Nico Nico Why Am I Like This?

They also knew those little groupie secrets, at least some of them did— there was a small crowd waiting for you when you were done breaking down and walking back to your tour bus, thrusting pictures and pens at you with eager excitement.  Your security tried to brush them aside, but they must’ve been waiting here over an hour after the concert ended, and you wanted to give them something to show for all that effort.

“I love you so much,” one girl informed you as you were signing a picture of your own face for her; yes, all that was still a bit weird to you, but after a few years, you got used to it.

“I love you more,” you returned with a little smile.

“Can you make it out to my friend Hank?” a man asked as you moved on to his picture next.  “He loves you— he had to work tonight, but he’s like, actually obsessed with you.”

It was just a coincidence that you glanced up over his shoulder, and that was where you saw a young man leaning against the cement retaining wall, one foot propped up as he held a cigarette up to his lips.  His headbanger hair and your shirt on his chest— well, not your shirt, but one of your band’s shirts— under the leather-jacket-denim-vest combo equally gave away that he had been at your show, but he wasn’t waiting beside the tour bus like the others.  When you glanced at him, he quickly looked away, only to catch your eyes one more time a mere split second later and awkwardly drop his head down so he’d stop looking at you; you laughed quietly to yourself, focusing again on signing the picture for the fan in front of you.  He was trying so hard to look cool and aloof, which defeated the purpose entirely, but it was much more endearing.

The small gaggle of fans dissipated after you’d indulged in autographs and photos, leaving only you, your security team, and him— this guy tapping his cigarette so the glowing ashen butt would drop into the cement.

“You can go,” you told your bodyguard.

“We’re not alone,” he reminded you, frowning.  He liked to do his due diligence, but you liked your privacy, so you didn’t always get along.

“I think I can handle him,” you shrugged, and with a begrudging sigh, you were finally left alone.  

After the raucous concert, the quiet was eerie; after being surrounded by massive, sweaty, screaming masses, the solitude was sort of titillating.

He wasn’t looking at you now, but you could tell he wanted to— you were walking up to him, he was pretending not to notice.

“Hey kid,” you nodded at him, and his eyes lit up as he lifted his head.

“A-are you talking to me?” he stammered, and you grinned.  He’s cute… I like that ‘lost puppy’ look on a man.

“Yeah,” you answered.  “Got any extra cigs?”

“For you?” he realized.  “Y-yeah, definitely— hold on—”

You smirked a little to yourself as he dug around in his pockets for a box.  He pulled it out and shook a cigarette loose, holding it out for you— instead of taking it out of his hand with your own, you simply leaned your head forward and grabbed the end with your lips.  He seemed a little surprised, and you blinked up at him.  “A light?” you mumbled, jiggling the cigarette as you spoke around it, and he jumped slightly as he dug in another pocket.  

He found a black lighter and struck it for you; you leaned forward into the flame, inhaling the first drag of smoke as the end was lit.

You leaned back and exhaled through your nose, faking obliviousness to the way his eyes were glued to your lips as you smoked.

“Great show,” he finally blurted out, and you glanced at him again. 

“Yeah?”

“I mean— you were amazing,” he smiled wide.

“Thanks,” you nodded, “you guys were a great crowd.”

“Oh, yeah, we tried,” he chuckled.

“Got a name?” you prompted him.

“Uh— Eddie.  Munson.  Eddie Munson— you don’t need to know my last name… just Eddie,” he stammered and you grinned.  You held your cigarette in your mouth, your left hand stuff in your pocket and your right extended for shake— and you introduced yourself.  “I know your name, obviously…”

You shrugged.  “It’s a good habit to keep.  I’d be kind of a dick if I assumed everybody knew who I was.”

“I’m wearing your shirt,” he reminded you with a shy smile, and you tilted your head as you looked at him.  His cheeks were turning pink; you could just eat him up… and you probably would.

“So you’re a big fan?”

“O-oh, huge,” he beamed.  “I mean, I didn’t wanna be weird about it, but I’ve got everything you’ve ever made— that first album, I’ve got it on tape and vinyl.  It was such an inspiration…”

“Inspiration for what?” you asked.

“My music!” he explained with a wide grin, as you nodded and took another drag.  “I have a band, actually— I mean, we’re not any good… I guess we’re okay, but we haven’t really, uh, graduated from our garage phase…”

“Nothing wrong with that,” you promised.  "We were just a bunch of kids in Danny's garage for years, 'til his stepmom broke his drum set and we had to figure something else out."

While you were chuckling at the memory, Eddie was blushing nervously.  "W-we're not exactly kids," he defended, and you raised an eyebrow.

"How old are you?" you wondered, looking him up and down.

"I-I turn twenty in July," he beamed.

"You can just say nineteen, honey," you smirked.  "But, happy early birthday."

"You too," he offered, before wincing.  "Wait!  I mean— fuck."

You laughed heartily as he stammered and crossed his arms, shaking his head and that mane of hair with it.  "Don't be so nervous," you soothed, reaching out to touch his arm briefly.  "I'm just another freak who happened to make some records that some people listened to.  Nothin' to be scared of."

His eyes glanced to your hand on his bicep just before you pulled it away— and you saw it on his face, you could read him like a book: he knew what you were doing, and he knew that he liked it, but he had no idea what he was supposed to do.

But that wasn’t any trouble at all.  You could do enough flirting for the both of you.

“You’re not just that,” he insisted, “you’re also, like, a musical genius.”

“Oh, pff,” you dismissed with a wave of your hand which made the smoke in the air twist in on itself.  “Doesn’t take a genius to play a couple chords and sing about sex and drugs.”

“Good, ‘cause that’s what I’m tryin’ to do,” he grinned. 

“Well, aren’t you adorable,” you noticed, and he choked slightly as his cheeks started to tint.

“I guess I am,” he replied shyly.  “Any advice for a rockstar in the making?”

“Just keep playin’, kid,” you offered, “play ‘til you think your fingers are gonna fall off, then keep going.  Get so good they have to notice you.”

He nodded gratefully, sucking another lungful of smoke out of his cigarette— it was nearly done, and you decided now was the time if you were ever going to make a move.

“If you’re lucky, you make enough to eat,” you added.  “If you’re really lucky, you get to ride around on a custom bus and tour the country playing for no-good punks like yourself.”

“Sounds like fun,” he grinned.  “Is the bus really custom? 

"Yeah, wanna see it?" you asked.

"I can see it from here," he assured.  "Wait— you mean inside?"

You nodded, and he got a little flustered which just made him even more precious.

"Yeah, that would be— I'd love to."

“C’mon then,” you prompted with a tilt of your head, turning on your heel to guide him across the parking lot.  Halfway there, you dropped your cigarette on the ground and stepped on the burning end; the pavement was damp from the remnants of a light drizzle during the concert, and the butt sizzled as you twisted your boot over it.  You heard Eddie toss his cig, too, as you pried the bus doors open.

He followed you up the narrow stairs and you hoped he was staring at your ass— you knew just how good it looked in this little concert get-up, those managers kept you dolled up for these gigs even when you'd rather just be in another band's shirt and ripped jeans.

He shut the door behind himself, eyes reflecting the dim lights as you flipped them on and he admired the tour bus.  "Woah," he nodded, "this is so cool…"

"It's home, half the year," you shrugged as you turned to the mini-bar.  "The grand tour takes about two seconds— that way's the bedroom and a bathroom that's smaller than a phone booth."

But he didn't seem to be paying too much attention; you looked over your shoulder and saw him admiring your posters.  "You've played in Japan?!" he noticed as he examined the dates on the 1983 tour poster.

"Mhm, great crowd," you recalled.

"Sick," he nodded, turning and slipping his hands in his pockets as he looked around the bus more.

"What's the drinking age in Indiana again?" you wondered as you poured yourself some bourbon.

"Uh… think it's twenty-one," he mumbled sheepishly.

"More for me," you grinned.

"Aw, come on," he pouted, "I do a lot worse stuff than underage drinking."

"Oh, you're a bad boy, huh?" you chuckled as you took a sip of your drink, looking at him over the rim of the glass.

"I-I guess."

You hummed as you swallowed the bitter liquor, a sweet-ish aftertaste hitting right as your chest warmed up a bit.  "And what kind of trouble do you Indiana boys get up to?" you asked, stepping a little closer.

"Whatever trouble I'm selling for the week," he returned with a smirk.  "But, usually just cheap pot."

"I bet you made a few sales at tonight's concert," you presumed.

"Some," he admitted, "but I was really just here for the music."

"Yeah?  Me too," you winked.  "You don't have to stand— I paid a lot for that couch, might as well use it."

He nodded as he glanced at the black leather sofa before sitting on it.  "Comfy," he mumbled to himself as he felt the cushions, and you smirked.

He took a shaky breath when you stepped up to him and straddled his lap carefully; he tightened his grip on the couch as he looked you up and down.  "You can touch me, you know," you told him quietly, "I don't bite.  Except when asked very nicely."

While you took another sip of bourbon, he hesitantly reached up and laid his hands on your thighs through the tight pants, stroking with his thumbs slowly as you smiled.

Tossing your head back, you finished off the glass and leaned to the side to set the empty glass down.  When you returned to face him, he was still staring down at your lap on top of his.  You put one finger under his chin, tilting his face up to look at yours; he blinked his big puppy-dog eyes at you, and you smiled.  “If you want something from me, why don’t you just ask?” you prompted.

“Can I… can I kiss you?” he finally asked, and you laughed a bit at his sweetness before you nodded.

He grabbed the back of your head and pulled you into a needy kiss, not too rushed but certainly not wasting any time.  You kissed him back, gladly, smiling a little at the way you could almost taste his naivete and excitement.

His other hand was around your waist, pulling you down into his lap; you gasped when you felt through his jeans how hard he already was, the bulge in the black denim rubbing right up against your clit through the all-too-numerous layers of clothes.

“Fuck,” you sighed as you reached to hold onto his shoulders, bunching up balls of his vest in your fists.  “I want you, Eddie.”

“Oh my god,” he breathed, both hands suddenly grabbing your hips as he started to guide you to grind against him.  “I— I never thought I’d hear you say that.”

His lips moved to your neck instead, only gently kissing and teasing you first before you felt his teeth graze along the skin; your eyes fell shut and you grabbed on tighter to the thick denim vest.

“Say it again,” he pleaded suddenly, and you smiled through the haze of arousal clouding your mind.  

You honored the spirit of his request, but you had to up the ante, of course.  “I need you, Eddie,” you sighed instead, and he groaned loudly against where his kisses had trailed to your exposed clavicle.

“Fuck— okay,” he choked out, holding you tighter, “fuck— are we really— you wanna do it here?  O-or is there a bed?”

You laughed again; god, he’s precious.  “I think we’re gonna have time for both,” you explained, pulling your head up from where it had fallen back to look down at him again with an eyebrow raised.  “I hope we’re gonna have time for both.”

“We’re gonna have time for whatever you want,” he promised.  “I’ll be here until you kick me out, I swear.”

“Mm,” you hummed proudly, toying with a stray curl in his mess of hair.  “Maybe I’ll keep you then— take you on the rest of the tour.  You can fuck me all the way to Cinncinnati.”

“God,” he breathed, “don’t even joke about that— you know I would.  I’d follow you anywhere.”

“Fuck me right and I’ll see what I can do, mkay?” you challenged, and he nodded quickly.

You lifted yourself up off of his lap just enough to start unbuckling his belt, and he gripped your thighs tighter again, watching you work his jeans open with total dumbstruck awe.  

Smiling proudly, you reached into his fly once you’d unzipped it, finding his erection not only straining against his checkered boxers but staining them with a wet patch of precum.  “What’s got you so worked up, huh?” you teased.

“Been hard ever since you touched my arm,” he admitted.  

“You don’t get laid back home?” you prompted.

“In Hawkins?  Hell no,” he chuckled breathlessly.  

“Figured a pretty boy like you wouldn’t have any trouble,” you presumed, feeling his cock jump on the other side of the cotton.  He likes being called pretty, I’ll remember that.  “You never traded weed for some head or anything?” 

He shook his head, opening his mouth as his jaw shivered a bit.

“Well, I don’t need whatever cheap skunk you deal,” you grinned, starting to back up off of his lap and kneeling on the floor in between his spread legs, “but I kinda wanna suck you off anyways.”

“Fuck,” he whispered, lifting his hips quickly and shoving his jeans and boxers down his thighs so you had easy access; you bit your lip not just at his eagerness, but at the thick length that bounced up and left another smear of precum on his band t-shirt.  His hand reached up to touch your hair gently while you wrapped your own fingers around him, giving him a couple slow strokes first.

“You’ve got a nice cock,” you informed him.

“Oh— really?” he stammered.  “I— thanks…”

“What do you want me to do to it?” you asked him, which seemed to make him even more confused.  “I mean, I could just sign it and let you go now.”

“N-no,” he choked.  

“Then say what you want me to do,” you encouraged.

“I want you to… suck it,” he whispered.

“Suck what?” you prompted.

“Suck my cock,” he said, a little more confident— still weak and whimpery, of course, but just stern enough to make you heat up between your legs.

For his reward, you looked up at him as you licked the head— just once, and he was already looking totally wrecked.  He covered his face with his ring-decorated hands, breaths louder when they echoed off of his palms, and tilted his head back. 

“God, I— this is a dream, right?  I’m dreaming?”

You just hummed as you wrapped your lips around him, letting your bourbon mouth soak the softer, sensitive head.  Your tongue pressed against the spot right under his slit and he groaned, grabbing on tighter to your hair for a moment.

“F-fuck, sorry,” he mumbled, and you pulled off with a smirk.

“It’s okay, I’m not that delicate,” you promised.  “I’m yours for the night, Eddie, use me how you want.”

“Jesus,” he hissed, moaning louder when you put your mouth on him again— your hand held on tight to what your lips couldn’t reach, and you felt him grab onto the back of your neck.  “Baby— you do this a lot?  Take fans back here a-and suck them off?”

You sucked a little longer before pulling back to ask him, “d’ya really wanna know?”

He laughed a bit and shook his head.  “Guess not.  I’d rather feel special.”

“Oh, baby,” you purred, “you are special.  I’m gonna let you fuck me.”

You didn’t get a chance to see his reaction to that, you were too busy burying your face in his crotch as you swallowed his cock down.  He spread his thighs wider as you bobbed on his length, and you rubbed them with each hand— in part to soothe him, in part to hold him down so he wouldn’t buck up into your throat.

He whimpered as you gagged on him while you massaged his thick thighs, the muscles tensing under your hand; you even felt your forehead rubbing against his shirt, and you had to stop yourself from laughing since you knew your face was on the print— how eerie.

“Feels really good,” he blurted out suddenly, “when you choke on it like that… s’it really that big?”

You had to smile at that, so you pulled off and stroked his spit-slick cock instead as you grinned up at him.  “Nobody ever told you?” 

He shook his head.

“Well, your cock's fuckin' big,” you laughed.  “S’gonna feel so good…”

You let him figure out what you meant by that when you grabbed him by each end of his opened jeans and pulled him up with you as you walked backwards to the bedroom.  “You’re not gonna let me return the favor?” he noticed with a smile.

“I’m feeling a little impatient,” you explained with a grin.

Stumbling through the cramped doorway and toppling back onto the bed, you helped Eddie out of his jacket— but you just watched him take the shirt off, enjoying the show.  He was lean underneath, just a little dash of hair and a lot of ink, and you bit your lip.

“Nice tats,” you nodded.

“Thanks,” he sighed— and you thought he might stop to explain them or something but he just fell down on top of you again, pinning you to the bed and kissing you voraciously.

He fumbled with your clothes a bit— the shirt came off fine, the pants were tight so it took some tugging, and the challenge only increased from there; you giggled as he reached under you and struggled with the clasps of your bra.

"A little help here?" he pleaded awkwardly, and you bent your arms behind your back to help him get it off.  He groaned a little when it was tossed aside and your chest was freed for him.  "I-I read this interview one time where you said you played shows topless sometimes, before you got big."

You laughed lightly; "Yeah, that's true.  Got a lot more people in the door."

"I woulda killed to go to one of those gigs," he laughed.

"Well, I'm topless right now," you reminded him with a raised eyebrow, "what do you wanna do about it?"

"I wanna— fuck, I wanna suck on 'em," he admitted, making you smile.

"Go for it, Eddie— put your mouth on my tits."

There are a few words to describe the way he followed those instructions: eagerly, greedily, hungrily.  He almost sucked too hard in his overexcitement, but the hint of pain just made your pussy pulse with need.

"That's good," you sighed out your praise.  "You're good at that…"

He hummed against your skin, swirling his tongue around each bud as he went back and forth, even playfully biting near one and grinning up at you mischievously.

At the same time, his fingers hooked into your panties and slid them down your legs— which you opened right away, letting him get an eyeful of your soaked pussy.

"You're perfect," he blurted out, making you snort a laugh— but it wasn't quite as funny when he dragged calloused fingers up from where most of your arousal had gathered all the way to your swelling clit.

"Fuck me, baby," you begged.  "Want you so bad…"

"Want you too," he promised, "wanted this for so long— dreamed about this—"

He cut himself off by pushing into you, sighing out his moan as you hissed from the slight sting.

“Fuck,” he choked, pushing all the way to the brim, “I— shit, I always imagined what you’d feel like, I… you feel so good…”

“You imagined this, huh?” you smirked.  “Don’t tell me you jerked off to my poster.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you,” he laughed breathlessly.

He found his pace: deliberate and slightly impatient, like he was barely resisting the urge to just go fast and rough like any restlessly horny teenage boy would want to.  You wanted him to give in and go wild soon enough, but for now, you enjoyed his commitment to going slow, moaning lowly and savoring the lovely friction of his cock dragging inside your channel.

"You're so… you're amazing," he sighed, eyes glued to the sight of his cock sliding in and out of you— until he looked up at your face with so many emotions in his expression.  "You're beautiful."

You smiled a bit, reaching up to grab onto his shoulder and squeeze it.  "You're sweet," you returned.  "And pretty."

You twirled a strand of his hair around your finger, watching him stutter and blink quickly.  You wouldn't tease him so much if he wasn't so cute when you did it.

"You don't need to be so romantic about it, honey," you purred, "fuck me like you really mean it."

For a moment, you worried that he didn't have it in him to really give it to him— but then he grabbed under your knees and pushed them up to your chest.  When he thrusted into you again, it forced you to gasp and throw your head back.

"Fuck," you groaned, "good boy."

He gasped and sped up, the curve of his cock pushing right into the deepest places that made your eyes roll back.

"So good," you praised as you clutched the expensive silk sheets beneath you.

"Yeah?" he panted.  "You like this—" he choked on his own throat for a half second— "big cock?"

It was obvious that he wasn't the best at dirty talk— maybe he was usually more comfortable but he was just too nervous now— and you smiled proudly as you nodded.  "Mhm," you answered while you bit down on your lip.

He held onto your legs a little tighter so he could thrust faster, and you were starting to feel this numbness overtake you from the inside out.  It was pleasant, and subtle; part of it was the glass of bourbon, certainly, but the swirling inside your mind was way better than any drunkenness.  You couldn’t decide between letting your eyes fall shut like your body longed to, and keeping them open to watch Eddie’s face as he focused all his energy into fucking you.  

You moaned louder and gripped the sheets tighter as pleasure started to gather, building more and more each time his movements stroked over your spot.  “Is this how you imagined it?” you asked with a soft laugh, making him look up at your face again.  “When you were… looking at my poster?”

He smiled a bit.  “Not exactly.”

“Why don’t you show me what you thought about?” you suggested.

Quickly, he let go of the backs of your legs and instead guided them to wrap around his waist, leaning down over you and holding your hip steady so you had to take him as deep as he could go; you moaned lowly as he sped up, significantly.  Finally, he wasn’t holding back so much.  “Like this,” he breathed.  “I mean, there were other ways— a lot of other ways— I thought about fucking you but… I want it like this.”

You purred and held onto his back, feeling his muscles move under his skin as he rocked his hips.  “However you want it,” you reminded him with a sultry whisper— not because it was true, but because it made him shudder and twitch inside you; it was a reminder to you both that you were still completely in charge.

“Y-you said something before about… biting?  When you’re asked nicely?” he recalled, and you smiled.

“Yeah?  I meant it.  Just gotta ask, baby,” you assured.

He whimpered a little, seeming to be gathering some courage before he did it.  “Could you please, um… bite me?  Right here…”

He pointed to the side of his neck and you pulled him down by his hair to latch your lips and teeth onto him.

“Fuck,” he moaned, fucking you deeper in response.  You groaned against his skin and bit down just a bit harder, sucking on the delicate skin as he gasped and panted from the pain.

You moved up a little higher and nipped at him again, even catching the hard line of his jaw between his teeth and feeling the slight roughness of incoming stubble against your lips.  “There,” you announced proudly as you fell back onto the bed.  “Aw, it’s already coming in…”

He sighed as you traced the shape of the little bruise developing in the shape of your teeth.

“Should leave a nice mark,” you cooed, “but your friends still aren’t gonna believe you.”

“I know,” he laughed, “I still can’t believe this is happening, and I’m here.”

You yanked him down to kiss you again, sloppy and needy— just like the way he drove his hips forward, sliding his cock against your soaked and sticky walls.

Your gasp pulled the air out of his mouth when he shifted just right and slammed his thick head into your spot; your legs wrapped around him tightly in a moment, keeping him where you wanted him.

"Fuck, that's good," you grunted, "harder, pretty boy— fuck me just like that, god!"

He whined but did as he was told, holding onto your hips and fucking you even more roughly.

“Yeah, right there,” you panted as your back arched, “fuck, Eddie, you’re doing so good for me…”

A panting whine of your name right by your ear made you smile even as you were starting to lose your focus on everything— the pleasure was building even faster than you expected, probably because he was just so damn cute.

“I’m so close, baby,” you groaned, “don’t stop—”

“Won’t stop,” he shook his head as he assured you, “never gonna stop, I swear— I want you to come.”

“I will just— ah, Eddie, baby— just keep fucking me like this.”

He whimpered slightly and kissed your neck, searching for the most sensitive place so he could drive you even more wild… but he only really did that when he reached down between the two of you to rub his thumb on your clit.

“Oh!” you yelped, giggling slightly though you struggled to catch your breath enough for it.  You started to clench down on him harder and harder, and just a few seconds of his calloused fingertip gyrating your bud around was enough to push you over the edge.  “Fuck!” you shouted as your eyes shut tight, legs shaking as they clamped down on his, back arching deeper as everything seemed to seize up and relax in your body all at once.

It was sharp and sudden, but it faded in a few moments into that perfect after-feeling, a smile crossing your face lazily as that numbness finally won; your pussy was still gripping him tight as you came down from it, literally quivering as he kept thrusting right over the same spot (that was now more sensitive and swollen than ever).  "Shit," he grunted, "I can feel it when you— fuck…"

“Does it feel good?” you pressed, voice a bit hoarse.  “When I come all over your cock?”

“Y-yes, fuck, yes,” he sighed in agreement, jackhammering his hips into yours at record speed and recklessness.

“God, m’gonna— fuck, g’na come,” he choked out, and you smiled up at him.

“Go ahead, baby,” you encouraged, “wanna see it— I wanna see you come for me, baby—”

“Fuck!” he yelped, giving you a few more erratic thrusts before he hissed and pulled out— his mouth was open wide for each moan to pass through as he spilled onto you, still rocking his hips and rubbing his cock on your swollen clit.  The first few pumps shot up to your chest and you smiled; after that, it just dribbled down into a warm, sticky puddle.

His shoulders sunk and he fluttered his eyes shut when he finished.  “Aw, look, you made a mess,” you purred.  “Why don’t you be a good boy and clean that up?”

“Uh—” he panted, starting to reach for his discarded shirt.

“No,” you stopped him, and he met your gaze with wide, wet eyes; poor baby.  “Not like that.  Lick it up.”

“O-oh…” he sighed, cheeks flushing brighter as he bent down and closed his eyes at the same time he stuck his tongue out; you sighed happily as you watched him lap up his own orgasm off your stomach.

“How is it?” you asked teasingly, petting his head as he gulped it down and looked up at you; each lick tickled your skin and you bit your lip.

“S’good,” he blurted out, licking one long stripe up from your belly button and between your tits to gather the last few drops that had made it that far.

“Then gimme a taste,” you cooed as you sat up slightly, pulling him into a messy kiss as you held onto his shoulders.  He hummed into it, holding onto your hips again— and when you finally let him go, he broke away and pulled out with a wince.

“Jesus,” he breathed as he laid on his back beside you; he blinked up at the ceiling dreamily before he glanced at you again.

He surprised you by leaning onto his side and pulling you into a kiss— much more soft and sweet than you expected in a time like this, but not unappreciated.  Reaching up, you gently brushed his hair back out of his face, feeling him smile against you a bit.

For a second, he leaned further towards you when you pulled away, and you raised an eyebrow at him as he blushed.  “I like kissing you,” he admitted quietly.

“I need another drink,” you replied— but when you tried to get up, he held you by your wrist and pulled you back down into him, pulling your head to his chest and kissing the top of it.

“Don’t go yet,” he cooed, and you laughed as you gave in and wrapped your arms around him.

“Cuddling isn’t usually a big part of the groupie experience,” you informed him, but he just held you tighter.

“Am I your groupie?” he wondered.

“Is there another word for it?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Hmm,” he considered that as he leaned down further to kiss your cheek, then your neck, “how about… boyfriend?”

You laughed.  “That’s funny— you’re funny.”

“Why not?” he cooed.  “I could take you to a movie, show you for myself all that trouble us Indiana boys get up to.”

You purred as he licked and sucked on your neck a bit harder, tightening your grip on his arms.  “That does sound nice.  Nobody’s taken me out on a proper, normal date in years— it’s all private jets and VIP tours and imported wine—”

“Don’t have to worry about that with me, babe,” he grinned, pulling back up to look down at you as he cradled your cheek in his hand.  “With me you’ll get to experience all those trailer park joys: beer in cans, a rusty van that needs new brake pads, fooling around under the stars on a blanket by the lake…”

“Sounds like a good way to get some unfortunate paparazzi pictures in the magazines tomorrow,” you noticed.

“Even better,” he decided, “that’s the only way anyone’s ever gonna buy my story.”

“Yeah?  And what story is that?” you asked.  “What do you plan on telling your friends?”

“That I met this… amazing woman,” he breathed, looking at your face carefully, “who’s beautiful and talented and sexy— and, for some unknowable reason, she took pity on me and let me make love to her.”

You smirked.

“And hopefully I’ll tell them all this over the phone from some hotel by your next stop,” he winked.  “I’m still hoping I impressed you enough to hop a ride with you for the rest of the tour.”

“Mm, you were good, but I don’t know about kidnap-some-farm-boy-and-take-him-everywhere good,” you teased.

He didn’t seem too hurt, but you knew it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.  “Then I guess you’ll have to give me another chance to try.”

“Oh, I will: I want you to fuck me again,” you decided.

“When?” he smiled.

“Right now.”

You pushed him down by his shoulders, pinning him to the bed.  “Oh— fuck,” he choked.

“You can, right?  You’re young.”

“Y-yeah, but—”

He stopped and gasped as you hopped up to straddle his lap, leaning one hand against the wall by the head of the bed while the other grabbed his cock— which, yes, was still hard— and guided it to your opening again.

“Christ, I—” he began, but he gave up and dropped his head back when you sank down onto him.  “Fuck, you’re— oh my god…”

“Should be nice and easy, right?” you smiled as you started to ride him.  “Your cock stretched me out s’good, am I all loose for you now?”

“N-no,” he shook his head, “no, you’re still… really tight…”

You fought against the urge to smirk and just gave him a condescending pout.  “Oh, it’s not too much, is it?  You want me to stop?”

“No,” he repeated, more desperate than ever, “don’t stop— please?  Please…”

The poor boy was so drunk on pussy he seemed actually concerned that you would stop— as if you weren’t riding him fast and desperate already.

"S-so wet," he grunted, holding your hips and looking down at where your pussy was sliding up and down along his length.  "So fuckin' wet, you're drippin' on me…"

There was this delicious, filthy noise every time your hips met his, and strings of arousal pulled between his skin and yours for a moment; he couldn't stop watching it, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the perfectly depraved sight.  "How's it look?" you asked with a taunting laugh.  "You like watching my pussy take all that dick, Eddie?"

He whimpered as he bit his lip and nodded.

"It's so deep," you purred, "s'gotta be at least to here."

You moved one of his hands from your hips and pressed his fingers right near your belly button— and then his eyes were on that, you could almost see him picturing his cock filling you that far inside.  “God,” he moaned loudly, head falling backward, and you smiled down at him.

Riding him gave you a better view of his tattoos, which you traced lazily with one finger while you bounced.  Your legs were especially weak after your first orgasm, making them start to shake as you lifted yourself repeatedly; but you were also still extra sensitive inside, and you knew you were going to come even faster the second time around.  It didn’t help that he was so deep your throat had to catch each time— it also didn’t help that he looked like that, wrecked and helpless under you, clearly overwhelmed but too desperate to try to make you stop.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he chanted quietly as you moved faster.  “Fuck!”

You just laughed, though you had to hiss in your next breath through your teeth when you rocked your hips back and it felt just right— you kept doing it over and over, feeling your gut seize up as the sensation mounted.

“Ohh my god, you’re so good, so good,” he rambled mindlessly, grabbing hold of your hips tighter than ever and guiding you just how he wanted.  It was best when he just stopped trying to impress you and gave in to his natural neediness; when he bit his lip and thrusted up off the bed and just used you.

“Harder,” you panted, and he grunted from the physical exertion required to do what you’d asked him to.  The tip of his cock slammed so deep that your moans turned into high-pitched cries, just as sharp and reverberating as the pleasure you were feeling.  “Fuck me, Eddie, oh my god!”

He sighed loudly and bit down on his lip, glaring at you with flared nostrils and dark eyes as he fucked you; before your eyes fell shut from the overwhelming feeling, you caught him watching the way your tits bounced quickly with each rapid thrust.

You were teetering on the edge, adoring every pathetic sound he made, when he managed to string a few words together for you.

"Sh-shit, get off," he pleaded, "I can't— I'll come."

"I'm close too," you sighed, "just a little more— just need a little more, Eddie, m'not gonna stop yet."

"Fuck," he sobbed, "please— just get up before I come, fuckfuckfuck—"

You smiled proudly, looking down at his face all twisted up as he tried to hold himself back.  "It's okay, Eddie," you cooed, "you can come in me.  If you want."

He grabbed you at your waist and flipped you onto your back in an instant, fucking into you so fast and desperate that your eyes rolled back.  "Shoulda told me," he explained breathlessly against your ear, hair tickling your face.  "I didn't know I could— fuck, m'gonna come so deep inside you— you're sure it's okay?"

"Yeah, I want you to," you promised, barely able to speak as your own peak hit you, and that was all he needed to let out a noise that was somehow halfway between a roar and a sob; you felt it a second later, his cock pulsing against your walls, his hips still shakily and shallowly thrusting as he dropped his head on your shoulder.

"Ohhh— oh my god," he gasped.  "Fuck.  Fuck!"

You laughed as you watched him try to compose himself, panting like he'd just run miles.  He lifted his whole upper body up and dropped his head back with another sigh— and damn, with that dim yellow light hitting the side of his face, with that thin sheen of sweat making hair stick to his forehead and cheeks and making his chest glisten as he took more deep, quick breaths?  He looked too fucking perfect.

"That— fuck.  That was intense," he finally got out with a tired smile, collapsing beside you.

"Yeah," you agreed, reaching up to pat his chest.  "Good job, kid."

You were about to pull your hand away but he grabbed it first, holding it tightly.  You waited a while for him to say something, but he didn't.

Eventually, he let you get up and pour yourself your drink; you slipped on a robe, too, and came back to find him smoking another cigarette as he laid on the bed.  

You sat down next to him, watching him take each drag as you sipped from your glass.  For some reason, you sat there and watched him smoke through the whole thing, until he put it out in your ashtray and interlaced his fingers under the back of his head.

“Getting late, do you need to head home soon?” you wondered; you weren’t necessarily trying to kick him out with that question, but he was certainly free to go now that your fun had been had.

He shook his head as he sat up on the bed.  “No one’s gonna care if I miss first period tomorrow,” he promised.

You’d never felt an emotion quite like the one that hit your chest then— you figured he just had some mediocre job he could ditch, but realizing he was still in high school changed your perception completely.  You didn’t even notice how much you were really considering taking him with you until you knew, in that exact moment, that you couldn’t; though no one would accuse you of being any sort of role model, you drew the line at stealing this kid away before he could graduate.

“No one’s gonna care at all if I never come back,” he added with a soft, hollow laugh.

"Oh, baby," you sighed, reaching forward to pat him on the leg.  "Stay in school."

"You're not gonna take me with you, are you?" he realized.

"Not that I don't want to.  I'd just feel too bad."

"Don't feel bad about it!  There's nothing here for me anyways!  You're, like, my perfect chance to escape."

You leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he sighed.

“I should’ve known you weren’t serious,” he laughed, looking down with sad eyes.  “All of this was too good to be true anyways.”

You pet his head gently and rested your head on his shoulder.  “I’ll be back, you know,” you offered quietly, running your fingers over his cheek before brushing your thumb softly over his lip.  “We make another album, we do another tour— and we’ll stop somewhere in Indiana.  Maybe I can see you again?”

He looked at you again, nearly breaking your heart with the look in his eyes.  The lost puppy gaze had been what attracted you to him at first, now it was killing you.  “Yeah, maybe.  How long do you think it’ll be ‘til then?”

“Year and a half, two years?” you shrugged.

He snorted; “That’s about how long it took me to save up for this ticket,” he recalled.

“Next ticket’s on me,” you offered.  “Front row, with backstage passes.  Like a true groupie.”

“Can I have your number?” he asked instead— not really what you expected him to say.  

“I don’t stay in one place long enough to have one of those,” you shrugged.  “Gimme yours.”

He hesitated.  “Are you gonna call?” he pressed.

Instead of answering his question, you set your glass down and held his face with both hands so you could kiss him, properly.  Honestly, you couldn’t think of the last time you’d kissed somebody like that.  And you knew you wouldn’t again for a long time, if at all.

“Promise you’re gonna remember me,” he whispered against your lips.  You smiled back.  “I know you have a million fans like me, a million guys who would do anything for you— and I’m just one stupid kid from Indiana—”

“I couldn’t forget you, Eddie,” you insisted, and he made you giggle by wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I’ll let you go soon,” he assured, as he pulled you back into bed with him, “just not yet.  Need to hold you a little longer.”

They’re not usually so greedy… they’re just grateful, you thought, but he was both.  “You don’t need to let me go soon,” you offered as you shut your eyes and rested your head on his chest.  “You just need to get home in time for school tomorrow.”

“When are you going to tell him?” The note read in sloppy hand-writing. Robin’s hand writing wasn’t the very best, you were surprised that you were even able to read it.

“Who?” You wrote underneath her sentence. You knew who she was talking about, you just decided to play dumb. What if— whoever the person’s name behind you— read it and told Eddie that the two of you were passing notes about the dungeon master? Ever since Robin found out about your crush on Eddie, she has been nonstop trying to convince you to tell him.

You turned around in your seat, a tight-lipped smile on your lips as you gave it to the person behind you. They frown, snatching the note before giving it to Robin.

You watch as she opens it, her eyes scanning the paper before looking up at you with a quirked eyebrow. She scribbled something on the paper before giving it back to the annoyed person who was now a note messenger for the two of you.

You take the note, opening it up. “Eddie? Who else would I be talking about. You really need to tell him, I’m telling you, he likes you back! I swear I saw him staring at you earlier in the hallway, his eyes were like heart-shaped!”

A faint blush painted your cheeks. Was he actually staring at you earlier? The two of you only talked a few times, only knowing each other because of Robin and Steve. You guys have probably talked three times the whole school year. The first time was when Steve introduced you two, the second was when you accidentally bumped into him during lunch and the third time… was when you bumped into him, again.

“Chrissy was near me. He was probably staring at her.” You quickly scribbled onto the paper.

“Ms. Y/L/N.” Your teacher started, her witch hand snatching the piece of paper out your hands. You gasped.

“Are your notes more important than this class?” She asked, squinting her eyes to read the words written on the paper.

“N-no, ma’am.” You mumbled. You prayed that she would just throw it away, confiscate it and tell you, you can get it after class. But, no. With your luck, she decided to humiliate you, her screechy voice reading everything out-loud enough for the whole school to hear.

She mimicked the words, trying her best to read Robin’s sloppy handwriting. “When are you going to tell him? Who? Ed…” You slouched into your seat, covering your face with your hands to hide your red, embarrassed face. You prayed that the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

You didn’t dare look up, even when she lectured you about how you should be worrying more about school than boys. How boys were going to get you nowhere in life. She then threw the note in the trash, her face grimacing.

You could hear a few snickers from students in the classroom, some whispering and judging you for having a crush on the infamous freak. You could already imagine the rumors that would be spreading around by the end of the day.

What did Eddie think of you now? Was he snickering along with the rest or the class? Was he going to take apart of those rumors? Was he disgusted? Embarrassed for you?

You hesitantly removed your face from your hands, looking back at Robin to send her a glare. She just gave you a apologetic look before mouthing the word “sorry”.

In your peripheral vision you could see someone staring at you. You already knew who it was. You remembered where he sat, it was the one area of the room you tried your best to avoid— to avoid any obvious signs of your crush on him.

You turned back in your seat, crossing your arms as you went back to slouching. You prayed and begged that you would be able to escape the classroom before Eddie could have the chance to confront you. You could just avoid him for the rest of your life.

A few minutes went by of you trying to find a way to disappear when you felt a all-too-familiar tap on your shoulder. Was Robin trying to embarrass you, again?

You turned around, the note messenger holding up another note for you to take. You look back quickly at the teacher to make sure she wasn’t looking before snatching it, turning back around to open it up under your desk.

You watch on as the battered tech guy is escorted to the back rooms and with him out of the way you moved around to Eddie. He looks at you and his features soften almost immediately. The creased eyebrows, gritted teeth and heaving breaths cease at your presence. The tears you were trying to hide only moments ago, however, do not.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie moves to you immediately, cupping your face in his shaking hands. He still seems angry. Though not at you, obviously.

“You’re hurt.” You sniffle. His fingers are bloody where they graze your cheek, leaving a smudge of red on your skin. He curses and brushes it away uselessly with his finger.

“I’m okay.” He says, tone wavering. He moves his hands down to your arms and squeezes them, eyes pinballing over your figure. Seemingly to see if you’re okay as well.

You speak up before he can say anything, “I’m fine.” You pull yourself from his grip to palm at your eyes, the heel of your hand cruelly dragging over your skin, a smudge of mascara and glitter moving across your face. Eddie tuts and replaces your hands with his own, much more gentle when he tries his best to wipe at your ever-flowing tears.

“You’re not.” He’s right, you’re not.

The tech guy had said horrible, perverted things to you. Grabbed at your ass like your boyfriend wasn’t on stage, and your best friend wasn’t standing right next you. You’d walked off to the bathroom to calm yourself down and Steve had obviously told Eddie about it before you had any time to talk to either of them. And with Eddie being Eddie, it had ended up with spilt lips and knuckles.

“You shouldn’t have hit him, Eds.” You don’t know if you believe yourself when you say it, but it felt appropriate to say. You think if you say something that sounds encouraging, he’ll end up doing it again if anything does ever happen. Which could end up with Eddie hurt instead.

“He deserved it.” He scoffs. But you frown.

“Maybe. But now look at you.” You take his hands in your own and hold them in front of your chest. Your thumbs swiping around the cuts, careful not to actually touch them.

“Don’t worry. It’s just a few cuts, I’ve had worse.” He tries to reassure you but it doesn’t really work.

“I can only imagine.” You shake your head, “C’mon let me clean you up.”

You tug on his shirt before he can detest it, leading him out the back into the break room where all his stuff is set up. You sit him down at the table and gather a few first aid supplies. The Hideouts first aid kit dwindled down to a few bandaids and a dried-up bottle of antiseptic wash on its last dregs.

You sit knee to knee as you gently prod at his skin, careful not to make it worse or make it sting. You don’t really know what you were doing, trying your best help him out and make him feel better. You’ve gone silent and you can feel Eddie’s stare burning into your skin.

“Hey,” Eddie moves one of his hands to squeeze your thigh. You scold him, taking it back in your grasp, none too gently to finish cleaning the last remnants of dried-up blood. If it was his or not it was now lost on you. “It’s okay. Be rough, I can take it.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay tough guy.” You press into the cut and you can tell he’s holding back a wince.

“You think I’m tough?”

“I think you’re stupid.”

“C’mon babe,” He tuts. Deflating when you don’t meet his gaze, “You still love me, right?”

His sweet words miss you. You don’t know if you’re angry with him, because you don’t know if you even have the right. Or if you’re just upset with the whole situation. The words that were said, the way he had grabbed at you. The sight of Eddie leaning over him, strong fists landing against his face.

“I’m sorry.” You huff, pressing your fingers into the plaster once he’s all bandaged up. “It’s just a lot.”

You lean into him and he wraps his arms around your back, his chin pressing into the top of your head. He angles his face down to press a kiss into your hair, rubbing up and down in between your shoulder blades. The shushing sounds of your clothes and breaths the only thing to be heard momentarily.

“I didn’t scare you, did I?” His words are mumbled through your hair but you can hear him.

You shake your head against his chest, “No, no.” Your ear settles against his chest and you can hear the sound of his heart thrumming a million miles an hour. “That guy. He was a creep.”

“Yeah, he was.” He sighs inwardly, “I’m sorry he did that. I didn’t know he was like that.”

“It’s not your fault.” You pull away to look at him, “How were you supposed to know?”

“Well, I don’t know. But I left you with him.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” You look down and brush over the plasters absentmindedly and he hooks two fingers under your chin so you’re looking back up at him.

“Are you sure?” He’s firm when he says it, though there’s a softness that’s settled behind his now warm eyes. You think that it’s the sight of them that has you calming.

You lean your head between his jaw and shoulder and leave a lazy kiss against his neck. Leaving one more peck against the wet skin before you pull away entirely, leaning against him. “Yeah, thank you.”

There’s a beat before he’s saying, “You wanna get ice cream?”

You smile, “Why would I ever say no?”