Sra. Palestina

But there’s also the bad one. The focalized heat that sets upon your chest like a weight is pressing down on you, making breathing a little bit harder. That’s the one you felt when you walked out last night. And you’ve been feeling it every time you think about what you said, and what he didn’t. That’s the part you’re trying to avoid. Yet it comes to mind anyways. It’s pretty fucking unfair.

And it’s pretty fucking ridiculous too because how come that after all that has happened, all the time you two have shared, all the things he has done you still can’t… figure him out? It doesn’t make any sense. How does someone that’s so incredibly hermetic make you feel you can read him just by looking him in the eyes when you actually don’t know anything about him at all? Does he do it on purpose? Is it a calculated move or is he somehow unable to—

—And you’re doing it again. Thinking about it non-stop. You called in sick needing a night away from the restaurant, from Jake’s stupid chair and that stupid bathroom that has been giving you palpitations just by the thought of going in and this is how you spend it. You had planned to cook a nice dinner, watch a movie, water your barely-alive plants, do a beginner's yoga class on Youtube, and maybe even finish reading that book that has been dusting on your nightstand. But no, here you are. Already in pajamas, all you’ve done (besides eating yesterday’s leftovers) is sit on the couch contemplating how time passes with the rain and Viejita’s soft meowing in the background. Is procrastination the root of all your problems? Maybe it is.

Or maybe it’s just time to get up and do what you do best: sleep. Give your body the rest your mind refuses to get. You impulse yourself out of the couch to go and take Viejita with you. Cuddling with her makes it all better. No more stupid Jake thinking. You let your ear guide you, she’s right next to the window. She had never complained about the rain before and as she feels you getting closer she even starts scratching the glass.

“Hey, baby, It’s just a little rain,” you mutter, petting her and trying to calm her down until you rest your eyes on what she is staring at down the street.

What the f—He can’t just—There’s no fucking way.

You’re not sure. You just live on the third floor but it’s dark outside. The street light barely lights anything at all. And the rain makes it even harder to see. Yet the outline of the limousine is clearly visible, and so is the figure leaning against it. But it can’t be. You’ve always thought Jake is unusual in every little thing he does but this? He wouldn’t be crazy enough to be waiting under the rain without a fucking umbrella and without even ringing the bell to your apartment, just expecting somehow you knew he would be there, right? That would be insane. It must be a weird coincidence. Some other limo driver who's waiting for someone else here… in this neighborhood? Weird, yet not impossible.

But then he looks up straight at your window and your heart jumps inside your chest as you instinctively hurry back into the shadows, where he can’t see you.

Fuck, it is him.

What the fuck? He knows your apartment is on the third floor, you’ve told him. You’ve told him the number. You’ve told him everything, for fuck’s sake. It's not like you want him to come up to your house knocking on the door in the middle of the night but what is he doing? At this point, you’re sure he purposefully finds the way to do the least expected, most incomprehensible thing in every fucking little thing he does. It must be his life’s motto: “No matter what, always find a way to stress the shit out of the people in my life”.

He’s an idiot, there’s no doubt of it. The thing is: are you an idiot? Well, yeah. You just saw him outside your place and your heart is already a beat away from a fucking heart attack. But you should try not to be an idiot anymore. You shouldn't go down. Make it clear you said it’s over for good. He definitely saw you, he would get it, and then… and then he would leave. Forever. Yeah, that’s what you should do.

But… goodbyes are a good thing too, right? 

Closure and all that stuff. Talk things out, even if it sounds unlikely with someone like Jake. You can give it a chance. A… friendly goodbye. Ok, yeah. Sounds good. And it is the right thing in this type of situation, grown-up shit. A goodbye, that’s all.

You take one last look at the street just in case you’ve lost your mind and you’ve imagined the whole thing, but he’s still right there. Arms crossed, leaning against the limo and probably soaking fuking wet.

“Your dad’s an idiot, Viejita,” you say to the little black beast before taking her in your arms to leave her on her favorite cushion on the sofa. She settles down, pleased and exhausted as if she's accomplished a hard job.

You grab your keys next to the mirror at the entrance. 

Just a goodbye.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The bone-chilling air hits you as soon as you step out of the building but seeing him is what makes you stop dead in your tracks for a second. You couldn’t see it up from your floor but he’s wearing his usual type of clothes, not the casual ones that somehow felt so out of place on him yesterday. Now the familiarity of the white shirt, the jacket, and the hat gives you a naive sense of comfort you try to dismiss away. As if this one were more of your Jake than it was yesterday. Stupid, he’s not more of anything and it’s just clothes.

A white shirt, a jacket, and a hat that are drenched, by the way. Which reminds you—

“What the fuck are you doing in the rain? Are you insane?”

Instead of answering he just looks at you and opens the limo’s door. Silently asking you to get in.

Ok, well…. you didn't think this through. You only thought about coming down, not actually getting into his car. But, you guess… there’s no other option. You came here to say your friendly goodbye, after all. Can’t do it in the rain, just like that. And a veil of water drops is already setting in your clothes, you can feel some of the fabric clanging into your body. Another thing you didn’t think through is the worn-out sweatpants you came out with, the old shirt that has somehow become a pajama shirt, and your lack of a bra underneath.

Fuck it.

When you slide into the car you notice how spacious the limousine is yet it surprises you how it does not seem to be room for many people. There are only two rows of red leather seats facing each other. So much space for so few passengers. In order to be more private and luxurious, you guess. It makes you think about the people he drives for. Might he be just as serious and inaccessible as you’ve seen him be with basically everyone else? Or might he show his weird uncharismatic charisma as he has done with you? The latter doesn’t sound so good, for some reason.

You stop nosing around when you feel him sitting next to you a little bit closer than the spacious seat needs. You were right. He's drenched and most likely ruining the luxurious leather of the luxurious car, but he doesn't seem to care as he turns his whole body and attention towards you.

“Is it every day or once every six months with you? No in-betweens?” You blurt out, cornered by the closeness of his body.

Fuck, friendly goodbye. Friendly.

“Sorry. I take that back,” you mumble, thinking your next words before you pronounce them this time. “Why didn’t you ring the bell to my apartment?”

“It’s late. I saw the lights on but thought you might have fallen asleep. Didn’t want to disturb you. You work too much, preciosa,” he answers calmly, his voice softer than you ever heard before. Not in a submissive way but in a disarmingly appeasing tone as if he had come here disarmed, without any shields. Exactly the opposite of how you feel right now. You move back in the seat trying to get as far as you can get in the restricted space. Soft raspy melting voices shouldn’t cause claustrophobia.

“And if I had been sleeping what would you have done? Wait till I wake up tomorrow?” You throw it out half as a joke, but immediately you realize—

He doesn’t even have to answer to know that’s the truth. He had come here to see you and wouldn’t have left until he did.

“Do you always get what you want? Is that how things work for you?”

“If things worked out for me this wouldn’t be the first time I see you outside work,” he says replies, lifting his hat and running a hand through his hair. And to your disbelief, he puts it back with a sigh like he didn't even realize the damn thing is soaking fucking wet just like the rest of his clothes are. He should take it all off before he catches a cold. Ha, go on. Keep thinking of him without his clothes on. Good idea. “Speaking of which, you know what am I thinking?”

“Are you kidding me?” You snort, turning towards him, as shocked by your train of thought as by the audacity of his question. “I never know what you’re thinking,” you whisper, taken aback by the fact that he still doesn’t understand how little you understand him. At all. That’s the whole point here.

“That’s weird, I’ve always felt you can see right through me,” he mutters, frowning at you as if you had any fault in that absurd idea. Stupid Jake. His voice sounds sincere but you chose not to even give it a second thought, can’t allow yourself that right now. Not with the purpose you came here for.

So you cross your arms and frown back at him, refusing to answer anything at all. But he mirrors you, crossing his arms and resting his back against the seat.

God, this is so stupid. You’re so mad at him but can’t help smiling when the stare competition last a little too long. It’s infuriating. And so ridiculous. You came here to say goodbye, why are you smiling? 

“What are you thinking?” You ask, defeated.

A crooked smile forms on his lips in victory, but he quickly brushes away with his thumb.

“I’m thinking you look pretty fucking good here like this,” he says taking a look at your body, his eyes somehow soft and dark on equal parts. You try to ignore the effect his tone produces under your skin.

“In pajamas on your limousine?”

“Yeah, it’s a sight,” he breathes lowly, uncrossing his arms and getting a little bit closer. You can’t take it.

“Stop—don't do that, please.”

He waits for you to continue.

“That thing you do,” you explain reluctantly. “You make it sound like you’re joking but it feels like you are telling the truth. It’s confusing. Tell me what you are really thinking for once.”

“I’m telling you in every way I know.”

The words are out of his mouth like a caress and the way he’s—No, no, no. Focus. He’s flirting his way out. Get to the point. 

“So? Did you come here to say goodbye?”

“Why would I say goodbye?” He retorts like you had asked him the most bizarre question possible.

“Because we are not seeing each other again, I told you it’s over.”

“Oh, it’s over? So what are you doing here?”

“Would you have left if I didn’t come down? I’m saving you from pneumonia. You’re welcome.”

He shakes his head, a reproachful gleam in his eyes but then he exhales and lets it go. He looks out the window for a moment and then back at you. Outside, the rain pounds harder.

“I came to say that I’m… I’m sorry”

“Oh, that’s a first. What for?”

You cross your legs and he follows the movement. Then he shifts in his seat once more, trying to find comfort.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t—That I left without saying anything—I… I just disappeared. I’m sorry. I understand why you’re angry. If it had been you I would’ve—I’m sorry.”

He’s struggling so much one would think this is the first time he apologizes for something in his life. It cracks your walls a little bit, but still—

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I just had to go and then I couldn’t come back.”

“How so?”

“I… I’m not able to control my time as I used to, just when is necessary.”

Oh. You weren’t important enough to come and let you know he was going to disappear for six fucking months.

“Yeah I get that, you didn’t need to be here,” you grunt moving to get out of the car but he moves from his seat, catching your hand before you even get to touch the handle. 

“Let me go, you asshole!”

You try to push him back but in half a second he’s resting his knees on the floor as his hands take yours on a soft grip at each side of your hips. He’s caging you between his body and the seat. And even when your body keeps attempting to get out of the car, the intense heat that radiates out of his body makes you wonder how his wet clothes aren’t fucking steaming.

“Wait, wait—hey, wait, stop,” he says soothingly, his voice not a bit altered by the force with which you are trying to push him. His left-hand find that soft spot on the side of your neck, drawing your attention to his dark eyes. You lose a little bit of your strength. “Listen to me. You’re angry, I know. Take it out on me. You’ll feel better.”

What?

Your heartbeat buzzes in your ears and you feel a little lightheaded. This is the first time he’s looking up to you instead of the other way around. Maybe that's what causes that slight desperate effect in his deep brown eyes, the look that the last speaker of an extinguished language would have. Condemned to never truly communicate with anyone else. And the way he looks kneeled in front of you, surrounded, as if he would let you do anything to him right now. Take it out on me, he said. Is he expecting you to hit him or something?

“That’s not how things work, Jake. I’m not gonna turn you into my… human stress relief ball. You just told me you don’t need this. And I wanna make that call too. So, that’s it. You’re an idiot but we’re good. Now move and let me go. It’s ok, it’s over just like I–”

“No, it’s not. Stop that,” he says all frown and serious, and then a little softer.  “And that’s not what I meant. But let me apologize. I wanna make you feel good, baby. Then the rest. Let me have you happy and relaxed first.” 

“What?—That’s n-not—We should talk”

“Oh, so you came here to talk not to say goodbye?”

“Are you serious?”

“Sorry,” he says in an innocent tone like he regrets it but he's actually smiling, the widest smile you've ever seen on him yet. A happy smile. The desperate glimmer turned into triumph. He knows you just gave in, he knows he’s won this one. God, you hate him. Stupid Jake.

“Don’t—” take off my slipper, you try to say. But he’s already taking the other one. You really didn’t think about your outfit at all before walking out of your apartment tonight. Whatever. Focus. “What did you mean then, explain it to me. You gotta give me something here because I don’t want to do this anymore, Jake. Not like this.”

He holds your eyes for a moment and then he leans forward, resting his forehead against your knee. One hand slowly making his way up over your calve, the other rolling up the fabric to expose the skin. It takes him a minute to speak again.

“I… I don’t have control over—I don’t really have a—I just do what needs to be done. That’s the purpose of me. That’s all I do. I prevent things from happening and if they happen I resolve them. I… survive, I guess. And this is how it’s been for as long as I can remember. It’s ok—it was, it was ok. It was until one night instead of going to a shitty bar like I always do I decide for some fucking reason to go into that damn 24/7 breakfast and you happened. I didn’t like it, at first, because I knew right there that it wasn’t going to be enough. I already wanted more. I tried to stop it but I kept going and going. You were always there. Lighting things up. Of course, I kept wanting more. It’s never enough”.

While he was speaking his fingertips were gently caressing your calf, his cheek word by word tracing the side of your leg, seeking the reassurance feeling of skin against skin but as soon as the last sentence is pronounced his mouth starts giving open mouth kisses to every inch of uncovered skin it finds on its way and you’re scared your heart may stop working it all. It’s the feel of his tongue in that sensitive spot in the back of your knee, his left hand slowly exploring the length of your thigh but mostly his words and that impenetrable wall finally beginning to break down.

You weren’t expecting this. You thought he was going to come up with a half-true half-joke excuse that you were going to resist not believing in. And then get the courage to walk away just like you had planned. But this is different. You know this is different. You know he meant it. You know for the way he was so evidently struggling to find the right words, the hoarseness on every one of them as if his body were still trying to keep them locked deep inside. This is him. This is what you’ve been asking for. But still—

“The thing is you’re changing things for me, preciosa. I know I’m not made for this. I’m fucked up, I am. I’m not good. And on top of that, there’s not much I can offer you. I’ve nothing. And I can’t even take care of a damn cat without having it all fall over. I’m not even close to being good enough for you. You deserve better, you do—but I’m still here… if you want me. And even if you don’t, I would still be here, waiting.”

It’s raining properly now, hammering on the roof of the limousine. The furious rhythm of hundreds of drops almost synchronized with the rapid beat of your heart. His thumb hooked over the waistband of your pants, slowly pulling until your hip is exposed. Your breath caught in your throat.

“You deserve better but I’m selfish now. If anything is your fault, you turned me into this. I want you for my own,” he mutters, leaning in to kiss the skin of your lower stomach. You can’t help but gasp at the contact, he’s barely touched you and you already can feel the wetness dripping out of you. “Will you let me have you?”

He’s looking you straight into your eyes now, he hadn’t done it since he started speaking, and you can see how much he just gave you. You’ve learned to know him, somehow. Not in the way one learns to read deciphering signs on a page but in the way our eyes become accustomed to darkness after some time. Groping and stumbling you’ve learned some parts of him, his outline. That’s how you know he’s asking for way more than he’s letting on. You have the feeling that saying yes to him involves a lot more than saying yes to somebody else. The feeling that whatever it is he’s asking from you might consume you and leave you heartbroken afterward. But that’s not the hold-up.

The thing is, you want more, you want to see him in full light. You want him for your own too. But you need to understand him. Fully. You won't give yourself up without having him first. 

“You want me to beg? I’ll beg if you want me to, but then I’ll be the one taking it out on you later,” he threats when you don’t answer for a while, all teasing voice and mischief glimmer, he’s back to the playful Jake you know so well. A little too long of silence and his defenses go up again.

You don’t think he’ll keep spilling truths voluntarily but now that you’ve heard some of them you want more. You’ve become addicted. You need more. But how?

And how are you supposed to think while he keeps playing with the waistband of your pants? Fuck, unless—He just acted on your terms, revealing himself just like you’ve asked him to. Now is your turn. You probably will get immediately caught up on it, but you can try.

You need to play it his way then. 

He sees the change on your face and a spellbound gleam forms in his eyes.

“Show me how it would feel,” you whisper and you don’t need to say it twice.

As soon as the words are out of your mouth the sweatpants are out of your legs. Once he has you only in your t-shirt and your panties he leans back a little bit observing you from head to toe, lingering his eyes on yours, on the contour of your hardened nipples and the wet patch of your panties, as if he wanted to burn the image in his memory, the pervert. Well, you can’t judge, you are the same. Admiring how the white wet shirt clings to his torso, wrapping him like hard candy. You may as well lick him—fuck, focus. Focus.

When he starts to slowly take off your panties you manage to find your voice again.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you undress me on the street.”

“You’re letting me undress you in my car, it’s hot. And its got tinted glasses, and it’s dark outside and you’re with me, bonita,” he answers absently, focused on the delicate movement of the silky material as it slides down your legs. You can't mock him at the implication that you're safe with him though, you know it's true. You’ve felt it from the first day.

Once your panties reach your ankles he carefully removes them to put them in the pocket of his pants. Again, pervert. You ignore the need to clench your thighs together at the gesture and decide to tease him about it. He deserves it. And it’s what has worked the best so far. Pushing his buttons it’s what had you moaning in the fucking bathroom of your workplace anyways.

“To remember me?” You ask as innocently as you can.

But he’s done with it. He pins you with his gaze, raising a thick eyebrow at you.

“Why would I need reminding, exactly?”

“Because this is the last time.”

“What did I just say? Stop that. Don’t make me say it again. You know it’s not enough, preciosa. You know it.” His lips back to your legs, his voice still annoyed but so soft you don’t think you hear right: “Will never be.”

For the sake of your own heart, you rather believe you misheard.

He opens your legs a little bit further and then—

“Fuck, baby.” He sounds so wrecked, you feel weak. You were supposed to do something, what was it? “Voy a despertar soñándote por el resto de mi puta vida.”

“That’s not fair, you know I don’t understand. And tell me… tell me more about yourself first, please.”

“There’s not much to tell. And I’d like to do something else with my tongue right now.”

“What’s your favorite movie?”

“I mean, if I could record this right n—”

“Jake.”

“Whichever you’d like to watch with me, bonita.”

“You drive for a living?”

“That’s how I earn some money, yeah. Stop torturing me.”

“But you’re not just a driver, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“And is that…dangerous?”

“Not to you. I promise”

“Are you in danger?”

“I’m in danger of dying as a thirsty man here.”

“What’s your last name?”

“Lockley. Come on, baby, don't make me go crazier than I already am.”

“Lockley… Jake Lockley.” That catches his attention back to your mouth for a second. “What’s your favorite hobby?”

“This,” he says sliding you effortlessly to the edge of the seat. You feel his breath near your core and you know you’re losing it. Shit, why were you doing this? Why are you delaying it when you want it so badly? Oh, right, you—

“Jake, wait,” you breathe. “I need more. I need to understand.”

“Then pay attention, preciosa.”

His mouth finds your inner thigh and he’s so close. So close. You won’t hold back anymore. You can’t. Your hand finds his shoulder just to hold onto something but fuck. He’s still in his wet clothes. He can’t stay like this. You gather the little willpower you have left to push him back. You expect some sort of resistance but he moves back with no effort on your part. Take it out on me, is this what he meant?

The way he raises his gaze is enough to set your blood on fire. He looks at you as if he’s about to say fuck it all and push you back to have his way with you mixed with genuine curiosity about what are you going to do next. Submission hanging by a thread.

“Take off your jacket.”

He holds your gaze for a moment and then he does it. Fuck, the power trip you're feeling right now. It feels pretty fucking good having him listening to you like that. More.

“Now your shirt.”

He sighs and begins to unbutton it, somehow amused by how much you're pushing it. Did he just unblock a new kink for you?

Once the shirt is discarded somewhere on the floor of the limo you lean forward to take off his hat. Is soaking wet just like his hair is underneath. And of course, you can’t resist. You take a moment to run a hand through his curls all the way down to his nape until your hand is resting on his shoulder again. He looks so fucking hot like this. You bite the urge to confess it, instead, you lean back and open your legs a little further, an invitation.

“You can go on, now.”

The little smile he’s trying to bite back makes your stomach flutter. You decide to tease him a little bit more.

“I mean, if you don’t want to…” you concede, beginning to close your legs but you barely get to move an inch before he dives right in and—

Fucking heaven.

You loudly gasp at the feeling of the wet heat of his mouth dragging over the folds of your pussy, his groan sending shivers from your core through your whole body. Fuck, it’s too good. It’s too good. When his tongue swirls around your clit your brain short-circuits having at the same the time the urge to push him away and push him impossibly closer. As your hand finds his curls you realize your body has chosen the latter. The movement pleases him, you can feel his smile against you.

“So fucking good,” he mutters, barely pulling back as you feel the movement of his lips with each word. Your hips move forward anyway, chasing the delicious contact.

Fuck, you’re already on the edge. His mouth is giving you everything without holding anything back. Fixed on wreck you from the beginning, desire running through your abdomen.

“Oh, fuck. Jake, I–I’m gonna—”

“Eyes on me, preciosa.” Is all he says but your mind is gone, every cell in your body focused on the sweet hot pleasure that’s rushing to you core. Your head falls back against the seat as the shocks of ecstasy flow through you, your whines chanting his name, your hand holding thigh to his hair, your cunt clenching hard around nothing—his mouth not leaving you for a second, drowning in you.

When your legs twtich a little too much one hand holds your hips down hard into the seat to ensure you keep still but he’s not stopping, he’s—

He’s—

Two long, thick fingers slid in and out of you as Jake’s mouth goes up, focusing on your swollen clit, licking and sucking and his eyes—

Fuck, you can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

His gaze is so deep and strong, melting your fucking bones. You’ve never been seen like that, never.

“Keep your eyes on me or I’ll keep going until you let me see.”

You can’t help but clench at his words, a whine escaping your lips. He feels it.

“Mmm, would you like that?”

It’s too much, too intense. The free fall never stops inside of you. And you can’t even move away from it. You just have to take it the way he wants to.

His tongue swirls, his fingers curl and you completely lose yourself in the pleasure ripping you from the inside. Your sense of gravity changes to where his wet hot mouth keeps taking everything you have to give. His fierce brown eyes the only thing keeping you grounded.

“That’s it. Look at you, so fucking pretty baby,” Jake says in that dark rich voice you love so much, and though he keeps praising you you’re too gone to even hear anymore. All you can do is lay back against the seat of his limo until your heart stops booming in your ears and air reintegrates into your lungs again.

When feeling comes back to your numb body you find one of his hands massaging the back of your neck, the other moving from your collarbone towards that spot that keeps beating strong under his touch. He keeps his warm palm right there in your heart and fuck, he’s still kneeling in front of you, looking at you with Am I forgiven eyes and you know this is not healthy, this is not how things should be, yet all you want to do is to close your own eyes because you know they’re answering him yes, yes you are. Instead, you lower your head to brush your lips into his, an invitation that makes his body go so pliant on you when you grab him and take him up with you, maneuvering him until you’re on his lap and you can finally kiss him like you’ve wanted since the moment you met him.

That first kiss six months ago was tentative and stiff, it felt like he was trying to stop himself but his body wouldn’t respond to his rational wishes, like his mouth was moving against all his fucking will. Yesterday’s kisses were dark and possessive, every movement of his tongue deliberately planned to have you whining at his mercy.

This one is completely different. This time it’s you who’s leading the way. This time it’s you who’s showing him that the despair that’s so evident in the glimmer of his eyes is the same that’s hidden deep down in your chest. And you know, you know, that the moan that sips out of him when you cradle each side of his face and your tongue clashes into his is because he understands what your body is saying to him. He knows.

And it may be minutes or hours, all you’re conscious of is the constant pattering of the rain against the roof of the car, your own taste in his mouth, the way he pushes you closer every time you bite his lower lip, his fingers under your t-shirt caressing the small of your back, tracing your ribs and digging in your hips, the warmth of his skin, the hard muscle underneath, his damp curls when you run your nails through his head, those dark sounds that come out of his throat when you rock against the bulge inside his pants, the slow, steady bone-melting rhythm that completely intoxicates you until you need more, more, more.

And you know he does too.

He takes off your shirt in one swift motion. You feel something icy at the center of your collarbone but you don’t even have time to process it because suddenly your breast is in his hot wet mouth and his teeth are gently nipping the flesh there and then his tongue swirls against your nipple and—

You need—you’re overwhelmed by the need to have him as delirious as he has you right now.

You push him back into the seat and he’s immediately calling you preciosa and complaining but you are already kissing him, shutting him up, and undoing the zipper of his pants. He growls in your mouth when you palm the outline of his cock over his underwear, your walls clench hard in anticipation. And then he shivers when you slowly run your nails throughout his length over the fabric and you know you’re fucked. You will crave this feeling for the rest of your life.  The feeling of having Jake Lockley trembling with pleasure underneath you. An instant addiction.

You take his hard cock out and you and you don't even give him time to pull his pants out or take them off before you’re rubbing your slit against his length. Utterly and unashamedly desperate.

“Fuck, baby,” he mutters in your mouth, his tight and raspy voice making you throb in need, his muscles tense under your hands. “Feels soo good, doesn’t it? This is how it will feel like, everything, every fucking time.”

He pushes back a little to look at you. You know he’s talking about what you answered when he asked to have you. Show me how it would feel. You know this is his way to push for an answer. A confirmation that you’re his. But instead of trying to find those words hidden somewhere in your chest you get lost in his deep brown eyes and you realize that all those moments when he looked at you like he wanted to crawl under your skin your eyes must have looked at him just the same way.

“Will you let me have you?” The question leaves your lips this time, yet no words come out of his mouth but a breathless choked sound as if you’ve punched him in the gut. Instead, he just grabs the side of your neck and glares at you with something profound that could be anger or devotion, or maybe both. And then he’s kissing you, his tongue fighting yours, how dare you is saying. A hand on your hip lifts you up enough so that he can line himself up at your entrance and just when you begin to feel that pressure—

“If we are doing this you’re not allowed to leave again without warning, Ok? It’s cruel,” you blurt out without thinking, your helpless heart rising to the surface, exposing itself despite your efforts.

“Ok,” he answers, his voice torn and low, as solemnly as he can with your cunt torturously dripping the length of his cock. You look down, ready to feel him inside but he grabs your chin and makes you look at him again. “And you’re not allowed to say you hate me. Ever again. I mean it. Ok?”

“Or?”

“Or I’ll fuck your pretty little brains out until I have you begging me to stop but I won’t until I’m sure you’ve completely forgotten the damn fucking word. Ok?” He pulls at your hair for emphasis and you have to fight down the moan that threatens to leave your throat with the gesture.

“Ok,” you answer out of breath, obediently.

“Good,” he praises, soothing your scalp with his fingertips. Then, cheeky again. “What am I allowed to?”

“You’re allowed to ring the bell to my apartment, for once.” You laugh but then—

He holds your hips as he slowly begins to slide his cock in, gently and steadily but fuck.

Holy fuck.

You’re so wet there’s barely any resistance bet he’s long and thick and the stretch feels like he’s gonna break you in half. The strong grip of your hands on his shoulders makes him stop before he can go any further.

“You’ll get used to me,” he gasps in your temple. “Fuck, such a tight fucking pussy, baby. But I’ll make you get used to me. All of you.”

“Shut up and just keep going, for fuck’s sake”

“Relax on me, preciosa. I don’t wanna hurt you,” he whispers in your ear, his fingers caressing every inch of skin he can find, his tongue licking the pulse in your neck. “Relax…Mmm, that’s it. Yeah, like that.”

It takes a little.  The expert grip on your hips makes you sink into him so, so slowly every inch of him steals a whine out of you but you know it’s driving him fucking crazy too. He’s breathing hard, the muscles in his abdomen jump at the slightest shift of your hips, and a faint film of sweat appears on his neck. It makes you wanna lick him. But you get distracted by how good and how deep it feels and how his hands move from your hips to a playful hold on your throat, until they fall flat on the seat.

“You can go on, now,” he returns your words, a cheeky little grim forming in the corner of his lips as he leans back on the seat. Leaving you to it. Your heart swells at the wrecked and joyful gleam of his eyes. 

You try to say something smart and snarky at him but his cock is buried deep inside of you and you can’t think of anything else, to be honest. You lift yourself up and down, tentatively, the burning so good it has so gasping.

“Feels good, baby? Feels so right, doesn’t it? You know why it feels so right, don’t you? You understand it.”

You pick up your pace, oblivious of his words, trying to suppress the hidden emotion behind every roll of your hips. You don’t want to hear those words, you don’t need to. Not now. But he keeps going—

“You have no idea all the times a woke up this,” he breathes, his hands finding your hips again. Unable to stay away for too long. “Preciosa lurking me with her smart mouth and her —fuck— her pretty smile. Letting me punish her for being too good for me.”

He makes you clench hard around him. You can’t help it. It’s his words, the idea. 

“Mmm, you’d like that. I’d like that too. I could spank you for every time you wouldn’t leave my fucking head, for distracting me,” he growls grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing it. “How red would your ass be then, huh?”

His hand goes up to hold your hip again. And now he’s thrusting into you. Reaching places you couldn’t reach yourself, so fucking deep. 

“I could edge you to tears for doing this to me.” The pad of his thumb finds your clit and you whine his name in response. The shots of ecstasy are growing fast and intense. You’re gasping, he’s breathing hard. And to your surprise, he keeps talking. “I could have you screaming for—for—”

Before he was forcing himself to get the truth out, struggling to answer your questions with honesty. But now it’s flowing out of him, a little bit of truth with every thrust of his hips. Every word sticking deep into your heart.

“Fuck, I missed you… my whole body felt it even—even when I wasn't myself.”

God, you can’t even process each sensation. And his scent is concentrated in that soft spot on the side of his neck, it makes you dizzy. You’re so out of yourself, so overflowed with sensations and desire, that you only notice you’re running your tongue down the skin of his throat when growls and holds you impossibly closer, just like you wanted.

Is too much. Everything. This is—you’ve never felt anything like this before. Like the whole ground is disappearing under you. All you can do is hold onto Jake, one hand on his shoulder the other on his nape, your face buried in his neck. But he’s asking you something, his voice softer than before.

“Do you understand?”

But you’re too lost on it. You can’t—Your movements start to grow impatient, fast, and erratic. The hot melting pleasure is close once more. But not close enough.

“Preciosa, answer me.”

You keep clinging to him, refusing to do anything but chase the feeling. You’re almost there, almost there, you’re—

You’re suddenly on your back, his body hovering over yours, both of your hands taken behind you, arching you and maintaining you exposed. Making it impossible to hide away. His hand is on the side of your neck, his eyes piercing through you. He’s expecting the same sincerity he has given you tonight. He’s done what you’ve been asking him this whole time—broken down the wall between you two. Why are you so scared to take what was behind it? Because it’ll consume you. It already is. And you know if he disappears again—If he disappears after all this everything it would be so, so much worse. It’s too much risk. It’s all too much. You can’t—

But fuck, he looks so lost in you. 

“Tell me, do you understand now?”

At this point, you couldn't lie even if you tried. Your heart is on the surface.

“Yes, yeah. I-I do. Me too, Jake.”

“Fuck, mía.” He groans between desperate kisses on your mouth, then becomes a prayer that escapes from his lips with every needier, sloppier thrust of his hips. “Mía, mía, mía…”

Your whole body tenses under him then the pleasure rips you from the inside, making you scream this time. The hard squeeze of your cunt enough to push him to the edge. He grinds his cock as deep as he can against something that makes you sob and then he’s cumming, hard. You feel his body shuddering above and you want to see every second of it but everything goes blurry.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Somehow, you find yourself on his lap again. Your whole body a dead weight against him. Your head tugged in the curve of his neck. His hands moving up and down along your back.

Your body is tired yet the adrenaline is still running through your veins. You can feel it buzzing somewhere inside, that’s why you are surprised when your voice comes out as a whisper.

“If you disappear again I swear that I—”

“I won’t. I can’t.”

You push back to look into his eyes in search of any sign that may tell otherwise, but you don’t find any.

“I won’t be long gone. I’ll be back soon,” he reassures, running his fingertips from your neck to your collarbone, his lips gently tracing your jawline. “Apenas pude aguantarme esta vez. No soy tan fuerte.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’ll be back. Ok?”

Suddenly he’s looking into your eyes for some sort of final confirmation that you feel the same way he feels, even if he didn’t confess it with words. And you do. You do, you do, you do, your answer to him. Instead, your mouth says—

“Ok.”

He takes your face in both his hands. His lips brushing yours.

“Mi preciosa.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

A few hours before sunrise, long after the rain has stopped, you enter your apartment. Happy and exhausted, you know you’ll fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. You also know you’ll dream of brown deep eyes and a raspy voice calling you preciosa over and over again.

As you put your keys next to the mirror at the entrance your eyes catch a sparkle on your neck. It’s a silver necklace with a little moon on it. It’s beautiful.

Your head turns to the window, to the moonlight and the limousine below it that you know won't leave until it sees all your lights off. 

You had never felt anything like this before, you had never been under the weight of an emotion so strong that there was no way to communicate it with words, you had never been able to understand someone just by looking into their eyes. But then Jake isn’t like anyone you have met before either. And there's nothing you'd do to change that.

You know he will be back.

———————————————

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“Of course!” Steve shrugged. “She and I have been friends a lot longer than we dated. I mean, that was, what, seven or eight months in sophomore year? It’s been years since then.”

“But you’re still so close,” Eddie noticed.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, “and actually— it’s perfect! I can help you ask her out!”

“Wait, you mean like, I have a friend who likes you or something?” Eddie wondered, seeming a little suspicious as he turned his head away slightly.

“No, a little smoother than that,” Steve assured, “like a wingman! Like Top Gun!”

Eddie sighed; he almost wished Steve had never seen that movie, now he wouldn’t shut up about it.

“Actually, she already kinda told me she’s into you,” he grinned, and Eddie’s eyes widened.

“Really?”

“Yeah, we were hanging out a few weeks ago and we played that game Fuck Marry Kill?” Steve began, and Eddie nodded. “It was you, John Stamos and Val Kilmer— she said she’d fuck you.”

Eddie gave a sideways frown.

"Dude. Seriously." Steve glared at Eddie's unenthusiastic reaction. "In that line up I was sure she'd kill you. But poor Stamos got the chop instead."

Eddie shrugged.

"Did you miss the part of the story where she said she wants to fuck you?"

But Eddie knew that wasn't what that actually meant. “I guess that’s good, but honestly, I was kind of going for ‘marry’," he admitted.

Steve laughed joyfully as he shoved Eddie’s shoulder. “Didn’t know you were such a romantic!”

“I-I mean, I’ve never had a real girlfriend before,” Eddie replied, “so I hope she wants more than to just, like, fool around. Not that I would say no to that!”

“Of course,” Steve nodded, “totally get you— I’m the same way, you know, tired of all the one-night stands.”

Yeah, except you have an endless supply and I’ve had four, Eddie thought.

“If you want, I could talk to her for you,” Steve suggested, “and get the scoop— see if she’d be interested. That way you know before you go through all the trouble of actually asking her.”

“Okay— but keep it subtle! I don’t want her to know I’ve got a crush unless it’s reciprocated.”

Steve nodded confidently. “You got it, Munson. I can be stealthy. Like a ninja.”

~

You were sitting on the floor throwing Sour Patch Kids, watching Steve open his mouth wide and lean to try to catch them. He got five in a row, before you threw one too much to the side and he had to dive so far that he fell on his side onto the carpet; you both laughed with your mouths full, and he kicked you by sliding his foot out over the carpet. You groaned and kicked him back, until you two were having a shoe war on the rug: his sneakers versus your loafers.

After the fight and giggles died down, a quick silence fell before it was broken. “So,” Steve said suddenly, “it’s time for me to ask my favorite question…”

“Oh god,” you rolled your eyes. “Time for the third degree.”

“Seeing anybody lately?” he grinned.

“I mean… I dunno,” you shrugged. “A few dates here and there, but nobody interesting.”

“Interesting?” he pressed. “You want an interesting guy to go out with, then?”

“What’s with all the sudden interest, Harrington?” you returned with a smirk; you only called him that when you were teasing him.

“I’m always asking about your dates,” he corrected.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re nosy,” you scoffed.

“I just thought maybe we could figure out who you should be going out with."

“Maybe I should be single for a while,” you offered instead— not because you actually thought so, but because you wanted to figure out why he was so insistent on getting you a date.

“No, see, ‘cause this is the perfect time for a new squeeze,” he assured, “you know— fall’s just started, it’s getting chilly out, leaves are turning…”

You sighed dreamily, glancing out his bedroom window at the orange and brown leaves, rustling with the breeze that you just knew was blowing in a cold front from out East.

“Don’t you just wanna cuddle up with somebody this time of year?” Steve hummed, tensing up his shoulders under his soft Lacoste sweater.

“Yeah, alright,” you agreed, “I was thinking I should get a new boyfriend for the fall. I’m guessing based on your general shiftiness that you have someone in mind?”

Steve coughed and looked away. “I mean— I just had a couple ideas.”

“Such as…?”

He thought for a second, biting his lip. “Uh, there’s Joey Shelley?”

You frowned. “He’s cute, I guess, but he’s sorta… dull?”

“Okay, then— Keith Bowen’s fun,” Steve noticed.

“Yeah, he is,” you agreed, “but didn’t you go out with his sister for a while?”

“So?” he shrugged.

“Isn’t that, like, incest?” you shuddered.

Steve wrinkled his eyebrows together. “Um… no?”

“Whatever, it’s weird,” you decided. “And I dunno… he’s not really my type.”

“He’s exactly your type!” Steve scoffed. “If not him then that Ryan guy you were checking out at the theater last week.”

“I wasn’t checking him out, I was trying to figure out where he got his jeans,” you explained.

“Why?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you hummed, hoping to avoid explaining further since the real answer was that you were already planning Steve’s Christmas present.

“You don’t like any of my suggestions,” he noticed.

“It’s not that! I just— all those guys are just like the guys I always go out with,” you clarified with a sigh.

“What kind of guys do you always go out with?” Steve wondered.

“You know— preppy guys! Guys like— well, guys like you, actually,” you snorted. “I mean, you old money boys are fun for a while, but…”

“But you want something new,” he suggested, surprisingly unoffended by your diss on his fellow preps (though it couldn’t be that hard of a critique coming from a preppy girl yourself), “I get it. Wanna mix it up.”

You shrugged. “I mean, maybe I should.”

~

“Did you talk to her?” Eddie asked excitedly as he leaned in closer to Steve, who leaned back— Eddie wasn’t so good with the ‘personal space’ thing sometimes.

“Yeah,” Steve promised.

“Will she go out with me?”

“Woah, slow down,” Steve frowned, “I thought you wanted subtle— was I supposed to ask her out for you?”

“No,” Eddie sighed, “that would’ve made it easier but— no, it’s tacky. But did she say if she would go out with me? If I asked?”

“You didn’t come up,” Steve explained, reacting to Eddie’s disappointed expression by adding: “by name! But I think she’d be into it if you asked her.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, half-frowning. “You think? So, what, she might turn me down and then I look like an idiot?”

“Munson, to be honest,” Steve sighed, “I didn’t think looking like an idiot bothered you that much.”

Eddie gave Steve a look; Steve returned by motioning his head towards Eddie’s Hellfire shirt. Eddie, staring down at his outfit, wore an offended grimace when he met Steve’s gaze again. “Hey!” he yelped sharply. “I made this myself!”

“Exactly,” Steve nodded.

“Whatever,” Eddie scoffed, crossing his arms defensively, “this is different than clothes, anyway. I don’t want her to think that all I want is a date— like, I’m cool just being friends, too. But there’s that thing where, if you ask a girl out, you can’t really be friends after that.”

“Uh, I’m her friend,” Steve reminded Eddie, “and I asked her out.”

“In tenth grade!” Eddie added. “You’re smoother than me, anyways, I don’t even know what to say—”

“Just be honest, man,” Steve instructed, “just… tell her you think she’s pretty and you wanna go to a movie or something.” Steve shrugged, as if that required no effort at all, but Eddie was terrified just imagining saying that to you.

“When?” Eddie asked— his first of many issues with that idea. “I don’t have the excuse of seeing her at school anymore, and when school’s over she’s always hanging out with you.”

Steve smiled excitedly, finally finding a part of this plan he knew he could orchestrate. “We’ll find a way,” he promised cryptically.

~

It was Steve’s idea to go to the record store— he said he wanted the new(ish) Human League album and frankly, you never needed too much of a reason to kill time there. It wasn’t just the music or the respite from the increasing chill outside on your bare legs (maybe the plaid skirt you chose to wear today was a bit out of season, but it was cute), it was the atmosphere itself, it was the smell: old books, new records, paper album sleeves, and whatever rosemary-and-spice candle the owner was burning somewhere.

You flipped through the stacks and scoffed at the cover of The Queen Is Dead. “You should get your own copy of this instead of continuing to indefinitely borrow mine,” you suggested to Steve flatly.

“Is the new Talking Heads album any good?” he asked as he flipped the record around and presented True Stories to you, ignoring what you’d said entirely. Steve Harrington had some of the most impressive selective hearing you’d ever encountered.

Your search wandered out of rock and indie towards pop and synth, where Steve went on a rant you’d heard before about Cyndi Lauper and you pondered trying out Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. Someone coming up to you got your attention, and you heard Steve greet him before you actually recognized him: “Munson, funny seeing you here,” he nodded.

Turning and looking up at him, you found a friendly smile under a nose tinted red from the cold wind outside— even if the leather-jacket-and-denim-vest fusion looked like it would keep him pretty warm out there. He had the latest Alice Cooper album tucked under his arm, and the flamboyant cover caught your attention for a moment before you looked at his face again.

“Oh! Hey Eddie,” you greeted joyfully. “Didn’t expect to find you in the pop section…”

You shot Steve a look as he suddenly stepped backwards and walked further away— leaving you and Eddie essentially by yourselves. Eddie was more Steve’s friend than your own, wouldn’t he want to talk with you? But you couldn’t pay that much attention when you were trying to listen to Eddie’s reply: “Oh, I listen to all kinds of stuff, actually.”

“Well, your merch isn’t so diverse,” you noticed, pointing at his shirt; he looked down at it, like he forgot what he was wearing, and smiled.

“Yeah, this is one of my favorites,” he admitted. “The band and the shirt. My uncle got me this one for my birthday last year, actually.”

“Well, it’s cool,” you decided.

“Oh, thanks,” he hummed. “I-I like your necklace. Definitely classier than a worn-out old shirt.”

“Thank you, I—” you began, though you almost lost your breath when he reached up and touched the jewelry gently. “I… got it on a trip, with my parents? To Australia…”

You felt that shivery butterfly feeling as he toyed with the pearls around your neck. Was he flirting? You hoped so. Truth be told, you never really noticed Eddie when you went to school together; well, actually, a guy like Eddie was sort of impossible not to notice, but really you didn’t do anything past noticing him. Metalhead, D&D geek, flunker— you didn’t know much beyond that, though you didn’t take issue with him like most of the other kids in your social group did. A jock flipped his lunch tray on purpose once and you helped him clean it up, but that was the extent of your interaction.

You didn’t really notice that he was cute until Steve re-introduced you a few months back. It started with thinking that he was funny— in much more of a laughing with than a laughing at way for a guy like him— and then being flattered by his chivalry. It was little things, like opening doors and pulling out chairs, but you admired it. Despite a distinctly modern look, Eddie himself was sort of a classic guy, and that charming smile was timeless.

“Australia? That’s so cool,” he said suddenly. “I’ve never even been south of Kansas.”

“It's beautiful," you agreed. “We swam in the Great Barrier Reef.”

“I, uh, watched something on the Discovery channel about that one time,” he mumbled nervously, obviously aware of how much less interesting of a story that was. “I think they said, like, ten thousand different species live there…”

“That sounds about right,” you smiled, “but I didn’t see them all, obviously.”

The conversation stalled and Eddie rocked nervously on his heels; you examined him for a moment, expecting him to break the silence any second, but he never did.

“Since when are you so shy?” you tilted your head. “You’re normally so… boisterous.”

“Well, honestly?” he breathed. “I get really shy when I, uh, when I’m trying to ask somebody out.”

It still took you a second to get what he meant— you were actually about to ask him who he was going to ask out! Then it clicked, and you smiled. “Oh,” you blinked quickly, “you mean me, right? That’s sweet. What did you have in mind?”

“I-I just figured I’d ask if you wanted to go out sometime,” he decided, “with me.”

You giggled. “I meant for the date.”

“O-oh, yeah,” he sighed, blushing slightly; you liked this version of Eddie, even if you’d been crushing on the one that was so loud and crazy. “There’s a drive-in not too far from here, and I’ve got the van… do you like scary movies?”

“No,” you admitted, stepping up closer to drag your finger over his chest, tracing the letters of his Metallica t-shirt, “but maybe when the scary parts come on, you could protect me?”

You batted your eyelashes up at him, watching his eyes dart all over your face wildly. “Y-yeah, of course,” he promised quickly. “Not to brag or anything, but I’ve watched a lot of scary movies and I’ve survived them all. So you’re safe with me.”

“Good,” you hummed, stepping back and holding onto the strap of your bag that crossed over your chest. “So you can pick me up at seven, then?”

His shock turned quickly into glee. “Yeah! I’ll see you then.”

~

“S-sorry, I cleaned up as best I could,” Eddie promised nervously as you hopped into the van’s passenger seat.

“Oh, it’s fine!” you dismissed quickly. “Steve’s car is always a mess— not, like, dirty, but messy for sure. Random clothes everywhere.”

“Is Harrington stripping in his car that often?” Eddie wondered, curling his lips slightly.

You shrugged. “Guess so.”

Shuddering, Eddie started the van and began the familiar route to the drive-in. The sun was already setting, and it would be dark enough for the movie soon.

It was a short, but pleasant, ride; you took the time to catch up with Eddie and get to know him a little better, since you didn’t know a lot about him past the obvious.

“I’ve got everything we’ll need tonight,” he promised, “blankets, pillows— you know, to make the back all cozy— candy, snacks— do you like Sour Patch Kids?”

“Only the yellow ones,” you admitted, and he looked at you like you were crazy— but also, like he was into it. “I know!” you yelped. “Steve says it’s proof I’m a monster.”

“Monster? No, you’re perfect,” he said, so casually, like it didn’t make your heart skip, “and those are the only ones I won’t eat, so… guess we’re a perfect match, too.”

Biting your lip, you looked back at the road ahead— Eddie had just flipped on the headlights— and felt the warm, giddy flush crawling up your face. He was a flirt, that’s for sure, even when he had this nervous energy radiating off of him.

After finding the best available spot to park for the movie, Eddie asked you to wait in the passenger while he set up the back; for a few minutes as he unfolded blankets and arranged everything, you toyed with the pearls around your neck (after he complimented them, you kept them on despite changing most of the rest of your outfit, and he noticed, saying they made you look regal, ‘like a princess or something’) and waited.

“Ta-da!” he announced with an excited flourish of his arms and a wide grin when you were finally allowed to look: the back seats had been folded down, the back hatch doors were swung open, and the whole floor was padded with a pallet of blankets and pillows. And, right in the middle, a nice big stash of movie candy classics; including, of course, Sour Patch Kids. “Comfy, right?”

“Only one way to find out,” you smiled as you climbed in. He even held his hand out for you to lift yourself up with to get in the back, even though you definitely didn’t need it.

Once you were comfortable, he laid back on the blanket with you, letting you lean in close even though the movie hadn’t started yet— you could blame it on the chill in the air, but he’d see right through that.

“You really know how to show a girl a good time, huh?” you noticed as you relaxed on the soft padding beneath you.

“I-I try,” he stammered. “It’s been a while since I’ve— m’kinda out of practice, to be honest…”

“Me too,” you admitted.

“What?” he laughed. “Getting taken out doesn’t take any practice! All you’ve gotta do is sit there and look pretty.”

You batted your eyelashes at him; “How am I doing so far?”

He grinned as he tossed a blue Sour Patch Kid into his mouth. “You’re a natural, princess.”

When the movie finally did start, you were already getting that lovely jittery feeling from being so close to him, wondering if he would touch you: hoping he would, actually. Was he the kind of guy who waited until the end to kiss you? Or was he just waiting until everyone else in the surrounding cars was focused enough on the movie above for none of them to look back and see you making out?

But, you actually watched the movie for about the first act, occasionally whispering something to each other or laughing at a campy moment— and, of course, when you jumped at a scare and leaned in to him, he carefully wrapped an arm around you. Even with a relatively conservative touch, he nervously hesitated for a moment, but you found it endearing.

“Thanks for taking me out,” you whispered to him about halfway through the movie, making him look down at you.

“Y-yeah,” he agreed, looking like he was struggling a bit to focus on conversation with your face so close. “Thanks for, um, agreeing to go out with me. I wasn’t sure if you would.”

You grinned, biting your lip. “Actually, I was hoping you’d ask me soon.”

“Really?” Eddie raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think I was your type.”

“You’re not,” you admitted, “that’s the fun part. Something different.”

“This is different for me, too,” he agreed.

“I’m not like the girls you usually take out?” you assumed.

“In the sense that you exist? Yes,” he nodded, making you laugh almost a bit too loud. “Yes, very different.”

“C’mon, you can’t be that hopeless,” you rolled your eyes.

“This whole town thinks I’m a freak, remember?” he smirked. “Even the women— uh, especially the women.”

“Guess I don’t mind it,” you shrugged. “Maybe I’m a freak, too… once you get to know me.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The tension of the moment lingered for a few moments of silence, neither you nor Eddie looking back at the big screen above you, keeping your eyes trained on each other. For a comment as sexually-charged as what you’d said, you didn’t expect him to follow it up with something so… wholesome. “Can I kiss you?” he asked.

Way too tender, way too sweet for how flirty and heated the conversation that led up to it had become. But it still made your stomach flip, and you nodded, and Eddie carefully cradled your jaw in his hand as he closed the distance and pressed his lips to yours.

It was chaste and patient, at first— gentle movements in time with each other, finding the rhythm, getting familiar with the faint taste of cigarettes under the sweetness of the sour candy you’d shared.

The moment seemed like it could go on forever, like the kiss never needed to end and never needed to progress; the movie played on in the background, but you hardly paid attention, focused instead on the sounds of his breathing picking up, of the blankets shifting beneath you when he moved, of the slightest sigh that fell against your face when you ran a hand up his chest over his shirt.

You opened your mouth wider, tilting your head back, not just allowing but inviting him to kiss you deeper— and he accepted gladly, one hand cradling the back of your head delicately.

His other hand ran down your back, settling at your waist; for a second you thought he might drift even lower and grab your butt. If he did, it would be sort of tacky, but you also wouldn’t mind that much for some reason.

He brushed his fingers over your jaw and tilted his face further, suddenly gaining a little speed and intensity as he tasted you, and you had to resist the urge to moan around his tongue carefully exploring your mouth. Fuck. Heat was already gathering between your legs from a kiss like this. Maybe it was due in part to how long it had been since you’d been taken out properly, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to control yourself if he wanted more.

You gasped softly when his hand slid up your leg. He’s gonna do it— he’s gonna reach up under my skirt and touch me. And I’m gonna let him.

It was impulsive and a little irresponsible, the way you were about to let Eddie Munson finger you right here in the drive-in, but it only turned you on more to think about how naughty it was. You actually wanted him to, you were so needy—

But he stopped moving his hand when he reached your upper thigh. Instead of moving in to carefully toy with the edge of your panties and eventually slip inside, he just started rubbing your thigh with his thumb, occasionally squeezing it as he kissed you.

He broke away from your lips, making you worry it was over, but then he dipped under your face and kissed under your ear. “Oh,” you gasped softly, and you felt him smile— cocky bastard.

Your hips rocked forward a bit, but he didn’t seem to notice: you barely noticed it, since it wasn’t exactly voluntary. Your fingers clutched his shirt, tightening even more when he bit your earlobe lightly just beside the pearl studs.

He was kissing a line down your neck when you shivered briefly. “Are you cold?” he asked.

You didn’t know how to say I was just trying not to rub my pussy on your thigh, sorry, so you simply mumbled, “kinda.”

“Do you want to get under a blanket?” he offered, and that sounded like a great idea and you nodded quickly. He nabbed another folded lump of fabric from behind the driver’s seat, laying it out over the top of you, and you cuddled up closer to him as the weight draped you both. “Do you wanna, uh, kiss some more?”

You giggled a little as you nodded again, reaching up to hold the back of his neck as he kissed you— harder, faster, deeper, getting right to the good stuff. You had to really fight the urge to lift your leg and rest it on his waist, it would feel so good and so… natural, but it would also be, you know, a little slutty. But that was becoming less and less of a concern for you as your need grew stronger and stronger. “Eddie,” you let yourself sigh against his lips, and he tightened his grip on your waist to pull you closer.

“What’s that, princess?” he whispered, egging you on, and you smiled.

“Eddie,” you said again, hearing him growl briefly in pride. He must’ve known that a kiss had never done you in quite like this, never tempted you to do things you didn’t like to do on the first date let alone in a car… in public!

You were so desperate, you could just picture it: him rolling you onto your back, settling himself between your legs and forcing them to part with the width of his hips. Kissing you harder, rutting against you, letting you feel how hard he’d become from holding you. But as much as you tried to encourage him to go a little further— tangling your fingers into his hair, moaning ever-so-softly into the kiss, arching your back (okay, that part wasn’t intentional, but you couldn’t help it)— he never bit the bait. He did literally bite you a few times, once gently on your swollen bottom lip and then twice on your neck later on, but that was as far as he went that night. When the movie ended he watched you climb back up in the front seat and drove you home— he even had the audacity to ask what your favorite part was even though he knew damn well you hadn’t been watching it.

“I liked the part where you licked my ear,” you answered, pretending to be so full of confidence, even though your heart was starting to race again as his own cheeks tinted pink.

“Y-yeah? Good to know,” he nodded as he steered the van around a corner.

There was a longer pause in the conversation as you waited for him to bring up your next date. You made it a whole twenty seconds. “Are you gonna ask me out on another date?” you finally blurted out.

“Now?” he wondered.

“I mean, that’s what you’re supposed to do, I think,” you shrugged. “I guess you could call me tomorrow morning instead, but, you could always get it over with now.”

“You know how this works a little better than I do,” he laughed. “If you’re so eager why don’t you ask me out?”

Your face got warm as he (accurately) called you out for your impatience. “I thought it was supposed to be the other way around,” you mumbled.

“I thought you were a feminist,” he retorted proudly, grinning at you.

“Okay,” you relented, unable to fight down a smile in response to his, “Steve’s throwing a party next weekend. Come with me.”

“I can do that,” he decided with a nod, “as long as I don’t have to dress up like a trust fund kid.”

You snorted. “Definitely not. I like the idea of you sticking out like a sore thumb, actually.”

“Happy to,” he grinned. “When should I pick you up?”

“I have to help Steve set the whole thing up, actually,” you replied, “so I’ll already be there— but show up at eight and I’ll have a drink ready for you.”

~

He got there at seven fifty-seven. He wasn’t usually so punctual, but the promise of seeing you again was a strong motivator.

You knew he’d arrived when Steve called your name from the foyer, loud enough for you to hear where you were scooping ice into cups in the kitchen. “Your boyfriend’s here!” Steve added, making your face flush— the other guests definitely heard that.

“Steve,” you whined as you dashed past him to the open door, seeing Eddie beaming at you from the welcome mat. “H-he’s not my boyfriend…”

“I’m not?” Eddie grinned with an inquisitive eyebrow as he stepped inside, kissing you on the cheek politely while Steve shut the door.

“You wanna be?” you realized.

“Duh,” Eddie laughed.

“When we’re only on our second date?”

“Princess, I wanted to be your boyfriend before we even went on one,” he replied, and your heart fluttered.

Smiling proudly, you pulled Eddie into a kiss, as Steve kept leaning on the door with one hand and resting the other on his hips; a proud grin was on his face. “I’ll be awaiting my Wingman Of The Year Award in the mail any day now,” he announced, making you break away and look at him suspiciously.

“Wingman?” you repeated.

“Y-yeah, uh,” Eddie choked, moving his hands to your waist carefully, “Steve sorta… helped me out, when I didn’t know how to ask you— it’s not important now.”

“Yeah it is,” Steve corrected, a little offended, “I just got her to make you her boyfriend— you’re welcome.”

“Oh, you’ve done it now,” you warned Eddie playfully. “Once Steve starts meddling, he can’t stop.”

“Whatever,” Steve rolled his eyes, taking his hand off the door and starting to walk backwards towards the rest of the party. “If you’ll excuse me, there are some more star-crossed lovers in need of Cupid’s assistance, so…”

He mimed the shooting of a tiny bow and arrow before he disappeared, making you and Eddie laugh. “He’s already a little tipsy, apparently,” you noticed, but Eddie’s mind had already forgotten Steve entirely as he stared at you.

“You look amazing, by the way,” he informed you, drinking in the sight of your tight dress.

“I thought we might match if I wore something black,” you explained with a grin, “I was right.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Eddie cooed, “you wanna match with your boyfriend…”

He put extra emphasis on the last word by kissing your neck gently, and you laughed as you held onto him tighter. “You really talked to Steve about asking me out?” you remembered, and you felt Eddie nod against your neck. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell me— he’s not much of a secret-keeper.”

“It doesn’t bother you, does it?” he worried for a moment, pulling back.

“Of course not!” you promised. “It’s sweet… really sweet, actually, imagining you telling Steve how you’re, like, totally obsessed with me—”

“Well, it wasn’t quite like that—” Eddie began to deny.

“Shh!” you stopped him quickly. “I’m imagining it, I can imagine it however I want.”

Eddie laughed. “Fair enough. Now where’s that drink I was promised?”

~

Over the course of the next two hours and five drinks, you and Eddie mingled with the rest of that upper crust crowd you were used to hanging with— and, yes, they were all somewhere between confused and irritated that Eddie was here. He’s with me, you kept saying, like his arm around you wasn’t obvious enough.

He even danced with you to some music you knew he didn’t actively enjoy, but that was partly the alcohol and not just his acquiescence.

As the night seemed to get louder and rowdier, you kept trying to find somewhere that you and Eddie could be, if not alone, a little less crowded. You went outside first, but it was chilly even with his arms holding you close. All the many bedrooms of the house were, uh, occupied by this point in the evening… and so, with a devilish grin, you grabbed him by the wrist and guided him to the upstairs guest bathroom— tugging him into it and shutting the door behind you.

Before he could ask why you were in the bathroom together, you stood up on your toes to get closer to him. “I’ve been thinking about you,” you whispered in his ear.

“Yeah?” he breathed, smiling. “What were you thinking about?”

“Our date,” you remembered, “how you kissed me in your van. There were all those people around… but now we’re alone…”

“O-oh,” he choked, “yeah, we are…”

“Can you kiss me like that again?” you pleaded coyly, and he gave you a slightly dumbstruck look as he nodded.

“I can try,” he whispered, pulling you into him for a kiss that made your knees falter for a half-second— though that was partly the liquor, too.

It heated up quickly, his body pressing yours back against the sink, your moans slipping in between the movements of his lips and tongue. You hopped back and sat yourself on the counter, wrapping your legs around his hips and grinning when you felt him shiver.

“Y-you’re so sexy,” he mumbled against your skin, kissing his way to your neck, making your back arch even more. When you tightened your legs around him, it forced him to press against where your dress had ridden up— and you could feel how hard he was, through his jeans and right on your dampening panties.

“Oh, fuck,” you sighed, desperate for him to rock against you, drunk on the way it felt to make his cock all stiff and throbbing like that. And also just a little bit actually-drunk, but that was only part of it.

He kept his focus on your neck, though he pulled your dress’ single strap out of the way to kiss your shoulder, too, and his fingers on your bare skin felt fucking electric; you wanted to just fall back and lay your head against the mirror, let him do whatever he wanted to you, but you hugged him tighter instead and carded your fingers through his curly hair.

“Need you so bad,” you admitted in a hushed moan by his ear, making him grunt and hold onto your hips tightly.

“You— fuck, you know we can’t go all the way in Harrington’s bathroom, right?” he whispered harshly, pulling away from your neck to look at you with dilated eyes and bitten lips.

“Why not?” you shrugged. “Not the first time I’ve done it in here anyways…”

His eyes went wide before he cleared his throat. “I— I think we should save it for someplace a little more special, don’t you?”

You smirked at him. “Okay,” you agreed, “but we can still mess around, right?”

He grinned mischievously as he answered, “Yeah.”

“Good,” you beamed, hopping up off the counter and spinning him around suddenly to pin him back against it, “cause I wanna blow you.”

“Blow—! Blow me?!” he blurted out. “Oh, I—”

You started to drop down on your knees, but you felt his hands hold tightly onto your arms to keep you up; and you tilted your head as you looked up at him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded quickly, “it’s just— I don’t want you to think you have to do that.”

“Oh, Eddie— I don’t think I have to,” you assured, “b-but if you want me to, I’d like to…”

He surprised you by pulling you into another kiss— not rough, but definitely a little hard as he pressed his lips to yours. Never one to question a kiss, you submitted to it and slipped your arms around his shoulders. It went on for a while, almost too long, and you started to wonder if he was ever going to let you get back on your knees for him; why was he stalling?

When he broke away, he pulled you into a tight hug. “Is everything okay?” you finally asked him.

“I don’t wanna take things too fast,” he whispered, and your heart swelled. Oh my god, I’ve found the world’s best man, you thought, knowing how rare it was for a guy to think with the head on his shoulders.

You pulled back and smiled up at him. “That’s sweet,” you decided, and he smiled back at you as he brushed his hand over your hair to softly pet your head.

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “We’ve got something special, I think— and the last thing I wanna do is mess it all up by rushing this.”

You leaned forward to kiss him quickly, and he smiled against you before you pulled back. “You’re so wonderful,” you hummed at him, feeling your chest warm even more as you realized you finally found a guy who liked you for you, and not just what you could do for him.

“I’m wonderful?” Eddie repeated incredulously. “Every guy out there wishes he’d been the one that brought you here tonight, you know— and none of them can believe it’s me instead. You do realize that?”

“Yeah,” you admitted with a shy giggle, taking his hand quickly. “Let’s go back out there so you can rub it in a little more, okay?”

“Okay,” he laughed as he followed you back into the hallway and through the crowd, shutting the guest bathroom’s door behind you.

You tried not to bring it up again after that, not to initiate anymore— because the way you’d left things it felt like Eddie would let you know when the time was right. Him being such a gentleman wasn’t what you’d expected— not that you thought he’d be rude and pushy or anything— but it was a pleasant surprise. Even better was imagining how wild he’d be once he finally caved and just couldn’t wait to have you any longer.

~

October 1986

“So, what did you wanna talk about?” Steve finally prompted as you walked side by side on the trail, leaves in every warm-toned shade decorated the earth around you. He knew you were going to keep stalling, even though you’d called him and asked if you could walk to the coffee shop together and ‘talk about something important’, unless he brought it up first. You sighed— you’d wanted to stall just a bit longer, but maybe you might as well get it over with.

“Well, I feel kinda weird talking to you about this…” you trailed off.

“Me? You tell me everything,” Steve explained.

“But Eddie’s your friend,” you sighed, and Steve stopped walking— so you did, too.

“Wait,” Steve got stern quickly, “is everything okay? He’s not hurting you is he? Do you think he’s cheating? ‘Cause I—”

“Nonono,” you interrupted quickly, “it’s fine— he’s great. He’s… amazing.”

“Okay,” Steve nodded, “you just let me know if he’s doing anything messed up to you, okay?”

“That’s the thing,” you frowned, crossing your arms tightly, “it’s more of what he’s not doing to me…”

“Huh?”

“Well, we’ve been going out a while now,” you began, “and I guess I thought— well, usually, by this point— you know I’m not a slut!”

He blinked rapidly at the sudden change in topic. “W-well, yeah! What’s that got to do with it?”

“I don’t like to put out on the first date,” you explained, “not even the second or third— I like to take things a little slower, it pisses some guys off but it pisses off the right guys so they can dump me if that’s all they want.”

“Right,” Steve agreed. “I should try that…”

“Yeah, right,” you rolled your eyes, knowing Steve wasn’t going to be able to keep up with a no-sex-on-the-first-date rule for long. “Anyways, my point is, with Eddie… I was actually gonna go all the way with him on our first date."

"Woah!" Steve laughed, but he raised his hands up when you glared at him. "No judgment! Seems like it worked out, anyways."

"N-no, I was going to, but then we didn't."

Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Then at your party…"

"Oh god," he shuddered, "just tell me you didn't use any of my mom's nice hand towels…"

"No! Steve, we didn't do it there," you groaned, "he actually told me that he wants to take things slow."

"Oh," Steve relaxed, "cool— I guess he's pretty serious about you."

You nodded, remembering when you thought of it the same way, but that logic was less comforting now.

"So, how long did he wait before you…?"

You looked at Steve, eventually raising your eyebrows to try to signal him wordlessly, but it took him a couple seconds to put it together. "Oh, shit!" he yelped. "You haven't, still?!"

"He must think I'm hideous," you assumed immediately, hiding your face in your hands.

"I'm sure it's not that," Steve tried to assure you.

"What would it take for you to not sleep with your girlfriend after a month and a half?" you pressed.

"Uh…" Steve stalled, biting his lip.

You crossed your arms, waiting impatiently. "Let me guess: an apocalyptic event of Biblical proportions?"

"Yeah, something like that," he admitted.

"See! He's not into me at all," you whimpered.

"No way," Steve insisted, "he was crushing on you hard way before he asked you out. He told me! He only waited as long as he did 'cause he thought I'd have a problem with it, for whatever reason."

"So what changed?"

Steve pondered that. "Uh," he realized suddenly, "you don't think he's got, uh…"

Steve whistled as he held up his pinky finger, and you choked on your own throat. "We've done stuff, you know," you informed him, "and from what I can tell, that's… not the issue. At all."

"Okay, okay," Steve waved his hands, “spare me the gory details.”

“I don’t have gory details, I haven’t even seen it,” you whined.

“But it feels normal?” he prompted.

You shrugged. “Through jeans.”

“Huh,” Steve considered, “maybe he’s worried about how it looks, then. Maybe it’s all… weird-looking.”

You grimaced. “I mean, maybe…”

“Maybe it’s like, a zombie dick!” Steve exclaimed.

“You’ve been watching too many scary movies,” you rolled your eyes— this is what happens when you watch horror movies every day in anticipation of Halloween, apparently.

“Or maybe it’s an alien that controls his mind!” Steve continued regardless.

“Pretty sure all guys’ minds are controlled by their dicks, Steve,” you sighed. Except my boyfriend, the metalhead prude.

~

You and Eddie had been watching horror movies to get in the spooky spirit as well… you just hadn’t been watching them as effectively.

“Eddie,” you giggled as he kissed up your neck, tickling you with the tip of his tongue. He traced the shape of your ear and you groaned, pushing on his shoulders slightly as your back arched.

“I thought you liked that,” he teased.

“I-I do,” you admitted.

“Then say it,” he prompted; your thighs clenched.

“I… I like that,” you whimpered, “fuck, Eddie, s’good…”

He hummed proudly and latched his teeth onto your neck again, pressing his chest up against yours. It reminded you how hard your nipples had become, and you found yourself reaching to find one of Eddie’s hands on your lower back, guiding it up up up until he was grabbing at you through your shirt. “Fuck,” he grunted by your ear, “wanted me to feel your tits, coulda just asked, princess.”

He was definitely an auditory kind of person, liked to hear you say it all: feels good, right there, touch me, kiss me— only thing he didn’t like to hear was do we have to stop now?

Because it always stopped too soon for your tastes; you’d been camping out at second base for ages, and not that you didn’t love the way Eddie’s fingers teased your little buds at the same time that his thick hands groped your whole chest appreciatively— not that you didn’t love the way he swore you were perfect, voice low and rough as he showered you in compliments and oh-so-politely asked permission to put his mouth on them. But god, if that was the way he teased you here, you could only imagine how it would feel on your clit, those expert fingers rubbing you as he watched your face fall into ecstasy, as he told you he would put a few inside to warm you up for his cock…

Literally, you could only imagine it. It was driving you actually fucking crazy.

He hummed as he pushed your shirt up, latching onto your nipple the second one was exposed to him, and you cried out loudly— probably loud enough for one of the neighboring trailers to hear, honestly. Not that you had the energy to care about that now.

“So sensitive,” he mocked lightly, flicking the bud over and over with the end of his tongue for a second. “Are they always like this?”

No, only when you’ve been edging me for seven weeks. “J-just for you,” you stammered out, and he hummed quickly before moving on to the other, tilting his head— he looked damn good like that, eyes shut with his lashes resting on his cheeks, mouth open just enough to fit your nipple inside, full lips suckling at you. “You’re pretty,” you blurted out, and he blinked those big eyes open to smile up at you.

“Me?” he chuckled. “Nah, no way.”

“Yeah you are,” you insisted with a laugh, sitting up slightly. “You’re hot, actually.”

You reached for his shoulders and guided him back, until he was sitting properly on the couch again (which he hadn’t been since ten minutes into the movie when he descended on you) and you were the one leaning over him. “Oh,” he gasped a bit when you straddled his lap; the energy changed a bit.

“Is this okay?” you asked quietly.

“U-uh, yeah,” he nodded, and you smiled as you rested your hands on his shoulders before you kissed him again. It was a little different this time, it felt less like fooling around and more like… something important. His hands didn’t stay glued to your chest this time, they wandered carefully to your exposed back, holding you delicately like you were breakable; his kiss was delicate, too, everything felt more patient. You thought it couldn’t get any better than that heat-of-the-moment feeling, that playful energy you had before, but the sensuality of this was newer and even more addictive.

You sighed as you moved in his lap— not of your own accord, just your body surrendering to instinct. Your hips sought any friction they could find and your hands searched his chest for a good place to latch on to; they ended up sliding over his neck and into his hair, which made him softly moan as you tugged on the messy locks.

“Princess,” he choked, “fuck— you’re so… fuck.”

You rocked your hips a little slower, but pressed down harder into his lap, and both of you groaned as you rubbed right on the firm bulge under his fly. “Eddie,” you whimpered, feeling his fingers tighten at your waist, “I— I want you…”

Your heart sank as he gasped and pushed you back. “M-maybe we should slow down a bit,” he decided suddenly. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you stared down, sitting on his knees.

“Um… okay…” you mumbled quietly. You hadn’t really tried to get things going since Steve’s party, but you didn’t really suspect that if you did, you’d be outright rejected. It wasn’t something you were used to in a time like this. “Do you… still wanna kiss?”

“Yeah!” he said quickly. “I just… I don’t wanna take things too fast.”

That excuse was cute a month ago. Your shoulders slumped defeatedly and you pulled your shirt down again— but you still felt uncomfortably exposed, somehow, and you wrapped your arms around yourself to try to distract from the empty feeling inside.

“Oh god, princessl, what’s wrong?” he cooed quietly. “I-I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know… but can you tell me what’s going on?” you pleaded. “Is it me? You are attracted to me, right?”

“What?! Of course I am,” he shook his head, bewildered by your insecurity. As if that was something you should’ve figured out by, what, clairvoyance?

“I’m just not sure what to think,” you mumbled. “I wanna go further— and I don’t wanna, you know, force you or pressure you or anything, but to be totally honest… I’ve never had to talk a guy into sex before. And I can’t help but wonder if there’s something wrong.”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” he promised, “at least not with you. I do wanna, you know, take the next step with you. It’s been driving me crazy to keep stopping you when you offer… all that stuff…”

“So why turn me down?” you pouted. “If we both want it, what else is there to worry about?”

He sighed slightly as he glanced away.

“C’mon, Eddie, is something going on?” you pleaded. “Just talk to me. Whatever it is, I wanna know.”

“Well, yeah,” he relented, “it’s… it’s me, it’s this thought I have every time I try to take things past just making out.”

You waited patiently for his explanation, wringing your hands nervously.

“You and Steve went out for… a while,” he recalled. “And, you know, he’s— got a reputation. A very good one.”

“Oh,” you sighed.

“And he’s, uh… been with a lot of girls,” Eddie continued nervously. “I-I’m not a virgin or anything, but I’ve never actually had a girlfriend before, so…”

“So?” you encouraged.

“I guess I just… I’m worried that I won’t be as good as him,” he finally admitted. “Actually, I’m about ninety-five percent confident I won’t be as good as him— and if I’m not, maybe you… won’t wanna go out anymore.”

“Eddie,” you sighed, equal parts relieved and heartbroken and bewildered. You reached up and held his face in both your hands, making him look at you. “I wanna be with you. Not Steve, or anybody else.”

“And when you say be with…” he trailed off.

“I mean that in every sense,” you clarified. “I like going out with you, I love being your girlfriend. And I want us to do what boyfriends and girlfriends do— I want us to, you know… touch each other, and pleasure each other…”

You lowered your voice, moving in a little closer on his lap, and his gaze seemed to get a little heavier.

“Feel each other,” you continued, “and explore, you know? ‘Cause yeah, it will be different than it was with Steve. But Steve and I had to get to know each other before it was really great. I think once we get a chance to practice, we’ll be even better.”

“Practice?” he repeated.

“Yeah,” you grinned, “that’s the fun part.”

Eddie blinked at you quickly. “I— I guess it’s different when you’re dating, huh? Because I’ve never had a chance to, uh, improve for next time. I’ve never had a next time before.”

You smiled. “Well, if things go my way,” you explained, leaning in closer beside his face, “there’s gonna be a next time—” you kissed his cheek, “and a next time—” you moved around and kissed the other— “and a next time…”

He shuddered when you placed a quick peck on his jaw. “Okay,” he breathed, “I like the sound of that. But… I want our first time to be… you know, really amazing and stuff.”

You laughed. “After all this damn anticipation, I’m sure it will be. You drove me crazy making me wait so long, Eddie.”

He coughed; “S-sorry,” he offered, “I wasn’t trying to, I swear. And it drove me crazy, too. I honestly wanted to make it with you right then and there in my van at the drive-in on our very first date— but I figured I’d get slapped if I tried that.”

You bit your lip as you leaned in a little closer. “Eddie, I would’ve let you,” you whispered. “I was so hot for you, I wanted you so bad…”

He swallowed as he blinked up at you. “I-I didn’t think you were that kind of girl,” he admitted, and you giggled.

“I’m not,” you promised, “I just couldn’t help it when you kissed me like that. I was totally yours, Eddie, from the first kiss.”

His fingers squeezed your hips and you purred. “God, that’s— you’re so perfect,” he sighed. “I-I was honestly afraid I would bust in my jeans that night,” he admitted with a soft laugh, “and then at Harrington’s party, when you said you wanted to…? I was toast.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You know, that offer still stands if you want me to—”

“Oh, fuck no,” he laughed, “I’m already gonna be fighting to last once I get inside you, don’t need you getting me all worked up with that pretty mouth you’ve got.”

His finger traced your lips and you opened them to suckle on the end of it; his lip twitched and you felt his hips rock up against you.

“Fuck,” he grunted, “let’s go to bed, angel, I think we’ve waited long e-fucking-nough.”

Of course, ‘let’s go to bed’ makes it sound more cooperative— really he all but carried and dragged you across the trailer to his bed, tossing you onto it and peeling his shirt off in a second before he descended onto you. Giggling, you held the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss you sweetly.

Your shirt didn’t last long, either, but he was more interested in getting your skirt and stockings off; and thank god for that, because you didn’t need any more foreplay after getting teased for the past… sixteen, maybe seventeen dates? You lost count a while ago.

He propped himself up on one arm above you, looking down with his bottom lip between his teeth as he saw your panties. You bit your lip, too, at the sight of his expression— of his eyes darkening a bit and his chest filling with a deep breath.

“Oh, princess,” he cooed, making you shiver joyfully. “Look at these…”

His fingers traced the lacy edge of your underwear, toying quickly with the little bow at the front. “That tickles,” you mumbled, and he met your gaze again with a grin.

“These all for me?” he assumed, and you nodded. “Wanted to get all dressed up for me, in case I finally took you to bed?”

“Something like that,” you admitted. You hadn’t worn nice panties to every date, as your hope for more than back-of-the-bus level touching faded, but thankfully something told you to wear them to this one. That ‘something’ being Steve.

“They’re cute,” he decided, “all… girly, and delicate, like you.” He lifted your legs slightly, and his playful attitude shifted to something a bit more intense. “And they’re— fuck, baby— they’re soaked.”

You wiggled your hips, slightly self-conscious about him staring at the wet patch on your blush lace. “Th-that’s just what you do to me,” you replied, just before he shut you up with another bruising kiss, pressing his body down on yours. Even just his bare chest against your own was soothing and warm.

He rocked his hips against yours, pressing the bulge under his fly right up to that wet spot on your panties; you could feel the ridge of his head, the way his cock throbbed, even his balls pressing up to your ass through the denim. “That,” he whispered into your lips, “is what you do to me.”

“Fuck,” you whined, “I wanna— lemme feel you, Eddie, please, I w-wanna… wanna touch you there.”

“Where?” he prompted teasingly.

“Your cock,” you groaned, and he sat up to start working on his belt.

“Coulda just said so,” he insisted with a wink, admiring the way you looked all wide-eyed and needy as you watched him open his jeans.

If only it had been that easy; but you were sure the wait would be worth it, especially when you saw the thick outline of his cock through the checkered boxers. It looked even bigger than it felt before— actually, you were a little light-headed looking at it all of a sudden.

You were reaching up for the waistband already but he stopped you, grabbing your hands and grinning mischievously as he pinned them at your sides. "Ah ah, not yet," he corrected teasingly, "I wanna see you first. You wrapped your pussy up like a little present for me, don't I get to open it?"

You wouldn't have minded if he opened that present the way he actually opened presents: tearing at the paper ferally. But instead he removed your panties slowly and delicately, like one of those people who unsticks the tape and saves the paper. Except instead of that he was sliding his fingers down your thighs, watching the lace unstick from your damp folds, groaning low in his chest as you were revealed to him.

It wasn't until the panties were past your ankles and tossed aside that you could open your legs— or, more accurately, that he could carefully guide your legs to spread for him— and he stared down with his lip between his teeth at your pussy. You felt a little awkward being examined like that, but it was all worth it for the way his nostrils flared, the way he brought his thumb to the point where your lower lips met and pulled your sex taut for a better look at your swollen button, the way he sighed and tilted his head back for a moment with his eyes shut— like it was too much to look at it for that long, like he needed a break to cope with the perfection before him. "Baby," he all but moaned as he stared down at it again— and then at you, at your shy face waiting for him to say something. "So fuckin' pretty. Shit, gotta be the prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

You bit down on your smile as he laid down over you again, kissing you hungrily. You felt him start to push his own boxers down and you weren't about to let him do it all by himself, so you reached down between your body and his to grab his erection— and you both groaned as you held it.

"Mm," he hummed, kissing your neck for a moment, "your hands are soft…"

But his sweet tone shifted a bit as you wrapped your legs around his hips, making him press forward enough for you to guide his squishy head right over your folds.

"Fuck," he whispered harshly, "y'wanna put it in for me, princess?" He seemed amused by your eagerness, after spending the last month and a half making you this desperate. "Just can't wait anymore, need me too bad?"

You whimpered, but nodded. He pulled his face back from where it had nestled by your neck and looked down at you with a smile. His gaze had softened a bit, something sweet and gentle in his stare. "Need you, Eddie," you agreed before he could even ask you to just say it, princess.

He kissed you again, a little more patiently, and let you move his cock right up to your hole that had been flexing helplessly since this all started. He kept kissing you even as he pushed inside, both of you gasping together at the feeling.

“Oh, Eddie,” you sighed into his mouth fallen slack, holding tightly onto his shoulder blades. “Is that— are you all the way in?”

“Just a little more,” he whispered, “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

You shook your head, and he gave you the rest with a gentle thrust into the end of you; you arched your back, but it wasn’t too difficult to take. He was thick enough that maybe it should’ve stung, but after this much anticipation you were beyond prepared.

“Wow,” he panted, right into your slack-open mouth, “you feel like fucking heaven.”

His pace was gentle and slow at first, each of his breaths hot puffs across your face before he had to hug you tighter, hold you closer, bury his face just above your shoulder. Your walls hugged onto him tight, just like your legs wrapped around his hips, and he breathed in the scent of your heated skin by the crook of your neck.

With each stroke you dragged your nails lightly across the back of his neck, tangling your fingers into his mess of curls.

Your cheeks burned when you heard the sound of it, the wet noises that filled the trailer each time Eddie's hips collided with your own.

"Fuck," he sighed right by your ear, "princess— you're so… so fucking wet…"

That much was obvious, but hearing the way it made Eddie practically melt was amazing. His voice broke with each moan beside your ear, every slide against your dripping walls, every plunge into your warmth. He picked up the pace quickly, struggling to hold himself back anymore.

He whined out your name a few times, his clammy hands slipping under your back and keeping you hugged tightly against him. "S-so good," he grunted, "you're so good, princess, feel so good for me— fuck."

Turns out, Eddie was just as talkative during sex as he was at all other times. And thank god for that, because hearing him talk made you shiver all over, even inside. "Eddie," you whimpered, feeling the curve of his cock stroke right on that place inside— at just the same time that his hips were rubbing on your clit from the gyrating motion of his thrusts. "Fuck— right there, right there—"

"Like that?" he noticed. "This how you like it, baby?"

"Yes," you promised. "Yes, yes, yes…"

He kept his motions the same but moved a little faster, skin slapping on yours and your whole body rocking up and down— or maybe it was the mattress under you… or maybe it was the trailer itself. Possibly all of the above.

His mouth was wide open just by your neck, every soft grunt and panted breath falling out for you— and they were getting louder the longer he went on, his grip on your back was tightening. You knew he was close already from all of that plus the way you felt his cock jump inside you, and it turned you on like nothing else.

"Princess," he whined, "you— god, you… fuck."

You giggled a bit at the way he had failed completely to finish whatever sentence he'd started.

"Aw, don't laugh at me," he pouted slightly, though the way he had to talk through his teeth made it sound almost like a threat— and you really liked that. "Can't help it, I can't fucking think straight when I'm inside you— Christ I still can't believe it, you know. That you want me. You could have anybody— fuck— and you feel fucking perfect and— god I dunno how much more of this I can take."

As good as it felt, you weren't quite there yet— you weren't even close, really. It always took you a while to finish, but Eddie clearly didn't have a while: he was already all red in the face and moaning weakly into your neck, fucking you with needy and erratic thrusts. But you didn't even care; it was so sweet, seeing him lose his cool so quickly, you didn't mind if you weren't left quite as satisfied at the end of this. It was worth it to watch him fall apart and know you were the cause.

“Fuck, fuck!” he whined. “Oh— fuck, I don’t wanna come yet, I shouldn’t come yet—”

But you could see it was killing him; his face was tightened up so hard and he couldn’t seem to force himself to slow down. “It’s okay,” you promised, “it’s okay, you can come, Eddie…”

“Oh my god oh my god,” he rushed in a split second, “I-I’m gonna come. Fuck, I can come inside, right?”

You laughed lightly. “Yeah,” you assured.

“Good, ‘cause, I dunno if I can pull out,” he admitted.

In a second he was slamming his hips into yours, desperately chasing release— and your moans got louder and sharper at the feeling.

"Fuck, baby, fuckfuckfuck—!" he whimpered, moving his hands to your hips to keep you as still as possible; and suddenly, he sunk down and deflated with a long sigh, and knowing he was coming inside you made a tingle crawl up your back.

He only took a half second to catch his breath and blink his eyes open before he was looking at you apologetically.

“I’m so sorry,” he panted right away, “you didn’t—”

“Hey, it’s fine,” you promised, “like I said, there’s always next time—”

“No,” he said firmly, surprising you. “This time. You need to come this time, too.”

"W-well, I—" you started, cut off when his thumb found your slick and throbbing nub and stroked it in careful circles. Instantly your hips jumped and your walls seized up, a shaky breath slipping out of your lips. "Oh…"

"S'that better, princess?" he cooed, still breathing heavily— he hadn't even lost his boner yet, and the feeling of your pussy bearing down on him from pleasure was surely helping to keep it alive. "Tell me how it feels."

"Good," you choked, feeling him press harder on it, "fuck, I— I like it when you touch me there…"

"Mhm?" he encouraged. "Like when I rub your clit?"

You sighed; "Yeah, fuck, Eddie— I like it—"

He pulled out suddenly and climbed down, kissing and biting hungrily at your inner thighs before you'd even processed what was happening. It made your hips lift off the bed, the way his teeth teased your sensitive skin, and the pressure of that forced a thick drop of his come out of your cunt.

When he saw it, his eyebrows knitted and his chest sunk— he almost looked heartbroken just from the sight of it.

"God, that's too perfect," he groaned, "I got you so full, princess, you can't even fit it all inside— it's dripping, baby, fuck, that's my come dripping out of you right now…"

He held your thighs and stared right at it, watched that creamy white drop run down the seam of your ass, your little hole flexing right in front of his face— and he couldn't help it, he had to dive in and lick it up.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as he latched onto you, hot and hungry mouth tasting every inch of your cunt that his tongue could reach.

"Eddie!" you yelped, shocked but overwhelmingly aroused that he was doing something so… well, filthy. Eating his own come from you after pumping it so deep into you; and he seemed to be just as pleased, shutting his eyes tight and moaning as his plunged his tongue inside you and lapped up the mix of his come and your wetness.

He broke away for just a second, panting, looking up at you with glassy eyes. “We taste so good together,” he said, like he didn’t even notice how sexy that was to say. He went in again to lap at you, taking more time over your clit this go-round— and making your legs shake a little when he did. His eyes darted to the side as he noticed it, a grin breaking out around his extended tongue which he slipped back into his mouth. “Oh… I like when you do that. Think I’ll have to see if I can make you do it again.”

He gave another wide lap of his tongue over your bud, pressing down hard until your legs shook again. He kept his tongue still and nodded his head up and down slightly, and it just happened over and over until your back was arching up off the bed and were clutching at his hair in hopes of mercy. “F-fuck, Eddie, feels really good,” you managed to choke out.

But it was just the beginning, and a second later he wrapped his lips around your bud and suckled at it— almost too hard, but just the right amount of too hard.

“Oh god!” you shouted before you could stop yourself. “Fuck!”

He hummed proudly and kept going, swirling his tongue over the delicate skin as you whimpered and sobbed. It was intense and sharp, hot shocks of pleasure jumping up through your body.

"I'm gonna come!" you shouted— too loud, too whiny, too beautifully pathetic. "Eddie, baby, please—"

You had no idea what you were asking for, but he hummed and nodded without breaking away, and you were sure that whatever it was, he would give it to you.

Both your hands held onto his head and you started to just writhe, there wasn't much else you could do. Paradoxically, as you started to reach the peak, your body fought to get away from the sensation— like it was too much, like you were scared to come this hard. But Eddie held you to your promise to come, fighting to stay latched onto you even as you bucked and almost screamed; and then, once it hit you, it was over in a flash. The white-hot pleasure burned you up in a moment and you had to actually push his head away before it hurt too much.

"Fuck, fuck," you panted, sighing with relief as he let go and grinned up at you with a smile soaked in your cream.

"Did you come?" he asked excitedly, as you collapsed back limply onto the mattress.

"Are you kidding?" you wheezed, and he laughed softly as he climbed back up to lay down next to you, draping an arm over your waist. “I— fuck, Eddie,” you laughed breathlessly, “nobody’s ever made me come that way before.”

“Not even Steve?” he beamed.

“Not even Steve,” you agreed.

"So… that means I'm… better than him?" Eddie prompted hopefully.

"Eddie, it's not about that," you frowned, "it's— you're totally different, it's apples and oranges."

"Okay but, between apples and oranges, which one is better at sex?"

You shoved him on the shoulder but he pulled you into a tight hug, keeping you close even when you wanted to squirm away and leave him alone as punishment for bringing this up.

"Just tell me so I can rub it in Harrington's smug little face tomorrow," Eddie pleaded, and you laughed a bit.

"I'm gonna be too busy rubbing it in your smug little face tomorrow," you warned him with a raised eyebrow, and he grinned excitedly. "I— actually, can I sit on your face sometime? I've always wanted to try that."

“Fucking CHRIST, sweetheart.” It’s part admonishment, but his voice is shaky as he turns to you.

“Did I hurt you?“ you ask, immediately worried. He flushes a beautiful, startling shade of red and adjusts the crotch of his suddenly tightened jeans. The motion of his hand in his lap draws your attention right down to his erection. Your eyes widen. “Oh…”

“It’s not..I…” He’s tripping over his words, something that barely ever happens. Your mile-a-minute-talking boyfriend is usually silver tongued and confident, able to toy with you and soothe you and rile you up, all with the same mouth. But now that mouth is pressed into a pout. For some reason his sensitivity has made him self conscious.

“Yeah oh never…never mind,” you say, shrugging to try and settle him. You relax back into the couch and wait for him to do the same. He does, gradually. You feel his muscles lose their rigidity beside you. Almost apologetically one of his hands goes to grip yours, lifting your intertwined grasp to rest on his thigh.

You both continue watching tv, but your mind is racing with your new discovery. You’d never played with Eddie’s ears before. You’d whispered in them before, sure. But now that you think back on those memories, you realize he’d always shuddered bodily in response. He was usually the one whispering in your ear during sex. The one who made you fall the fuck apart.

So now, with this new knowledge swirling in your brain, you’re feeling your heart start to speed up with the new possibilities. Heat spreads in your abdomen and pools between your legs. And when you begin to feel your pulse down there too you know you have to do something about it.

You start slow. Sliding your free hand up and down his arm. Smoothing your palm over his chest until you’re leaning over and kissing his shoulder chastely. Then you move slightly. Begin kissing the solid yet lean muscle of his chest, right over where you know one of his tattoos to be hidden under the fabric of his shirt.

You’re careful and slow about rising to your knees beside him this time. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Eddie and uncomfortable were too incongruous concepts so you were a little confused, but your desire to get to the bottom of this sensitivity urges you onward. He flinches when you start moving up with your kisses so you slow down even further and spend a lot of time sucking and nibbling at his collar bone where you’ve pushed down the neckline of his shirt, leaving pretty marks that you know you’ll enjoy looking at in the coming days.

When you finally start moving back up to his neck, Eddie’s beginning to lose the battle of concentration. His eyes keep fluttering closed in prolonged blinks. He lets go of your hand, moving instead to grip the edge of the couch cushion. You use your freed hand stroke up and down his chest. Soothing and yo finally zero in on your mark.

You lick a line up from the side of his neck to the base of his earlobe before slotting the flesh lightly between your lips. He hisses and squirms but you hold onto his head to keep him in place. The hand cupping the other side of his face slides to play with his other ear, ghosting along the shell of it.

“Baby that’s…it’s too…” He’s outright moaning. From some kissing and a little sucking on a place you’ve never given attention before. It thrills you beyond belief. But dutifully you pull away a few inches for a second.

“Do you want me to stop? I will,” you reassure him. When it comes to consent and respecting comfort levels, you learned from the best. Eddie is always checking in and making sure you’re still enjoying every second of whatever he’s doing. Even though you’re having fun, you’ll give him nothing less than the same curtesy.

“I just can’t think…it’s so…don’t stop.” His voice is haggard and you find yourself distracted by the way he fidgets in the seat, his hips flexing and calling attention yet again to the strain in his jeans. His words trip a wire in your brain and then you’re back on him. Licking a thin stripe along the outline of his ear before dipping back down to suck on the soft flesh.

“Oh my fucking god. You’re fucking killing me.” You’re about to pull off of him to ask if that’s a good or bad thing when one of his hands flies up to cradle the back of your neck, keeping your mouth against his ear. His other hand grabs at your forearm on the other side, encouraging your fingers to keep stroking and squeezing.

You hum against him and his hips buck up, giving you a wonderful view of how stiff he is straining in his jeans. Your free hand snakes down to begin palming at his bulge, making Eddie let loose a low whimper.

“This feel good?” you ask, breathy in his ear. He moans and nods, so you hum. “Good. Because you’re so unbelievably pretty like this, Eddie.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie’s eyes roll back and his head rests against the back of the couch. His hips are bucking up into your hand at this point, so you speed up and intensify your rubbing.

“What’s got you so sensitive, Eds? This do it for you? Huh?”

You’ve never spoken to him like this before and it’s got his brain absolutely melting. With his usual intimidating confidence you had always felt content - happy even - to let him lead. But his reactions take the guesswork out of it. Your attention on his ears is driving him wild and you’ve never seen him so nonverbal. So undone so fast.

His lips, which he’d been biting, open suddenly in a gasp.

“I’m gonna - fuck. It’s so good I’m gonna - !” His breath comes in heavy pants and one of his hands joins you on his lap adding pressure to his throbbing cock through the denim. You feel it twitch under both of your hands.

You take his earlobe even further into your mouth and nibble. He practically convulses in your arms letting out a guttural groan. Warmth spreads in his lap under your hands but you keep rubbing him.

When Eddie slumps back against the couch, breath still haggard, you disentangle yourself and arrange yourself innocently beside him. Staring straight at the TV which has remained playing this whole time.

You can feel Eddie’s gaze burning into you with your peripherals but all you do is smirk and continue facing forward. You’re so turned on though. So fucking hot because of what you’d just witnessed. What you’d just been able to do to him.

Suddenly your body is yanked down and spread out on the couch, your world going topsy turvy in the blink of an eye. Eddie is on you immediately, yanking pushing your clothes out of the way and attaching his mouth to your throat, your ear, your breasts, your stomach.

It’s a chaotic and frantic barrage and you laugh underneath his frenzied attack.

“Wh-what are you doing?” You ask, less surprised by the affection and more surprised by the disorganized array of tactics.

“I’m going to find the spot on you that reduces you to a brainless fuck toy,” he says simply, and your pussy contracts around nothing immediately. He notices your grin and shakes his head, a smirk on his face. “And this is not a reward. It’s payback. Get ready.”

~*~

Not that Eddie was in any place to judge your appearance.  He'd walked here in the rain and probably looked a mess.  "Of course!" he offered as he stepped inside and you shut your door behind him.  He slipped off his jacket and tossed it on the couch, shaking the rain off his hair in a way not dissimilar to a dog after a bath.  "Wow, storm's been pretty relentless, huh?"

"Yeah," you agreed quietly, reaching up to cross your arm over your chest and clutch your opposite elbow.  "The cops said that's why they couldn't catch the guy— rain washed away fingerprints, and mud filled footprints, so…"

He nodded, looking down nervously at his shoes on top of your pale blue linoleum. "Can't believe some asshole's breaking into trailers.  What valuables does he think you have in here?"

"Well, they said he might have been looking for me…"

Eddie instantly regretted mentioning it.  He hadn't even thought of it like that, and it made a surge of emotions hit him when he did; most of all, a strange instinct to make sure you were safe.  "Do they think he might come back?"

You bit your lip, glancing down too with a shrug.

"Well, nobody's gonna try and mess with you once they get a glimpse of Smith & Wesson," he added jokingly, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Eddie!" you gasped.  "Did you bring a gun?"

You said it like it was a dirty word, even though he knew you had a revolver in here at some point.  "No, no," he assured, "those are my biceps: Smith—" he flexed one arm— "and Wesson." He bit his lip as he flexed the other, raising and dropping his eyebrows quickly.  You laughed, covering your nose and mouth with your hand as you snorted.  

He was quite proud of himself for amusing you, and even slightly hopeful that the tank top he was wearing (which he'd made by slicing the sleeves off of an old Zeppelin shirt) actually made him look muscular.

"So… I'll set up on the couch?" he assumed.

"Oh," you mumbled, seeming shy again.  "I mean, if you want…"

"What's the other option?" he wondered.

"Well," you said quietly, crossing your arms— damn it, he'd made you uncomfortable somehow.  Eddie was perceptive enough to read your demeanor, but too oblivious to understand what he'd done to make you shut down.  "The couch is fine."

He sighed, stepping closer to you.  "You said over the phone that it would make you feel better if I came over.  That's literally what I came for.  So, tell me what I can do.  I can stay up all night— or I can sleep outside on the porch if you want!"

"No!" you refused, starting to smile again.  "If it's not too weird, I thought you could be in my room with me.  I just…"

You sighed and began again, while Eddie's heart sped up a bit.

"If something happened, I wouldn't want you all the way across the house."

He looked to the bedroom door, to the couch, and back again.  "Sweets, it's a trailer," he announced with a sarcastic tone and a raised eyebrow.  "It's, like, five steps across."

"Come on," you rolled your eyes, "you know what I mean!"

"I do," he relented, "and it's fine.  I can be in your room if you want."

You smiled bashfully, looking down and pulling your shoulders up to your ears.  "Thanks," you breathed.

He hadn't asked the obvious question yet because he didn't want to seem too forward— maybe he'd walk in to your bedroom with you and see a pallet on the floor by the bed already; or, maybe he'd walk in and see a typical trailer bedroom which takes its name quite seriously and barely has room for anything but the bed.

When you guided him down the hall, he swallowed as he realized it was indeed the second.  "Sorry, it's kinda messy in here," you offered as you quickly kicked some trash aside, straightening out your bedspread a bit.  "I'm not usually this much of a slob, I swear—"

"No, it's okay, I'm in no place to judge," he promised, "and it's been clean when I've been here before."

He hadn't come over that many times, especially after you stopped smoking pot for your job so he didn't sell to you anymore.  He considered offering to toke up with you now, he thought it might call your nerves (which is why he brought some in his jacket pocket just in case), but it never really came up— you just seemed excited for a chance to get some sleep, considering you clearly hadn't been resting well.

"I'll stay on top of the sheets," he decided suddenly.  "For your modesty."

You nodded but started to pull down your pants a second later; he suddenly found the farthest corner of your ceiling quite fascinating and stared at it intently.  So much for modesty.  "I never sleep with pants," you explained as you crawled into the bed in just your loose t-shirt and white cotton panties.

"Lucky for you, I always keep mine on," he offered with a weak laugh.  Normally he would lose his shirt first, though, but it wasn't restrictive anyways, so he just laid on top of the bed carefully.  He sighed as he found a semi-comfortable position on his back, interlacing his fingers and resting the joined hands on his stomach.

"Don't tell me you actually sleep like that," you noticed with a smirk, and he looked at your face where it was peeking out from under the puffy quilt.

"Normally I sleep hanging upside down in the closet with my arms crossed," he joked, demonstrating the classic vampire-sleeping-in-coffin pose, and you laughed.

"You always struck me as a stomach sleeper," you informed him.  Wait, she's thought about that?

"I usually go for the left side," he corrected.  “You?”

“Lately I’ve just been curled up in a ball,” you admitted, “but I move around a lot— and you can wake me up if I’m snoring!”

“No, it’s fine,” he promised.

“Okay, well, goodnight,” you decided, reaching up to your bedside lamp.  Eddie began to turn onto his left side, which meant he was facing you, and adjusted the pillow under his head carefully.  He could tell you normally used this pillow because it smelled like your hair— was that why his heart was racing each time he took a breath in?

You flipped off the light, plunging the room into near-total darkness except for the distant yellow glow of another trailer’s porch light peeking through your blinds.  "It's okay if I sleep, right?" he whispered.  "You don't want me to stay up in case something—?"

"It's fine, I just want someone here," you explained.  Your voice got softer as you admitted, "I've never liked sleeping alone."

"That… explains a lot."

"Hey!" you yelped defensively, and he heard you turn under the blanket to face him.  "Are you calling me a slut?"

He raised his eyebrows.  "Are you denying it?"

You harrumphed.  "I know you can see my door from your window, but you've gotta stop spying, Ed— it's creepy.  And it's none of your business if guys are coming over."

"I know!  That's why I don't look— which is why you don't have a handy eyewitness for your B&E."

"I don't have an eyewitness because you were dead asleep," you corrected, "and so was everyone else. I'm guessing that was his motive for trying to get in at four in the morning."

There was a weighty pause.  "I don't spy on you," he insisted again.

"Okay, sure," you agreed, "not anymore."

"I never did!"

"Right,” you said, and he could hear your smirk even if he couldn’t see it.  He sighed, relenting to your depiction of him as a creep who watches you from his window— until the silence got longer and longer, and he just couldn’t help himself.

“I just wanted to make sure nobody shifty was coming around,” he blurted out, hearing you let out a quiet laugh.

“Eddie, they were all shifty,” you sighed.  He didn’t say anything, because he was afraid if he agreed too quickly it would offend you.  “Goodnight,” you offered again.

“Goodnight,” he returned quietly.

There was another long silence, almost long enough that he really thought you would fall asleep— personally, he was wired and would probably spend a few hours listening to you breathe before he drifted off— until you spoke again just a bit later.  "You're not cold, are you?" you whispered.

"Huh?  No, no," he denied.  Yes.

"You can get under the covers…"

God, he wanted to. And he figured he'd be able to control himself and everything— but he hesitated.  It wasn't too far, right?  Friends can share beds… even if he really didn't think until now that you and him actually were that kind of friends.  It's not like you were ever especially close, you just talked sometimes, even less now that you weren't a customer.  He was pretty surprised when you called him to ask for this.

And in the dark, Eddie got a little braver.

"Why did you ask me to come here?" he suddenly interrogated, until he heard how sleazy that question sounded.  "Uh, I mean, not why did you ask me to come here, but… why did you ask me?"

"Because I trust you," you answered simply.  "You always made me feel safe.  There aren't a lot of guys in this trailer park that I want here to try to defend me if it comes down to it— I mean, fuck, one of them is probably the guy who tried to break in that night!"

He nodded, already trying to imagine which of those lowlifes might try to hurt you— and wondering if he could take them.  He sighed when he realized that he didn't have much chance fighting any of the men here.  Unless it was Ricky Lupowski, Eddie had no shot— but even then, he didn't exactly want to beat up a twelve-year-old.  Hell, you could take Ricky if he was giving you any trouble, Eddie knew you were pretty tough: that was part of why it was so jarring to see you this vulnerable.  "I'm not the toughest guy you could call, though," he reminded you.  "I know people think I look kinda scary, but—"

"I know," you agreed.  "You're not the toughest guy, but… you're the safest."

Suddenly he wanted to switch his story— me, safe?  Nah, babe, danger's my middle name!  Hardened criminal, metal guitarist, occasionally maker of an illegal U-turn—

"That's why I wanted you to come," you finished, "and it's why I don't care if you get under the covers if you're cold up there."

From the looks of the guys he'd seen coming to your door when he definitely wasn't spying, it seemed like danger was usually what you wanted between your sheets.  And sure, Eddie wasn't exactly the valedictorian in khakis that he assumed every girl wants to bring home to mom— but he knew he wasn't like your usual fare either: no motorcycle, no neck or face tattoos, no prison time (yet).  

“B-but don’t feel like you have to,” you suddenly mitigated.

“No, it’s cool,” he decided as he curled his legs up to his chest so he could slip under the blanket and top sheet.  “They, uh, feel nice…”

“Thanks,” you mumbled. 

“Are they expensive or something?” he wondered as he adjusted himself in them— you were still a few inches away from him, but somehow it was like he could feel your body heat from all the way over here.

“No, they’re just clean,” you explained.

“Right…” he trailed off.  “Anyways, I’m glad you trust me— not just ‘cause it means I get to sleep under the covers.”

You snorted.  “Sure,” you shrugged.

“I mean it— if I can make you feel safer, that’s good,” he announced.  He was, in part, trying to convince himself; because in a certain way, it did sting.  You invited him here specifically because you knew he wouldn’t try anything, and you were right, but he sort of wished sometimes that he was the kind of guy you’d invite over for some comfort of the non-platonic variety.  But, he still really enjoyed being the guy that made you laugh, and the guy that made you feel safe, and the guy that got to be here with you right now.

"Actually, I thought if Wayne answered the phone, I might ask him to come,” you admitted.  “He told me when I first moved in to let him know if anybody here gave me any trouble— including but not limited to you.”

Sounds like Wayne.

“But I figured he'd turn it down— like, he'd say something about how I'm an unmarried young lady and he wouldn't wanna 'disrespect' me," you chuckled.  

"Yeah, he's pretty old school," Eddie agreed, "but he'd keep you safe for sure.  He actually would have brought a gun.  If he decided to come in the damn trailer at all."

“Yeah,” you laughed, “old people are weird.  Like, apparently they think if you spend the night here that’s the same as us having sex?”

He laughed too.  “Yeah, that’s so crazy.  ‘Cause obviously we’re not…”

“Of course!” you agreed emphatically.  “You’re just doing me a favor.  Which I really appreciate— I know it’s probably harder for you to sleep here.”

“No, it’s great, actually,” he blurted out— realizing it sounded sort of weird once it was out of his mouth.  “For Wayne, I mean.  He got to upgrade from the fold-out bed tonight.”

“Oh, that’s good,” you hummed, but his eyebrows furrowed when he felt you shake.  It happened again, and he realized: “Sweets, are you shivering?”

“Y-yeah, but the sheets are just cold still,” you explained.  

“You took off your pants!” he remembered.

“Well, I can’t sleep with them on!” 

“Yeah, but you can’t sleep if you’re freezing, either,” he sighed.  “Did you ever get your heater fixed?”

“Um…”

He frowned.  “Didn’t that break like two months ago?”

“Y-yeah, but who needs a heater in August?”

“It’s not August,” he reminded you.

“But it was when it broke.”

He rolled his eyes, but then you shivered again.  “It dropped, like, twenty degrees when this rain came in,” he reminded you.  

“Yeah, I noticed,” you replied.

The next time you shivered, he heard your teeth chattering, and he instinctively scooted closer to you.  “Is there another blanket I can get you?” he asked.

“No, but—” you began, and his breath caught when he felt your hand— your ice cold hand— reach out and touch his shoulder.  “You can just—”

You moved closer to him and he started to move back.  “I don’t think I should—”

"Just, hold me?” you pleaded in a quiet, meek voice.  “So I can get warm enough to fall asleep?"

God, he was so completely powerless to you asking that, even if he knew it was a bad idea.  He wanted to help you so badly— and he knew it was more than your temperature that made you ask him for that.  He’d never seen you like this: scared and weak and worried.  “O-okay,” he agreed quietly, reaching his arms out and letting you settle between them.

Your face pressed to his chest, your nose poking his skin that was left exposed by the low and jagged cut— and the tip of that was cold too, he could just imagine giving it a little kiss.

“Is this okay?” he asked, and he felt you nod.  Carefully, he let his arm rest so it draped around you— but he didn’t let his hand touch anything but the sheets on the other side.

You hummed as you pressed yourself against him even more, your legs tangling with his, your tits— oh god, he couldn’t even think about your tits right now, because if he did he would remember that they were squished up on his torso and he’d wonder if being so cold meant your nipples were hard—

He cleared his throat, knowing that through his sweatpants, his dick was pressed to your tummy.  He willed it to somehow not get hard from this, putting all his energy into not moving or reacting at all.

“Thanks,” you whispered.  “This helps a lot.”

“Of course,” he breathed in return.  “Wh-whatever helps…”

He felt you take a deep breath against his skin, the softest fan of warm air hitting him when you exhaled.  Your arm was around him, but he hissed when you slid your hand up and the cold skin made contact with his bare back.  “Sorry,” you reacted instantly.

“No, it’s okay— you’ll warm up soon,” he promised.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “why are you so warm?”

Now he understood why the phrase ‘you make me hot’ meant that you were attracted to someone.  He nearly said it out loud, guess I’m just hot for you, but amazingly he caught himself.  Instead he only shrugged.

“I’m glad you came over,” you told him, and he could hear your voice getting a little more slurred— you were so tired, poor thing, you’d mentioned over the phone that you hadn’t really been sleeping.

“Can you really fall asleep like this?” he asked quietly.  Cause I sure can’t.

“No, I was just gonna get warm,” you admitted, “I’ll turn the other way when it’s time to sleep.”

Turn the other way… wait, she doesn’t mean—

Yeah, you did.  A few minutes later you flipped yourself around with a sleepy mumble of ‘g’night, Ed’ and made him into your unwilling big spoon.

Okay, not totally unwilling, but completely in over his head.  His problem wasn’t with the cuddling, it was with knowing it was all just supposed to be friendly, it was with wondering if you were coming onto him (unlikely) or just stupid (also unlikely), it was with trying not to get a horribly-timed but perfectly-warranted boner.

It was just these stupid sweatpants and your little white panties between him and your ass— he could feel the shape of it, even the warmth of your skin, through everything and he was going to lose his goddamn mind. 

You did move around in your sleep, like you warned him that you would, but you hadn’t warned him about those pretty sighs, the soft little hums, the way you’d stretch a bit and arch your back…

For the first hour, he just held you, and listened to you, and drank it all in.

You warmed up quick while he was holding you, you felt so nice to hold— he wanted to hold you tighter and pull you closer and kiss your cheek or your ear or your shoulder, but he couldn’t.  He almost wondered if he could, without waking you up, as he started to get sleepier himself and his logic began to slip.

He fell asleep in that way where he didn’t even realize he’d been asleep when he woke up, if you’d asked him he would’ve denied it— but you weren’t asking him, you were holding his arm close to your chest, pressing back against him, rubbing against him.

Oh god, he was hard, he was fucking throbbing, and you were breathing heavier as you grinded up on him.

When he opened his mouth, he fully intended on asking you what you were doing, or maybe apologizing for his boner, but then you arched your back harder, and he realized two things: one, you knew exactly what you were doing; and two, he didn’t need to apologize.  So, instead, he let a low groan fall from his lips, and you moaned a bit in reply.

He rocked his hips, pushing his cock right between where your panties were riding up and hugging your ass; you moaned again, still shaky but a bit more confident, and he wondered if maybe he was dreaming.  It wouldn’t be the first time he dreamt about this.

His hand was already on your chest, so he only had to move his hand down a bit to slip his fingers inside your tight t-shirt and feel your tits.  He groaned as soon as he felt how soft your skin was, how hard and excited your nipples were.  Your hips gyrated when he played with them, and feeling the control he had over you from such a simple action— just one slight curl of his finger and you gasped and arched your back deeper, your whole body under his command— made his cock twitch and weep inside his sweats.

When he took his hand out of your shirt and moved down to hold your hip tightly instead, you whimpered quietly.  “Eddie,” you moaned under your breath, instantly bringing him back to reality; this was actually happening.

Guilt twisted in his chest, but need still controlled his mind.  “Do you want me to stop?” he asked quickly.

“N-no!” you whimpered.  “I like it.”

He sighed and kept going with your blessing, securing his grip on your hips and letting his fingertips toy with the elastic holding up your panties.  When he thrusted again, a long drag of his cock against you that let you both feel every detail of each other, your head fell back and your neck was right there for the taking.

He leaned down and latched his lips onto it, kissing all along your pulse, and you moaned louder.  "You can fuck me if you want."

That should've been hot— and it sort of was, especially in your whispered voice— but it hurt his heart a little bit and he stopped kissing you.  "If I want?" he repeated, feeling you nod against his shoulder.  "What do you want, sweets?"

"I… I want you to," you answered.

"Baby," he whispered, feeling you shiver in his arms when he said it— in a different way than before.  "I— I know you're feeling vulnerable right now… I wouldn't wanna take advantage."

"You wouldn't be."

"You don't need to do this to make me stay."

"You don't need to do this to make me want you here," you replied.  "But I want you.  Please, Ed."

He hadn't been trying to make you beg, he almost felt guilty for it— making this poor girl plead with him for some affection when she's scared and alone.  But he was too busy feeling turned on like crazy to feel really guilty; because he never thought he'd hear you beg for him like that, and it was beautiful.  Sexy, yes, and erotic, but most of all beautiful.

Rolling you onto your back, he climbed up over you and felt your legs spread instantly— god, that was just too perfect.

In the dark, he still couldn’t see much, but there was just enough light to see your eyes blinking up at him.  It reminded him why he called you sweets as much as he could get away with it: because you were just so sweet, the sweetest eyes, the sweetest smile, the sweetest lips that he wanted to kiss until they were swollen and wet—

He grabbed your panties at the seam on your hip and snapped them in two; you gasped as he tossed them away, wiggling under him excitedly.  When he laid his body on top of yours now, he could feel your pussy through his pajamas.  Speaking of swollen and wet…

“Oh my god,” you breathed, reaching up to hold onto his bicep— Wesson, specifically.  “Eddie, you’re— fuck, get these off…”

Your free hand started tugging on the waistband of his pants, and just your fingers ghosting over his hip was enough to make him moan.  He grabbed where the gray fabric gathered, about to help you pull them down, until he remembered.  "Shit, I, uh," he choked, "I didn't bring any condoms."

Obviously.  Because what kind of creep brings condoms when his friend asks for help?  But now he was kicking himself wishing he'd had the foresight somehow.

"I could go back and—"

"No," you interrupted, clutching at his tank top.  "Don't leave, you don't need to wear one anyways."

Oh, dangerous territory.  Compulsory, cautionary health class videos flashing through his mind…

"I mean, you're clean, right?" you assumed.

"Yeah, I've never— well, I've never actually done it without protection before, so—"

"Me either," you explained, "and I'm on the pill— and I… I wanna feel you."

"That's… hot," he admitted with a tilted grin.  "Shit, really?"

You bit your lip as you nodded, and he growled playfully at you as he leaned in and kissed your neck.  You writhed beneath him happily, your plump little mound rubbing on him through his sweats— and he would give you anything you wanted after you did that.

"Y'wanna feel me, sweets?" he taunted lowly.  "Wanna feel my cock stretching you out?  We can do that.  Gonna fuck you raw."

You whined and arched your back.  "Please, Eddie— that's what I want."

"Shh," he soothed, reaching down to push the stretchy waistband over his hips to his thighs.  His cock sprang free and brushed on the inside of your leg for a moment, making you move your hips again— so he held them down with one hand.  "Baby, I'm gonna give it to you, okay?  Calm down."

"I just need you," you whispered, tugging on his shirt again.  "Eddie, I just need you inside me—"

He moved his head between your lips, groaning at how warm you were already— god, you must be like an oven inside.

When he found your opening, he didn't waste much time before pressing forward and sliding himself in.  It was a specific feeling— overwhelming, yet irresistible.  It was nearly too much for both of you and yet he had to keep going, had to fill more of you until his pelvis was grinding on your clit and the tip of his cock was reaching right to the end of you.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned the second he was buried inside— not just because it felt good, but because he knew instantly he couldn't go back now.  Feeling you bare, getting drenched by your sticky, hot walls… how was he supposed to be satisfied with anything else again?  Or maybe it wasn't the lack of a barrier that made it so good— maybe that was just you.

Either way, he didn't want to go back: to condoms, to other girls, to any of it.  He didn't want anything but this.

"Baby," he said again, holding you a little tighter.  "Is this how you want it?  Deep and slow?"

You whined quietly, clutching at his back.  "Y-you can go a little faster," you offered.

"Mm," he moaned as he rocked his hips more quickly, your heat gripping him so well he struggled to control himself.  "Like this?"

"Yes," you praised, "oh, Eddie, just like that— fuck me like that."

Christ.  You were gonna make him lose it too fast, talking like that and feeling so damn good.  You were like heaven inside— cozy and warm like a living room on a Christmas card.  Which, yes, he was well aware was a bizarre thing to compare a vagina to, but he wasn't gonna say it out loud or anything!  Babe, your pussy's like a Norman Rockwell painting might not even be Eddie's worst attempt at dirty talk in his life, to be honest.

"Ah, fuck," you panted, arching your back as he gave you a little more force with his thrusts.  "Did you ever… did you think about this?"

"Yeah," he admitted instantly.  "I mean, a few times.  It's hard not to…"

"Did you hope something would happen tonight?" you pressed, voice all wavery and breathless.

At best, he had hoped the way you hope you're gonna win the lottery or that a unicorn will appear in your yard.  "I didn't think about it like that," he assured, "I knew you were scared, I just—" he hissed as he struggled to focus on this conversation with everything he was feeling— "wanted to protect you."

Then the thought hit him, and he had to ask.

"Did you know something would happen tonight?" he returned.

"I told myself I wouldn't," you breathed, "but you… smell really nice."

Holy shit, I owe Wayne my life for getting me this cologne for my birthday last year.

"And you're so sweet," you added with a pant, "and honestly I've wanted you since—"

"Don't tell me," he interrupted, "I don't wanna know— unless you're about to say since you walked in the door, I'll drive myself crazy knowing I could've had you sooner, that we could've been doing this for months."

You sighed in agreement; it seemed like you were getting even wetter the longer he went on, and he groaned as he heard the beautifully filthy noise of his cock churning inside your walls— and it felt even better than it sounded.

"Feels so good," he blurted out, resting his forehead on the pillow just beside yours.  

"You too," you sighed.  "S'big, Eddie, and without anything I can feel how warm you are…"

"Warm, me?" he laughed thinly.  "Shit, you feel so hot inside I figured I felt like a popsicle to you."

You giggled, and god, what a beautiful sound.  Making you laugh was an honor enough— if he could make you come, too, he'd be king of the world.

In the spirit of that goal, he started fucking you a little faster, pressing in all the way with every thrust.

"Oh god, Eddie, so deep, you're so deep," you groaned.  "Fuck!”

He grinned proudly, reaching under you to move your hips— he lifted them just how he wanted them, forcing his cock even deeper inside you the next time he thrusted, and he got to grope your ass a bit so it was really a win-win.

He saw your eyes roll back and it just made him want to fuck you even harder.

“Tell me what you need,” he asked.  “Tell me how to help you, sweets.”

“I— I just need you to touch me,” you returned, your voice sounding a little hoarse. 

“Where?”

“Anywhere,” you choked, “everywhere… your hands feel good.”  He groped your tits first— easy choice— and heard you mewl happily.  “Fuck,” you breathed when he pinched a tender nipple, and he felt your walls bare down on him for a moment— so he did it again.

“You’re so sensitive,” he noticed proudly, beginning to drag his hand down over your abdomen as he watched the anticipation build on your face.  “How about your little button, s’it sensitive too?”

“Yeah, fuck,” you encouraged, moaning and dropping your head back onto the pillow as he gently pressed his thumb to your bud.  He’d barely started rubbing in circles before your moans got louder and higher-pitched; maybe it was a stupid comparison, but it reminded him of playing his beloved guitar— the other lady in his life.  He wanted to play your body like his instrument, he wanted to make music even more beautiful come out of you.

So he rubbed harder, and picked up his pace again— he had to flex his gut and keep it tight to try to stave off his own orgasm, his balls were already tightening up a bit as he got closer, but he knew he could hold off as long as it was to keep you satisfied.

“So good,” you praised, “it feels— fuck, I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he cooed.  “I know, you can come, sweets— I wanna feel you come around me.  Just tell me what you need.”

“Jus’ don’t stop,” you begged, “don’t stop, Eddie, just like— fuck!  Right there, oh my god—”

Is it just me, or is she liking this a lot more than the other girls did?  Did I get awesome at sex sometime in the last few weeks?

But really, he knew it was just that it was you and him together— it felt like you were made for each other, like he fit inside you perfectly.  He rubbed your clit even harder, technically disobeying your command of just like that, but it went over okay since you nearly screamed at the feeling.  "Eddie, I'm coming, I'm coming!" you kept saying, voice thin and strained, tightening up around him so hard he nearly struggled to pull back so he could keep up his pace.

"That's my girl," he praised, loving the way it felt to call you that— so he kept doing it.  "My girl, my girl," he chanted with each thrust into your flexing channel.  

“Oh god,” you sobbed, pushing his hand away from your clit; it must have become too sensitive right after coming.  Your hands reached up and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him down to lay more of his weight on you.  “Eddie, I— f-fuck, it’s so—”

“Shh,” he cooed, “it’s okay— it’s not too much is it?”

“Almost,” you whimpered, “b-but I don’t want you to stop.”

He fucked you faster, feeling you quiver under and around him; he wrapped you up in his arms tightly, keeping you still so he could slam everything into you at once, letting your somehow-even-tighter-now walls massage his throbbing cock.  "I-I don't know how much more of this I can take," he grunted, "you feel so—"

"I want you to come," you encouraged.

“Where?” he asked roughly, lips by your ear as he laid his head next to yours on the pillow.

You hesitated, and he could almost hear the gears in your head turning.  He knew you were considering it, and it made him groan just realizing that you wanted to let him fill you.

“You want it inside, baby?” he asked in a rough whisper, and you nodded with a quiet moan.

“Yeah,” you admitted, hands holding onto him tighter until he felt your nails bite his flushed skin.  “Yeah, fuck, that’s hot.”

He fucked you faster with a groan; his balls were starting to get sore from trying to hold back, but he didn’t want it to end yet— he couldn’t even be sure you would wanna do it again.  He couldn’t let this moment be over so soon—

“Eddie, I’m yours, make me yours,” you pleaded.  Nevermind, he could let this moment be over, because god damn hearing you talk like that didn’t leave him any other option but to come right fucking now.

"You're sure it's okay to come inside?" he breathed.  "I can pull out—"

"It's more than okay," you insisted, "Eddie, I want it so bad, please—"

"Don't say please," he instructed, "I was just checking— I'm gonna give you whatever you want, okay?  You want me to fill you with my come, I will.  You don't have to beg me for anything, it's all yours."

"Oh," you moaned, "say that again."

"All yours, it's all yours, sweets," he promised.  "Whatever you want from me.  Which, right now, is all this fuckin' come in your cute little pussy, right?"

"Yes," you sighed.

"I'll give you everything," he assured as he fucked you faster.  "Every drop, all this come is for you, baby."

“Oh god,” you hissed, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

“You really mine, sweets?” he whispered— you wouldn’t be able to hear him over the slamming of his hips on yours if he wasn’t speaking right by your ear.

“Yeah,” you answered breathlessly.

“Promise,” he demanded.

“Yours,” you insisted, “m’yours, Eddie, had such a big, stupid crush on you—”

“Fuck!” he spat, digging his fingers into your soft thighs as the first ropes of come sprayed from his cock; it felt so different, knowing it wasn’t just filling a latex reservoir but filling you, your perfect body, your warm pussy—

You sighed out his name one more time, tightening your arms and legs around him, keeping him close and whimpering with each soft breath; you sounded so beautiful, he almost felt guilty for dirtying you this way, but it was worth it… and you seemed to be enjoying yourself too.

He let out a long, hot breath as he stilled, feeling the last few drops of his come dribble out and into you; “Shit,” he hissed, “that— fuck.”

You laughed quietly in agreement.  “Yeah.”

He started to try to pull out, but you whined and hugged him again.  “Don’t go yet,” you begged.

“Okay,” he relented, relaxing on top of you.  “Am I crushing you?”

“No,” you laughed, “you’re not that heavy.”

“Good,” he mumbled as he planted a quick kiss on your temple.  

You moved a little bit and he hissed, having to hold you still by your hips.  

“D-don’t,” he choked, “I’m still— it’s really sensitive…”

“Oh, really?” you grinned, clenching on him on purpose to make him grunt and laugh quietly.

“Fuck,” he warned, “you’re tryin’ to drive me crazy, huh?”

“A li’l bit,” you admitted mischievously.

“Can you… feel it?” he wondered.  “Like, without a condom, can you feel my, uh, come?”

You considered it for a second.  “Not really, m’all, like, numb right now,” you admitted with a little giggle.  “But I could feel your cock, like… moving.  Even when you weren’t moving.  I dunno if that makes sense…”

“No, it does,” he nodded.

“What did it… feel like for you?” you asked, sounding almost nervous and shy again.  How could you act shy after that?

“Uh, fuckin’ amazing,” he laughed.  “You’re incredible.  Did you really mean what you said?  About, um… being mine?”

He felt your breath catch, and he reached up to pet your head for a second, moving some stray hair out of  your face.  

“Listen, it’s okay if you were just caught up in the moment,” he offered.  “I understand.”

“Do you understand because you just wanna be friends after this?” you asked.  “Or do you understand because you’re super sweet and don’t want me to feel pressured to sleep with you again?”

“Um… guess it’s the second one,” he decided, face getting warm.  “I mean, I’m okay being friends after this.  I’m extra okay being friends with benefits.  But if I’m being honest, sweets, I wanna be your boyfriend.”

“Yeah?” you encouraged, the smile in your voice making his heart twist.

“Yeah,” he answered.

You held his face and kissed him— soft, gentle, sweet just like you.  He kissed you back, lifting his head and deepening it as much as he could get away with; you moaned against his lips, and it was so sexy he almost wondered if he could give you another load inside without even having to pull out—

But you broke away and looked up at him with heavy eyes, and he realized how tired you really were.  “We can talk in the morning,” he decided, “you just need to get some rest, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed.  He carefully pulled out, trying not to overstimulate his softened cock, and laid behind you to be your big spoon again.  “This feels nice,” you hummed.  “I mean, m’kinda sticky and gross and all, but I feel safe.”

You yank the phone from its resting place, cord wrapping around your wrist in the process, but you couldn’t be bothered to fix it. You lean over the bed slightly, settled onto your side, before answer with a very clipped:

“What?”

“Who pissed you off, princess?” Eddie fucking Munson.

It never failed.

“If you keep talking, it’s going to be you.” You retort, still mildly aware of the hand tucked between your legs, not touching anymore, but hovering, waiting for this painful phone call to end.

“Harsh.” Eddie replies, feigning a weak implication of hurt in his tone. “I just wanted to let you know that you grabbed my dice by mistake after the campaign tonight.”

Fuck. You squeezed your eyes closed, tapping the speaker of the phone against your head in frustration. You had been so quick to rush out of there today, you didn’t even think, blindly grabbing your shit and hightailing it home.

“And I hate to make a big deal about it, but those are my lucky dice.” He points out. You can’t help the eye roll that escapes you, Eddie could practically hear it through the phone.

“And this couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” You ask impatiently. The man was wasting precious time, time that you would be spending doing something much more enjoyable. “I’m busy.”

It comes out, a Freudian slip. You could’ve just assure him you’d bring them in the morning and the conversation would be null and void, but no; now Eddie was intrigued.

“Busy? It’s midnight—what the hell could you be busy with right now?” He asks, attempting to compile a list of reasons but coming up with a big fat goose egg.

“Sleeping, Eddie.” You deadpan.

“You don’t sound like it.” Eddie says honestly. “Wait, were you—“

“Eddie!” You yell, a desperate attempt to stop where this conversation was headed—but Eddie, ever the persistent.

“Ha!” He laughs, seemingly clapping his hands together over the phone, “I knew you weren’t so innocent—all that bullshit about never being kissed and—“

“Ed-die,” You stress, begging him to tone down the teasing. It wasn’t that you felt ashamed, everything you’d told him was true. You hadn’t explored much outside of yourself—you know your body best and that was all that mattered. Why did you even need the help?

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes sincerely, “I didn’t mean to interrupt, really. If I had known, I would’ve just waited until tomorrow.”

“There’s no way you could’ve, dipshit.” Eddie snorts at the nickname, savoring the bite in your tone. “Besides, it helps me sleep.”

“Shit, me too.” He laughs softly and you can’t help but laugh either, though it only lasts a few seconds before you’re mentally shoving your hand over your mouth, begging your brain to process shit before it comes out of your mouth. “It’s not that easy, is it? Trying to concentrate and everything.”

Your eyebrows pull together in confusion, wondering why he hadn’t just hung up the phone. But, he continues; you can’t help but listen.

“Not when I have meatheads like you bothering me,” You snark, the dull ache in your cunt still hadn’t settled, and you really hated yourself for your next move, but it was necessary.

Your finger rubs over your clit gently, slow enough that you can keep your composure, but allow just enough relief that it wasn’t bothering you as much.

“Not a meathead—That’s reserved for Jason and his band of assholes.” You could appreciate his mutual distaste, feeling bad for stacking him in with them.

“Sorry.” You meant it.

“It’s fine, princess.”

You’re so used to the term that it really shouldn’t bother you, it hardly ever does, but with your hands down your underwear, attempting to work yourself through a desperately needed orgasm, you couldn’t help but play it in your head, the sound of his voice, like a tape on repeat.

And this felt so wrong, but Eddie noticed your prolonged silence. He leans into it, nudging you further.

“Do you need help?” He asks innocently, his voice remaining it’s normal bravado, but you can feel the anticipation in the way he waits for your answer.

“With touching myself?” You ask boldly; what a night this was turning into. “I think I’m good on that.”

“No with, you know, getting there.” He says coyly and you can hear the should shrug through the phone, the way his head tilts to the side innocently. “I can help, if you want.”

“You wanna help me orgasm?” You ask, still gathering what little sanity you had left for the night. “Over the phone?”

“Sure,” He says easily. This didn’t feel real and maybe you were having some fucked up dream you’d wake up from any moment; another weird sex dream, albeit almost always involving your one particular friend, who just so happened to be on the other line offering up his services, selflessly, “but only if you’re comfortable with it.”

And why wouldn’t you be? Aside from the potential awkwardness of having to face Eddie at school after this, it didn’t seem like a terrible idea—and Eddie was never the type to shove a situation like this back in your face, he knew your boundaries. Plus, you’d kill him if he ever did.

“Okay,” You agree, voice hesitant. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Shit, okay.” He answers, half-expecting you to back out.

You doubled down, “I don’t have a lot of time, so make it quick.”

Quick. Eddie could do quick—except he’s never done this before and has no idea what to say or do, he was going in blind.

“Uh, well,” He laughs at the absurdity of the upcoming question, “what are you wearing?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, glancing over the outfit you were wearing. “Does it matter?”

“Not really,” He answers truthfully, “if it helps, I’m only in my boxerw—you know those ones you like to make fun of, they’re got the bats all over them.”

You laugh at the memory, Eddie bent over in front of you during Hellfire a few months back, moving some of the boxes full of theatre costumes since the group was forced to share a room and the other kids refused to put their stuff away properly. “How cute.” You'd told him and Eddie’s face burned a deep shade of red. He didn’t say anything, only pulling his pants up higher.

It was an interesting visual, you couldn’t lie. “Uh, I’m in my underwear, too—and a, uh, shirt.”

“Which one?” He asks curiously.

“Um, Hellfire, that black one. I think it's yours, actually.” Somehow that felt like the most scandalous part about all of this, being coached through your orgasm by not only your resident dungeon master, but someone who you consider a friend, “It’s nothing crazy, sorry.”

“No, no,” Eddie interrupts quickly, “That’s fine—are you—are you touching yourself, right now?”

Eddie’s free hand is resting over his boxers, palming at his growing bulge, not as satisfying as he wants it to be.

“Yeah,” You nod without thinking, feeling ridiculous after the fact, “For a while now.”

That slow, tantalizing pace you had on your clit wasn’t helping. You clear your throat, pressing harder. “You can touch yourself, too—if you want, I mean. I won’t mind.” Your face is hot with embarrassment, but it didn’t feel fair; he should be able to enjoy it too.

Eddie can feel his dick twitch against his hand, the idea of you having already been touching yourself before he even suggested anything; not that he had planned any of this, it was completely spur of the moment, but he couldn’t help himself now. “I am,” He replies after a beat, “I’m just touching myself over my boxers—kinda sucks, though.”

“Oh,” Your voice lilts, feeling that small tinge in your gut at the sight of Eddie holding his dick in his hands—you’ve never seen it before, nothing to compare it to or imagine, but still; you were picturing it, “Well, maybe you should actually touch yourself, you know? It only seems fair.”

Eddie exhales slowly, fingers shoving under the waistband of his boxers, taking hold of himself—it’s the first time he’s touched himself all week and he was in over his head, this was a terrible idea.

“God,” He sighs, falling back against his pillow, phone tucked firmly between his shoulder and ear, tugging gently at his shaft, “do you—you have anything you think about?”

“Not really,” You lie, “I just kinda—do it.” You lie again.

Eddie laughs softly, the soft sounds of his creaking bed frame were faint, but you could still hear them. It was the only thing you could think about; Eddie spread out, hands down the front of his boxers, tugging at his dick like his life depended on it.

You circle your clit absently, finger sliding down to dip inside of you. You mewl softly, letting the sound pass through your lips.

“What about you, Eddie?” And it shocks you, realizing it’s the first time you’ve said his name since you’ve started this dangerous back and forth. It comes out broken, wrapped snugly in that blissful pleasure you were trying to reach and Eddie hears it—the curse under his breath a telltale sign that he was just as wound up as you.

“Got a lot, too much to describe—never as good as the real thing, you know,” Eddie says absently, his hand an insistent tug at his cock, swelling to full hardness in his hands. He wipes the pad of his thumb over the slit, the small bit of precum helping ease the slide down, “there’s so much you’re missing out on, princess.”

Your virginity was never a main topic of conversation and Eddie didn’t make it a big deal either, but he knows how inexperienced you are outside of your own body; he wants you to enjoy it, wants you to experience how good it can feel.

“Wanna tell me about it?” You ask innocently, the pitch of your voice picking up on a certain stroke of your finger, palm dragging against your clit.

“I can’t speak for women, but for men—it’s pretty fucking good,” He starts, occasional gasps peaking through his voice, “it’s warm and wet and really tight, sometimes when they squeeze down on us—uh, it’s good. So fucking good.” Eddie tries not to sound too crass or dirty, afraid it might scare you away.

You laugh softly, his unique way of describing things never fails to surprise you, “What’s your favorite? You like when—when girls go down on you?” It’s really just curiosity, your mind racing through a million different thoughts.

Eddie huffs out a small chuckle, stopping to—what you could only guess—spit on his hand, and that had you clenching around your own fingers. It felt primal, in a way. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s good. But I, uh, like going down on a girl more—I got off once to it.”

And it shouldn't turn you on as much as it did, but goddamn if you weren't interested in hearing all about that. All common sense out of the window, you ask, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, his voice still unnaturally calm, “I was younger, but it was nice—she made all these noises, pulled my hair too hard—I didn’t think I’d like it as much as I did, but then she came while I still going down on her and it just happened.”

You sigh softly, “I’ve always wondered what it felt like,” You admit openly, “something other than my hand, it’s gotta be good, right?”

“You’ve really never done anything?” Eddie asks hesitantly—it didn’t feel judgmental, Eddie was curious; half leaning toward delirious from his sleep-deprived state.

“Never even kissed anyone, Eddie.” You say regretfully, hand stopping for a moment. “But, I’m not clueless—I’ve just never had any first hand experience.

There was a long pause, your breath catching in your throat. You can hear him on the other line, but it’s muffled. “Eddie?” You ask quietly, “Are you still there?”

“Yeah, yeah,” He sounds a little breathless, “I was getting ahead of myself, had to slow down a bit—“

“Oh.” It’s small, feeble in the way you answer him.

“You still touching yourself?”

You nod again, feeling ridiculous. “Yeah—I am. I can’t focus, though—that’s been my problem all night.”

A problem that Eddie had just the remedy for.

“Do you trust me?” He asks and your answer is instant, not a single worry in your mind.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Close your eyes,” You take a small breath, letting your eyelids fall shut, “Tell me what feels the best.”

You breathe, allowing the fear of embarrassment shed from your body, losing yourself in the conversation fully. “Uh, fingers help a little—but, this is hard to do with one hand, I usually have two, that way I can cover all my bases.”

Eddie snorts at that, a smile spread across his face. “Just squeeze the phone against your shoulder,” You quickly maneuver it, shoved properly up by your ear, allowing your other hand to reach down and touch your clit properly, fingers an inconsistent rhythm as they pump into you, still, you can’t stifle the needy moan that slips out.

“Okay,” You sound shaky, “That’s—that’s a lot better.”

You feel like it’s going to be too bold of a question and Eddie would run away immediately, but you’re too fucking curious not to ask, since he was literally jerking off on the other end—it seemed like a perfectly fair question to ask.

“Do you—What do girls usually say about—you?” It was the worst way to approach the question, but Eddie isn’t too bad at realizing the context.

“Are you asking what my dick looks like?”

He couldn’t believe this shit was happening.

“Yeah, maybe.” You answer sheepishly, “Like I said, nothing to compare.”

Eddie grins, eyes scanning over his own dick briefly.

“Uh, it’s about eight inches, give or take.” He offers, “You could definitely fit both of your hands around it, if you tried.”

There’s a beat of silence, Eddie feeling like he fucked up—it slipped out, it wasn’t a suggestion; not the he didn’t want your hands around his dick, he’d be lying if he said that out loud.

You give a small noise of acknowledgment, feeling the heat coil in your stomach—surely you weren’t thinking about Eddie’s dick. But, of course you were. “Maybe we’ll have to try that out.” You say boldly, hoping that it would elicit some type of reaction from him.

“Fuck,” It definitely worked, “Yeah—yeah, maybe we could—I could even—even, go down on you, if you wanted.” He's too worked up, barely able to form a coherent sentence.

“Yeah?” You breath, followed by a small moan from the drag of your slick covered finger over your sensitive clit, rubbing the small bundle of nerves impatiently. “Think I could make you come?”

“With those pretty little noises?” Eddie asks redundantly, “I’m a fucking goner.”

You laugh softly, choked out by the sound of your own desperate noises, the pace on your clit picking up, fingers moving on their own accord. You can’t even focus on the fingers inside of you anymore, moving a free hand toward your breasts, still slicked fingers catching against the soft bud of your nipple.

Eddie strokes himself faster, recklessly almost. He groans so loudly into the speaker that you almost lose it, phone slipping away from your ear.

“Fuck, are you okay?” Eddie asks, hazy from the grip he had at the base of his dick, desperate to keep from coming. His entire shtick was to help you, not himself; but he was failing miserably.

“Sorry, I almost dropped the phone.”

“Oh.” He’s being cheeky, you can hear it in his voice.

“Shut up,” You exhale, returning yourself to the task at hand; regardless of Eddie’s smugness. “Thought you were supposed to make me come, not tease me all night.”

“Help you,” He corrects, “Not make you—though, I mean—that’s not totally off the table.”

“Eddie.” You warn.

“Right—I guess it’s not hard for me,” Eddie starts again, voice thick with want and tension, “All I have to do is think about you with your hands between your legs and those tits—god, they’re probably perfect, I haven’t seen them, but I know. I know.”

It was like he’d dialed everything up to ten, not bothering to hold back any longer, the pleasure taking away any filter he had.

He was thinking about you, of course—it made sense, but it didn’t snuff the pulse that grew between your legs, only making it much, much worse. Whatever line was drawn was crossed the moment you agreed to this, all bets were off.

“Wish it was your hands instead,” You respond wantonly, the pad of your finger rubbing quick, small circles against your clit, “they’re so much bigger than mine.”

You gasp, gripping desperately at the sheets beneath you, no doubt having soaked through the cover already from how wet you were, it was unlike anything you’ve felt before—it was better.

“Forget my hands—can’t get the sight of you sinking down onto my dick out of my head,” He admits earnestly, groaning through the quick tugs on his shaft, his tip leaking with a copious amount of precum, bring his hand back down to squeeze at the base. Eddie has never edged himself like this before, it was almost painful. Almost.

“I don’t think it’ll fit, Eddie.” The moan he lets out is loud, guttural—the sound of skin against skin louder than ever through the speaker, he’s close. “Is that what you want? To be my first?”

“Fuckfuck—yeah, I do.”

You can’t even think anymore, saying the first thing that comes to mind.

“Want you to ruin me, Eddie.”

He’s past the point of trying to keep himself quiet, openly moaning through the receiver, “Fuck—say my name again, please.”

And you do; again and again, your cunt spasming underneath your hand, reaching the precipice of what you had been dying for all night, his name a plea as it cut off into a desperate moan.

“Shit—I’m so close—.” Eddie growls lowly, his high hitting him almost immediately after, coming all over his chest and his sheets in shirt spurts, tugging harshly at his dick.

He’s never come so hard in his life.

“You’ve gotten a fucking mouth on you.” He says breathlessly, on the way down from his orgasm. “Would’ve never guessed.”

You smile warmly, hand slipping out of your underwear to rest against your stomach.

“You tell anyone and you’re dead,” You chide playfully, the beautiful feeling of sleep creeping up on you, “but thank you, Eddie, seriously.”

“Always at your service, princess.”

You laugh through your nose, the realization of your actions finally settling in. It didn’t feel wrong, but it didn’t feel right, either—though, you couldn’t be bothered to care now; all bets were off.

“I’m holding you to that, Munson.”

Eddie shrugs on the other end, unbeknownst to you. He wiped at the mess he’d made with his shirt, tossing it to the floor lazily. “So, not a one time thing then?” He asks hopefully.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

A pause, Eddie clears his throat.

Tiredness was settled deep within her bones, and every single muscle inside her body ached at the sheer thought of moving again. But YN felt the soft rumbling of the Quinjet’s engines increasing while the autopilot initiated the landing sequence to softly touch the ground again. The almost fifteen-hour flight in uncomfortable seats would be stuck to her for another few hours, if not days; she was sure of it. The mission may have been a success – taking down a cartel of experimental drug smugglers, with a side income through even more experimental weapons which were supposed to be destroyed alongside Hydra, had been easier than thought – but her body still was sore and covered in bruises, scratches, and beautifully blooming hematomas.

Guess a rib or two got a hit as well, the Widow thought while softly rubbing her right side.

Gladly, she wasn’t the only one beaten up, but unlike Steve and Bucky, she didn’t own the ability to self-heal within hours. Sometimes, she really envied them down to her very core. But now, she was too tired to even start feeling the jealousy about the super soldier serum running through their veins. Truth be told, she wasn’t entirely without an asset she had gained through otherworldly substances – not drugs – but those were hard to control sometimes, which was why the Widow often fully relied on her brutal training and skills in hand-to-hand combat.

One look in the direction of Nat, and she knew that her sister wasn’t very fond of her approach to the last situation. But hey, a woman gotta do what a woman gotta do. Easy as that.

As soon as the jet finally touched the ground, YN unbuckled the seatbelt and pushed herself up with a groan. The pain shot right through her body again and reminded her of the inevitable reality of upcoming days full of soreness. Assessing the level of pain and discomfort, she estimated two weeks tops. With a hot bath here and there, maybe less.

The thought of one of these alone made her almost moan in pure bliss. But, of course, the compound didn’t own such luxury known as a bathtub. God damn you, Tony.

With clenched teeth and jaw, the woman hobbled out of the Quinjet as soon as the ramp was lowered and granted a breeze of fresh air to invade the warm insides and cool her cheeks. Maybe a cold shower would suffice for now. But the woman didn’t come far before Steve’s voice dragged over the small tarmac in front of the newly built compound in Upstate New York.

“We need to debrief, and I need your report plus a medical evaluation of your status, YN,” the blonde soldier spoke up, always the authoritative fun brake (he wasn’t, but she was grumpy and needed a shower and some comfort in the form of her soft blankets and pillows). Without answering for now because she had her phone in hand to type a quick text, she raised the other hand and showed Steve the finger. Her body became used to the throbbing pain in every single limp again, and the Widow could walk a bit faster to get away from the now overbearing man she called one of her best friends.

“YN, I mean it. You’re not dismissed until you went to the medical wing and got checked out.” She could hear his heavy steps, and even though she still showed him the finger, she spoke. “Whatever, Steve. I need a shower and my soft bed, and I’m good to go, thank you very fucking much. See you tomorrow morning with that damn report in hand, bye.” Usually, she wasn’t this rude to him, and that pushed him to stop in his tracks.

Before scurrying inside the compound, she could hear the other’s talk.

“Did I do something wrong?” Steve.

“Nah, she is just grumpy because I stole her that one guy she loved to punch in the face.” Bucky.

“The one that laughed because she is a woman? Well, you fucked up good, Barnes. She really loves to take those down herself.” Nat.

An apology was necessary, she knew that, but… later. Her mind was too tired to do it now, so she just walked to her room, always close to one of the walls – just in case. With a heavy sigh leaving her lips, she pushed open the door to her cozy room and let the duffel bag fall straight to the floor before pushing herself to walk the last few steps, so she could fall face down first onto the soft mattress.

Which wasn’t the best idea she had had all day, and a strained groan escaped her lips at the same moment as the soft sounds of an opening portal filled her room. She barely realized it. She didn’t even move as steps started to come closer. She didn’t move a single muscle until the mattress dipped at the weight of another body settling upon it. Slowly, YN moved her head from the face-down position to the side to eye the man with the pepper and salt hair. He already looked down at her, forehead wrinkled and the all too familiar deep creases between his dark brows visible.

“Hey,” the woman spoke, barely above a whisper, and she closed her eyes soon again as one of his warm, big hands came close to her face to brush over her cheek and push a lock behind her ear. “Rough day?” She nodded but stopped suddenly at the ugly feeling of raw skin rubbing against the fabric of her comforter. Eyebrows furrowed, and a hiss escaped her. But Stephen was prepared – just as he always was. “Come on, love,” he mumbled in the softest of tones. “We’ll get you a nice hot bath ready, a cup of tea, and some snacks, while I stitch you up.”

With that, the previous portal opened again, illuminated the room in its soft golden light, and Stephen helped the tired woman up from her bed. He held both her hands and pulled her up onto her feet, steadying her with his arm around her slender waist. He could imagine what happened during that mission in Seoul, her state not an uncommon sight for his eyes but hard on him nevertheless. It was easy for him to get scratches and be beaten up – he didn’t mind that – but seeing her in that constitution was something entirely different. And this side was a side no one knew about – and no one would ever get an insight about.

Looking up to Stephen, she allowed him to scoop her into his arms and circled both her arms around his neck while pressing a soft kiss onto his cheek. “You are a godsend,” YN whispered against his skin, the tip of her nose caressing his skin in a feathery touch. The doctor smiled the one smile that was entirely reserved for her eyes and only hers. “Not an idiotic and presumptuous asshole anymore?” He had to tease her with the statement that the Widow had smacked him with the second time they had met. A forceless hit with the flat hand against his shoulder was the first reaction he got. “Thought we already had put that in our past. It was a miscalculation. An assumption made upon false input and intel.”

Stephen chuckled while stepping over the threshold of his portal, right into his bedroom in the Sanctum Sanctorum, the busy New Yorker streets underneath the big windows. He didn’t spare a glance at the golden streets out there, glowing in the light of the setting sun. Instead, he carried the woman in his arms straight into the adjacent bathroom with the bathtub she craved the most. “I just love teasing you, darling,” the sorcerer grinned while gently putting YN down on the bathtub’s edge, and with a flick of his hand, the two faucets opened and unleashed the water.

Soon the bathroom was not only filled with the soothing sound of splashing water but with the wafting steam and the smell of her most favorite bath bomb as well. In the meantime, Stephen had organized the promised tea and snacks – consisting of cheese, crackers, and strawberries – while preparing the first aid kit for the small surgery he would perform on the most severe cuts that needed some stitching. As she attempted to step into the waiting hot water to let her bones and muscles soak in the well-deserved break, the phone in the back pocket of her combat gear pants, that pooled in the center of the bathroom, started to ring. The sorcerer was quick to peel it out and hand it to his girlfriend, not daring to accept the call or send it straight to the voicemail like he would’ve preferred.

With a sigh, YN accepted the call; a fluffy towel wrapped around her naked body, and she could see the hits that had attacked her visibly on her skin through the full-length mirror opposite her. “What?” That was all she asked the unwanted caller – who needs a greeting, right?

Shuffling was heard on the other side of the call, and YN cocked an eyebrow as whispered voices pushed to her ear. She took a look at the caller ID and didn’t get it. “Whoever thought it would be the greatest freaking idea to call me can go and fuck themself. I just want some peace and quiet, for fucks sake. Is that too much to ask?” YN was pissed to an extent she hadn’t felt in a long time. Another round of shuffling until Thor’s voice spoke up. “Lady YN, this is Thor, God of Thunder.” Facepalming herself, the woman sent Stephen a helpless look. “You don’t need to introduce yourself, Thor. I know who you are. This is a call, not a formal application for a new job.” What, in the name of the universe, had she done in her past life to be graced with this group of insufferable people? She loved them dearly, but sometimes they were just too exhausting for her poor soul. “Yes, of course, Lady YN. Mr. Stark had specifically asked me to start this conversation in order to learn about the nature of your whereabouts.”

Groaning, she hit the edge of the full tub with her fist. “Stop being such a child and talk for yourself, Tony,” she demanded. “Can’t. Have to find your location.” Eye rolling, YN knew that he knew that she had never touched one of his phones and had made sure that her location wouldn’t be found by any of them. Not even the genius that was Tony Stark. “Yeah, whatever. Good luck with that. You lot could’ve just, I don’t know, asked if I’m alright wherever I am and put it aside because I’m a fucking grown woman. Gosh.” Stephen chuckled softly at her outburst while preparing the needle for the stitches. “Plus, it was never my idea to call. Ask our ancient ice sculpture who had the idea to check up on you and found your room empty and throwing a tantrum about it,” Tony added, and YN softly smiled as the sorcerer knelt in front of her on the plush bathroom matt to take a closer look on the gush near her left wrist. “For fucks sake, Steve. Remember when I told you that your overbearing nature isn’t cool? It wasn’t a joke; I meant it!” Her face twisted at the sudden burn under her skin, and saw the drenched cotton pad, Stephen softly dapped over the wound to clean the dried blood off. “I’m sorry, YNN. Really, I am. But you took some pretty hard hits, and I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. You are okay, are you?”

Sighing again, YN leaned her head against Stephen’s shoulder. “I am. And now I have to go.” – “Wait, YN, where are yo-…” – “Byyyyye!”

And with that, she hung up and threw the phone back on the dirty pile of combat gear. “They’re getting suspicious?” She shrugged at his question and let him take the fluffy towel away from her, so she could finally sink into the hot water. “I don’t know what’s going on in their brains. And I don’t want to think about it.” With closed eyes, YN leaned back in the tub, softly moaning as she felt how every single muscle relaxed. “I’m almost tempted to believe that you only agreed to date me because of my bathtub,” the man chuckled while sitting on the edge and starting to stitch her arm.

In moments like these, he used that bit of magic he needed to steady his hands, but it was the only exception he made. “You don’t have to do it, y’know? I can easily head to the med bay,” YN mumbled after Stephen had finished his task of taking care of her, and he bent down to press a lingering kiss on her forehead. “Don’t make a fool out of yourself, darling. It’s my pleasure.”

He wanted to leave to pack the first aid kit back at its usual spot, but her fingers intertwining with his made him pause. One look at her pleading eyes, and the man was lost, his mental to-do list burned to ashes at her feet. “Can you get in? I’d love some cuddles.” It was a shyly asked question, as usual, but just as usual, he started to undress even before he nodded. “Whatever you need, darling,” he whispered after settling behind the woman in the still hot water – her body between his long legs, her back pressed against his chest, arms entangled underwater, and her face nestled in the crook of his neck.

Her deep breaths and soft skin against his were all he ever needed after days of her presence gone due to missions or his own duties, and Stephen craved those few stolen moments in a world where nobody knew about them.

;

Morning came too soon, and YN dragged herself out of the comfort of the warm bed to gather her belongings in order to make a move as soon as Stephen was awake enough to conjure the portal into her bedroom. She just left the bathroom, the pile of combat gear now over her arms, as Stephen yawned and felt around on the other side of the bed where she had laid only minutes ago. The sorcerer wasn’t a deep sleeper, but she was a Widow, trained in the arts of stealth, so it was an easy task to sneak out without waking him up. But even after more than a year of dating, he seemed not to be used to it because at the feeling of nothingness next to him, Stephen sat up abruptly and frantically started looking through the room. His mouth opened to call her name, heart racing in his chest, until his gaze settled upon the woman, only clad in one of his shirts that reached her mid-thighs.

She smiled, combat gear already dropped to the floor, to walk over to him. YN stood next to his bedside, both hands cupping his jawline while her thumb soothingly caressed his cheek, while she pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth, the feeling of his goatee present on her lips. She could practically feel how he relaxed at her touch and leaned into it, reminding her again that Stephen was as touch starved as she was. It wasn’t a real turn-on for folks if she talked about the abusive past she had to endure in order to become her strongest self. But hey, those foolish boys were nothing in comparison to the man in front of her.

“Bad dream?” She softly asked before pecking the tip of his nose with a soft, feathery kiss. The sorcerer shrugged nonchalantly, but he couldn’t fool her – and he knew that. Sighing, Stephen pulled her back into the bed, holding her close, and nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck. “I just don’t want to let you go again. Didn’t see you in four days.” It was a mumble, but YN could hear every single word and felt his lips moving against her collarbone. Slowly, she started to play with his hair – just the way he liked it – and scratched his scalp. “Caution, my love, or I could be tempted to think you’re touch starved and crave my presence.”

Stephen scoffed and pushed himself up with one arm to look into her eyes. “You know how it is, darling.” It was only a mumble because even though they opened up to one another like they never did before, Stephen was still wary if it wouldn’t bite his ass. But so far, the amazing woman underneath him never let him feel any doubts. She smiled softly up at him and pulled him in for a soft kiss. “I’m not sure if they’re ready. You know how they are. You know what Tony will say, something about not fraternizing with colleagues and all that bullshit, and you know that Steve will give you a hard time – shit, he would even give me a hard time about it.” The prospect of trouble in paradise alone made her nauseous. They constantly bickered, true, but it was all fun and smiles. With something like that, on the other hand… Stephen knew how it went.

“At least stay for a few more minutes?” He almost begged, something he would never admit, not even under torture, but YN kissed him gently and shook her head. “Need to write that damn report and get a going to the med bay if I don’t wanna get benched.” With that, the sorcerer released the Widow out of his grasp and opened the portal into her own bedroom. He stood on his side while YN scurried over onto her side but turned around to kiss him goodbye properly. “See you for dinner?” Stephen smiled down at her, nodded, and kissed her forehead. “Chow House?” Moaning, YN pulled him in for another kiss. “I know why I love you,” she grinned, and then she waved with a smile as the portal closed again, and she was back in her cozy room, the duffel bag now lying on top of the cushioned bench in front of her bed – its usual spot. Shaking her head, she made a mental note to thank Steve for it later that day.

;

Sitting at the huge glass table in one of the conference rooms inside the compound, YN listened intently to what Fury said over the video call, scribbling away notes inside that little notebook she always carried around for such occasions. She could feel a lingering stare settled upon her, and barely noticeable, she raised her gaze to catch Stephen staring at her over the cup of coffee he held between his softly shaking hands. A smile tried to tuck at her lips, but instead, she rolled her eyes as if he was as irritating as the uncomfortable seat she had sat on ever since the briefing started.

“Do I bore you, Miss LN?” Fury’s tone sounded bored himself, and YN showed him a pair of raised eyebrows. “No, sir. I’m just writing down what you’re saying. For later purposes.” Sam coughed and mumbled “Boaster” between his acts, and YN threw her eraser against his head. “Hey!” She smiled the sweetest of smiles and flipped him off. “I’m not deaf, Wilson.” Bucky chuckled behind his mug while Steve and Nat rolled their eyes, and Fury sighed exaggeratedly. “Behave, children,” he grumbled before continuing with the briefing about a new mission in Switzerland.

A half an hour later, the briefed team scattered over the compound after they had left the conference room, and YN found her way into the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled ever since she woke up to an empty bed because Stephen had to leave to get ready for said briefing.

On some days, it was exhausting to sneak around everyone, but it had its purpose. So far, they never had a close call, for which YN was more than grateful.

Softly humming, she rummaged in the fridge before moving to the cupboards after she decided that tea was more to her taste than one of the smoothies Pepper hoarded in one of the many fridges.

Suddenly, big familiar hands grabbed her jeans-clad hips and turned her around in one swift motion. Looking up, her eyes met the bluest ones of them all, and a smile etched itself on her face before she took a measured look to the entrance. After she gave herself an all-clear, YN pulled Stephen down to her level while pushing herself on her tiptoes and kissed him – hard and hungrily because the couple couldn’t stop showing their deep lingering affection for one another as often as possible, which was not often enough.

Labored breaths and lips crashing against one another were the only sounds in the kitchen – or the entire compound wing – and Stephen wrapped the woman tighter in his arms, pulling her closer and closer until their bodies were pressed against each other. His hands moved more south to grab the Widow under her thighs, long fingers stretching up to her butt cheeks, and he lifted her with astonishing ease up on the countertop. Settling there, YN wrapped her legs around his waist, crossed her ankles at his deliciously shaped behind, and burrowed her fingers inside his dark hair. The kiss grew more heated with every passing second, and a soft gasp escaped her mouth as Stephen pressed her lower region harder against him.

“I really hope you’re not thinking about canceling our dinner plans for tonight,” YN whisper-moaned at the friction between her legs and bit his lower lip gently. Stephen groaned at the sensation pulsing through his body – he still wondered how this woman was able to pull every trigger there was with nothing more than just a whisper of a touch – and kissed her again. “Why should I? I can’t wait for dessert. Maybe we should do dessert first, like responsible citizens,” he rasped, the raspiness in his voice always a trigger for her own pleasure. Gladly, Stephen didn’t know just yet how hot it made her hear him like that. If this man would ever gain the knowledge about that – it would be her downfall. Grinning, YN pulled away from his searching lips, teasing him. “Sounds like a plan, Doctor Strange.”

But before they could dive right back into the next heated kiss and continue this make-out session, approaching steps alarmed the Widow. With ease, she slid off the counter within seconds and positioned herself at the counter closer to the door before raising her voice.

“Oh, please. Stop prancing around and try to prove that you’re the smartest one. I can’t keep up with the bullshit coming out of that entitled mouth of yours. I have better things to do.”

Tony and Steve entered the kitchen, followed by a tired Clint, who clung to a mug of steaming coffee. The Stark was fast to assess the situation, and an icy expression settled on his face. “Is he annoying you again, YNN? I can do something about that, you just need to use the words.” Steve had his blonde brows furrowed and stared Stephen into the ground, but the sorcerer only shrugged and stole the tea she had finished preparing. “A simple conversation, that’s all. Keep your panties on, Stark, and thanks for the tea, LN.”

With that, the tall man walked past the group, mug in hand, and YN stared after him, mouth agape. “Hey, that was my tea, you tea stealing, obnoxious imbecile!”

Which meant in their secret language, I love you, idiot.

Steve turned towards her and shrugged. “Tell us, and we end him,” he offered, but all she did was roll her eyes and start to prepare another cup of tea while suppressing her heart from beating out of line.

That was a close call.

;

The soft tunes of the Best of Beethoven vinyl she had found in Stephen’s office echoed through the foyer of the Sanctum Sanctorum on a summer evening. The windows on the upper floor were open widely to let in the soft breeze from outside without getting the chills, and YN worked mindlessly in the perfectly stocked kitchen.

It wasn’t like that shortly after she had sat foot in the room supposed to feed hungry human beings. Instead, barely filled shelves and a half-empty fridge had greeted her, which was why many New Yorkers had seen a true Avenger walking their streets in a pretty summer dress – a sight none of them would have expected on this beautiful day or any days at all. But she didn’t mind the round eyes of kids and teenagers. The ogling stares of the male part of the grownup fraction were what put her on edge. But even them she could handle with closed eyes.

After a shopping spree in the grocery store down the block, YN had started to prepare dinner. It wasn’t often that she found the time and muse to cook, but when she did, she went all out because she wasn’t bad at it. Actually, she was quite good at the stove, even though she preferred baking over everything else.

The tune changed to Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61 – one of her favorites, even though the Red Room had forced her to start playing the violin – at the same time as the golden glow of a portal crept around the corner of the kitchen’s entrance. She just chopped the vegetables into the thinnest of slices as the soft but heavy feeling of fabric settled over her shoulders, and a red collar nudged her left cheek to get her attention.

“Well, hello to you too, Cloaky,” she greeted the magical relic, which resembled more a dog or cat than an ancient thing, with a smile. Soon after the first greeting, a set of arms wrapped around her, and a chin was planted on her shoulder. “Do I want to know how you got in?” Stephen asked, the grin audible in his voice. YN shrugged while chopping the rest. “Wong didn’t see me if that’s what you tried to find out.” Sometimes, her burglar skills were pretty useful, plus the building liked her – or Stephen had altered the spells that protected the Sanctum, but she liked the idea of a feeling and thinking building more.

“So, you thought instead of enjoying your first time off missions in the last couple of weeks, you break into the Sanctum to cook me dinner?” At her exciting nod, Stephen laughed softly and pressed a kiss to her temple. Cloaky settled onto her shoulders definitively – Stephen knew that it would stay there for quite some time now, but he couldn’t object because it was what he would do too – and instead, tried to help her, but YN hit his fingers. “Nope. You’re gonna take a hot, long shower to destress from whatever threat it was today you had to deal with, and after that, you’ll settle on that bar stool over there, drink a glass of whiskey and just look pretty and handsome while I wrap up dinner.” He would never admit it, but he loved it when she tried to boss him around. It was so different from the life she had lived before joining the Avengers and escaping the grasp of the Red Room, so it was his pleasure to let her boss around to her heart's desire. “Yes, ma’am. Anything else, ma’am?” She grinned up at him. “A kiss would be absolutely lovely.”

Stephen complied and bent down to taste her sweet, perfect lips, but Cloaky suddenly had other plans and pulled her onto the wooden floor. “What the…?” Both started, but Wong’s voice let her suck in the last word and hold her breath. The red cloak pulled her further to the kitchen island to hide her body against the wood and wrapped itself around the woman it was so fond of.

“Something smells divine.” Wong stopped at the frame between the kitchen and one of the many living rooms to eye Stephen. “You are cooking? Since when is this a possibility?” Stephen looked from the stove to Wong, back to the chopped vegetables and the casserole where YN had started to place the thin slices in an intricate pattern. “Yeah…” The sorcerer began and shrugged. “I saw something on my way home and thought it looked quite delicious.” Wong squinted his eyes suspiciously at the other sorcerer. “Aha.” YN on the floor really wanted to facepalm herself. “Well, let me know when the food is ready. I want to try it. I’m in the library upstairs.” And Wong disappeared as suddenly as he arrived.

Sitting up, YN patted the proudly moving cloak and shook her head. “Next time, you won’t drag me down to the floor, understood? That hurt.” Stephen helped her up and took Cloaky from her shoulders, and sent him up into his bedroom. “Another close call,” the man objected, and YN sighed. “I know, but I don’t know why we’re running out of luck all of a sudden. We were so good.” It didn’t sit right with her, and the realization that maybe, sooner rather than later, they need to come clean with everyone.

Stephen softly kissed her head and pushed a lock out of her face, tracing her jawline from her ear back down to her chin. He took it between his fingers, pointer finger underneath it to softly nudge it up, so she would look at him. “Whatever will happen, nothing is worse than being stuck in a fake octopus, smelling like plastic and trash, darling.” Eye rolling, the woman shoved against his chest. “Never remind me of that ever again. I had to soak for hours on end in that bathtub to get the smell off my skin.” Stephen smiled but cocked an eyebrow to see her nodding. And she did. “Okay, yeah. It won’t be the end of days if they knew, but… I don’t know how to tell them. Could we take some more time? Just a little while longer?”

Stephen could never deny her a single request, so he approved with another nod and kissed her softly on the lips. “Of course, love. But now you have to move your sexy bottom because Wong demanded food. I’m gonna take a quick shower and be right back.” With that, Stephen kissed her one last time and stepped through the portal – lazy sock – and YN continued with the veggy pattern inside her prepared casserole until an all too familiar voice startled her.

“I knew it!”

With wide eyes, the former assassin turned around to look straight into the very pleased face of non-other than Wong, and a curse fell off her lips.

One for them, minus one for us, she thought while explaining to the sorcerer how she came up with her altered receipt for Ratatouille.

Thank you so much for reading! As usual, comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated! <3

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Rain patters echo through the trailer as they drop against the roof and dribble down the porch awning. Soft gray clouds coolly illuminate the inside of the Munson home and wash everything in a sleepy warmth. The hum of a faded Queen record plays from the living room so quietly that it just barely accompanies the storm’s symphony.

Eddie leans against the kitchen counter and the cool bite of metal against his side sends shivers of content. Sweatpants shift lower on his hips as he putters in place to grab breakfast makings. It’s not often the helltown of Hawkins decides to be quiet for a day. Where every critter and person agrees to stay bundled at home and enjoy the sleepy day without a worry.

The refrigerator door clangs and clashes as the condiments on the door shelf scatter, and Eddie winces from the frosty nip that bites his shirtless chest. Pulling out the milk and softly closing the door while he moves back to the counter, Eddie hopes you’re already awake as he pours two glasses of milk and sets the carton on the countertop. He scratches his tousled curls in thought unable to remember where he put the Honeycomb in his rush to make it to school yesterday.

Cabinets doors closing and tired mumbles greet you when stumble into the kitchen. Bleary eyes soften while you watch Eddie dance around the kitchen and trip over his own feet. His hums send warm, gentle waves through your body. You quietly pad over to him and press yourself to his back while wrapping your arms around his tummy. Rubbing your cheek into his warmth, you mumble, “Morning, baby”.

Shocks of tenderness shoot through Eddie where you touch him. One arm raised and pulling the cereal box from its hiding place, Eddie peers around his shoulder and melts at the sight of your sleepy little self tucking yourself into him. 

“Morning, dewdrop. How’d you sleep?” Eddie whispers, his morning voice rumbles in bliss. He turns to lean into the counter with his side once more and pulls you into his other.

“Would’ve been better if I woke up with you,” you pout, lightly nipping at his exposed pec. You narrow your eyes at his lighthearted chuckles

“Can’t waste a rainy day by sleeping in, dove,” Eddie rubs the small of your back. Taking a handful of Honeycombs in his other hand, he then drops a few in his mouth and takes a gulp of milk. “Better to be up and enjoy a lazy day together. How about we stop by Family Video and pick out some flicks for a marathon today,” he mumbles with another mouthful.

You scrunch your nose at the few falling crumbs that tumble onto you. “Stop eating all the cereal, or we’re not gonna have any for breakfast,” you try to steal the box away from him. His arm presses you into an inescapable hold. You freeze as Eddie lightly digs his fingertips into your side. 

“Don’t. You. Dare,” you hiss.

Eddie’s soft smile slowly warps into a shit eating grin that blinds you. The silent command for a flurry of butterflies to attack your stomach when his fingers press into your skin. Your shared giggles and squeals rise over the music and rain in an adoring crescendo. Your chest pounds, begging for relief. Eddie’s curls don’t help either and instead of acting as his hideaway, they now join the tickle fight. Brushing against your neck, his soft tangles burn your skin with the feather light touches.

“I work so hard,” Eddie laughs, “to make us breakfast for our cozy day in, and you don’t even notice?” He launches a sneak attack and blows a raspberry where your ear and jaw meet. When you thrash in his hold in a desperate attempt to escape, he pulls you in close with both arms. Squeezing your waist, Eddie guides you to sit on top of the counter and stands between your legs. 

As your chest heaves, drinking in as much as air your lungs desire, your eyes flutter close. Eddie’s soft lips trail across your face and scatter small kisses everywhere they can. Happiness buzzes through you when Eddie makes his home in the crook of your neck. Carefully cradling your cheek in one hand as his other rubs little circles on your thigh, he litters little pecks up and down your neck. A sigh graces your smile from the buzz Eddie gives you, and he takes it as the opportune moment to lay a soft kiss to your lips. Slowly moving with each other, both of you are absorbed in each other’s presence.

Lazy nips to your bottom lips that bring out gentle groans.

Teasing traces of tongue leave you dizzy and searching for more.

Little scratches at Eddie’s neck ground you as best as they can. Trying to hold onto reality, you so eagerly want to fall into a daze only focused on his love.

Squeezes to your body, hold Eddie in reality. Completely ready to disappear from the world with you, he knows that today will be the day to bask in each other’s love. Sealed away from everything outside as the rain hides you from the sight of peering eyes.

Pulling away, Eddie presses a few more quick kisses to your pouted lips when you whine in protest. He hands you your glass of milk and balances the box of Honeycombs between your bodies as he takes his own glass. 

“Just give it a try,” Eddie nudges your knee with his.

He looks at you with wide eyes with an encouraging look of ‘see, it’s not so bad’ as he drops some cereal in his mouth and takes another gulp of milk. You shake your head and unceremoniously grab a handful from the box. With an unimpressed look, you meet Eddie’s excited gaze as you repeat his actions.

As you chew the sweet, dry crisps and follow with a sip of cold milk, shock washes through you. It wasn’t world changing, no. It was just mundane. A lazy solution for not spoiling any additional dishes. So why is giddiness bubbling into a surprised look of realization?

Eddie raises his hands in victory, “I know. I know. I’m a genius, baby”. He leaves a little kiss to the temple of your head and giggles pour from both your lips. “S’the perfect lazy day breakfast,” Eddie concludes with another mouthful.

Swallowing his bite, Eddie trails his free hand up your leg and squeezes your hip: “Still interested in that movie marathon?”

“Only if we get to watch Dead Poets Society,” you counter. Your free hand rests on his upper arm and responds with a gentle tap.

“As if that’s a question,” Eddie huffs, “We need more people like Mr. Keating in this world, and it’s the best cozy day film”. Eddie taps you, a now serious look shadows his previous light expression, “Only if we stop it after the cast bow”.

“As if that’s a question,” you tease and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"It sounds awful," you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest and sinking back into the couch.

"Yeah the name sucks," Robin said, picking up an unfinished drink from the side table next to the couch. Steve snatched it from her before she could press it to her lips because it wasn't her drink and she had thrown in her half smoked joint not even thirty seconds before, the rolled blunt floating around in the dark liquid.

"Rob, stop trying to drink everything you see. You're not aquatic," he hissed, harshly dropping the drink on a table out of her reach.

"Well maybe I'm dehydrated, Steve. You gonna let me die of thirst?" she quipped back, eyes blinking slowly revealing red rimmed irises.

"Then I'll get you a water, Robin," he hissed back, eyes narrowing at her. "But first let me make one single phone call, okay? You're not gonna die of thirst in three minutes."

"I might! I feel my cells disintegrating as we speak!" she exclaimed, eyes wide. You turned to look at her, mouth dropping open slight in horror.

"Disintegrating?" you repeated.

"Every moment that passes–POOF. Another mitochondria bites the dust," she confirmed, giving you a sad smile and a shrug.

"No–" Steve pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That's terrible," you expressed, lips pouting and looking to Steve with an expression of alarm. "That's so sad."

"The saddest," she nodded again as Steve muttered an incredulous "Oh my god."

"We need to do something, Steve! Her mitochondria!"

"My mitochondria, Steve!" Robin echoed you, tone mocking as she smirked at him. Steve felt his headache growing steadily.

"Fine! Fine! I'll go get you a drink! Just stay on this fucking couch. Got it?" When neither of you protested, eyes flickering back and forth between your faces he added a strict Stay like you would a disobedient dog.

He hurried to find the house phone, knowing his timeframe was limited before the two of you wandered off in opposite directions, giving him another wild good chase to corral you together. It was late and he was tired and he desperately needed to call in some back up.

Punching in the numbers, Steve cast distasteful looks at the not so innocent sounds emanating from the bathroom adjacent from the landline. The phone rang for a while, making him fear no one was going to answer until finally the receiver picked up.

"Munson residence," the chirpy voice of Eddie Munson had Steve releasing a short-lived sigh of relief.

"Eddie, it's Steve," he said, pressing close to the wall to avoid two girls swaying dangerously and stumbling past him with mirroring green faces.

"Stevie! To what do I owe this pleasure?" Eddie seemed to be eating something as his words were slightly muffled.

"I need you to come get your girlfriend." He tried not to sound like he was begging even though that's exactly what he was doing.

There was shuffling on the line before Eddie's voice rang out clear, "She okay?"

Steve fought the urge to roll his eyes. "She's fine just plastered," he thought for a moment before adding with exasperation, "and like obsessed with card games. And really bad at them so she keeps losing and drinking more."

Eddie's charmed laugh sounded over the static of the receiver. Steve wanted to pull his hair out. Of course Eddie found anything you did endearing. You could insult Black Sabbath and he would still look at you like you put the stars in the sky. You had him completely under your enchantment.

"Just make sure she's not taking any," Eddie replied, his smile drenching his tone.

"Taking any what?"

"Card decks. She likes to collect them."

Steve was quiet. Eddie was quiet. Then Eddie laughed again and Steve had to resist banging his head against the wall.

"Eddie. I'm begging you. Please, just, come pick her up," he said through clenched teeth.

It didn't take Eddie long to reach the house party. You had mentioned where you were going earlier that night, commenting that it wasn't too far from where Corroded Coffin was playing and that maybe he could stop by after. He had agreed under the impression that you would probably be home by the time he was finished because it was far later than you were usually out. So he had headed home thinking you were in bed until Steve had called.

And now he was weaving through a legion of drunk high schoolers, on his way to relieve a very stressed sounding Steve from his never-ending babysitter duties. You were sat on a couch, arms crossed as you glared at Steve and Robin endlessly bickering about something. When Steve saw him he called him over.

"I'm taking Robin home. Good luck with that one because she snuck another drink in when I wasn't looking," Steve grumbled, hooking his arm through Robin's as she whined at him.

"What if I don't want to go home," Robin shot at him, eye brows raising.

"I don't care. It's late and I'm tired so we're leaving," he stated, tugging her towards the door.

"You're not the governor of the universe, Steve."

Eddie watched their retreating forms before turning his attention back on you. Your gaze seemed far away as you looked forward, not seeming to have even noticed his presence. He took few steps towards you before sinking into the seat next to you.

"Hey, trouble," he said, reaching out a hand to brush softly against your cheek.

You pulled away like you had been burned and turned to give him a glare. He lost his breath for a moment, confused by the sudden hostility.

"Can you leave me alone?" Your voice was slurred but it didn't conceal the overt bite to your tone. He felt a bubble of hurt grow in his chest, hand dropping to his lap.

"You want me to leave you alone?" he echoed, slightly bewildered. Hours before coming here you were pouting at him for not being able to join, acting as though it would physically hurt you to be away from him for a night. And now, suddenly, you didn't want him here? Were you mad at him for abandoning you?"

"Yeah. I have a boyfriend, so, you can leave," you bit back. He blinked at you, digesting your words, before relaxing. Your glassy eyes gave no indication that you realized it was him. You weren't mad at him, you were mad at the thought of a random guy bothering you at this party. He couldn't conceal his grin.

"Oh, yeah? What's his name?" he asked, playing along as the tension eased from his body. He wanted to reach out and push your hair behind your ear but restrained himself.

"Eddie. Eddie Munson. And he'll beat you up if he finds out you're bothering me," you proclaimed, arms crossed tightly over your chest as you glared at him, or however many versions of him you were seeing with your blurred vision.

"He will, will he?" he felt giddy at your admission.

He had had moments in your year long relationship where he let his insecurity eat away at him. You were beautiful and kind and alluring. You unconsciously had people gravitating towards you and sometimes he worried that one day someone would turn your head and steal you away from him. But seeing you be so cold to someone even attempting to have a conversation with you, bringing him up immediately, had his heart selfishly warming.

"Yeah and he's on his way to come get me. So try your luck with someone else," you concluded, words slightly garbled as you gave him your best glare.

"How many drinks have you had, trouble?" he asked, laughing incredulously. Your steely glare hardened. You unfolded your arms to poke him harshly in the shoulder.

"You don't get to call me that. Only my boyfriend can call me that," you stated, poking him again for good measure. It didn't hurt him but he feigned pain anyway, hand flying to his shoulder as he sunk back like he was shot.

He opened his mouth to respond but suddenly you were clambering your way off the couch, form swaying as the alcohol in your system made your vision spin. Eddie was up next to you in an instant, gripping your elbows to steady you.

"Easy, sugar. Don't want you face planting," he murmured, trying to bit back his laugh. You halfheartedly swatted him away, making him remove his hands from you only to hover them behind you in case you started swaying again.

"I just told you not to touch me. I'll beat you up myself if I have to," you said, giving his shoulder a light shove that had you stumbling instead of it's intended affect. Eddie ghosted his hands behind your back as you righted yourself, eyes dancing over your flushed face and glazed eyes.

You marched away from him, dead set on avoiding him and finding something to do until your actual boyfriend showed up. Eddie followed behind you like a shadow, eyes alight in amusement as he waited for you to finally realize it was him. You were nearly oblivious to your surroundings, bumping into people, stumbling over loose cans littering the floor. He followed behind, one hand floating to press your back lightly when you wobbled and the other pressing bodies away so you could move easier through the crowd.

When you found the front door and burst out into the cool air of the autumn night, you whirled around to give your stalker a piece of your mind only to freeze when you noticed his wiry curls and amused smirk.

"Eddie!" you breathed, voice airy and light as you tumbled towards him, arms flying to wrap around his neck. He let out a boisterous laugh, arms snaking around your midsection as he squeezed you tight, lifting you slightly from the ground.

"Hi, pretty," he breathed, face nuzzling into your neck to leave a few searing kisses. You molded into him, body relaxing and contented sigh seeping through your smiling lips.

"Eddie, what took you so long! There was this annoying creep who wouldn't leave me alone," you whined, breathing in his cologne and the faint smell of cigarettes. His chuckle vibrated into your neck making chills run up your spine. You pressed in tighter, addicted to his touch.

"Did you tell him to fuck off?" he asked, playing along, smirk widening as he pulled back, finally allowing himself to brush wild pieces of hair behind your ears.

"Told him I'd fight him," you replied and he gave you a bright grin.

"Good girl," he said, pinching your cheek lightly, before leaning in to press his lips to yours. You preened at the praise, stepping on tip toes to deepen the kiss that was making your head fuzzy. He smoothed both his hands on the sides of your face, thumbs resting on the apples of your cheeks, pecking your lips a few more times for good measure before he was reluctantly pulling back.

"Let's get you home, yeah, trouble?" You nodded, eager to go anywhere with him. He took your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it before tugging you in the direction of his truck.

The drive to your house was filled with you animatedly recounting the party to Eddie, who listened with a soft smile on his face. There were moments where your slightly slurred speech and foggy memory made your stories hard to follow but anytime you laughed he did too, your glee contagious and endearing. He had to scold himself to pay attention to the road a few times when he felt his gaze being reeled in like sailor to a siren.

When you arrived at your home, you handed him your bag claiming your keys were somewhere in its depth. He turned the ignition off, the both of you sitting in the car as the heat slowly seeped into the chill of the night. He opened your bag and let out an incredulous laugh. At least three decks of cards were shoved into your small purse, stolen from a fair few disgruntled partygoers who probably wouldn't have suspected you as the thief in the slightest.

"You're a menace, you know that?" he commented, pushing the decks to the side so he could reach for the set of keys glinting at the bottom of the bag. You pouted at him, no clue what he was referring to. He chuckled, leaning over the inner consul to press a sweet kiss to your lips. "A cute one, but a menace."

"C'mon. Let get you inside," he said, unlocking the doors. You were nearly putting all of your weight on him as you headed to the front door of your house, body slung around him like a backpack. He had one arm wrapped around your back, pressing kisses to the top of your head every few steps, your bag looped over his shoulder.

As he fumbled with the lock, keys rattling against the metal of the doorknob, you mumbled something about your family being away when he winced at the noise he was making. And once you were inside, door shut behind you, he flicked on a few switches, lighting up the empty house. He dropped your bag and keys on the small table by the door before turning towards you.

With both arms wrapping around you, he bent slightly, his hands moving to cradle the backs of your thighs.

"Up," he commanded. You jumped, letting him hoist you into his arms as you wrapped yours around his neck, legs hooking his waist.

"'M, tired," you mumbled into his shoulder. His chest vibrated as he chuckled, taking cautious steps up towards the second floor.

"I bet. It's nearly two," he replied and you humphed in response. When he made it to your room, he slowly released his hold on you, letting you slide down until your feet touched the ground. You whined against him, not liking the idea of not being completely wrapped up in him.

"Need to get you ready for bed, sugar," he said, reaching around behind his neck to pry your arms away. You whined again but had little strength to resist him. He nudged you forward until the backs of your legs met your bed, causing you to reluctantly sit down, the mattress dipping slightly.

He crouched down so he could rest his weight on his knees, the carpet of your floor cushioning them. You were blinking slowly down at him like you were fighting against sleep. Hand wrapping around your ankle, he undid the laces and slipped off your sneaker, dropping it to the side. He repeated the action with your other shoe.

"I'm gonna get you something to change into, okay?" he said, pushing up from the floor. He kicked off his own shoes next to yours, pulling off his vest and then his jacket, draping them over your desk chair.

Your room was yards cleaner than his own and starkly different. Remnants of your childhood were woven together with band and movie posters, shelves of books, and colorful post-its and polaroids taped to your mirror. He spotted his face in many of them, heart warming each time he noticed yet another one of him you managed to find room for.

He headed for your dresser, pulling drawers open at random trying to find something for you to sleep in. His cheeks warmed at the drawer of underwear he yanked open, the pretty pastels and swirling lace making him swallow harshly. He wasn't here to be creepy he was here to be a doting boyfriend. He opened a few more until he found one of his shirts he thought he had misplaced. Menace, he thought.

When he turned around you had already begun slipping off your pants, kicking around until they flew off your ankles. He walked over to you as you were pulling your shirt over your head. His Adam's apple bobbed as his eyes trailed down the straps of your bra to the curves of your chest, heat rising on the back of his neck. He cleared his throat, averting his eyes as he chided himself. Now was not the time for that. He heard you undo your bra and kept his gaze on your sleepy eyes as he handed you the black T-shirt. You slipped it on without protest.

"Alright, now to the bathroom," he said, patting the side of your bare thigh.

"But I'm tired," you groaned, wrinkling your nose at the idea of exerting more energy.

"I know, trouble, but you still have your makeup on," he said, leaning over to take your hand in his. He held his other one out and you reluctantly grabbed it, letting him pull you up. He maneuvered the both of you into the bathroom. You wobbled against him, eyes squinting shut at the harshness of the overhead light. He let go of your hands to slide them to the sides of your ribcage. Then he lifted you so you were sat on the counter besides the sink.

“Okay, sleepyhead, I need you to direct me through your night routine,” he said, rubbing his hand on the side of your neck. You looked at him through bleary eyes before looking down at the counter. An assortment of bottles and serums and tubs of cream littered the expanse of the white laminate. You blinked heavily before pointing at one.

“That’s makeup remover,” you said as a yawn over took you. He picked it up, unscrewing the top and then staring blankly at you.

“Do I . . . use my hand?” he asked innocently. You giggled softly, leaning back to rest against the wall.

“No, silly. A cotton pad,” you replied, waving your hand in the direction of the cabinet. He found them, dropping a few as he struggled with the zip lock, before pulling one out. He tipped the clear liquid from the bottle, soaking the cotton pad before turning back to you.

“Eyes shut,” he ordered, stepping closer so your legs parted for his thighs. You followed his instructions, eyes fluttering shut as he brought the pad to your face.

Eddie was nothing if not gently when it came to you. The damp cotton brushed softly over your eyelids, over your eyebrows, down your temples, trailing your jaw, over your lips, and in circles on your cheeks. He could tell you were dozing, needing to move his other hand to frame your jaw so your head wouldn’t lull to the side.

Dropping the dirtied cotton pad in the trash, he grabbed a hand towel and soaked it under the tap. It was warm when he brought it to your face, the stitched loops of the towel swirling around as he wet the skin. Dropping it down, he scanned the array of bottles until he found one clearly labelled face wash. He squeezed probably too much onto his palms before moving to massage it around your face. The gel foaming as he circulated his fingers, tender movements nearly putting you to sleep. Your eyes blinked open, finding his focused on his movements, tongue poking out from between his lips in concentration. A balloon of affection blossomed in your chest.

“You’re my favorite person in the whole world,” you mumbled, blinking slowly at him like cat. His movements slowed as heat rushed to his cheeks at your words.

“Well you’re my favorite person in the whole universe,” he said back, moving to rinse the face wash from his hands. He re-wet the small towel and moved to wipe your face down. You pouted at him.

“That’s not fair. I can’t go any bigger than the universe,” you grumbled, unhappy that he outdid you so quickly. He let out an endeared laugh, hand moving to cup the back of your neck as he wiped the foam from your face.

“I don’t play fair, baby. Not when it comes to professing my undying love to you,” he said making you wrinkle your nose. He leaned in to press a quick kiss to your lips.

“I missed you tonight,” you confessed as he finished cleaning your face. He rinsed the towel in the sink before turning to look at you. Your head was resting against the wall, eyes half lidded in fatigue but glinting prettily under your lashes. He felt his chest tighten at the sight, his breath stalling for a moment at your effortless beauty.

“I always miss you when you’re not around,” you added. He moved to face you, chest coiling in unbridled affection, hands moving to cage your face in. He swiped his thumbs under your eyes, the soft skin glittering from the water.

“Wish I could be with you 24/7 but I don’t want you to get sick of me,” you continued, eyes fluttering up at him. He thought you might really kill him.

“Not even in an alternate dimension could I get sick of you. Not even in a hypothetical scenario. Not even if my life depended on it,” he replied, moving closer until your noses were almost touching. Your hands snaked around his torso, tugging him closer, bunching up the back of his shirt.

“If you’ll have me I’ll probably be up your ass until the end of time,” he added, making a peel of giggles erupt from you. His eyes squinted as he smiled, leaning in to press his lips to yours, your giggles dissolving into his affection.

“Now, no more being cute until we’re done with this,” he said after pressing yet another kiss to your lips. Your swollen lips chased his to steel another, then another before he was squeezing your sides, making you squirm and laugh as he pulled away.

You leaned back against the wall, eyes drooping as he continued, grabbing your moisturizer and spinning open the cap. He repeated his gentle motions over your face, swiping softly around your eyes and smoothing any tension from your face.

“Brush,” you blinked your eyes open noticing him holding out your toothbrush, toothpaste already sitting on the bristles. Your movements were sluggish but you managed, leaning over to spit in the sink before he was handing you a cup of water to rinse.

You were both quiet for a moment. He watched as you leaned your head back, eyes shut. His hands trailed the sides of your thighs, brushing the skin, squeezing slightly, warming them and making goosebumps appear. His eyes danced around your face, taking in your peaceful features. You were breathtaking even when on the edge of sleep. He was completely enamored with you. He never thought someone could have him so enchanted that he would be taking their makeup off before bed and making sure they brushed their teeth but you had sent him one dazzling smile and he was lost in a sea of desire to take care of you for as long as he lived.

“Alright, ready for bed?” he asked, affectionately brushing his thumbs on the tops of your thighs. You nodded, slumping forward to wrap your arms around his neck. He tugged you forward, hands slinking under your thighs to pull you up into his arms.

He laid you gently on your bed, pulling the covers down so you could slip your legs in until he was moving the duvet up over you. He wandered back over to your dresser, digging back into the bottom drawer where he knew a treasure trove of his clothes was hidden, never to be seen in his closet again. He slipped off his pants and then shirt, pulling on an old Van Halen T-shirt, the ratty edges brushing against the waistline of his boxers. 

"You're staying, right?" your sleepy voice rang out from the bed. He kicked his pile of clothes to the side, knowing you were going to chide him for it tomorrow.

"Wouldn't dream of leaving," he answered, pulling off his rings, the silver clanking as he dropped them on your desk. 

He hurried to shut the lights off before he was crawling in beside you, finding your sleepy body in the dark and pulling you into him. You let out a contented sigh, warm breath tickling his neck, making him pull you in even tighter.

He wasn’t sure how he had gotten so lucky. Nothing seemed to compare to finally being in your arms, breathing in the smell of your perfume and feeling the smoothness of your skin. His lips traced your hairline, leaving soft honeyed kisses around your forehead and down over your eyelids. You smiled into the darkness, tilting your face up in a silent beg for more. He kissed your nose, his eyelashes dusting the tops of your cheeks.

"Love you," you whispered, melting against him and his warm lips. You felt him smile against your cheek.

"Love you more," he whispered back, a kiss following his admiration.

“Love you times a million,” you added, hoping finally to win a battle of affection.

She looks up at him. Eddie doesn't think she means to but her eyes are pleading,and he's already moving to pick her up when she lifts her arms into the air.

She's heavier than he anticipates. He quickly gets used to the weight, shifting her against his side with his arm under her butt, her damp foot digging into his abdomen. She rests one hand on his shoulder and the other reaches for his hair. He can't help smiling at her as she pets the dark mess, hand clumsy but well-intentioned. 

He walks down past the van and onto dark asphalt, looking up and down the road to see if anyone's around. He figures she has to be a trailer park kid – she can't have walked very far, and she'd been waiting outside. She must've gotten mixed up and thought his trailer was her own, which hopefully means her mom lives close. 

The steps up into his trailer are on the right side. Eddie guesses she's come from the right. It's not a great assumption — he's grasping at straws. 

"What's your name?" he asks. 

She's taken a lock of his hair into her hands. Eddie worries for a second that she's going to try eating it but she only waves it around, looking pleased. 

"I'm Eddie." 

"Dee," she says. 

"Almost. Eh-dee," he spells out, again not actually expecting her to understand what he's saying. He's unsure about kids her age – he's unsure what age she even is. 

She babbles something unintelligible and Eddie hikes her higher up his chest. He strides out of the cool shadow and blinks, shielding his eyes against the yellow-white glare of sunshine. The little girl hides her face in his hair. 

He hasn't walked very far when he sees you behind the trailer three doors down, pinning clothes that look the same size as the girl's pajamas to a clothesline with unhurried hands. The front door is wide open. 

"Your poor mommy," he murmurs as he approaches, "out here doing the laundry by herself and you're halfway to Indianapolis. Musta got turned around, huh?"

You drop a small light blue dress on the floor and cuss just loud enough for Eddie to hear it. You pick it up fast and brush it down, looking over the fabric worriedly. 

Eddie cuts over soft grass, giving the baby's waist a pat and holding her ears away from his mouth as he raises his voice. "Hey, is this your kid?" he asks. 

You flinch toward him and your eyes go wide – wide, your lips parting and your brows jumping down like you might start yelling. 

You're really fucking pretty. 

Eddie’s quick to placate you. "She was sitting on my front steps." 

You still don't look very happy though your suspicion melds to confusion and then a stab of too-late worry. You rush towards them and Eddie turns his body to encourage the girl's gaze to you. His chest warms when she perks up. 

She wriggles in his arms impatiently and Eddie's surprised by how quickly she starts to cry, reaching out for you with insistent grabbing hands as he passes her over.

"It's okay," you say softly, tucking her into your chest. 

The difference in body language is unmissable. Where she'd been restless (though more than pleasant) in Eddie's arms, she completely melts into yours. Her little face presses into your neck and her legs curl up. You pat her butt soothingly. "It's okay, baby. Where have you been?" You look up at him for an answer with concern lining your pretty features. 

"I'm only three down," he says. 

 "Oh… Thank you," you say roughly.

Your gratitude is unnecessary. "That's okay. She's real sweet. I opened the door and the first thing she said was, 'good morning,'" he recalls with an easy smile. 

Joy lightens your entire face. He feels his breath catch in his throat. 

"She did? She said that?" 

"Yeah, she did.” He tries not to sound as confused as he feels.

Your eyes close with the force of your smile. You encourages your toddler’s face back and drop your chin to plant kisses all over her tiny cheeks. Eddie feels something foreign yawning in his chest as she starts to laugh, a tinkling sound that's sugar sweet. 

He scratches his neck and pretends to look over his shoulder, tamping his smile back into a neutral expression. 

"She's having trouble talking," you say, lifting your head as the baby's giggles taper off. "She can talk, she says 'mommy' all the time, but she's s'posed to be saying more 'cos she's almost two and I know she can do it, she's so smart, but-" You cut yourself off and laugh all breathless and sheepish. "Sugar, I'm sorry. I mean- Sorry. Thank you," it almost bursts from you, "for bringing her back. I don't know…" 

"You just moved in, right?" You nod. "The lock on the front door- they're all exactly the same, you just gotta shake it and it unlocks. Even someone small as her can could get it open with enough determination." 

"She can be very determined," you say ruefully, voice hushed. You're still patting her butt, swaying her from side to side. Eddie's in awe at how quickly she's settled, her button features crumpled by a big yawn. "Always gets what she wants."

"I bet she does, she's a total heartbreaker." 

You take a step towards him, your beat up sneakers half a foot from his converse. "She can't help it, she was born this pretty," you say. He loves how braggy you sound. 

"I can see where she gets it." 

As soon as he says it he wishes he could take it back. Not because he doesn't think it's true – you're really something else – but because he doesn't want to creep you out. 

Luckily, he's rewarded for his bravery by another beaming smile, your words warm as you tell him, "They said she was the prettiest baby they'd seen in twenty years up in Eskenazi general." 

The name pricks his ears. "You're from Indianapolis?" 

"Kind of." You tilt your head to the side. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name." 

"Eddie." He could applaud himself on how normal he sounds and how not normal he feels. 

"Eddie, I'm Y/N. D'you wanna come in for coffee? Or I can make you some breakfast? To say thank you for taking care of my Junie."

"Junie," he repeats, surprised. 

You shift from foot to foot. "She's a June baby. And she's getting kind of heavy these days, so. Breakfast?" 

He follows you up the steps and through the back door. 

"You can leave it open," you say over your shoulder. 

He catches an eyeful of your bathroom, an organised chaos that smells intoxicating, the rich scent of jasmine heavy in the humidity chased by something softer. Talcum powder, he thinks. 

You murmur something to Junie too quiet to hear and she rouses from her dozing, grizzling weakly. 

"It's breakfast time! Is that what you tried to come and find me for, some breakfast? So impatient," you scold her lightly, smiling all the while as you set her into a bright blue high chair with a big yellow duck with orange flippers printed on the cushioning.

You squeeze one of her feet and frown. "Your socks are wet. Did you go swimming in the grass?" 

Eddie leans against the doorway leading into the kitchen. He doesn't have any experience with kids. You make it look easy, pulling off her stained socks while she wiggles her protest and tickling the soles of her feet with the tip of your finger until she's happy again. 

You turn back to him, socks clutched in your hand. "I'm gonna make oatmeal. Is that something you…" 

"I'm an oatmeal fiend." 

You grin and do a lap to close the front door. "Sit down. I'll get you some coffee? I got milk and brown sugar." 

He throws himself into the seat next to the high chair with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Brown sugar? Sweetness, you're spoiling me." 

Junie laughs. Eddie pulls himself up into a proper sitting position and gawps at her exaggeratedly. "What's funny, little lady?" 

She giggles some more. Eddie leans his elbow on the tray of the high chair and pretends to glare at her. "I can already tell you're trouble." 

"She likes you." 

"Yeah?" he asks, looking at you over his shoulder. 

You're half obscured by cabinets as you poke your head out, an open sack of rolled oats in one hand and a small pan in the other. You nod happily and move to the sink. He can hear the sound of the faucet and the burner clicking on, the saucepan sliding over the stovetop. 

"I like you," he says to Junie quietly, rapping his knuckles on the tray. "But don't tell anyone, okay? I have a reputation." 

"So, uh, how long have you lived here?" you call, almost smothered by the rushing sound of oats tipping into hot water. 

Junie makes a funny face like she might sneeze. Eddie watches. "Since I was a kid." He's smiling as he talks, amazed when Junie starts to smile back. He nods his head gently up and down to encourage her. "Too long. Not that it's not nice here."

Junie looks like she agrees. 

"For sure, but..  not always where you picture yourself," you say tentatively. 

He hums his agreement. "Whatever though, right? A roof is a roof. Even when the roof is made of cardboard and corrugated metal. I mean, all things considered, this is a well kept vessel." 

He's not just trying to make you feel better – you really are making a go of it. There's not nearly as much clutter or decoration as his own home but it's twice as clean and every surface brags a clear affection – you fucking love your daughter. There's a framed photo of her as she looks now at the mantle without a single fingerprint on the glass, baby photos in smaller frames hang on the wall. 

Smallest of all, a photo of the two of you together. Your hands on her shoulders, your lips and nose pressed to her forehead. You're not looking at the camera, but Junie is, and she's exuberant. 

Toys, though few, are arranged neatly under the TV. It's really the type of clean that takes hours. He wonders how you'd ever make time for it. 

"You got a job?"  

"Yeah, I'm waitressing at Benny's?" You say it like a question. "The burger place?"

"Yeah, I know the one. Randolph Lane, near the laundromat. Does Junie go with you?" he asks. He cooes Junie's name and feels very happy when the girl in question smiles some more, reaching out with her hands. Eddie offers up the same palm she'd taken before and lets her squeeze his fingers in a surprisingly tight grip. "She looks like a working girl." 

"Benny said I could bring her with me until she starts daycare next week, so she really is a working girl." You giggle madly and Junie loves the sound, her chubby cheeks rounding as she smiles. 

"I knew it," Eddie whispers conspiringly. "You have the face for it." 

Junie laughs like something is truly hysterical and Eddie can't believe it, squeezing the small girl's smaller fingers in his and waving their joined hands together.

"She really likes you," you say, closer now. 

You set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. He pulls his hand from Junie's and moves the hot mug away from the high chair though she'd never be able to reach it as you set your own mug and a pint of milk half-full across from him, the brown sugar you'd promised in a pink and orange ceramic dish with a lid that clinks as he pulls it off. 

You double back into the kitchen. This time you bring a baby bottle full of what he guesses is diluted juice and two teaspoons, handing him one with a quiet, "For you." 

"Why thank you," he drawls. 

He spoons a generous hill of crumbly brown sugar into his cup and swirls. 

"The oatmeal needs to soften. Is there anything you want with it? I've got lots of options," you tell him, pouring milk into your own mug. When you're done you and Eddie swap.

He thinks maybe you sound a little nervous and wonders if he's the first neighbour you've met. Or maybe you're still freaked out about Junie. 

He raises his eyebrows but doesn't look at you as he splashes milk into the dark recesses of his coffee, watching as it bursts back up to the surface and turns the drink a more acceptable brown. "What do you usually have?" 

"Junie gets peanut butter and blueberries." 

He tilts his head toward his shoulder just slightly and plants his elbows on the table, the rim of his mug held in tenuous fingertips. 

"What do you get?" he asks, thinking that if the baby gets such a sweet treat you must get something equally impressive. He thinks of raspberries and chia seeds, flakey sea salt and bitter dark chocolate. 

You blink. "What?" 

"What do you have, on your oatmeal?" He punctuates his question with a sip. 

"Salt. Sometimes raisins." 

You make a nice cup of coffee. Eddie holds it in both hands and leans into the table. "That's it?" 

You shrug. Junie starts to whimper about something Eddie doesn't understand. You reach out to hold her hand. "She loves blueberries. Don't you, Junie?"

"Blue," Junie says. 

You're smiling as you take another small spoonful of brown sugar. You lick the tip of your finger and dip it into the well of the spoon until a few grains are sticking to you and hold it up to Junie's lips. "She loves sugar, too, but toddlers aren't s'posed to have it. Or so they say." You smile as she sucks the sugar off before wiping your spit wet finger in your pants. 

Daughter appeased for a moment, you hold your chin in your palm and turn your attention to him. "Where do you work?" 

He imagines this is how a plant feels when the sun comes out. "The Hideout, for now. I'm a very essential and irreplaceable bus boy." He nods very seriously.

"What's after?" 

"Music." 

Your lips curl into an interested smile. "Music? You a singer?" 

"I have a great set of windpipes," he says agreeably, grinning. "But I'm a guitarist." 

"And you're in a band?" 

"I- I was. Yeah, we were good, too, but everybody graduated and our drummer skipped town. I just sub rhythm guitar for whoever wants me to." 

"At the Hideout?" 

"At the Hideout." He decides on his next words carefully. You could come see me play. Weak. You're welcome to come see it for yourself. Too strong? You're welcome to come by one night. Bring Junie. 

He's not asking you on a date; he's a new acquaintance extending an invitation for you to get out and see a new place. That's all it is. 

He opens his mouth to try and suddenly there's a loud clattering. Eddie flinches, blinks, finds that Junie has thrown her bottle of juice across the room. 

Eddie waits for you to maybe tell her off like some of the mom's he's seen at Bradley's. A glare, a hissing remark to be good. 

You reach over and your shirt rides up your back. Eddie averts his gaze guiltily.

You put the bottle back on the tray, giving him an apologetic grimace. "Sorry, Junie has recently discovered that every time she drops something I'll pick it up for her." 

"Smart Junie." 

The bottle falls to the floor again. "She's a genius." You don’t sound entirely pleased, picking the bottle up again and holding it just out of Junie's reach. You shake it up and down. "S'juice. You like juice," you try to reason with her.

Junie reaches for it. You purse your lips. "Be good," you say softly. 

Junie takes the bottle and shakes it. 

It's a small victory and still softens every feature. Your eyes squint, your bottom lip juts out a touch, your nostrils flare with a pleased inhale. 

"Thanks, junebug."

"Tanks," Junie says. 

"Thanks," you repeat, bubbly baby talk. "Thanks. Say thanks, Junie." 

Eddie watches you encourage her over his coffee. It's quiet, peaceful here in a way nowhere else in his life has ever been besides quiet Sunday mornings with his Uncle. There's only the sound of the gas stovetop burning and your happy, patient voice. 

Junie says "Tanks," a couple more times. You don't give up. When she finally says something that sounds almost like a "Thanks," you whip your gaze to his. 

"Did you hear that?" you ask. Your pride is evident. 

He puts down his half empty mug. "She said it." 

"She said it," you repeat, your shoulders moving in the tiniest happy dance he's ever seen. You stand up and take her face into delicate hands. "She's my smarty pants. Aren't you, baby?" 

You dot a kiss over her head and head back into the kitchenette. 

"Tanks," Junie says animatedly, running on an affection high. She accidentally knocks her bottle over.

"Thanks, Junie," Eddie corrects, righting it. 

He finds it easier to baby talk than he imagined. Being nice to little kids – that's easy. Especially as he gets older. When they hit the pre-teen mark is when he starts to steer clear, but even then he can't help doting on them sometimes. Like his club – idiots, annoying idiots, but his annoying idiots. He doesn't hold back with them. He doesn't feel like he's holding back now, either, it's just different. 

Baby's want love. Care and affection. 

And to pull Eddie's hair, apparently. 

Junie's reaching over the gap with a fierce look on her face. Eddie pulls his chair closer and decides to let her try it out. She hadn't given him any reason to worry before, and she doesn't now as she takes a chunk of his hair into her hand. She pulls very gently, likely more that her fingers have gotten caught in his messy curls than any maliciousness. 

"What's your fascination with my hair?" he asks her. 

In her own home Junie's very noisy. When he'd found her outside she hadn't done much besides whimper weakly. Now, she's a riot of gurgling and humming. 

"Are you a singer, Junie?" he asks. 

"She sings all the time! She loves the Muppet Babies on TV, but I- uh, I haven't been able to actually get cable, yet. But when I get paid next week…" You come back into view with two bowls in hand. "She'll be in her oils." 

Eddie says thanks as you put a bowl down in front of him. There's a smiley face there made up of berries with banana slices for eyes. He feels something crawling up his throat and has no idea what it is, and then something completely different when he sees your own bowl, a stretch of plain oatmeal with no delicious adornment. 

You leave and quickly return with a smaller bowl, a baby spoon and a jar of peanut butter.

"Do you want some?" you ask, opening the jar to push the baby spoon inside. "I would've just put it in anyway but then I worried you were allergic." 

You hand it off to Junie and she licks at it happily. 

"Sure, I'll have some. Where's your smiley face?" he asks. 

Your eyes widen slightly. Eddie's not academically inclined but he's never been stupid, and he sees it for what it is, something he's seen in himself and in every other poor kid who didn't bring lunch to school.

"I don't really like bananas," you say. 

Whether you're lying or not isn't something he needs to know.

"Well, you're gonna have to share the blueberries with me, I can't eat this much fruit. I got a hearty diet of chips and microwave oven dinners to uphold." 

Eddie shovels half of the smile into your bowl. You clutch your spoon in your hand like you want to protest, but no way is he gonna watch you miss out on nice things in your own home. 

You smile and don't say anything for a while, rubbing the edge of the bowl with your spoon, your thoughts somewhere else. 

Junie's food sits billowing steam in the middle of the table, which annoys the poor girl endlessly. She wiggles and murmurs and sucks at her empty spoon with a growing line between her brows. 

Eddie eats and feels much better when you finally start to eat your own meal, leaning back in his chair heavily to loll his head towards Junie. "Your mom makes amazing oatmeal. You're really missing out." 

You choke on a laugh and grab her spoon to load up with another small heap of peanut butter. "That is so cruel to lord over her,” you say. “I can't give it to her yet! It's scorching. She has a fragile mouth." 

"I'm sure." 

He picks one of his blueberries out of the bowl and offers it to Junie, who takes it slowly despite her previously rabid hunger 

More oatmeal eating. Eddie ends up giving the rest of his fruit to Junie, your generous dollops of peanut butter more than enough to enjoy the oatmeal. He might argue it doesn't need any adornment at all.

You stir peanut butter into Junie's bowl and wrestle the baby spoon out of her tight grip.

It's a process to watch. You scoop up oatmeal, blow on it until you're sure it's cool, and push it into Junie's mouth efficiently. There's a method to it, the way you lift the handle of the spoon so oatmeal doesn't drip straight back out of her mouth. When it does you scrape the lip gently against her chin to catch it before it ruins her shirt. 

It starts to rain. Hard not to notice, a light drizzle opens and sprays down against the windows and for a moment there's no reaction. Then, gasping, you drop Junie's bowl back onto the table in stress. 

"Shit, the laundry. Are you okay to watch her please? Sorry. I'll be five seconds," you say, already heading for the back door. 

"Sure.” He sounds about as startled as he feels. 

The back door shushes open and your feet dip down the steps. Junie is not very pleased with her breakfast getting put on pause, her face growing as unpleasant as the weather outside.

"Mommy," she says, unhappy and loud.

Eddie doesn't think about it as he picks up her bowl. It's more a pulse of feeling than a thought. Feed her and she won't cry. 

He blows on a spoonful of oatmeal with likely too much vigour. 

Junie's still complaining as he holds it in front of her face. If she's surprised to be fed by somebody who isn't her mom she doesn't show it, her sticky face growing suddenly slack as she realises her oatmeal is back in play. Her lips part.

He feeds her oatmeal, does a very bad job, and tries to gather what's escaped with the spoon as Junie waves her hands around and pokes at spilled food on the white tray in front of her. By the time you come back damp and breathless with the cold chasing your heels he's successfully managed to feed her what was left of her breakfast. He's embarrassed to be caught but tries not to show it. 

"You okay?" he asks, looking you up and down amicably.

"S'only a little rain." You push the laundry basket onto the sofa and smile sheepishly. "You didn't have to do that." 

"And have the precious little lady starve?" 

"Starve!" you repeat, a feigned incredulousness to your tone. 

"She was giving me the puppy dog's," he says, shrugging as he takes the spoon out of Junie's wet fingers. 

She whines for a second at his robbery but seems to realise she's full, picking her juice back up to shake some more. 

You exhale through an open-mouthed smile.

"Thank you. She's gonna love you now, she loves anyone who gives her food. She's a real cadge at the diner. Never seen so much free cherry pie in my life," you remark, turning to what looks like your diaper station. You wade through a mess of things he doesn't recognise and pull out a packet of baby wipes. 

"And her mom? Is her affection so easily garnered?" 

"Takes more than a cherry pie to win me over," you joke, sitting down in your chair in front of the high chair with a soft sigh. You pull out one of the wipes and take Junie's wrists into your hand, wiping her fingers clean methodically. "I need at least a squirt of whipped cream on top before I consider any fondness." 

He chuckles and you laugh too. It's short-lived, your lips pursed as you wipe Junie's face clean. She hates every second of it, writhing in her chair like she's being tortured as you clean a mess of brown and blue from her round chin. 

"Sorry, I'm sorry. Done, done," you say, holding your hands up in surrender. 

She pouts. 

"Don't be like that," you scold her mildly. "Look how lovely and clean you are now! Eddie can see how pretty you look again." 

You slide your hands under her armpits and pull her out of the highchair, groaning. 

"Oh, there you go. Where's Mr. Bear gone, baby? You can play sticky bricks with him so I can get ready for work." 

Work. Work. Where Eddie was going. Where Eddie is very likely supposed to be. He checks the time and his eyes flare, standing up abruptly. You turn  toward him with Junie anchored on your hip, both wearing matching expressions of curiosity.

"Sh-“ Don’t swear around babies. “I'm sorry, I got somewhere to be that I totally spaced on."

You blink. "That's okay." 

"It was sick to meet you," he says. 

You blink some more and walk to the front door, pulling it open as an understanding smile curls your lips. "Super 'sick,'" you say, bemused. "Thank you so much for bringing Junie back. Really, I mean, if anything ever happened to her." You don't finish because it's obvious, your bright tone underlain with a burning fear.

He walks sideways out of the door and down one step, knowing he's super fucking late but not caring too much as he says, "Listen, I can bring you a deadbolt." 

"You could?" 

"Sure thing. Make sure this little lady," and he says it chidingly, directing his gaze at Junie who goes all shy and smiley from the attention, "doesn't go on anymore morning adventures. Especially without her shoes." 

"That would be… that would be awesome, Eddie. Thank you." 

He waves his hand and descends the last of the steps. "I'll come around tomorrow?" 

It's a Saturday today. He's not surprised that you're both working the weekend, but he is surprised that you're working Sunday too when you say, "Would after five be okay?" 

"That's more than okay. Bye, trouble," he says to Junie, bringing a hand up to shield his hair from the drizzling rain. 

You look lovely on the stoop, fresh-faced and in your lounge clothes. You tug Junie up your chest and take her hand into yours. "Say 'bye', Junie," you tell her, waving her hand. "Bye! Bye-bye, Eddie." 

"Bye Junie!" he calls, waving at the little girl with great fervour.

"Bye!" Junie calls back. 

You both grin. 

-

You're super tired from work and exhausted from an upset daughter. Even now Junie fusses. She hasn't been getting her naps because you can't set her down anywhere that isn't the wooden high chair in Benny's restaurant, which is months of a routine disrupted. 

You're not mad at her – the opposite, you feel awful to mess her up like this, awful that she's so upset. Trying your very best to calm her down, you're swaying her from side to side in the middle of your messy living room with your hand patting a steady rhythm into the narrow breadth of her back. 

"I know, baby, I know. I'm sorry. You'll get your nap tomorrow, I promise," you say, trying for softness and missing, desperation eating at your tone.

You try not to have a heart attack at the thought of her first day at the new daycare. I can't think about it, you tell yourself, moving your thoughts onto the Sunday checklist. 

Junie's been fed. Unfortunately, she's the kind of wound up where the only solution you can think of is to get her in bed. If you can get her down soon she'll sleep until maybe 4AM. Not ideal; you'd prefer she slept later tonight and woke up at a healthier 6AM with you. When she does wake, no matter the time, you'll have her eat something substantial for breakfast and take a much needed bath. 

Laundry, bills, cleaning, it all runs through your head. Junie's hair, her snacks for daycare, her clothes. Does she have clean socks for the week? Does she have a vest top for tomorrow? 

Her crying grows loud and you can't think of anything except how overwhelmed you feel. 

"It's okay, baby, just go to sleep." You shush her softly.

Somebody knocks the door. 

You and Junie are similarly nonplussed. Her crying ceases for a second and her head turns in tandem with yours. 

"Oh. Oh, you know who that is, huh?" you ask her, making for the door while her cries are still on pause. "That's our new friend Eddie. You remember Eddie?" 

You pull open the door. There he is on the porch with a bag and a plastic case, wearing a shirt with short sleeves. You realise for the first time that he has tattoos. 

"Hi," you say. 

"Hi. Hi, Junie," he adds, looking at her tear-stained face. "Have I come at a bad time?" 

"No, you're good. You're great, thank you for doing this." You lean back against the door and Eddie skirts past you. That close, you can smell the heavy sage and sandalwood of his cologne and see the beauty mark under his ear, dark hair tucked behind the shell. 

He stops in the middle of the room and puts down the plastic case. "I'm gonna try to do it. Try being the essential word, and I make absolutely no promises." He makes a small cross with his hands leading out and the bag falls from the crook of his elbow to his wrist. 

It sounds like more than a deadbolt. Eddie sees your gaze and jumps into theatrics that hook Junie's attention straight away, ruffling through the bag. He pulls out a VHS tape and then a second, one old and one newer. 

"For your consideration." He presents them grandly against his check, his eyes flitting from your daughter to the tapes in wait of her reaction. 

Junie has no clue what a VHS is. She thinks the TV is magic. 

You swoop in and gasp loudly for Junie's sake, having identified his proffered tapes immediately. 

"You know what that is?" you ask her, pointing at the slipcover. "Muppet Babies! There's Kermit and Fozzy and Rowlf and Gonzo." You touch your finger to each puppet in turn as you reel off their names. 

Junie looks up at you like maybe she remembers, so you start to sing the theme tune for her. "Muppet Babies, they make their dreams come true. Muppet Babies, they'll do the same for you!"

The song jogs her memory. She starts her nonsense singing in a valiant but juvenile effort to recreate the music, dancing in your arms. 

You sing it again for her as you lower her to the floor. She doesn't whine to be picked back up, a great sign that her mood has turned, instead walking to the TV, a small silver combi with a bubble screen. She raises her arms up high and starts hitting the TV stand with her palms flat. 

Eddie looks to you as if he's checking that it's alright before crossing the small space and turning on the TV, your relieved smile more than enough encouragement. He's careful not to step on Junie's feet, surprised when she walks into his leg. She grabs onto his jeans and looks up at him with wide eyes. 

Eddie visibly softens. 

It's kind of crazy to see him, this metalhead dude covered in dark tattoos and wearing safety pinned jeans looking down at a toddler with nothing but patience in his eyes.

He drops his hand very lightly to her tiny back and pushes in the tape. "Hi, sweetheart."

"Hi," Junie says. 

She doesn't let him touch her for very long, falling to her knees to pull out the bin of stickle bricks hiding underneath as Eddie fast forwards through the adverts and then turns up the volume until the Muppet Babies theme is echoing against the wood panelled walls.. 

Junie's eyes dart up the screen, two bricks held in her hands and a great smile on her face. 

"Where did you find that?" you ask, in awe. 

He steps over her and comes back to your side, crossing his arms over his stomach with a smug smile. "Not telling. Ruins the magic. Got The Bugs Bunny Show for when she gets bored of Miss Piggy." 

You smooth down your rumpled black work skirt and smile shyly. "I can pay you back… Next week." 

He looks lost for words for a split-second. It clears fast, and he says, "Tell you a secret. I have a friend down at good old Family Video that let me have 'em for nothing." 

"Yeah?" you ask, unsure. You worry he's lying to make you feel better. 

"Uh-huh. Friends in high places," he brags sarcastically. 

You turn to watch Junie smile for the first time in hours and have to scrub your face to hide how shattered you feel. It's been a really long week. Your relief is a physical thing, a hand on your shoulder. You feel yourself deflate. 

"You okay?" Eddie asks. 

You press the backs of your hands to your cheeks. "Thank you. Really. You saved me." 

"Yeah?" he asks, dialling up the drama. He lifts his chin high. "Would you say, oh, I don't know, that I'm your hero?" 

It's his clear joking tone that saves him. If you'd detected even a smidge of genuine expectancy from him you likely would've shoved him out the door. 

"Mm-hm. My hero," you croon, both of you grinning. 

He turns back to the grocery bag and pulls out a bottle of juice. "I was gonna bring coke but I didn't want Junie to feel left out." 

You move to the cabinets and can't believe how nice he is. You get a little warning stab, that feeling of if it's too good to be true… and shake it off. Maybe it'll turn out that way and you're not gonna do anything stupid to chance it, but he seems like a normal guy. A good neighbour who wants to be your friend.

You're in dire need of one of those. 

"What was wrong with the little lady?" 

You pour juice into a glass for him, less into a glass for you, and a half-inch into a clean baby bottle. "I can't get her down for a nap when she's with me at work and it really caught up to her today. She-" You yawn so wide it hurts your cheeks, covering your face with your arm. 

Eddie looks up from where he's kneeling in front of the open plastic case he'd brought with him. "Caught up to you too, I think." 

"A little." You smile ruefully. 

He holds something red and black in the air. "This'll wake you up," he says. 

It's a small hand drill. He presses down on the trigger twice in quick succession and Junie lies down on the floor to look backwards at him. 

“Woah,” you say.

Junie rolls onto her knees and then stands. She's in that stage of walking where she can mostly do it but has a great tendency to trip over anything that might be in her way, and she stumbles as she approaches. Eddie moves the drill away from her and opens the case wide to show her his array of drill bits. 

"How'd you like them, Junie?" he asks. "Pretty cool, huh?" 

"What do they all do?" you ask. 

"I don't have the foggiest," he says, grinning up at you. "And I really wanted to be cool and pretend that I did. I was going to, but you asked me that and now we're sunk." 

Junie pokes at all the silver metal and turns away, bored, to return to her cartoons. 

"I'm sorry," you say, not sorry at all. 

"You should be." He shakes his hair out. "Can't say woodshop was something I ever paid much attention to in school." 

You squat down beside him where he's counting the screws out for the deadbolt he'd acquired for you, your small cup of juice in hand. The deadbolt isn't new but it's clean of rust and that's all you care about. It doesn't need to do anything besides work. 

"It can't be too hard though, right?" you ask quietly. There isn't any need to talk loudly this close to him and your head is starting to hurt from a long day. 

"I hope not." He passes you the drill. "Hold onto that?" 

He stands and you follow, the deadbolt frame in hand. He turns to your front door and holds it up to the frame, far from the door knob. "Where'd you want this thing?" 

"Wherever you think is best," you say quickly. 

"Got a pencil?" 

You don't. You're ashamed to offer him a cyan blue crayon from Junie's arts and crafts. He takes it with a gleeful smile and uses it to draw a line under the deadbolt's two parts to make sure they fit together once they've been drilled in. 

Junie starts fussing and you squint at her, trying to guess what's wrong. You leave the drill on the small table by the door.

"Junie, you want some dinner?" you ask, walking up behind her where she's stood watching TV. You rub her shoulder and lean over her, your face upside down in front of the TV. "I don't think you're hungry. Let's change that diaper." 

She certainly doesn't want you to. You turn to Eddie where he's making clumsy crosses on the door in place of the screws, his brows furrowed. 

"I'm gonna go get her some jammies," you say, and then wince. "Pajamas." 

"Jammies," he repeats. You hate how happy he looks. 

A hot flush washes over you. "She's the only one I talk to." 

Again, that awful softening of his features. He's got the biggest, brownest eyes you've ever seen. "Why don't you get changed, too? I'm gonna start drilling." He waves the drill and you don't like how loosely he holds it. 

"Please don't ruin the door." 

A wolfish smile. "No promises." 

You leave all the doors open. Eddie's nice but you're not stupid – if he plans on kidnapping her or something evil this is the perfect time. Though, you suppose, he could’ve abducted her when he found her outside.

You shed your uniform and pull on a pair of loose fitting pants. You can't find a clean t-shirt, probably because you own a grand total of three, and you get distracted when the drill starts whirring and Junie screams. 

You know in your heart that it's just a baby scream rather than a sign that she's in pain and you still can't let it lie, rushing down the hall. You can see her, see that she's uninjured, only looking at the drill.

She's excited. 

"You like that?" Eddie asks her. "Is that funny?" 

Junie claps her hands together and reaches for the drill. 

Eddie frowns. "Sorry, you can't have it. I gotta finish the door for your mommy. Why don't you build me something with your bricks, yeah? Something big." 

Junie reaches up for the drill again. 

"I can't, Junie, it's too dangerous. Don't want you to get all mutilated." You wrinkle your nose at what he's saying. He turns the drill towards his chest and touches the drill bit to his collar. "Look, see this? It's not for little hands." 

Junie steps over the case of things on the ground and leans against Eddie's legs, insistent. 

Your mouth drops open as he starts the drill and puts on some fake anguished screams. "Ah! Oh my god, it's eating me!" 

Junie starts laughing at his fake screaming. Her eyes widen, her hands clinging to a rip in his jeans. 

"Think that's funny, do you? Heartless girl. Where's your juice gone, hmm?" He holds the drill behind his back and points to her bottle on the side of the couch where you'd left it. "You want that?" 

He goes over her head to grab it and encourage it into her hands. "Yummy," he says, his eyes moving to where you stand in the door past the kitchen, eyebrows jumping up. "Everything okay?" 

"Screaming," you say, awkward in your breathlessness. 

Eddie's eyes stay resolutely on your face. "She's okay. The drill is exciting. You're shirtless, you know." 

You spin on your heel and back into your room. Your heart a jack hammer, you sieve through clothes until a rumpled t-shirt that smells of deodorant but not sweat appears and shrug into it. 

Junie has a much better selection of clothes. You pick out some matching pajamas for her and a thick pair of socks and tuck them under your arm with her changing matt.

When you return this time, Eddie's drilling a third and fourth hole into the wall next to the door and Junie's watching with the teat of her bottle in her mouth, chewing but not drinking. You lay her mat down on the floor and grab her with a big sigh. 

"Alright, Junie, let's get you all fresh for bed." 

You change her diaper and she doesn't misbehave too much, Eddie's general presence a distraction. Soon she's sitting in your lap, dressed in new pajamas and smelling of talcum powder and baby creams, her wool socks soft as you rub your thumbs into the instep of her feet. 

You sit on the floor watching Eddie drill the screws into the deadbolt frame. Junie slouches against you, her head digging into your chest and her tired arms struggling to hold up her bottle. You hold it up for her, watching Eddie's hands and his arms, how they move. Muscle and ligament tense under the skin, tattoos warping, his bats propelled into flight. 

"I like your tattoos," you say. 

Eddie stops drilling to look over his shoulder. "What?" 

"I- I like your tattoos." 

He lights up. His back straightens out and he turns back to the lock, giving the last screw a final good twist. The door makes a groaning protest and then it's quiet. Just Muppet Babies, Junie's soft suckling and the compliment you'd given adrift in the room. 

"They're pretty sweet," he allows. You can hear how pleased he is though he won't look at you. 

"They're cool. Have you had them long?" 

Eddie starts to tell you all about them, fiddling with something you can't see on the door. 

Junie decides that she doesn't want to be sitting anymore and turns in your arms, hands coveting your neck. You lift her into your chest and rub circles in her back, the weight of her emptying bottle on your shoulder. Soon, her small arms go lax. There's a rush of air as her lips open from the teat and the bottle tumbles to the rug with a dull thud. 

He pulls open the door.  Cool air rushes in. He closes it, slides the deadlock into place, and then pulls hard to make sure it won’t come free. 

It’s solid. 

He laughs triumphantly and Junie stirs. You pat her back and make some quiet shushing sounds and Eddie turns around, a slip of his teeth on show as he grimaces. 

"Sorry," he whispers. 

You shake your head. "You're amazing. Thank you." 

If his cheeks weren't pink they are now. He leans into it, hiding one cheek behind his hair. "Stop," he says, exaggerated. 

"I'll make it good, I swear," you whisper, covering Junie's ear with your hand. "I'll make you the best dinner ever. I'm the best at Kraft's mac and cheese, or-" You flush hot, realising that mac and cheese might not be the treat you think it is to him. "Or we can order in," you say, doing the maths in your head. You can't afford it, but maybe Benny-

"Kraft's mac and cheese? You're spoiling me." 

You beam. 

Eddie cleans up the small mess he's made. You're afraid to move quite yet in case Junie's not really sleeping, though she's a dead weight in your arms, and you watch Eddie walk through the room with both caution and ease. 

"Oh, you don't have to do that,” you say. 

He folds the baby blanket in his hands and puts it back on the armrest of the couch before moving on to the stickle bricks, not looking at you as he says, "Just earning my wage, doll." 

You can't watch him clean your home. You wrap a tight arm around Junie and rise to your feet. Eddie sees your approach and his movements grow faster, rushing to clean up the mess before you can stop him. You don't know who starts first but you're both laughing as you grab his wrist. 

"Stop!" you whisper, mock-furious. "Stop cleaning." 

"Sh, you'll wake the baby." 

You shake your head in bemusement. "I'm gonna go set her down. Then mac and cheese." 

"Take your time. Lots of things for me to clean up out here," he says with a mock sincerity. 

You drift down the hall and turn back to sneak a glance at him. He's pulled Muppet Babies out of the TV and is rewinding it around his thumb, a small smile on his lips as he hums the theme tune to himself. 

With Junie finally in bed for the night you take a quick peek at yourself in the mirror on your nightstand and cringe. You look tired. You give yourself a big smile and feel better; a smile makes even your most exhausted features look pretty. 

You slap on some chapstick. You know, to counter your dry lips. It shines. 

Slipping out of the bedroom, you close the door as quietly as you can manage. 

Eddie's standing at the end of the hallway. You expect to feel scared. Instead, you’re perplexed.

"Hi?" you whisper.

"Can I use the bathroom?" 

You laugh. "Yeah. Course you can." 

You have to pass each other in the hallway. His hip bumps your hip, a short rub of fabric. 

You're still thinking about it when he finds you behind the stove, half asleep with your face in your hand. It's the kind of tired where your eyes keep slipping shut, not aching so much as blurry with a heavy head. 

"You okay?" he asks quietly, sitting down at your cramped table. 

You hum. "Hm. Just tired." You give him a guilty smile as you tip the bigger portion into his bowl.  "Sorry. Mac and cheese with bacon bits for you, my hero." 

"Thanks, sweetheart." 

The fatigue ebbs a little. 

Eddie’s easy to talk to. He makes you laugh. When you say goodnight, he looks back over his shoulder twice.

-

It's a funny coincidence that Eddie sees you Friday night. He never grocery shops on a Friday but he knowd when his uncle gets home in the morning there won’t be anything for him to eat after his shift. He takes a sharp turn towards the TV dinners and there you are at the bottom of the aisle with Junie in the seat of the cart. You're talking to her like you'd talk to anyone, though you didn't sound so saccharine sweet over mac and cheese. Close, but not quite. 

"What do you want?" you're asking. "Ham and pineapple or mini pepperoni?" 

Junie holds her hands out for both boxes. You let her take them and the two of you puzzle over the pizzas, heads bent together. 

"Pepperoni, right?" you ask her, quietly enough that he almost misses it. 

"Peroni," Junie agrees. You let her keep the box and put the other one back in the freezer. 

"Pepperoni," you correct, absentminded. 

"Peroni." 

"Pepper-roni." You sound it out slow, looking at a scrap of paper in your hand. 

"Pepper."

"You'll get there. Do you think we need shampoo this week?" You start jovial, but quickly lose your sprightliness. "Maybe I can put some water in the bottle and just… shake it up. No, we definitely need it." 

Eddie watches you look over the cart. He knows exactly what you're thinking, What can I put back?

"Hey!" he calls, walking a little faster to try and hide how he'd been listening. 

You turn on the spot and smile as soon as you see him. Junie, to his delight, is even more excited. 

"Hi," she says, hands thudding along the cart's handlebar. 

"Hi, Junie. How's my favourite neighbour?" 

She babbles. 

"I'm psyched to hear it. How about you, sweetheart?" he asks, parking his cart next to yours. 

You're looking very tired. Still in your work uniform with a hoodie thrown over the top and your smart flats swapped for a pair of converse with the laces undone. You pinch your cheeks up into a big smile. He guesses that with a baby you've gotten very used to hiding how you feel.

You don't hesitate to lay it down thickly. "I'm really good." 

"Yeah? How's Junie liking daycare?" 

You cover your hands with your sleeves. "She loves it. Loves napping again. She-" You frown. "She doesn't like the mornings. Dropping her off. But after." You nod with a tentative smile "Yeah, it's nice to pick her up." 

"Uh-huh. How's work?" 

"What?" 

"How's work for you? How's Benny's?" he prods. 

"You're asking me about work?" 

"Why wouldn't I be?" 

"Nobody ever asks about work," you say. 

You can't look at him as soon as you've said it, your eyes moving back to the grocery list in hand. It's an old envelope, and it crinkles under your squeezing fingers. 

"Sorry," you mutter. 

Eddie bites back a frown. "Well, I'm asking." 

He holds out his hand for the list and you give it without thinking. He adores your handwriting the second he sees it, scanning the list for anything in this aisle.

"Hey, tell me about it," he prompts at your silence, pushing his cart. It takes you a millisecond to catch up, but when you do you're near frenetic. 

"Well, I messed up like, five different orders today. And when I had Junie it was like they didn't care 'cos she's cute, but now she's not there they get pretty angry pretty quickly." 

"She's like a magic item." 

"Right," you say, sounding like you have no idea what he's talking about. "She was my lucky charm. 'N now when I mess up I gotta practically beg some of those guys to leave Benny alone. He's too nice to me already."

"Are they all terrible?"

"No, the regulars, guys in there everyday, they're all great. They're too generous. Benny's too generous. I know he's fluffing up my tip jar. I hate that. I don't want him-" You flinch. It's strange. Eddie takes a small step closer to you and waits for you to continue, but you've lost all steam. "Sorry, I don't mean to weigh you down with all of this." 

"I asked. And I get it." 

"I don't want him to feel sorry for me." 

"Hey," he says, reaching out for a box of cereal on your list. He presents it to Junie and shakes it around, "who said anything about all that?" 

"No, I know, I just-" 

Junie smiles her approval and he chucks the cereal in your cart with a rattle of metal. "I'm not trying to make you feel worse, I swear. I get it. I- You said he's a nice guy, right? So maybe he doesn't feel sorry for you at all. Maybe he just likes you. He owns that place. I don't think it hurts him to put an extra twenty in your tips." 

Junie reaches up. You turn to her and lean down until your face is a few inches from hers. "I wish I didn't need it," you say quietly. 

"I know." 

Junie puts her hand on your cheek. 

You sniff, not crying or anything like that, only breathing. "Thanks, Junie," you murmur. 

"Mommy," she says. She sounds a little concerned. 

"Let's go get something yummy, baby." You stroke her face lightly. "I'm thinking canned peaches. Or pears, um. Fruit cocktail. And condensed milk," you add, sounding unsure.

"I got a can or two of that laying around," Eddie says, because he knows that shit is expensive. "Wayne hates sweet stuff." 

"I couldn't-" 

"You let me come over for one of those mini pizzas and I'll bring the dessert," he says, like he knows you'll say yes. He doesn't know. Eddie Munson’s an expert in pushing his luck. 

Junie starts clapping her hands together. 

"I think she's decided," you say. 

-

You're terrible with a can opener. You whine to yourself as you struggle to get open the second can. Eddie had insisted on peaches and pears and fruit cocktail, because he wanted to try them all apparently. And then some dramatic speech about little kids getting spoiled.

You can hear him now in the living room with Junie. They're laughing in a way that you're worried about, that guilty, hushed giggling that raises your hackles. 

"Shush," Eddie says, faux-angry, "your mom's gonna hear." 

"Shush," she repeats with much more enthusiasm. 

"You shush! Look, don't do that, Junie, you're gonna get it tangled in your hair," he says. 

You carry the can and can opener with you into the living room. Something about tangled hair gets your heart racing. 

"Eddie, please don't let her get stickies in her hair," you say quickly. 

"They're called stickles," he says, dropping back onto his hands, head over his shoulder to give you a bright-eyed smile. 

"I know what they're called. Junie can't say stickles." 

"Stickles," she says. 

"She couldn't when I got them," you amend. 

He's up quicker than you can really take in, hands extended. "Let me do it," he says. 

He works the can out of your fingers. It's more contact than you've had with somebody who wasn't your daughter in a very long time and it leaves you shell-shocked. Eyes on his nice hands, bigger than yours with thicker fingers and his riot of rings. He presses the can to his chest and hooks the opener, peeking between it and you intermittently. 

"Go see what we made for you," he encourages. "I'll do it." 

His arm brushes yours as he moves to the kitchen and that's worse than his fingers. You rub where he'd touched and drop down on your knees next to Junie, looking over the stickle bricks with a smile. It's a heart, poorly construed and of tens of colours. It falls apart when she tries to pick it up so you help her remake it, cooing. 

"Thanks, baby. This is for me, huh? You're so sweet." Your voice drops to a murmur. "My sweet girl. Wanna cuddle?" 

You open your arms out and she doesn't seem very interested. "Please?" you ask, vying for her waist. 

She lets you pull her into your lap. When you actually start to hug her she does her lovely melting thing that she always does, a floppy fish in your arms but with tiny squeezing hands. You giggle at her antics and lift her up so her face falls into your neck. 

"Thanks for my heart, Junebug." She snuggles her head into your neck, hair squished to your skin. "I love you," you whisper, rubbing her back. 

"The works," Eddie announces grandly as he appears, two bowls in hand.

"Eddie, that's too much for her." 

"She's a growing girl." 

"A growing girl with a tiny tummy," you say turning her around in your arms. "Tell you what, you have that one," you point to the biggest one, "and we'll share that one." 

"How about you share the big one?" he asks, though it hardly sounds like a question. He sits down and places the bowl in her lap. 

You grab the spoon before she can and stir up some of the fruits. "Wow, look at this! You gonna say thanks? Thanks Eddie.”

She doesn’t say thanks — her mouth is too far open to form words. You make quick work of shovelling fruit and condensed milk inside, chilled enough that she shivers in your arms. 

“Yeah, that’s good,” you say agreeably.

She gets enthusiastic enough to take the spoon and you let her, even when she totally mauls the food, eating so loudly that Muppet Babies becomes inaudible. 

Eddie eats slowly. You can feel his gaze. “You’re not gonna have any?” he asks. 

You’d felt it coming. Your answer is clumsy anyways. “No, I will. I just… I always have her leftovers,” you say, sheepish. 

He stands up. 

You’re gonna ask why when Junie tips fruit down your legs, cold on the naked skin of your ankle. You dab at your pajamas with a small sigh. There’s no point in getting upset. She’s a messy eater but they all are at this age. Honestly, it’s nice to see her attempting to use a spoon rather than her hands. 

“You’re doing a good job,” you say. You’re not totally sure who you’re talking to. 

“Tada!” Eddie cheers, wielding a third bowl of fruit. “Swap with me?”

“What?”

“You think Junie’ll come sit in my lap?” he asks. He doesn’t wait, really. He holds out the bowl and you take it on impulse as he sits down heavily. 

He takes her into his lap with a cheerful groan. “Oh, c’mere, sweetheart. There’s enough milk on your chin to bake a cake.” He wipes it with his hand. He doesn’t so much as wince at the mess. 

You stare. He eases the spoon out of her grip and scrapes up a half-spoonful of what looks like pear and feeds it to her with the same kind of deftness of hand that’d taken you months to learn. 

He can feel your gaze, evidently, because he looks up. There, you catch it, that slither of insecurity he hides well. 

You pick up your bowl and start eating. It’s the nicest thing you’ve eaten in almost two years. You’d die for Junie. You’d do worse. But to eat, to know she’s fed — gorged — to know you can sit here and eat this whole bowl of fruit all to yourself and you won’t have to put it down, that’s heaven. It’s better, because you never let yourself have anything nice if you can help it. 

The fruit turns to a lump in your throat and you swallow it, sniffling. Your lashes grow heavy with unshed tears and you keep your gaze resolutely on your dessert. When was the last time you had something this nice all to yourself? When was the last time somebody ever went out of their way to be this nice?

It’s a small gesture and a huge one. A tear dribbles down your cheek. You lick it away and keep on eating. 

-

Eddie starts to come around every Friday. It’s a good deal; you make dinner and he makes dessert. After that first time he makes it his mission to give you heaping bowls too much to eat most of the time. Soon, he’s coming a few days a week, not always long, sometimes until the late hours, though you tell him desserts are a Friday only occasion. He complies grudgingly. 

You make your first friend in years, and it’s so sweet you don’t know what to do with yourself. 

Or what possesses you to offer to cut his hair. 

Eddie's sitting on the couch with Junie, his big thigh to her little one and a picture book spread between them whilst you clean the kitchen. He's not reading to her – she's trying to read to him. She can't read, of course, but she can remember some of the words in relation to the pictures. She pokes at the blue cat and says blue. She pokes at the blue dog and says blue. She also points at the red cat and says blue. It's a learning curve. 

Eddie gives corrections and encouragements just as you would. You smile at him from behind your cup of water. 

"He's red, sweetheart," he murmurs, arm around her shoulder to hold the book's edges. "Red cat." 

"Red cat," she repeats with enough accuracy to make you choke on your water. 

Eddie gasps almost as loud as you do. "Right! Red cat! You're so smart, junebug, I can't believe it," he praises, squeezing her shoulder. His gaze meets yours and he smiles. 

You send him back your sweetest smile. If he wasn't always so nice to you you'd like him anyway because of how he treats Junie, like she's the fucking sun. 

She gets so excited when other people are happy that she starts laughing, standing up and trampling all over his legs to give him a hug. She's given him half hugs, she's fallen asleep by his side and loves to pet his hair, but this is a proper, tactile hug. Her arms wind around his neck with purpose and as soon as his surprise has faded he brings his arms up to hug her in turn, laughing delightedly. 

"You're such a smarty-pants," he praises, rubbing her back with a boyish brashness. 

She squeals as he squeezes her, his fingers digging into her ribs. Never cruel, only tickling her. She eats up every second of it and buries her face in his neck, laughing her wound up baby laugh that always brings a smile to your face. 

"Ooh, she's so smart. First blue, then red. Next you'll be saying indigo, and vermillion, and-" 

He cuts off when Junie gets one of her nails caught in his hair. She jolts and whines like it hurts and he goes rigid. You move forward to play mediator but he's already pulling her away gently and making small shushing sounds. "Chill out," he chides lightly, "I got it. Here." He pulls the hair from under her fingernail and rubs the pad of his thumb over her hand. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he apologises, pouting at her scowl. He envelops her hand in his and waves it around. "Forgive me?" 

She doesn't learn her lesson, pushing her hands back into his hair, probably less kind than what’s ideal. Eddie doesn't flinch. 

You sit on the armrest gingerly. "Can I ask you something?"

Eddie looks over Junie’s head. "What's that?" 

"Have you always had long hair?" 

He doesn't balk. "No, of course not. I fu-" He clears his throat. "My mom was the best, and I fit in just like everybody else growing up. When I ended up with Wayne I was-" He smiles. It's the kind of rueful grimace that says, You didn't ask for this.

You smile encouragingly.

He drops his gaze to Junie, worming his arms around her in a loose hug as she continues to play with his hair. "I was mad about everything, and I remember him asking when I wanted to get my hair trimmed and I said ‘never’. Took a few years for it to grow past the awkward stage," he bares his teeth and nods toward his shoulder, as if allowing his past misdemeanour. "But now I'd say it looks pretty sweet." 

"I love your hair," you say. 

Eddie beams. "You don't think it's too long?" 

Emboldened by his reaction, you slip off of the armrest to sit next to him, turning in until your knees touch. Junie, loyal as she is, climbs straight into your lap with a babble. 

You pat her back with one hand and raise the other cautiously for permission. Eddie flares his eyes wide, as if to say, You want to? Go on. 

You take a lock of his hair between your fingers like Junie had moments before. "I like it like this." 

"But?" 

You look at the ends, an inch of limpness where the rest curls. "You haven't had it cut since you were a kid?" 

"Maybe not that long, but it's been a while. I do it myself sometimes." He gestures to his bangs. He speaks quietly. A rarity though not unknown for him to be so hushed. 

You tuck the curl you'd been examining behind his ear carefully. 

"Do you think my hair looks good?" you ask. 

"Sh- Sorry, of course I do. I swear I was gonna-"

You shake your head, laughing. "Not like that. What I mean is, I cut my own hair. I cut Junie's, too, and I could do yours if you wanted me to." 

He goes quiet. 

"Only if you wanted. I know it's a lot of trust, so-" 

"Would you do it now?" 

You hold Junie's head away from yours to prevent a loving headbut. "Right now?" 

"I'm in dire need." 

He throws his big brown puppy dog eyes your way and you couldn't say no if you wanted to. 

You explain how he needs to get it wet first and how the shower head in the bathroom doesn't detach. "It's, like, built into the wall." 

"I could go home, come back?" he suggests. 

"I can do it over the sink?" 

-

Eddie can't remember the last time somebody washed his hair for him. He knows there must've been a time, some place in his life where his mom or dad had done it for him. He thinks that, if he'd asked, Wayne would've tried it once or twice growing up, but now Eddie's most definitely at the age where having his hair washed is a foreign luxury. 

And it does feel luxurious.

It shouldn't; the sink basin is very small as they tend to be in the trailer kitchenettes – small sink, small stove, small small small – and Eddie has to crane his neck. Already the space between his shoulder blades aches from being bent over, and he can't breathe well, smothered by steam. 

But your hands. One shields his eyes from run off, a gesture unnecessary and far from lost on him, while the other massages shampoo into his scalp. He'd been surprised when you started because you hadn't mentioned washing his hair, and he'd said, "You don't have to do that." 

You'd hummed. "Well, it's kind of a waste not to." 

That was that. 

Your nails scratch lightly against his scalp and if his eyes weren't already closed they would've fluttered shut. He nibbles his lip and tries very hard not to show outwardly how nice it feels. Your left upper arm rubs against his back as you scrub at his roots, your right soaking wet beside his face, covering his eyes uselessly. He doesn't mention it. All this touching, he doesn't want it to end.

Your proximity honest-to-God sets him on fire. Your body pressed to his is a flame over his ribs. 

"Maybe we shouldn't cut it at all," you say, stroking wet bangs away from his forehead. "It's soooo long." 

"Can’t do it?" he teases.

"Keep your eyes closed, okay? I'm gonna rinse." 

It's a comforting process. You dip your cup into the water. It fills with a wet glug, the rim shushing against the basin's bottom. You hold it over his head and pour carefully, heat caressing his scalp as the soap is washed away. 

It's over too soon. You grab the towel you'd procured and tuck it around his shoulders, wringing all the excess water from his curls back into the sink. You encourage his head up wordlessly and he stands there, arms useless against the countertops edge, water sloughing down his face as you press the ends flat between your hands. 

You lift his head and push his hair back with your hands, raking your fingers through it and laughing as soon as his face appears. "Eddie! I'm sorry, you're totally drowning." 

He chuckles. They fade away as you pinch the corner of the towel and start to dab his face dry, dragging the rough material over his cheeks with an expression he can't read on your pretty features. Almost pensive, not quite. 

"There," you say under your breath. "Saved you." 

"My hero." 

You smile at him softly before spinning on your heel. "I gotta find the hairbrush. And the good scissors." You look into the living room quickly and then turn to the hall leading to your bedroom. 

Eddie looks into the living room too. Junie's not upto much, only watching TV, unusually subdued. He doesn't disturb her despite the itch to go over and play.

One of the muppets starts laughing about something and she laughs too. 

"What are you smiling about?" you whisper from behind him. 

"Nothing," he says quickly.

You raise your eyebrows. "She has a nice laugh, right? Doesn't matter how bad I feel, she laughs and everything's okay for a little while." 

He feels a fond stab in his chest. "Her laugh's like yours." 

"I guess we do sound the same." 

You do, but it's not really what he'd meant. 

The metal sound of scissors snapping. You wield them at him faux-threateningly and shepherd him into a chair you've dragged to the middle of the kitchen. 

Eddie fights goosebumps as you pull a brush through his hair, loses when you take a lock at the front between two fingers and stop about an inch and a half from the end. 

"I'm gonna do that much, okay?" 

You're a quiet hairdresser. Eddie doesn't care, he can talk for Indiana, but there's something so sweetly simple about the quietude, just your hands in his hair, the snipping of your scissors and Junie's occasional excited chattering. You start to hum a song Eddie doesn't recognise about halfway through. It's melancholy. He doubts you realise what you're doing. 

You draw silent as you round to the front. Eddie watches your hands work for what feels like hours. You have really pretty hands, not perfect, burnt fingertips and neat little nails. They smell like honey hand soap.

You pull two locks from the front together to make sure they're the same length. His curls will hide any discrepancy, he knows from experience, but he doesn't want to tell you that. Selfishly, he wants that extra time with you this close. 

You work your way between his legs to comb his half-dried bangs. Eddie looks up at you with wide eyes.

"You want me to trim these, too?" you ask quietly. 

"If you please." 

You huff a laugh through your nose and start to trim his bangs carefully. He closes his eyes, and maybe it's the fact that he can't see you that gives him the confidence to reach out for your hip, a touch that can't be defined as amicable. He curls his fingers into the soft material of your shirt and feels the heat of your skin underneath. 

You draw closer, as close as you can be. 

"What made you decide on bangs?" you ask. 

"Zits, mostly." 

He can feel your laugh under his hand. 

"I used to… I used to powder my face," you confide, a murmur, "like, an inch thick to try and hide everything. Being pregnant makes you so-" You pause to snip some hair, comb it away. It tickles his face. "Well, it makes you spotty. Or it made me spotty. It actually made me really sick." 

"That's must've sucked," he says earnestly. 

"It- Yeah. I guess it did. I don't know." 

He hadn't meant to bring up something unhappy, but he's hungry to know. "Were you on your own?" 

"Mostly." 

"What was the worst part?" 

"Being scared all the time."

He'd been expecting morning sickness or aching feet. "You were scared?" 

"I honestly thought I was gonna die, Eddie." 

He opens his eyes and leans back in his chair, hand flexing over your hip, as he tries to tamp down his surprise. 

"It was," you mess with his bangs with the tip of your ring finger, "hard. I felt sick all the time, and when I didn't I would make myself sick worrying about her. What if I eat something or I catch something and it hurts her? What if- what if it all works out perfectly and then I can't look after her?" 

"Did it work out perfect?" 

You rub your lips together. "Uh, I guess so. It took a long time, and it hurt," you sound especially unhappy with that part. 

He strokes up your waist, wanting to soothe the small crease between your eyebrows. "By yourself?" 

"Yeah, by myself." 

"I'm sorry." 

You tuck his hair behind his ear and grin at him. "Now what are you sorry for?" Your hand lingers near his cheek. Slowly, you turn it, pressing the knuckle of your index finger into the skin under his eye and rubbing a small line. He worries he’s in love with you right then and there. "Not like you're the one who knocked me up." 

You drop your hand and Eddie really doesn't want you to go anywhere, his grip kind but steadfast, bringing the other arm behind your back in a loose hug. "Who was it?" 

"Just some guy. Nobody. Nobody worth thinking about." 

"How old were you?" he asks. 

"Why are you asking me all this stuff?"

"I wanna know about you." 

You bring your hands to the towel around his neck and pull on it mildly. "I was sixteen. Seventeen when I had her." 

He drags his fingertips up and down the small of your back lightly, almost like he's playing guitar. "I'm sorry you were all by yourself. That young. When I was sixteen I was still watching The Bugs Bunny Show."

You giggle and your hands move up to the side of his neck. He can hardly breathe, afraid to dispel whatever enchantment it is that he's under. 

"Could be worse, huh? I'm nineteen and I still watch Muppet Babies," you joke. 

"Why wouldn't you? It's the pinnacle of modern television." 

"Yeah?" 

Your beaming smile hits him straight in the chest. He thinks about how beautiful you look and can't stop, hiding his face in your stomach to stop from saying something stupid, laughing loud. You laugh in tandem, hugging the back of his head until your giggles peter out. 

A small hand on his arm. You both turn at the same time and find a very unhappy Junie.

"What?" you ask her. Then, teasing, "Are you jealous?" 

You lean down to pick her up. Eddie's gutted to lose your touch and then quickly exuberant when Junie ducks out of your arms to grab at his legs. 

"Oh my god, yes," he says, holding out his hands. 

Junie tries to take them and he slips them under his arm, pulling her onto his thigh with a big sigh. The sigh is half the fun, a theatrical reluctance when really he's always happy to have her climbing on him. 

As soon as she's in his lap she's pleased, turning her head so she can watch the TV across the room. 

You roll your eyes at his smug smile. "Shut up. She just wants what other people have." 

"And you had me?" 

"Shut up, Munson, seriously," you say. You don't sound half as mad as you're trying to. 

Eddie takes a drying curl between his fingers and pokes at the side of Junie's face. "Whatever you want, sweetheart," he says, grinning when your daughter starts to squirm on his thigh. 

He grins at her and tickles her until she's curling in with her chin dropped to her chest, smiling despite herself. 

His fondness colours every word as he croons, "I got you." 

Junie sounds about as outraged as a toddler can be when he tickles her nose and then drags the tip of the freshly trimmed curl under her eye. He draws a big circle around one of her cheeks until it's kissing her chin. She dissolves into giggles while squirming to get away from him and so he stops, only for her to blink and tug at his wrist. 

He tickles her until she's screaming. 

You pause on your knees where you'd been sweeping up his trimmed hair to look up at her and he's struck with guilt. "Y/N, you don't have to do that. I'll do it." 

"No, you're okay." 

Eddie finds his gaze drawn to your thighs, spread out as they are in your kneeling position, and then stolen by Junie as she almost topples off of his lap. 

"I think…" he begins quietly, speaking to Junie though it's just as much for you, "that your mom deserves something nice for my haircut. What do you think?" 

"I don't think that," you say. 

"Wasn't asking you," he says seriously. Back in baby mode he continues,  "What's mommy like, huh? What's her favourite thing in the whole world, besides you?" 

"Sleep," you say. 

"Well, I can't help you there." 

"You help me there all the time. Junie sleeps like a log every Friday." 

"Food coma," he says knowledgeably. 

"You really don't have to get me anything, Eddie. My services were administered charitably." 

He pushes his hands behind Junie's back and pulls her to his chest before standing. When he has her secure in one arm he pulls the chair back to your small table and tucks it in.

"Get up," he says to you. "I'll do it, alright? Swap with me." 

You ignore him until he starts kicking you in the leg. "You're ridiculous!"

"You're ridiculous. Seriously, get up. You're not a serf." He returns your glare. "I'm a big boy, I can clean up after myself." 

"It's my house." 

"If you don't let me-" 

"Christ! Okay." You drop the dustpan and brush sullenly, wiping your hands together as you stand before taking Junie out of his arms. "I'll make dinner." 

"No you won't! I'm gonna order takeout," he says factually, already on his knees and sweeping. 

"No you're not." 

"I am. Me and June already talked about it. She's craving Marino's pizza." 

"I'm not gonna let you use the phone." 

"I'll walk to my place and order the pizza to here." 

"Eddie-" 

"Why are you being a hardass?" he asks. 

"Fine! God, clean up your gross hair and order your stupid pizza. You're making me crazy," you say, collapsing onto the sofa with a little oomf, Junie's weight hitting you hard in the chest. She moves into a sitting position and pulls your shirt up, hands moving across the space under your chest. 

Eddie throws himself into cleaning all the mess you'd made for him, the hair and the towel and the sopping wet draining board. He washes the dirty baby bowl on the side and fills up one of Junie's bottles with water, then a glass for you. He hasn't seen either of you drinking a thing since he's been here, likely his fault for distracting you. 

He's about to call for pizza when he peers past the cabinets and sees you dozing on the couch. He decides pizza can wait until tomorrow; it's later than he realised. 

Junie's halfway across the room with Mr. Bear playing make believe. She talks and talks and talks, gibberish to him but what's likely an unending, complicated storyline, no doubt. 

Eddie approaches with the bottle already outstretched. "Junie," he says, and when she doesn't answer, "Junebug. Junie. Junie." Each iteration of her name softer and sweeter than the first, hoping to entice her in. 

He holds the bottle in front of her face.

She finally looks up with a pout. 

"For you," he says, offering the water. 

She seems mildly interested as she takes it, turning back to her teddy and talking around the teat like it's not there. 

You're struggling to keep your eyes open. Eddie gives the room a quick once over before kneeling down in front of you, tugging your shirt down to cover your exposed tummy as he says, "I should head home." 

You blink at him and turn onto your side, cheek squishing into the couch cushion. 

"Okay? Why don't you and Junebug head to bed?" he asks, using a tone not far from what he'd use with your daughter. 

"You know, her full name's Juniper," you whisper. 

He didn't know. "Really? I love that." 

You wrinkle your nose, sounding very tired as you continue, "But someone told me it sounded like a name for a cat. So I've called her Junie ever since."

"It doesn't sound like a cat's name," he placates. "It's beautiful. You chose well." 

"Yeah?" 

Eddie smiles at you fondly, eyes tracing down your nose to your lips, shiny with balm. He tilts his head to the side to mimic yours. He could kiss you. 

"Sounds like the name of an elf. Juniper Lightfoot, or… Goldwind. She could even be a mage. Juniper the Brave." 

"Juniper the Loveliest," you say, and then grin. "Juniper the Hungriest." 

"Juniper the All Great and Hungriest," Eddie says decidedly. 

"Would you make her a hero, in your game?" you ask. 

"Of course I would. She wouldn't even need to divide, she'd just conquer." 

"What about me?" 

"What, would you be a hero?" 

You nod. He doesn't know why, but he thinks his answer is going to hold a lot of weight with you. 

"You would be," he starts quietly, words painted slowly as he raises a hand to rest on your wrist, pinky finger spread over the hill of your thumb, "a fighter. With insight and survival." 

"I don't know what that means," you say. 

He leans in. "It means yes, you'd be a hero. You'd save kingdoms. Slay dragons." He squeezes your wrist. 

"I think I better leave all that stuff for Junie. I'll just cheer you guys on from the sidelines." 

"You're her mom, she can't do it without you. And even if she could I bet she wouldn't want to. Where's all the fun in guts and glory if you can't share it?" he asks, rubbing his thumb over your skin.

Your eyes shut. Eddie doesn't know if it's from fatigue or a want to end this conversation. He feels marginally embarrassed for descending into nerd metaphor with you, but he thinks it's the kind of thing you needed to hear. He thinks if Junie could understand how often her mom prioritises her and misses out for her she'd want to fix that. Eddie doesn't know you half as well as she does and it breaks his heart sometimes to watch you insist on a smaller portion, to watch you put things back at the grocery store because she wants a box of milk duds, even to watch you wear yourself out ironing baby clothes in the only pair of pajamas you own. 

"Make sure you lock the deadbolt behind me," he says carefully. You hum. He gives your wrist one last squeeze. 

Junie looks tired in that she's getting agitated, whimpering under her breath. Eddie ducks down to give her upper arm a good rub. "Why don't you go cuddle with your mom?" he asks her, turning her by the shoulder so that you're in her eye-line. "Go have a lie down." 

He doesn't know whether what he says makes any difference but you extend your arms out and Junie walks towards you, big staggered steps that make him laugh to himself as he pushes into his unlaced converse. 

"Don't forget to lock up," he says in place of a farewell. 

"Goodnight, Eddie," you say. 

He waves. You're both too tired to wave back. 

He's surprised to find his Uncle Wayne still home when he gets in, shoving into his work boots with a grunted hello.

"Hey." 

"Did you cut your hair?" Wayne asks, perplexed, a little gruff. 

"Junie's mom did it for me." 

"'Junie's mom,'" Wayne quotes dryly, slugging his bag over his shoulder. He's heard all about Junie's mom.

Eddie scratches the back of his neck and splutters when a big hand claps his back, a demonstration of Wayne's pity as he passes through the open door. 

Eddie spins to watch him jog down the steps. "We're friends," Eddie calls. 

"Don't be dumb," his uncle says without turning back. 

"I'm not exactly known for being smart," Eddie says to himself, cheeks heated by a furious blush. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | multi-chapter

Your dad met Bucky Barnes when you were just a little kid and the two became fast friends, despite the age difference between them. Bucky was about 10 years younger than your dad, making him about 15 years older than you.

From the moment you hit puberty, you thought Bucky was attractive. Most girls would. Plus, he was funny and sweet, always making sure to talk to you at family gatherings.

Bucky's been there for a lot of the big things in your life. He watched you grow up, graduate high school, and go off to college. He'd barely seen you in the last four years as you'd chosen to go to college out of state. Now he was here on campus with your parents for your college graduation.

Neither you, nor Bucky were at all prepared for the chemistry you both felt when you met your parents and him before graduation. You wanted to make sure they knew where to go and get good seats.

"Hey mom!" you called when you saw your mom's happy expression.

Your parents ran over to you and wrapped you in a tight hug. "Guys, you're squishing me. Can't breathe."

Your parents stepped back and laughed. "I can't believe you're graduating college!" your dad exclaimed.

"Me neither, honestly."

"I don't know, doll, you always were the smart one in the family," Bucky said, coming into view from behind your dad.

The moment your eyes met, you felt like your breath had been sucked directly from your lungs. "Hey Bucky," you said in a tone you hoped was completely normal.

He stepped forward and wrapped you in a hug. Your skin felt like it was on fire where he'd touched you, but you did your best to keep a neutral expression. "It's good to see you," he said with a warm smile.

"It's good to see you too." You turned your attention back to your parents. "You guys should get into the auditorium and find some good seats before it fills up."

"Yes! I want to sit in the front," your mom said, grabbing your dad's arm and dragging him with her. "I'm so proud of you, baby!"

"Thanks mom!"

Your dad turned around, "Come on Buck or you'll get left behind."

Bucky laughed. "Apparently your mom is in a rush."

"Well you only get to see your only child graduate college once."

He smiled. "True. Can't wait to see you after." He shot you a wink and walked off after your parents, leaving you to stand there in shock.

Did Bucky Barnes just wink at me? You figured you were going crazy, so you shook it off and went to join your friends before lining up for graduation.

When you walked across the stage, you heard your parents and Bucky cheering. It made you smile and it really meant a lot that they were all there.

After the ceremony, you met up with them again. "You ready for dinner, kiddo?" your dad asked.

You smiled. "Absolutely. Let me say goodbye to some of my friends and I'll meet you out front."

"Sounds good!" your dad responded and your parents made their way to the front door.

"I'm going to use the restroom first," Bucky said before turning his attention to you. "Show me where the bathroom is?"

You nodded. "Sure."

Bucky walked with you to the nearest bathroom, appreciating the sway of your hips as you moved. "So how's what's his name?" Bucky asked not-too-subtly.

"His name is John, which you very well know. And for the record, he cheated on me...twice."

Bucky raised his eyebrow. "And he's still walking?"

You chuckled. "I decided graduating was a better option than spending the rest of my life in prison for homicide."

"I'm happy to shoot him for you."

"Bucky!"

He grinned. "What? I didn't say he'd die."

You laughed warmly for the first time. "You're a dork." You gestured behind you, "The bathroom is right there."

He stared at you for a moment, just soaking in your appearance. He took a step forward and leaned in close to you. "Thanks, doll." With that, he stepped around you and into the bathroom, once again leaving you in shock.

One of your friends came over to you and waved a hand in front of your face. "Uhh, (Y/N)? You in there?"

You shook your head. "Sorry! I was umm...lost in thought."

She looked at you skeptically. "So it had nothing to do with that hot guy that just walked into the bathroom?"

"No, that's just Bucky."

"THAT'S Bucky?! Why didn't you tell me he was so hot?"

"Shh. Keep your voice down. He's got weirdly acute hearing."

She rolled her eyes. "Seriously though, he's gorgeous. When are you going to tap that?"

"Omg, I am not going to 'tap that'. He's my dad's best friend."

She shrugged. "What your dad doesn't know won't hurt him."

"You're terrible."

"And that's why you love me." She winked at you. "Ope, time to go. Love you, (Y/N/N)." She scurried off and you just laughed.

"Friend of yours?" Bucky asked.

You turned to face him. "Yeah. She's a wild one." You smiled. "Let's go meet my parents before dad gets hangry."

Bucky winced jokingly. "Your dad is actually terrifying when he's hungry."

"You're telling me."

The two of you walked to the front in companionable silence. You did your best to keep a cool, calm exterior, while on the inside you were absolutely freaking out. Bucky's proximity to you set your nerves on edge. Plus, you were pretty sure he'd been flirting with you all afternoon, which was definitely something new. But he was your dad's best friend, so there was absolutely no way he was interested in you...right?

"Uhh, doll? You with me?"

"Huh?" You turned your head to look at him.

He chuckled. "I asked where you wanted to have dinner."

You realized you were in front of the building, your parents and Bucky all staring at you waiting for a response. You hadn't even realized you'd made it outside. "Sorry! My mind was wandering. Umm...Outback?"

"Hell yeah," your dad said with a grin. "Blooming onion, here I come."

Your mom laughed and shook her head. "Dear god, your cholesterol."

"You only live once, right? That's what the kids say these days."

You groaned. "Well that makes you sound old."

Your dad laughed. "I am old."

"You're 50, dad. Not 80."

"Close enough. Come on, let's get a move on. I'm dying here."

You and Bucky follow your parents to their car. Bucky leans close to you and whispers, "Technically, he's 48."

You looked at him in confusion.

"Your dad. He's 48, not 50."

"Same thing."

"If you age him, you're aging me. I'm 10 years younger, remember?"

You actually hadn't remembered. You knew he was younger than your dad, but you weren't sure by how much. That made him 38 years old...which wasn't actually that much older than 23 if you think about it. "My apologies, Bucky. I don't want you to feel old," you said in a light mocking tone.

He laughed. "Don't be a brat, doll. Or I'll have to fix it."

Your eyebrows raised. "Fix it?"

He just grinned and opened the back door of your dad's SUV, gesturing for you to get in. When you started to climb into the backseat, he leaned forward. "I'll have to fuck it out of you," he whispered, lips brushing your ear.

You were shocked by his words and you turned to look at him, but he was already shutting the door and coming around to the other side of the car. You felt wetness pooling in your panties at his statement and you squeezed your thighs together, embarrassment creeping into your face.

Bucky noticed the way you squirmed in your seat when he got into the car and it made him smile. He wanted you to want him and he was pretty sure you did, if the pace of your breathing was any indication.

The car ride was relatively normal. Your parents chatted and Bucky joined in, but you were mostly silent. Words weren't coming to you easily at the moment and your mind was focused entirely on maintaining your composure.

When you got to the restaurant, you sat down in a booth and Bucky slid in beside you, your parents sat across from you. Thankfully your dad sat in front of you and your mom in front of Bucky. Your dad wasn't nearly as observant as your mom was.

Bucky's thigh brushed against yours under the table and you jumped slightly.

"You okay there, kid?" your dad asked.

"Yeah, just a little chilly."

"Here," Bucky said as he removed his jacket. "Put this on."

You allowed him to drape the jacket across your shoulders. "That's better, thanks."

"Of course." Bucky and your parents went back to their conversation, but Bucky's thigh remained pressed against yours. The proximity was overwhelming your senses. All you could see, hear, smell, and feel was Bucky.

Thankfully, the arrival of the server provided a momentary relief. Everyone ordered water, but when the server landed on you, you ordered your favorite alcoholic beverage. You handed the server your ID and ignored the surprised expressions on your parents' faces, as well as the smirk gracing Bucky's.

When the server left to get your drinks, your dad checked on you again. "Everything alright there, (Y/N/N)?"

"Yeah, I'm just celebrating," you lied smoothly.

Your dad just nodded, but your mom stared at you, scrutinizing your face. You must have been doing a good job at hiding what you were thinking, because she eventually smiled and went back to chatting with your dad.

Bucky leaned over to you and murmured, "I thought you didn't like to drink in front of your parents?"

"I'm going to need a drink to get through this," you mumbled back.

"Get through what?" he asked mockingly.

You raised your eyebrow at him and he grinned. You rolled your eyes and silently praised the swift return of the server with your drinks. You chugged half of it before setting the glass back on the table. Your parents looked at you in surprise, but kept their comments to themselves.

The server stayed to take your orders and by the time she walked away, you'd already finished your drink.

"You want another one, sweets?" Bucky asked lightly.

The expressions on your parents faces decided that for you. "No, I'm alright. I'll stick with water now." The alcohol was already having the desired effect. You felt a calmness wash over you and you suddenly weren't so anxious about Bucky's proximity.

You joined in on the conversation and everything seemed to be going just fine. That is, until your mom brought up John...again.

"Honey, how is John doing? Have you talked to him recently?"

"No, mom, I haven't. He's an ass."

"(Y/N)!" your mom exclaimed in surprise. "He was always so sweet."

"That's because you weren't dating him," you mumbled.

"I just don't understand why you would break up with him. He was perfect for you."

You felt Bucky's body tense beside you, but you fought the urge to glance at his face. It might be too revealing in the moment. "Well, mom, from an outside perspective that may have been the case. But he wasn't a good guy and I deserve better."

Your mom started to object again, but your dad gently cut her off. "Let it go, honey. (Y/N)'s an adult. She can make her own choices."

You smiled. "Thanks, dad."

The server returned to the table with your food. As she was setting plates in front of each of you, Bucky's hand landed on your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze. You looked over at him and he looked at you with a soft expression. "You okay, sweets?"

You offered him a soft smile. "Yeah, Buck. I'm alright. Mom's just a big fan of John."

"Did you mention why you broke up?"

You shook your head. "She would have blamed me."

Bucky's expression lit up in surprise. He wasn't able to question you more as the server was walking away, taking the distraction with her.

The four of you ate your food in companionable silence, simply enjoying each other's company. Once the meal was finished, you all got ready to leave. You wanted to get back to your apartment and just crash.

"Honey, we have to stop at the auditorium. Bucky left his car there," your mom said.

"Okay, that's fine."

"Since you two have a farther drive than me, how about I drop (Y/N) off at her apartment?" Bucky suggested casually.

Your body tensed and you felt the heat rise in your face. Please say yes, you thought to yourself.

"Well I suppose that would be fine. Are you okay with that, sweetheart?" your dad asked.

You nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine with it." You tried not to sound excited, but you couldn't help but smile a little.

The smile wasn't lost on Bucky. He leaned over to you and whispered, "I saw that."

You turned to him and winked...the alcohol in your system making you feel bold.

Surprise lit up his handsome face, quickly followed by a wolfish grin.

It felt like forever before you arrived at the auditorium. You and Bucky said goodbye to your parents and watched as they drove away.

"Come on, doll. Your chariot awaits."

You chuckled. "Cute."

"Yes, I am," he said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, but followed Bucky to his car. He opened the passenger side door for you and helped you in. When he slid into his seat, you suddenly felt butterflies rise in your stomach. "Do you know where you're going?"

He smiled. "I remember, doll."

"That was like 2 years ago," you said in surprise.

"It's you. I remember everything that has to do with you."

You felt your heart rate quicken. You wanted to ask him if he was serious about what he'd said earlier, but you couldn't find the words. Thankfully, Bucky took control of the conversation. "So why didn't you tell your parents about John cheating on you?"

You sighed. "Mom's a little old-fashioned sometimes. She thinks that if a woman gets cheated on, it's the woman's fault. She must have done something to deserve it."

"What?" Bucky looked angry. "I'm absolutely certain you didn't do a damn thing to deserve being treated that way."

You gently touched his arm and his expression softened. "I appreciate that and I know I deserve better now. It just took me a little while to figure it out."

"You deserve the world, (Y/N)," Bucky said softly.

Your breath caught in your chest at his words. It gave you the bravery to voice your question. "So what you said earlier...did you mean it?"

Bucky glanced at you with a smirk. "When?"

"You know," you said with a groan.

He grinned. "I can't seem to remember..."

"Bucky!" you whined.

"You've gotta use those words, sweets."

You groaned again. "You can use your words," you grumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"There's the brat again."

"Still wanna fuck it out of me?"

Surprise crossed both of your faces. You couldn't believe you'd actually said that out loud and he couldn't believe you had either. "Do you want me to?" he asked quietly.

By this point, your panties were practically soaked. You'd been thinking about him all evening and you desperately wanted to touch him. "Please," you whispered.

Bucky groaned and his body visibly tensed. "I gotta say, doll. I never thought we'd be in this position."

"Neither did I."

"Ever since you went to college, I've been imagining what it be like to be with you. You've always been funny and smart, but you've grown into an absolutely beautiful woman, (Y/N)."

The sincerity in his voice warmed your heart. "You have?"

"Of course I have," he cleared his throat. "Have you ever, you know, thought of me?"

You stayed silent for a moment. You'd been dreaming about Bucky Barnes since middle school. The man was gorgeous, there was no denying it. Plus, he was the sweetest person you'd ever known. "Since I was a kid," you murmured honestly.

Bucky raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

You rolled your eyes. "Look in the mirror, Barnes."

He laughed as he pulled into your complex. "So you're telling me you've been dreaming about me for years?"

"Oh my god, Bucky. Shut up," you said with a laugh.

He grinned. "Hey, sweets, I'm not mad about it." He parked the car. "You're home...safe and sound."

Suddenly everything began to feel more real. Bucky must have noticed the panic on your face because he reached out and gently touched your hand. "Hey...we don't have to do this. I can just drop you off and head home. No hard feelings."

The weak part of you...or maybe it was the scared part...wanted to thank him for the ride and just go upstairs alone. But the majority of you was dying to have this man's head between your legs. "Will you come upstairs with me, Bucky?" you asked.

He groaned slightly. "It would be my pleasure."

"I'm hoping it will be mine," you said lightly.

He laughed and his eyes darkened. "Oh doll, it absolutely will be."

You grinned and got out of the car. Bucky quickly followed you up the stairs and into your apartment. The moment you entered the apartment, Bucky shut the door and pressed your body against it, kissing you with a deep kind of passion you'd never felt before. "Bucky," you gasped when his lips left yours.

"Yes, sweets?"

"Is this--I mean--do you just want to have sex? I just want to know now so I know what I'm getting into and I--"

He cut off your rambling with a soft kiss. "Doll, I adore you. Every damn thing about you. I have for years. It's wrong, I know it is, but I want more. I want all of you, every part. But if you only want sex, I underst--"

You pressed your finger against his lips. "Stop right there. I want more," you whispered.

Bucky groaned and pressed his forehead against yours. "Say that again, doll."

"I want you, Bucky. All of you."

"Fuck," he whispered. He pressed his hard body against your soft one and kissed you like you were his life support. You tangled your fingers in his soft hair and he moaned against your lips. He slipped his hands under your ass and lifted slightly. "Jump, pretty girl." You did as he asked and wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you to your bed and laid you down gently.

"You gonna take my clothes off or are we just going to kiss for hours?" you asked sassily.

"There's that brat again. You're really asking for a good fuck, aren't you doll?"

"Are you just gonna talk about it or are you gonna do it?" Where the hell is this confidence coming from?

Bucky's normally crystal blue eyes darkened. "Doll, you're moving into dangerous territory here. I'm not one of those little college boys you're used to."

You sat up and touched his chest lightly. "No, you're a man and I expect you to show me what you can do."

Bucky grinned. "Oh doll, you're in for a treat." He stood up and started to strip. Your mouth watered as you watched him. His body was sculpted, every inch covered in thick muscles that you were dying to run your hands over.

He quickly shed his pants, followed by his boxers, leaving him completely naked in front of you. You stared in silence for a moment, causing him to chuckle. "Like what you see?"

You gulped. "You--you're...huge."

He laughed at your wide-eyed expression. "Bigger than you're used to?"

You nodded, worry etched onto your pretty features.

"Don't worry, sweets. I'll take good care of you. I promise to be gentle."

"I don't necessarily want you to be gentle..."

"Oh?" he asked as he crawled back on top of you. "So you like it a little rough?" he asked teasingly.

You nodded.

"Use those words, sweets."

"Yes, Bucky."

He grinned. "That's a good girl."

You let out an involuntary moan that made him grin. "You've got a praise kink, don't ya sweets? You wanna be a good girl for me?"

"Yes, Bucky, please."

"Okay, sweets. Why don't you take that dress off for me?" He sat back so you could sit up and remove it. Once you'd discarded the dress, he leaned forward to help you remove your bra and panties. The moment you were naked, he sat back again to take in your body.

He was silent for several moments and you suddenly felt self-conscious. You knew you'd gained weight during college, so you were a little worried that he wasn't attracted to your naked form. You started to cover your midsection with your arms and hands, but Bucky stopped you, holding your hands at your sides. "Don't. I'm trying to admire perfection."

You let out a little gasp at his words. You felt a warmth spread all over your body and couldn't breathe for a moment. No guy had ever said that to you. Hell, the last one told you he'd cheated because you'd 'gotten fat'.

Bucky noticed the look on your face. "Hey, where's that pretty little head at?"

You tried to smile. "It's nothing."

He held your chin and tilted it up so you met his eyes. "Don't do that with me, sweets. What's wrong?"

You sighed. "I've been pretty confident my whole life, but college was a little tough at times. I, uh--I put on some weight and I'm a little self-conscious of it. John even said that he cheated on me because I'd gotten fat."

Bucky's eyes flashed with anger. "He said what?"

You looked down, but Bucky held your face firmly.

"That asshole isn't worth a damn, (Y/N). Your body is absolutely perfect, just like the rest of you. I happen to like a little softness to my women."

"Oh?" you asked in surprise.

He leaned forward to give you a kiss and squeezed the flesh on your hips. "This is the sexiest damn thing in the world, sweets. I wanna worship every inch of this perfect body."

The praise went straight to your core. "Well I'm not going to stop you," you said sassily.

He chuckled lightly. "There's my girl."

My girl? Your body shuddered in response. You didn't realize how badly you wanted to be his girl until that moment.

Bucky noticed your reaction and he grinned. "You like that, doll? You wanna be my girl?"

"So damn badly, Buck."

He groaned and rutted against your bare core. "I'm going to absolutely ruin you, doll."

"You talk a big game, James, but why don't you show me."

"Fuck," he groaned as his fingers dug into your flesh. "I love the way you say my name."

You grinned. "James," you moaned.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him. "By the end of this, you're going to be screaming my name." He kissed you passionately and your fingers dug into his hair. "Doll, I'm going to need you to sit on my face."

"What?" you asked in surprise.

"I wanna taste this sweet pussy and feel your thick thighs squeezing my head while you ride my mouth."

No one had ever asked you to do that before. You weren't even sure what the logistics of that were. "I've never done that," you admitted softly.

Bucky looked surprised. He laid down on his back and reached for you. "Come here, sweets. I'll guide you."

You climbed up on top of him and he slid down a bit so you were hovering over his head. He gripped your hips and lowered you down slightly.

"Relax, doll. I've got you."

"What if I smother you?"

"Then I will die I happy man."

You smacked his arm. "Bucky, I'm serious."

"So am I. Just trust me."

You nodded and took a deep breath. Bucky dug his fingers into your hips and tugged you down onto his mouth. He let out a groan before licking your pussy. "Fuck, doll, you taste good." He wrapped his arms around your legs and held you down.

Each swipe of his tongue sent waves of pleasure through your body. You had never in your life had a man eat you out like this. He ate you out like he was absolutely starving and you were an all-you-can-eat buffet. You were certain your neighbors could hear your moans, but you couldn't be bothered to care. "Bucky, please don't stop."

Bucky sped up his movements and helped guide your hips back and forth, effectively grinding you against his face. You gasped in pleasure and clung to your headboard for support.

Your moans began to increase in both volume and frequency, letting Bucky know you were close. He dug his fingers into you and he sucked your clit into his mouth, letting out a moan that sent vibrations of pleasure through you.

"Bucky!" you cried out as your orgasm exploded through you. It felt absolutely incredible, unlike anything you'd ever felt in your life. The pleasure soon became unbearable and you tried to remove yourself from his mouth. "Buck, too much. Please."

He was still holding you in his iron grip and he groaned against you. "But..." You tugged on his hair and tried to move again. He finally let you go and you collapsed beside him.

"That was incredible," you mumbled, still breathless.

Bucky wiped his mouth and licked his lips. "You tasted incredible."

You laughed lightly. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

He grinned. "I'd like a little more, actually." He moved on top of you and tried to go down on you again, but you grabbed his hands and pulled him towards you.

"No more, James, please."

He groaned. "It's hard to resist, especially when you say my name like that."

You grinned. "I can think of something else to do that I think you'll like just as much."

"Oh yeah?" he asked teasingly.

You bit your lip and ran your hands down his body. You loved the feel of his tight muscles under your fingers. When you reached his lower body, you wrapped your hand around his throbbing cock. You started to stroke him gently and his body immediately reacted to your touch.

Bucky started to breathe a little more heavily and he let out a breathy moan when you ran your finger across his slit, collecting the precum that had beaded there. You lifted your hand to your mouth and licked the precum off your finger with a moan. "Delicious."

He groaned and rolled his eyes back. "Fuck, doll."

"I wanna suck your cock, Bucky. So badly."

His eyes widened slightly at your words. "I won't say no."

You grinned and pushed him back. "Stand up."

He did as you asked and you dropped to your knees in front of him. You licked your lips and took his cock into your hands, guiding it slowly into your mouth.

Bucky moaned and gripped your hair tightly as you took him as deeply as you could. You gagged slightly, but you kept sucking him and stroking what you couldn't fit into your mouth. He loved the way your mouth felt and he was desperate to fill that pretty mouth of yours with his cum.

You loved the way his cock felt in your mouth, so thick and heavy. You moaned around him, the vibrations making his body shake with pleasure. You grabbed his hips and started to move them back and forth slightly, hoping he would get the hint.

Bucky looked down at you and he murmured, "You want me to fuck that pretty mouth of yours, sweets?"

You groaned loudly and nodded your head as best as you could.

He smiled at you and gripped your head tightly. He began to thrust his hips slowly, but your moans encouraged him to speed up. "Shit. Doll, you feel so good."

He thrust a little deeper, causing you to gag. He looked down at you to check if you were okay and the look of your tear-filled eyes and his cock in your mouth was absolutely the greatest image he'd ever seen. You were loving every second of this and that only added to his pleasure.

He started to moan louder and his thrusts were a little weaker. "I'm so close, doll. Gonna cum in that pretty mouth."

You moaned around his cock and it was all he needed to push him over the edge. He came with a gasp of your name and you swallowed every drop of his cum. He pulled out of your mouth and collapsed on the bed. "Come here, doll."

You climbed onto the bed beside him and he wrapped his arms around you. "Just need a minute. That was amazing."

You smiled at him and kissed his chest. "Getting tired, old man?"

"Old man?" He flipped you onto your back and kissed you deeply. "I'm going to make you cum so many times you won't be able to walk for a week."

You grinned. "I can't wait." You pulled him down to you and kissed him passionately.

You heard loud ringing coming from your purse on the other side of the room. It was the ringtone you'd set for your dad's phone. "Shit. It's my dad."

Bucky grinned. "Go ahead and answer it, doll. He'll be worried if you don't."

You groaned and went across the room to grab your phone. You came back to the bed and sat down before answering it. "Hey dad."

"Hey, kiddo. Just wanted to make sure you got home okay."

You felt Bucky come up behind you, lips caressing your neck. "Yeah, Bucky got me home safely."

"Good, good. I'm so proud of you, (Y/N)."

"Thanks, dad." Your voice was a little shaky as Bucky's lips trailed down to your shoulders and his hands gently massaged your breasts.

You'd hoped your dad didn't notice, but you weren't quite so lucky. "You okay, kiddo?"

Bucky rolled your nipples in his fingers and you bit your lip to hold back a moan. "Mhmm."

"You sure? You sound a little strange."

You glared at Bucky and he bit your shoulder in response. You groaned and smacked him lightly. "Yeah, I'm just tired and I uh, stubbed my toe."

Bucky laughed soundlessly and you elbowed him lightly. He kissed your neck again and you leaned back against him.

"Okay, (Y/N/N). Get some sleep. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Love you."

"Love you too, dad."

The moment you hung up, Bucky flipped you over and pressed kisses to your breasts. He took his time showing each of your breasts attention.

"Bucky," you moaned softly. "You almost got us caught."

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked cockily.

"Never."

He chuckled and went back to what he was doing, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth and giving it a little nibble. You moaned and your hips bucked up against him, pulling a moan from his throat.

"I want you so badly, Bucky."

"Yeah, doll? What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to fuck me."

"Hmmm..." he nipped at your neck and ground his hips against you. "I'm not sure you're ready for me."

"Bucky," you whined. "But I've been such a good girl."

He groaned. "Yes you have, sweets. So good for me. I guess you do deserve a reward."

You grinned and pulled him towards you for a kiss. You lifted your hips up to brush against him and he grinned against your lips. "So eager." He brushed his hand up against your core and collected some of your slick. He slid a finger into his mouth and let out a low groan. "Is this for me, sweet girl?"

"All for you, Bucky."

He gripped your hips and lined his cock up with your entrance. "You ready, doll?"

You took a deep breath and nodded.

He noticed your worried expression and offered you a soft smile. "Do you want me to go slow?"

You shook your head. "I want you now."

Bucky tightened his grip on your hips and plunged into you with one thrust. You cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure. You dug your nails into his back and he allowed you a moment to adjust.

"Please move, Bucky. I'm ready."

He nodded and placed his hands on either side of your head, caging your body beneath his. Without warning, he set an absolutely brutal pace. "Fuck, doll, you feel so good. This pussy was made for me."

You moaned and clutched his biceps for support. You could hardly breathe, let alone think.

"You take me so well, sweets."

"Bucky," you moaned. "Feels so good."

He kissed your forehead and quickened his pace. "I could stay here forever." He angled his hips to drive even deeper into you.

With the new angle, he hit your sweet spot with each thrust, sending you so close to the edge. "Bucky, don't stop."

"Oh don't you worry, sweets. I won't." Bucky kept the brutal pace and you quickly tumbled over the edge, crying out in pleasure as you came. True to his word, Bucky didn't stop. He continued to thrust into you, building your pleasure up once again.

Your brain couldn't formulate words; the pleasure was too overwhelming. You clung to Bucky like he was the only thing keeping you tied to Earth.

"You gonna cum for me again, doll?" You just moaned in response, earning a light chuckle from Bucky. He leaned down to you and kissed your lips. His hips never faltered as he whispered, "Cum for me, (Y/N)."

Within moments, you cried out in pleasure for the third time that night. Your orgasm washed over you in waves. Bucky continued his movements, now chasing his own high.

Bucky's body began to tremble slightly and his thrusts became less steady. "Fuck, doll. I'm close."

You touched his face and murmured, "Fill me up, Bucky. I wanna feel your cum inside me."

Your words were the last thing Bucky needed to send his body into overdrive. He came with a cry of your name and filled your pussy with his seed.

As he came down from his high, he pulled out and laid down beside you for a moment. "That was fucking incredible."

You laughed lightly. "I'd have to agree."

He turned to face you. "So you think it's an improvement from the last guy?"

You turned your head to look at him. "Buck, you're lightyears away from every man I've ever been with."

He grinned and kissed you gently. "That's what I like to hear. I'll be right back." He got out of the bed and came back a few moments later with a warm wet towel. He cleaned you up before crawling back into the bed with you.

You curled up against him and laid your head on his shoulder. "Bucky, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, doll."

"I know we kinda talked about it, but I just want to make sure. Was this just a one-night stand kind of situation?"

He held you a little tighter. "I'd really like this to be a more long-term thing."

You looked up at him. "Like...dating?"

He sensed the nervousness in your voice and he placed a kiss to the top of your head. "Yeah, doll. Like dating."

Your body relaxed and you leaned into him again. "Good because you have definitely ruined me for all other men."

He laughed. "I told you I would." He paused for a moment. "What the hell are we gonna tell your dad?"

"Oh I'm definitely not gonna be the one to do that," you said with a chuckle.

"Why not?! He's less likely to kill you."

You smiled and placed a kiss against his chest. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, Bucky. For now, let's just be happy together."

He squeezed you tight. "Alright, doll. You make me happier than I've been in years."

"You too, Buck," you said as you yawned.

He kissed your head again and murmured. "Goodnight, sweets."