My Melody’s Fan

Your spit is slicked over the back of Anakin's neck but his is soaking through the sheets, a misshapen pool of the stuff darkening the white fabric into something off.

It trails obscenely from his mouth, the wet ring of his lips helpless in stopping the flow of saliva down to the mattress. He's long-since been slack-jawed, each time the head of your dick makes contact with him, drags along his walls and prods at his prostate sends him a little further away from the place in his brain where close mouth is wired.

You lean down once more to kiss at the saliva drying on the nape of his neck, but you can't help yourself from dragging your tongue over the skin. He does it to you during sex, he makes it a game to see how wet he can get you using every tool at his disposal, but now that the tables are turned it appears he can't handle it. When your tongue flattens along his neck and laps at the sweat there he shudders, whining as his muscles lose tension of their own accord.

He slams forwards onto the mattress, the bottom of his chin making contact with the wet spot he'd left behind. You'd anticipated the move; Anakin's always been more sensitive to your tongue than he lets on - and you go down with him, bracing your weight on his back while his hole stretches around you. He tries muscling his way back onto his hands and knees but you brace your elbow on his back, wrestling him into compliance the way that he so often does for you.

"Stay down, Ani," You replace your elbow with your hand, cupping the back of his neck still wet with your saliva and squeezing, "What is it you always tell me- just lay there and take it if I can't even hold myself up?"

"I want it," Anakin whines greedily, pressing his ass backwards into your steady thrusts and releasing a steady stream of grunts and groans as you fuck him open from behind, "Force-ah- ah, fuck! Fuck, 'want more, want you- want you want you want-you-so-bad!"

"Then lay there," You repeat, eyeing his hand that's ducked below his stomach, "And take it. You think I don't see you, Ani?"

You reach for his hand and tug it away from his dick, watching as he angles his face into the sheets to release a muffled sob.

The ritual gets him ready. He’s thought about what will happen if/when you decide to move on from him, if he’ll ever be able to feel the warm water between his cheeks without getting hard. He pours the soap onto the center of the soft and soaked cloth and watches the bubbles foam. The steam that fills his small bathroom smells of coconut and vanilla.

The ritual dictates his movements, starting with rubbing that soft and textured cloth along his forehead. Wiping away the dust in the corner of his eyes. Behind his ears, he doesn’t want to grow potatoes back there, and under his curls at the back of his neck. His shoulders and chest. He ignores the way the blood rushes south as the soapy cloth runs against his bellybutton. The soap lathers in the fine hair that turns coarser and coarser as he goes down, down, down and washes himself where he’s aching to be touched.

He can’t help but rest his head against the tile focusing on the way it cools his skin. He resists the urge to stroke himself and wills himself to remember the ritual. He cleans his erection, and the soft sac underneath. He does not stroke. He does not give in to it. He moves down to his legs, ignoring the way he’s speeding up now. He knows what comes next. He knows what’s waiting for him in his bedroom, behind the thin and evil wall where he rests his head.

He takes the bottle of body wash and squeezes it into the washcloth. He turns his back to the stream of hot water, letting it stream down his back. He’s shaking, no vibrating. He spreads himself to let the almost scalding water run down his open slit, that aching hole clenching at the feeling. The soapy cloth does its work, and his eyes roll back into his head at the feeling of it. Oh god, does it feel so right to be touched there. He’s forgotten about his cock while he cleans himself, but it moves in the open air of the shower. It thrusts into nothing with each swipe of the slightly rough cloth.

He wonders if you know how much self control it takes to not bend himself in half, letting himself get carried away with the sensation. Letting himself pulse and cum in the steaming hot bathroom. Oh, yes. It would feel nice, and he tucks the thought away - maybe someday he won’t have you waiting for him in the other room. He takes the shower head from its hook, and sprays the head against his open ass. He’s scrubbed clean, and he’s rinsing it all away before he enters that sacred space with you.

He’s hard, so hard, when he steps onto the bath mat outside of the shower. He takes his time, breathing the steamy air through his nose while he uses the soft terry cloth towel to dry himself. He didn’t know a towel could feel so soft, but you’ve taught him the magic of vinegar in the washing machine. It’s not the only thing you’ve taught him. He takes a moment to breathe in the smell of the fresh towel before wrapping it around his waist and releasing the steam of the shower into the bedroom. 

You’re laying in the bed, your cock already strapped on and standing tall. You’ve been watching the door, waiting for him. God, you can’t believe how he looks right now. His pale skin with the black ink that dances on the surface of it. The curls with drops of water that drip along his pretty collarbone. You can see his erection pressing against the gray towel he has slung around his hips.

“Do girls watch porn?” Eddie asked as he sat crisscross opposite you on his bed. 

You felt giggly from the pot brownie you had shared with him approximately an hour beforehand. In your high state you had suggested a game of truth or dare which had very quickly evolved into only truths of an entirely sexual nature. Whilst a few of them strayed into  fairly personal territory most of the questions had been ones asked out of curiosity, things you had always wondered but perhaps been too shy to ask your previous partners about. With your inhibitions lowered now seemed as good of a time as any to get some of them off your chests.

“I mean… yeah?” You shrugged, another snigger escaping as you watched Eddie’s brows raise high in delighted surprise. “Obviously? What makes you think we wouldn’t?”

“Just thought you might prefer something a little more girly, that's all.” 

“Oh yeah?” you scoffed. “Define girly.”

“I dunno, your imagination,” He teased, you couldn’t help but laugh louder at the dramatic way he flopped onto his back. “You telling me you’ve not got one of those ridiculously cheesy romance novels in your nightstand? And don’t lie to me. I’ve seen it.”

“Okay so I do have one, doesn’t mean I don’t also like to watch it - and stop snooping through my stuff when I’m not there!”

You kicked Eddie in the shin to emphasise your disapproval at how nosey he was but he wasn’t really listening, his own thoughts were being flooded with the possibilities of what you got yourself off to. He snagged his bottom lip between his teeth as he adjusted his position so that the stirring beneath his soft, black sweatpants wouldn’t become painfully obvious. 

“What kinda stuff do you watch?” He decided to push his luck.

“Nuh uh-” You quickly shut him down. “You had your question, it’s my turn.”

“Alright, alright,” he held his hands up in defence, those were the rules you had agreed upon after all. “You go then.”

You copied Eddie’s position and lay on your back next to him, your fingers drumming lightly on your stomach as you thought about what to ask next. 

“Hmmm,” There had been one thing you were always worried about that you had felt too awkward to ever ask for clarification on. “You know when a guy says sit on my face? Do they really mean sit or… hover?” 

“Sit,” Eddie answered vehemently without missing a beat, his head falling forward to accentuate his answer with a nod.

“Really?” Despite his confident answer you sounded like you didn’t believe him. “Can you breathe?” 

“Yeah, you just breathe through your nose,” he shrugged again. “And even if I couldn’t, that is exactly how I wanna kick it anyway.” 

He expected you to laugh, to call him a weirdo and playfully kick him again but you didn’t. Instead you were unusually quiet, he glanced over at you to see what your deal was and found your face set in deep concentration. Almost every time you had engaged in the act you had been far too self conscious to be able to enjoy yourself. Always too worried about your partner’s comfort. Were you crushing them? Were they enjoying it? Was it taking so long that they needed a break for some air? You were so in your head about it that you never even came close to an orgasm. 

“You okay?” He asked when several seconds of silence had passed, you jumped when he reached out his pointer finger to poke you in the ribs. 

“Yeah,” you scoffed, swatting at his hand.

“You sure?” He pried, watching your features intently while he tried to guess what you were feeling. “That last question got you thinking about something?”

You sighed and pulled the neck of your t-shirt up over your face, unable to look at him as the conversation crossed the line back to a personal side. 

“No… Maybe,” You groaned and he tugged your shirt back down with a smirk until only your eyes were peeking out the top. “I guess I just feel awkward, like every time I just feel like they hate it you know.”

“Do they do something to make you think that? Or say something?” The pad of his finger drew lazy patterns across the bare skin of your forearm, perhaps it was the edible still flowing through his system but he felt compelled to touch you while he comforted you.

“No they didn’t do anything, I guess I just wasn’t totally comfortable with them.” 

He hoped what he was about to suggest wouldn’t ruin your friendship forever, but as he watched the insecurities creeping their way across your features to replace the smiling, carefree beauty he was staring at five minutes ago he just couldn’t help himself. 

“Well,” he started almost apprehensively. “Maybe you should try it with someone you are totally comfortable with. Someone you trust… Someone like… Me?”

He half expected for a second time for you to laugh in his face. To tell him he was being ridiculous and that you didn’t see him that way. But as you let your shirt slip down far enough to reveal the rest of your face you were looking at him with nothing but complete sincerity.

“Are you serious?” Your voice came out barely a whisper.

Eddie turned on his side to face you and nodded, reaching out with a shyness to his touch as his fingers danced along the waistband of your jeans. You exhaled a shaky breath when he expertly popped the button and he encouraged you to shuffle the denim down your legs.

“Can I kiss you too?” He asked hopefully, he had fantasised about the feeling of your lips pressed to his many times and he wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to experience it for real, especially when he didn’t know if this would ever happen again.

“Please,” you smiled and he didn’t waste another second, his hand cradled your jaw to gently pull your mouth to his. 

Your foreheads bumped and his perfect nose grazed the bridge of your own as your lips moved softly together. Short breathy sighs, and hushed whines quickly grew rushed and desperate, months and months of lust and pining for one another finally boiling to the surface. Eventually you ended up on top of him, your thighs straddling his hips and the heat from your now soaked core grinding against his stiff cock was starting to make him feel lightheaded. He was struck with the overwhelming need to taste your wetness on his tongue. His palms circled round to cup the meat of your ass. His fingers dipped beneath the cotton of your underwear and you shifted enough for him to rip the garment down your legs. Once your thighs had settled back on either side of his hips he locked his arms around the backs of your knees and dragged you up his body until your pussy was hovering over his face.

“Don’t hold back okay?” He panted breathlessly. “I’m serious, I want you to fucking ride me until you’re cumming on my tongue, okay baby?”

Your stomach fluttered at how utterly filthy the words sounded tumbling from his lips but a part of you was still hesitant. Eddie sensed your apprehension and pecked a few reassuring kisses to the insides of your thighs.

“I’ll let you know if I need you to stop, okay? I’ll pinch you,” He promised, squeezing your hips to show you his signal. “Otherwise I don’t want you to even think about me, right?”

“Okay,” you agreed, biting your lower lip as you waited for him to make his move.

Any doubts you had vanished when he yanked you towards his face, his hands planted firmly on your hips to hold you in place. The first swipe of his tongue across your dripping centre tore a strangled cry from your throat. The moment your taste flooded him he couldn’t get enough, the vibrations from his satisfied moans travelling along his tongue only added to the delicious sensations he was bestowing upon you. Once he had lapped up  the arousal gathered at your entrance he focused the majority of his attention on your sensitive bundle of nerves, your hips jolted forward instinctively and his hands gently pushed against your ass, an encouragement for you to keep grinding on his face. The scratch of his five o’clock shadow against your inner thighs was surprisingly pleasant, it tickled you rather than feeling rough and only aided in driving you closer to your sweet release. Sensing that you were close Eddie manoeuvred you enough to allow two of his thick fingers to slip inside your slickness. 

“Oh fuck-” You gasped as the stretch of his digits filling you. “Oh my God, right there-”

He hummed with his lips still latched to your swollen clit, alternating between sucking and fast flicks of his sinful tongue as his fingers curled to find your sweet spot. He knew when he had found it from the way your walls clenched around him impossibly tightly, your head rolled back as every shred of self consciousness was ripped from your body with each thrust of your hips. It only took another handful of strokes before your shaking thighs were clamping around his head, the powerful climax tearing through you as you slammed your eyes shut and screamed his name.

“Oh fuck I’m cumming - Oh Eddie… Eddie… Eddie,” you moaned over and over until your cries turned to whispers.

Once your muscles had gone lax and the pleasure in your core had reduced to small pulses you slowly opened your eyes. You glanced down at Eddie with hooded lids and watched while he sucked each finger that had been buried inside you clean, growling an appreciative sound as he withdrew each digit torturously slowly. Once he had finished you noticed his breathing was strained and you realised you were sitting on the centre of his chest.

“Sorry!” You squeaked as you tried to shift some of your weight off him but he only reached out to grab hold of your hips. 

“Stay,” he grunted, his voice husky.

“You can’t breathe!”

“Worth it,” he huffed, his gorgeous smile spreading across his face with pride at how hard he made you cum.

You leaned down until your face was a mere inch from his. He stretched forward to chase your lips but you backed up just enough that he couldn’t reach you. 

“Thank you,” You whispered, a dreamy smile that matched his stretching across your own lips.

“Any time,” he chuckled. “Seriously.”

Sex with Anakin is a wrestling match. A rather one-sided one, too, for all the fight that you put up. You've expressed time and time again that Anakin can do whatever he wants with you; you've begged him to take you however he pleases, but he still moves like you're his opponent and you're about to deck him hard in the jaw.

Air escapes your lungs in a weak grunt, an 'mmf-!' when Anakin's body weight pins you to the mattress. The springs beneath you bounce you back up, but Anakin's broad, muscled chest is there to stop you, and you find yourself effectively smothered. His hips are already rutting against your ass, cock dragging against its undercurve as he teases you with the feather-light nudge of its tip against your clit. You feel him grind against your slit, pseudo-sex that makes your cunt ache for real penetration.

"Ani," You mewl, words futile in persuading him to take pity on you, "Please, please, I need you inside of me, please, e-enough teasing."

"E-enough teasing," He mimics, voice pitched up and laced with bawdy desperation that you're mortified he saw in your own. He spits the words into the dip of your shoulders, lips trailing up your spine and teeth latching into your shoulder. You gasp at the bite, whine at his cruel teasing, but he's not finished, lips poised beside your ear to lecture you on proper decorum.

"You think you're in charge? Think you get to boss me around, baby?"

His words are terribly, wonderfully demeaning, and delicious shame curls beneath your belly as his weight keeps you helplessly pinned to the mattress. You're at his mercy, and it's making your core throb with want.

"No, I- that's not what I meant," You plead your case, but at another sharp bite from Anakin, this time along the base of your neck, you yelp and correct yourself, "I just need you, Anakin! Please!"

You're not sure if the slick mess between your thighs is solely your own doing, or if Anakin is smearing sticky precum over you as he ruts against your slit, but you're thoroughly soaked, and you feel yourself clenching around nothing but air at the thought of Anakin's cock filling your hole. You desperately press your ass further out, silently begging for Anakin to take pity on you and finally fuck his dick into your cunt, but your efforts are fruitless.

Instead of rewarding you with the thick circumference of his achingly hard cock, Anakin shows you an even larger width - that of his bicep. You see it beneath your chin as it wraps around your throat, and if you'd managed to suck any oxygen into your lungs since he'd pinned you down, it's gone now.

It's so thick that it forces your head up, your neck angled awkwardly to accommodate the arm now pressing tightly against your throat. It means that if he surges forwards while simultaneously pulling you towards him, he can reach your face, and he sticks a wet, sloppy kiss to your parted lips. It's less-than-romantic, but it's arousing, and that's all that matters to you right now.

"Look at yourself," Anakin gestures to the mirror hung on the wall across from your bed, most frequently used for checking your outfit and taking suggestive photos. You glance up at it with your eyes watering, not only from the ache of being empty but from the tight pressure of Anakin's arm around your neck, and you find yourself a sight to behold. Your hair is mussed, your lips swollen and slick with spit, your body pinned hopelessly beneath Anakin's. You're a mess, and Anakin has no problem in jostling you in his grip to exacerbate it. He's still humping against the curve of your ass, but he's no longer letting his cock drag through your slit, and you're desperate to get as much as you can from him.

"Does that look like someone who's in charge?" He asks, eyes boring into your own through the mirror, "Does that look like someone who calls the shots?"

"No," You gush pathetically on an exhale, dragging in oxygen much slower due to Anakin's partial closure of your windpipe, "No, I'm- I'm sorry, Ani, I didn't mean that."

"Good," He grunts, flexing the muscles in his biceps to lift your chin even higher. He does the rest with his face, nudging your head backwards with his chin until he can reach the wet ring of your lips. It's different now, agony on your neck as he's tipped you backwards instead of kissing you from the side, but there's something disgustingly hot about the way that his tongue slides over yours that makes you shudder with anticipation.

He licks over your tongue and latches onto your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth to nip at. When it's red and stinging he releases it, sucking up the drool that's sliding down your tongue. It's probably from his own mouth, but it's mixed with your saliva now, and he's happy to lap at it.

The feeling of losing someone you love is an indescribable pain that cuts deep into your heart. It's a pain that consumes you, leaving you with a heavy weight on your chest and tears constantly streaming down your face. 

The thought of never being able to see or talk to them again is unbearable. You find yourself crying at the smallest reminder of them - a familiar scent, a song that you used to listen to together, or even a simple memory. Every little thing seems to trigger a wave of emotions and tears.

That is how Eddie felt as he stood standing with everyone else that knew you. That loved you. That cared deeply for you. Your friends and your loved once. But they didn't know the feeling like Eddie.

He loved you.

He feels like a part of him has been taken away, a part of him that he would never get back. The sadness and the grief seems never ending and he wondered when will he ever move on. Will he move on?

The realization that he will never hear your voice or feel your touch again is like a knife to his heart. His mind is flooded with regrets and what ifs, and he starts to question every moment that he had with you.

He wished he could turn back time and cherish every second, but it's too late. The pain of losing you, the person he love is not just emotional, it's psychical too. It's a constant ache in his chest that makes it hard for him to breathe.

It feels like he is suffocating, drowning in his own tears.

The world around him seems to continue on, but he feels stuck in never ending cycle of grief.

He tried finding comfort in his memories, his friends, his band, talking to Wayne, but they only brought him more tears. More anger too.

It's a rollercoaster of emotions, from anger and disbelief to sadness and numbness. He couldn't feel anything close to what he felt when you were here. It's the thought of facing life without you is daunting and overwhelming. How was he suppose to graduate? How was he suppose to get his first gig? His first dance? Without you. It seems impossible.

But through all the tears and pain, he holds onto the love you two shared. He holds onto the moments that made him laugh and the memories that brought him joy.

The first smile you gave him. The first sparkle in your eye when he said your name. The first time he made you laugh. The first lame joke he shared with you. The first time you came over. The first kiss. The first hug. The first hand holding. The first time you told him you loved him.

He holds onto every note you have given him. It's stored underneath his bed.

But then there was anger. Eddie couldn't help but go back to it.

The anger that he felt in the situation had been all consuming, as he struggled to make sense to why this happened. He found himself asking, " Why her? Why now? We were happy. Why did she leave me?'These questions may have never been answered, leaving him frustrated.

He felt anger at himself, too.

He wasn't able to protect you at your final moments. You didn't listen to him. You didn't stay.

You chose your own path with danger staring right at you.

" Eddie? Are you in here?" he heard banging on his bedroom door. His head turns, glancing at it and rolls his eyes knowing that Dustin is the one that would keep bugging him on where he was. He just want to wallow in his own tears.

They didn't know what's like. Dustin had Suzy. El had Mike. Robin had Vicky. Max had Lucas. Nancy had Jonathan. Steve had someone. Blah.

" We're worried about you, Eddie" he heard Robin's voice this time. They all had ears to the door hoping to hear some sort of life behind the door.

Eddie laid on his unmade bed, with a photo of you two on his chest as he holds it to himself. He has no more tears to shed and he doesn't remember the last time he took a shower as piles of clothes lay on the floor, his back pack is opened with his notes all over the floor.

He hasn't worked on a new campaign in months, even. He hasn't been going to band practice either.

Everyone was better off without Eddie. That's what he thought.

It felt like everyone else moved on from you, only Eddie was the one to have his world stopped. Because you died and he couldn't save you. He wasn't there.

It wasn't fair.

" We're here for you, bud" he hears the sound of Steve's voice. " You're not going through this alone" he adds. Eddie rolls his eyes.

Yeah, like Steve knew what he was going through.

" Please" he hears Max say. " I know your in there, it's all going to be okay" she adds with a broken voice, he can hear her trying to hold it together.

" She was our friend, she was our best friend. Eddie..." Nancy says.

They sighed when they saw that the door was not going to be opened. They all waited and waited, sitting outside in hopes that Eddie would walk through the door.

It wasn't until about midnight when the door finally opened. Heads shot up and feet scrambled off the ground as they all looked towards the door.

He finally stepped out. He looked like he hasn't slept in days. There wasn't much color to his face. His hair was ragged and looked like some butter ran through on top of his hair.

Eddie held a picture frame in his arms and he was dressed in one of your hoodies that you had given to him.

It doesn't smell like you anymore, sadly. But you wore it for him many times before you were gone.

Eddie's lips quivered and tears ran down his cheeks as he collapses to the ground in a harsh cry.

Arms wrap around him as they hold him up. He leans onto them like they were going to vanish into the air. Max is holding Eddie, as she hold him tight showing him she wasn't going anywhere. He sobs into her shirt, soaking it with tears.

" Why her.... why..." Eddie keeps repeating through his sobs. Eddie couldn't see everyone's faces as they cried along with him, missing you and wishing you were still here.

It wasn't fair that you were the one to be taken away from them. To deal with this pain.

You didn't deserve it.

Steve wiped his tears with the back of his hands as he catches Robin's eye. They shared a look upon one another that understood the other what it meant.

They weren't going to let you disappear. You left a mark on their lives.

You were their friend.

There was so many memories made.

Your death wasn't going to be forgotten.

The sniffling coming from Eddie has stopped as he rose his head from Max and looks down at the picture he's holding. His fingers brush over your face, your happy and smiling face and his raises his head up as he stared at his friends.