affection for you, but you just looked so pitiful, small tears gathering in the corner of your eyes at his teasing. What was he going to do with you?

“We should… probably stop blocking the door…,” you mumble, but neither of you make a move to move away. You’re still staring up at him with love in your eyes, and Cooper swoops down to press a searing kiss to your lips.

He licks into the seam of your mouth, and then roughly pulls himself away just as you’re moaning into him. He has to leave you wanting, after all.

“After you, doll,” he smirks.

You roll your eyes playfully, and he can tell you’re feeling flustered and pent up. It has been awhile since he’s fucked you, a lot longer than he would like — but being hunted down by all manner of monsters would do that to people.

The air inside the saloon is musty and liquor wafts heavily through his nose holes. A dozen people stop what they’re doing and turn their heads towards the unlikely duo. Cooper sees more than a few faces twist in disgust at him. Smirking, he pats your ass as a way to tell you to ‘hurry the fuck up’, and also as a way to one up the prejudiced Wastelanders.

You walk confidently towards the bar, smiling politely at the ghoul manning the station. Cooper side steps from the door and leans his back against the metal wall, crossing his arms and tipping his hat down. He’s got his eyes on you. And the ghoul — who can only be Gob — as he looks you up and down.

The chatter of the saloon picks up, but it’s not enough to not be able to hear you.

“How can I help you Smoothskin? We got beer, wine, Nuka-Cola,” the bartender says.

You think for a moment, turning your head to look back at Cooper, who’s staring at you entirely unimpressed.

‘Hurry up’, he mouths.

You turn, “Just a Nuka-Cola, please.”

Sitting on the creaky barstool, you sigh in bliss from getting off your sore feet. The bartender reaches under the counter, producing an ice cold Nuka-Cola.

“Five caps.”

“Oh, are you sure? The sign says ten,” you say, looking at the mishmashed sign behind him. Copper rolls his eyes — even after a year, you’re still too honest.

He watches as the ghoul smiles, something burning in his milky eyes that Cooper doesn’t like — not one bit. You really need to get this show on the road.

“For you? Five. Now tell me, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a shithole like Megaton?”

You take a swig of the sugary drink, sighing in pleasure from the refreshment.

“Are you Gob?” You ask, smiling sweetly at the necrotic man.

He wheezes, nodding in what can only be sudden trepidation, “Y-Yes. Who wants to know?”

Your face lights up, before you’re digging into the pocket of your Vault suit. Producing a crumpled letter, you hold it out to Gob.

His flayed fingers grasp the paper, the skin brushing your own with purpose. From the way your back goes pin-rod straight, Cooper knows you’re flustered. His hands tighten in the leather of his duster.

Cooper was never a patient man, and god damn did you not try his patience every day.

Truly, he should get a medal for not blowing the other ghouls brains out right then and there. But he takes a wheezing inhale from his nose, and settles back against the wall.

“What’s this?”

“From Carol, your mom? She really misses you.”

Even from here Cooper can see the tears glisten in the ghouls eyes. He watches in silent anger as you gasp and lean forward, placing a warm hand on the other ghouls arm, gently rubbing up and down in comfort.

“Are you okay?”

He can just picture the worried pout on your face, the crease of wrinkles between your eyebrows you get when you’re frowning.

“I’m okay,” Gob wheezes. “Thank you Smoothskin, this… this means everything to me. I’ll write to her, send it on the next caravan.”

Gob’s eyes flick rapidly as he reads the letter before stuffing it in his cargo pants. Even from here, Cooper can see the look in the ghouls eyes. He knows you won’t be able to decipher that look — you never have been quite good at that. But Cooper sure knows what it means though, because he’s seen it from many Wastelanders when they look at you. Lust.

Cooper’s hackles raise, and his arms fall to his sides. His hand reaches for his pistol. If that ghoul even thinks about —.

Gob’s mottled hand falls to clench yours, thumb rubbing the smooth skin of the back of your hand, “If there’s anything I can do for you…”.

Cooper stalks over to you, ripping you from the other ghouls hands before you can even think to respond.

“A room,” he growls, eyes brimming with deadly promises.

He sees the way Gob’s eyes widen, looking at you, then him, then back at you and back at him. A lightbulb goes off behind his milky eyes. Then, he gulps in unadulterated fear, and all Cooper can think is good.

“Twen-Twenty caps,” he stammers, and Cooper digs out the correct amount before slamming it down and taking your hand, leading you up the stairs. All the way, he’s grumbling under his breath, and you’re as silent as a dead Radroach, hand weakly grasping his. The room is small, a twin bed shoved against the wall and a chair in the corner.

He slings you around and pushes you gently on the shoulders, making you stumble into the room. Slamming the metal door behind him, he’s quick to push you towards the bed.

You fall unceremoniously, a squeal peeling from your pretty lips.

“Coop! What are you doing?!”

Cooper stands between your parted legs, leather gloved hands coming down to rest on the underside of your upper thighs. He squeezes the fat of them almost painfully, a snarl on his lips.

“No, what were you doin’, flirtin’ with that damn boy.”

His eyes are darkened with barely concealed jealousy, and lust. Fuck, if he doesn’t get his cock stuffed inside you right this instant he’s going to lose his mind.

You blubber in disbelief, “I — I wasn’t — what are you even on about!”

Cooper leans over you, necrotic face inches from your own. His breath mingles with yours, teeth bared back. Brown eyes narrow, and a smirk suddenly tugs his lips.

“Reckon you know exactly what I’m on about, darlin’,” gloved fingers trail along the cloth of your suit, and — not for the first time — Cooper wished you didn’t insist on wearing the damn thing. Too much work to get it off, but damn if he didn’t love how it hugged each and every curve of your body. You could put the Venus de Milo to shame, and Cooper believed that with every ounce of his being. He had eyes, after all.

“I surely don’t,” you say, but Cooper sees the way your pupils dilate, the way your breath stutters and eyelashes flare against your cheeks too deliberately to be an accident. His girl was a charmer, after all.

He grins raggedly, using a skilled hand to slowly unzip your Vault suit. You aren’t wearing a bra underneath — with how damn tight the suits are, there’s hardly room — and your cleavage spills out modestly. Cooper licks his lips, eyes trained on the smooth and unblemished skin of your breasts.

“That right? No clue at all, huh?” He mumbles, mouthing at your bare neck. His rugged lips carve wet hot paths along the even skin, running his tongue along your pulse point. He feels the way your shiver in his grasp, the way you inhale sharply when his teeth graze your skin just a tad bit rougher than is safe for one in his condition. He could just eat you up, and hell if he ain’t goin’ to.

Your eyelashes bat roguishly, “Not a one, cowboy.”

Cooper’s been hard for no less than an hour (which is a feat in and of itself nowadays), but Jesus does that one little word get his cock springing up like a pre-War Jack-in-the-Box.

He grins against your neck, nipping hard and laving his tongue on the sore spot.

Cooper tears your suit down so your entire top half is exposed to the warm air of the room, and he watches as your puffy nipples harden, licking his rad burned lips in desire. A rough fingertip runs over one, and you shiver in his hold.

“Fuckin’ hotter ‘n tnt, baby…,” he growls, voice a raspy dulcet as he bends down to take a bud in his overly hot mouth. It’s an instant reaction from you — a low moan, back arching, and thighs hooking higher on his waist.

“What should I do with you, hmm?” He mumbles into your skin, tasting the salt and musk from your smoothness. His fingers run along the planes of your stomach, drawing goosebumps from the flesh.

Meeting your panty line, he stops.

“Please, Coop, don’t tease…,” you wine, arching into his delicious touch.

“Now honey, I don’t think you’re in any position to order me around,” he chuckles, “I think you should be doin’ what I say, don’tcha think?”

His hips press further against you, rutting his hard cock into the soft seam of your clothed cunt. You whine at the friction, “But I haven’t done anything!”

His fingers dip under your panties, and slither down until they meet your wetness. The leather of his gloves is cold, and rough, and oh so delicious.

He presses hard against your clit, a gasp tearing from your pretty lips.

“No? So you didn’t bat those lil’ eyes of yours at that boy? Didn’t give him one of those sultry lil’ smiles?” Cooper growls, pressing harder into your clitoris with his thumb, two of his fingers going downward until he’s bunching the soaked fabric of your panties into your fluttering hole.

“Lookin’ like a gotdang whore in heat with the way ya fawned over ‘im,” he laughs, a dark sound that has no joy. You whine as you press your hips further into his palm, the fabric of your panties deliciously dragging inside your cunt.

“I — I wasn’t! I was just bein’ nice, Coop,” you mumble, tears of frustration leaking from your eyes. Cooper didn’t often get jealous, but when he did, he was a menace. More so than usual. And it lit up your loins like hellfire every time.

Cooper leans over you, his hot tongue licking up your tears. He can feel the way you clench at that, and he chuckles.

Cooper’s skilled fingers finally move your flimsy underwear, before teasing your sopping slit. You can hear the schlick as he slides against you.

“Nice don’t mean touchin’ and rubbin’ darlin’, not when you ain’t doin’ it t’me,” Cooper’s southern drawl is getting thicker by the minute, and a fresh wave of arousal runs out of you, smearing against the leather of his gloves. He pushes a gloved finger into you, all the way to the knuckle. The stretch is delicious, and the rough material of the gloves makes you keen into his palm, babbling nonsense falling from your lips.

Cooper laughs, trailing his lips along the bare skin of your collarbones and breasts. A tight coil builds in your gut, and your hips buck into his thrusting fingers faster and faster.

You whimper, grasping at anything you can — in this case, his shoulders. You tug him towards you so his chest is pressed against yours, and you lean up to kiss him. Only, he tilts his head at the last minute, and you barely graze his jaw.

“Cooper…,” you whine. “You know I only want y-you!”

Cooper raises a nonexistent brow, “That right? Well, if y’want only me, reckon you should prove it.”

He withdraws his fingers inside you, and your eyes fly open in disbelief. The coil of pleasure inside you ebbs away, but a moan tears through your mouth when your ghoul raises his fingers to the light and licks off your slick, all while staring you down.

“Delicious as apple pie, darlin’. Now, why don’t ya get on your knees and prove how much y’want ol’ Coop?”

Although you scowl like it’s a punishment, Cooper knows the second thing you love most in this world is sucking on his cock like a pre-War popsicle.

Cooper steps out of your parted thighs, waiting.

You stare up at him, mad and as horny as you’ve ever been. God, Cooper was insufferable.

Your knees hit the ground before you knew what was happening, and you were quick to unlock his buckle, pawing at his zipper until the rusted thing went down.

Cooper never wore underwear, his mottled cock springing out and up towards his abdomen.

“Look at you, so eager. Like a good lil’ slut, huh?”

Cooper knew he didn’t have the nicest looking cock on the block, but the way you always looked at it? Like it was the hottest piece of meat you’ve ever seen? Never failed to get his chest puffing in pride.

He grasps the base of his cock, thumb digging into a pit on the side of it. Precum leaks from the ruddy tip and he hisses, tapping your plump lips with the head of his cock.

“Go on, lick it,” he grunts.

The kitten lick you give, tongue pressing gingerly against the slit of his cockhead, makes him huff.

“C’mon, y’can do better than that,” he groans, pushing the head of his cock past your plush lips. You whimper around the tip of him, drool leaking past the corners of your mouth as he stretches you wide.

Cooper’s head falls back, eyes shut as he grunts in pleasure, “Fuuuck. Knew there was a reason I kept ya ‘round.”

You know that isn’t the only reason, but the way he says it — guttural and southern drawl thick — makes your cunt clench around nothing.

Humming around his cock, you’re quick to bring your hands up to the parts of his shaft you can’t reach with your mouth. Your tongue grazes the striations on the side of his cock, thumb digging hard into the pit near the base of him, just how he likes it.

You start a steady pace, bobbing your head up and down on his grooved length. Cooper watches as you release his tip with a pop, circling your tongue around the fat head while twisting your wrists around his throbbing cock, before dragging that pretty pink tongue along the underside of his cock.

“Shit — fuck. That ghoul don’t know what he’s missin’. But you’re all mine — aren’tcha?” Cooper growls, fisting your hair in his hands and forcing you so far down his cock you choke, tears leaking from your eyes.

But he can tell you love it with the way your thighs press together.

He laughs, breathless, “You’re such a whore, a lil’ meanness is all it takes to get you dumb and needy, ain’t it?”

His voice is thick with lust as he thrusts his hips rapidly against your face, cock nudging further down your esophagus until you well and truly can’t breathe.

You look up at him prettily, tears in your eyes as you moan around his length, the vibrations causing his eyes to roll back into his head.

His grip tightens, and that’s all the warning you get before he’s spilling his hot seed down your throat.

Cooper pulls out after a minute, his radioactive cum dribbling past your lips. He bends down, thumb bringing the wayward semen back into your mouth.