Swinging the door open, you see a much younger man sitting on a swivel stool looking over some notes. His hair is long and wavy, so long he's scraped it into a low ponytail, and there's a sprinkle of stubble over his face. As he looks up, you're met with the deepest, most soulful brown eyes you've ever seen. And is that, an eyebrow piercing? He flashes a grin, one filled with such mischief that for a second you forget why you're here. 

“Well hello! You must be my next patient. Take a seat right here.” 

He pats the treatment chair but you still stand gormlessly by the door. 

“You're not Dr Burke.”

Well done idiot, state the obvious.

“Seems your eyesights OK.” 

He shoots a wink at you which immediately turns your insides to jello. 

“Dr Burke retired actually. I'm Dr Munson, I just moved to the city. You can call me Eddie.” 

He extends a hand out to you. Shuffling forward in your pencil skirt you click your way over to him and take his hand. It's huge, enveloping your own, but he holds your hand with care and shakes it very gently. 

He lets go to wash his hands and put a pair of latex gloves on. 

“You know you don't have to dress up to go to the dentist, but it's appreciated.” 

Is he flirting with me? 

“I-I was at work this morning.” 

You perch on the seat and pull your legs up, sliding your handbag to the floor. 

“So, what seems to be the problem?” 

“I was, well…” 

“It's OK sweetheart, I ain't gonna tell you off.” 

Sweetheart? Oh Holy Shit. 

You found yourself clenching your toes in your heels. This guy is far too hot to be a dentist.

“I was eating a sucker and I, well, I bit down, broke my back right wisdom tooth. It shattered.”

He scoots his stool towards you and instructs you to open your mouth. As he examines you he hums, feeling inside your mouth with a gloved hand. 

“Yup, that's broken up alright. I'm sorry, that must be painful. Don't worry, I'll do my best to help. I'm gonna do an x-ray, that OK?” 

“Yeah.” 

Pulling a little plastic T instrument from his desk, he wheels back over.

“Now, this is going to be uncomfortable, and I'm real sorry. Open your mouth and I'll slide it in gently.” 

Face flickering a violent shade of red, you nod. Surely he's aware of how this sounds?

“OK, open wide, that's it.” 

He puts the little contraption in your mouth.

“OK, now bite down. I know, it's uncomfortable. It'll just take a second. That's it, just breathe for me.” 

It's not intolerable but it's not exactly nice. A moment before it would have been too much he takes it out. 

“That's it, did so good for me. Well done sweetheart.” 

Now, this is not the fucking time to have these sorts of feelings. A heat had started  spreading between your legs that you haven't felt for quite some time. 

“Hmm,” Eddie said as he looked at the x-ray, “I definitely need to remove those pieces. I'm a bit concerned about the tooth above it. That's got a cavity, it'll need to be removed, but it'll need surgery I'm sorry to say.” 

“Surgery? Oh God.” 

“Hey, it'll be alright. I'd do it now but it's too risky. Never had to go into surgery before?” 

Laughing nervously, you fiddle with your fingers. 

“I've never had a tooth removed! I'm a tooth removal virgin.” 

The words just flew out and there was nothing you could do to pull them back. Eddie leaned in a little, a cheeky glint in his eye. 

“Well, then I'll be extra gentle.” 

A stare that's a fraction too long, and he scoots back over to his desk. Not long after he's got a needle in his hand.

“Now, I'm gonna need to numb the area, and this is going to be painful. But once this is done, that's the worst of it. If you need me to stop at any point, you just raise your hand. That OK?” 

“Sure, do what you need to.”

“Atta girl, so brave for me. Open your mouth wide.” 

My good God this man and his words; you can picture yourself on your knees in front of him as he says the same things.

Atta girl, take it a little deeper, that's it, so good for me… 

Squirming hotly in your seat, you do as instructed and his gloved fingers invade your mouth once more. 

“OK, you're gonna feel a sharp scratch, it'll go on for a few seconds, doing it now… good girl.” 

As he says ‘good girl’ two things happen. He injects your gum, and you flood your panties. The pain is inconsequential at this point, you just want him to keep talking to you like that.

“OK, one more sweetheart… that's it, so brave, look at you, taking it so well.” 

He stares at you with those soft brown eyes and once again you forget entirely why you're here. 

“Now, you should start to feel your lips tingle, it'll mean it's working.” 

Your dirty mind can't help but think; which lips? 

As a numbness invades your mouth, you let him know. 

“Yeah, it's definitely working.”

“Good stuff. Now, I'm gonna feel in your mouth again, OK?”

You nod, beyond words, and he puts his fingers in your mouth. 

“Now, if you need me to stop, what do you do?” 

Sheepishly you hold your hand up.

“That's it, atta girl. Such a good listener.” 

Nothing you can do but beam inwardly at the praise.

“Now, you can feel me right here, but there should be no pain, yeah?” 

Resisting the urge to moan around his fingers, you make a sound akin to a muffled ‘uhuh’.

“Awesome, now just hold still, you'll hear some crunching and feel pressure, and then it'll be done.” 

As he pulls a shiny implement from a tray and starts working the tooth shards from your mouth, you focus on his forehead, at the look of total concentration. How the lines on his forehead furrow. How his beautiful eyes harden slightly. How his perfect pink tongue dips out… 

“All done.” 

“Huh?” 

He laughs, a rich, bubbling thing, and nods.

“Yup. You're good. Need to make an appointment at the desk for the other tooth though.”

“Will you be doing that?” 

It rushes out in a blather which you can't control. 

“Sure thing sweetheart. Just ask at the desk for me.” 

“OK. Thanks.” 

“Not a problem. Got to be there for my favourite patient.” 

He flashes another wink at you which seems to rush straight to your knees as you get up and leave on newborn foal legs. Reaching the door, you hear his voice ring out behind you. 

“And what should we do with suckers next time?” 

Turning to face him, he raises an eyebrow, awaiting your response with the most serious expression he's given you so far. 

“I should… suck?” 

“Yeah you should.” 

A mind altering grin later and he's turning back to his desk. 

I should suck? What the hell is wrong with you! You need to get laid like, yesterday.

********************

It's a couple of weeks later and you're laying in the most unflattering hospital gown known to man with your best friend Alex who is trying to distract you. 

“Honey, you'll be fine, they're putting you under! It's like, free drugs!” 

You laugh at his antics, smiling with nerves. 

“It's not the surgery, its-” 

You hear mumbling in the doorway, two nurses gossiping in what they must think is out of earshot. 

“Did you hear? Dr Munsons performing the surgery?” 

“Yeah, he's not even supposed to be here. I hear Dr Stevens is pissed.” 

As they walk away, continuing their whispering, you look over to Alex who is smirking at you. 

“Oh, so he's not even supposed to be here? Ooh he likes you!” 

You blush, thinking about the other day. 

“No! I… I asked for him, that's all. You know I don't like this sort of shit.”

“Ah, so you thought Dr Dreamy would make it bearable huh?” 

“Shut up!” 

Dr Munson walks in then, smiling that smile that held a firm grip on your panties. Alex's eyes widen as he mouths the word ‘hot’ to you. You subtly nod your agreement and then smile at Eddie.

“Well, fancy seeing you here.” 

“Couldn't stay away,” you respond, rolling your eyes. He chuckles back and looks you up and down. 

“I told you sweetheart, no need to get dressed up for me.” 

“What, this old thing?”

You share a laugh whilst Alex's eyebrows raise practically through the roof. This is clearly crossing some line, this banter between you, but he's the doctor and he started it. 

Soon, the procedure has been explained and they're wheeling you out of there and putting you under anaesthesia. 

“OK, good job, such a brave girl. Now, countdown from ten for me.”

“Ten, nine, eight…” 

********************

Blinking bleary-eyed, you look around and catch the eye of your friend. 

“She's awake! You OK?” 

You are OK. In fact, you're fantastic. 

“I'm great! M'I goin’ in surgery now?” 

“You've been, it's done! It's all fine.”

“Huh?” 

A fantastically handsome man walks in, entirely distracting you. Long hair, sparkling eyes, a gorgeous smile, and a slender tall frame. He's so hot. Wait, you can just say he's hot, right? 

“Wow, wh'ryou? You're suuuper hot.” 

He laughs, looking a little embarrassed. 

“I'm Dr Munson, remember? Eddie. The er, drugs will wear off soon.” 

“Eddie!” 

You sit up immediately, despite the hands that shoot out to keep you still. 

“Now, take it easy, the ketamine makes people act a little funny. How are you feeling?”

“M’great! All… floaty like. S’good shit.” 

Eddie laughs as Alex holds his head in his hands. 

“Good to hear. It'll wear off soon, I'm sure your boyfriend will take good care of you.” 

“Nooo he's n’my’boyfrien’. He's suuuper gay. Ya’single? I no’had- not had any for nine months!” 

Alex pipes up. 

“Honey, you know I love you, so much, but you need to shut your mouth.” 

Eddie laughs, flashing his perfect teeth. 

“He's got a point. Glad you're doing good, the surgery went smoothly, so you'll be good to go in a few minutes.”

“Thank's'much Eddie. God, you're s’gorgeous. Did I do good?” 

Eddie looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. 

“Course you did. The best. That's why you're my favourite patient.”

Holding your hand up to your mouth and doing the worst stage whisper known to man, you look at Alex. 

“See? Tol’ ya, his wors’ make me wet.” 

“...aaaand that's the line. Thanks for taking care of her Dr Munson, I'll get her home safe.” 

With protests from you, Eddie shuffles awkwardly out of the room. After a little while you're discharged, with Alex promising to look after you until you're back to normal.

********************

The strong coffee aroma assaults your nostrils; you take a massive inhale of your cup as if the caffeine could be absorbed by smell alone. The coffee shop was busy this Saturday morning but you'd managed to carve out your little comfy seat and tiny table so you can work on your writing. It was a relief after the busy week you've had to actually focus on something you love. 

The noises and chatter of the place wash over you as you zone out, thinking of how to handle the plot twist coming up. It needed to be thoughtful, but unforced, as if the characters… 

“Well, if it isn't my favourite patient.” 

“Huh?” 

You look up and see a very familiar pair of eyes. Eddie. The rest of him however, looks very different. 

Eddie's in an old Iron Maiden t-shirt, worn with age, and tight black jeans. A chain hangs low at his hip, and his large hands are adorned with silver rings. His hair is loose and unkept around his shoulders, but his signature smile still beams at you. His forearms are on display, covered in tattoos. It's certainly not what you were expecting. How did he just get even hotter? 

Remembering what Alex told you about how you made an utter fool of yourself brings you out of your revelry. The stuff you said to him after surgery makes you visibly cringe. You were torn between wanting to ask him out and wanting the ground to swallow you whole. 

Cheeks blazing with heat, you find your voice.

“Eddie! Er, hi.” 

“You mind if I sit here? It's pretty packed.”

Gesturing at him to make himself comfortable, he swings his leg over the stool opposite and sits down, mug of steaming coffee in his hands. 

“What brings you here?” 

“Well, I write. As a hobby, you know? Needed to get out of the house and get some done. And you?” 

He points a thick finger across the street and you gulp in your throat, remembering the feel of those fingers in your mouth. 

“There's a record store across the way, I was scouting for anything I've missed. Unlucky today it seems.” 

It was weird seeing him here. Like when you see a teacher in the wild. Except you're not a kid, and the teacher is fucking fine. 

You nod and share a very uncomfortable silence. 

“Listen, I'm sorry for anything I said-” 

“Hey, don't worry about it sweetheart, it was the drugs. Trust me I've heard some weird shit!”

He seems to shrug it off and you breathe a sigh of relief. The last few weeks all you've managed to think about is how much of a fool you've made of yourself. Hopefully he's chalked it all up to the drugs. No need for him to know you were speaking the truth.

“I gotta say, you don't look like a dentist.” 

Eddie laughs, a perfect deep laugh that has you squirming in your seat. 

“Yeah, I get that alot. I er, used to get beat up when I was a kid. I got punched real hard once, broke my jaw. It was wired shut for like six weeks. After that, well, you find some respect for dentistry. Thought I'd give it a shot, went to school. Seems I have a knack for it. I have an impeccable bedside manner, apparently. Or so I'm told.” 

I'll say. 

“I can- I can see that.” 

He blazes a grin at you that damn near combusts your insides. And that's what you blame for the thing that's about to fall out of your big mouth.

“Listen, I know this is crazy but can I have your number?” 

What the fuck are you doing?? Hitting on your dentist?

It seems your word vomit was indeed something that happened in real life and not just in your head. Eddie looks pained as he warms his hands on his coffee mug. 

“Listen, sweetheart, you're a very pretty girl but… I can't. It'd be wrong of me, you're my patient and-” 

“No, I get it, it was dumb, ignore me.” 

You grab your belongings at the speed of lightning and stuff everything into your bag. 

“Hey, sweetheart, wait, I literally ca-” 

Hell no. 

You've made more of an idiot of yourself than you're prepared to be comfortable with. Now, cheeks burning hotly you shoulder your heavy bag and bustle out of the store, leaving an open mouthed Eddie sitting there with his arm outstretched.

********************

Today was the cherry on top of the icing on top of the cake of embarrassment. You've never asked a guy for his number before and the first time you do you're shot down? Confidence well and truly knocked, you called around and found a new dentist, and then called your old dentist's office to let them know. There was no way you could face Eddie again after you'd made a fool of yourself three times. 

In an effort to cheer yourself up after that disastrous rendezvous, you'd dressed up, put on your highest heels paired with your shortest skirt and a red silk blouse, and went out for a night on the town. 

Now, you don't make a habit of sitting at the bar on your own. You've dealt with enough creeps in your time to know that it was a bad idea. However, when it comes to your friends, you can give a little leeway. 

Hence why you sat in your very short black skirt, heels tapping on the little rail on the bottom of the bar as you sip your Manhattan, watching your friend Alex out the corner of your eye have a make-out session with his new boyfriend. They were sitting at a table just to the right; you were on a barstool giving them a couple feet of privacy. 

It was getting a little old though. In the past half an hour three men had approached you. You can't lie to yourself, it was the reason you'd agreed to be a third wheel in the first place. Trying to manifest the right kind of man clearly wasn't working however. 

The first guy looked around twelve, with the wispiest facial hair you've ever seen. As he'd nervously bumbled a line at you, you told him you've never seen a theoretical moustache before. That saw the back of him. Contestant number two was the sleaziest douchebag in the whole bar, perhaps the entire city. He was the hardest to deal with; you'd ended up just turning away and ignoring him until he'd left. Number three was some balding, middle aged man with a pot belly and a stained tie. Exhausted by the previous two, you interrupted his practised line with one clear and concise ‘No’.

Almost certain that your date tonight would involve you with your vibrator, you order another cocktail. On your left directly next to you a guy starts leaning on the bar and calls to the bartender. 

“Hey Jack, can I get a beer please, and whatever this lovely girl is drinking.” 

Rolling your eyes and turning to look at contestant number four, ready to tell them to fuck right off, you realise its Eddie. Of course it fucking is. The universe seems to have a horrible sense of humour today. He's still in his jeans and boots, but now sporting a burgundy shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Stupid dentist and his stupid hot tattooed forearms. 

“Are you following me? I don't need a pity drink thanks, I'm good.” 

You reach into your purse to pay for the drink you ordered but Eddie already has cash in his hand. He pays for it anyway and leans on the bar facing you. 

“It's not pity, it's an apology for earlier. And I think you're the one following me, I live two floors up.” 

Lips pressed into a firm line, you stir your drink with its cocktail stick and pretend that dentists don't exist.

“You can't just ignore me, you know.” 

Taking a sip of your drink you continue to stare resolutely forward. 

“OK, you can just ignore me, but I'd like it if you didn't.” 

Another sip, and you pull the little cherry off its stick and chew it. 

“So, you got a thing for dentists or is it just me, sweetheart?” 

That's it, you turn angrily to face him and scowl. 

“That's totally unfair you can't just-”

“Ha, got ya talking.” 

He's grinning at his little victory, laughter lines creasing near his eyes. If your eyes could shoot daggers you're sure he would have died from blood loss at this point. 

“Listen, I'm sorry, OK? I would have said yes in a fucking heartbeat, but I could lose my license.” 

Your eyes soften; he's clearly telling the truth and it does make sense. His licence hadn't even entered your mind. 

“I understand. Sorry for being rough on you.” 

“Don't worry about it. I just thought I better clear the air if I'm gonna be your dentist.” 

“Oh, don't worry about it. You're not.” 

“Huh?”

Looking down at the bar and drawing circles in the condensation from your drink with a finger, you explain. 

“I couldn't face seeing you again, so I, ha, ran off to a different dentist. It's a half hour out of my way, but never mind.” 

Eddie's posture changes immediately, standing fully to attention. 

“You're not my patient anymore?” 

“Nope,” you reply, and knock back the last of your drink, “I'm not.” 

“You're not my patient anymore.” 

You risk looking back at him; he's wide eyed, nodding in your direction, as if he's just told a joke that you didn't get. Face scrunched with confusion, you blink it away as a light bulb pings on inside your head. 

“Oh. I'm not your patient anymore.” 

The grin that slowly unfolds across Eddie's face is damn right sinful. 

“You wanna come upstairs?” 

“Hell yes.” 

Leaping lightly off of the bar stool, you turn to dislodge your coat from the back of Alex's chair and wave at him frantically to tell him you're leaving. He turns to you, then Eddie, then back to you with what can only be described as A Look. If you weren't so excited you would have admonished him, but who the fuck cares. 

Eddie grabs your hand firmly and pushes through the thronging crowd with you in tow. The cold night air hits you like a blow to the chest when you escape, as does your rash decision. 

Eddie seems to sense your hesitation. Pulling you into a doorway he grabs your other hand and looks at you. 

“Sweetheart, you know you don't have to do anything you don't want to. We can just go upstairs, have a drink, or not, and chat. Really.” 

“Really?” You cock your head with the question as he licks his bottom lip with a pink tongue, dragging it to his perfect teeth to bite. He looks nervous, and for some reason, that is doing it for you right now. 

“Really. I'm just saying we don't have to rush-” 

The rest of his sentence is swallowed whole by your kiss as you tip your head up and push your lips against his firmly. Eddie grabs your waist with one hand, the other snaking into your hair to cradle your head. 

For a moment you forget about the cold, about the fact that anyone can see you like this right now. All that matters is the pounding heat of his body smashing against yours and the passion pouring from his tongue as it swipes and rolls and fills your mouth with unexpected moans.

Nails digging into his back, as if attempting to claw under his clothes, you force his body against the wall in the wanton desire to be closer. His hand massages the silk of your blouse at your waist, warmth spreading from his palm into your very flesh and seeping down between your legs. 

You'd have him, right here, against this wall, right now, if he hadn't pulled your head back softly to break the kiss. The tips of your noses rub together as you both gasp for the same air. He's smiling and biting his lip again, but this time it looks like a distraction to stop himself from devouring you. Eddie breaks the feral spell first.

“So, just a chat, yeah?” 

You both laugh, a giddy silly thing reserved for the two of you. 

“Yeah, you're probably right. Don't want to rush these things.” 

Nodding sagely, you take his proffered hand and let him lead you inside and up the stairs. 

You're not sure what you expect his place to look like, but you're pleasantly surprised at how open and spacious it is. Hardwood floors, big windows, a big black sofa, and an open kitchen area with a little breakfast bar. There's a wall of shelves with what must be hundreds of records, CDs and tapes on it, all neatly organised and displayed, and an expensive looking sound system. Two guitars sit by the couch as if they'd been played recently, along with an amp that seems to be doubling as a side table. There's a small pile of boxes over by one wall that have yet to be unpacked. And that's it.

No wonder it looks so spacious, there's nothing in it. 

“Eddie, it's a great place, but er, where's all your stuff?” 

He looks a little sheepish as he flicks a standing lamp on and shuts the curtains. 

“Yeah. Got the basics sorted; kitchen, bedroom, music. Honestly, never lived anywhere this big before, and my last place came furnished.” 

He gestures widely at the sofa with a swing of his arm and you perch on it, ankles crossed, fully aware of how short your skirt is. 

“So, you wanna drink? Unfortunately I can't make a Manhattan but I’ve got rum, some vodka, sodas, maybe a beer?” 

“What do you mean you can't make a Manhattan? What sort of establishment is this?” 

You huff dramatically, folding your arms. 

“I'm terribly sorry Ma’am, I shall have a word with the management.” 

Eddie falls to one knee in a low bow, a mock plea for your forgiveness and the sheer goofiness makes your heart do a little hop inside your chest. 

“What can I possibly do to make it up to you?” 

His eyes are open, honest and sincere. But the grin fighting to crawl over his face is naughtiness personified.

“Well I shall have a beer now, and maybe you can make it up to me later?” 

Smirking, he presses a soft kiss to your knee, then another, to the side of it. Letting his teeth drag further he playfully nips at the outside of your thigh and smooths the area with a lick. 

Breathe. Remember, you need oxygen to live. 

You take a harsh, ragged breath in as if inhaling for the first time and try to concentrate on slowing your heart rate. This is madness, you feel wrecked from a sprinkling of kisses. 

Feeling Eddie's soft chuckle as the air from it dances on your thigh, he gets back up looking far too pleased with himself. 

“You know, you shouldn't be that forward with a lady.” 

Throwing his head back and laughing loudly he walks around the back of the couch. Directly behind you, he begins talking again. 

“I don't see a lady here.” 

Whipping your head around to reprimand him, he bends to your level and whispers in your exposed ear. 

“I see a very good girl.” 

Words die in your throat having never reached your tongue. There's no witty repartee, just an odd noise that blurts out of you, halfway between a whimper and a squeak. 

Eddie walks away towards the fridge to grab your drink, no doubt with a very smug look on his face. In his absence you fan yourself to try to quench some of the raging heat within, but at this point it's like throwing a water bomb at a house fire. Undoing one button on your blouse, you let the girls have a little air at least. 

He returns, drinks in hand, and offers one to you with a bow of his head. 

“Milady.” 

You take it and sip as Eddie sits next to you. 

“I thought I wasn't a lady?”

“You are right, absolutely right,” he responds, shuffling closer to put an arm around you, and nuzzles your neck teasingly, “and I am not a gentleman.” 

You reach out to the side, and realise there's nowhere to put your beer. 

“Eddie, you need a coffee table or something.” 

“Just, put it on the floor.” 

Placing it gently on the floor, wincing as you do so, you mumble half to yourself, “if my mother could see me now…” 

“I'm sure she'd have more important things to say than about the lack of coasters, sweetheart.” 

“You have a very good point.” 

Eddie holds your jaw, softly turning your face to his own, and presses a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, and finally to your lips. It's more gentle than the searing heat of the last one; a languid spell of tongues finding their way against each other. 

As you both break away, Eddie strokes your bare thigh, whispering in your ear as he does so. 

“God, when you walked in my office, I thought I might have to switch professions. I just wanted to hike that tight skirt up and bury my face right here.” 

His hand moves up your leg, a finger ghosting over the top of your panties that makes a shiver work all its way to the tips of your toes. It's a bold move, and one you wouldn't stand for usually, but this is Eddie. You've been fantasising about this for the last two months. Hell, this scene has played in your brain so long it was almost like it didn't feel like the first time.

So, if he's going to be that bold, then bold it is.

“Well, I gotta confess, it took a lot for me to not moan around your fingers in my mouth.” 

Eddie groans loud, throwing his head against the back of the couch. 

“Fuck that's so hot. C'mere.” 

He's coaxing you into his lap and you follow his lead, swinging your leg across him and most likely giving him a choice view of your lacy underwear. His large hands wander over your frame, mapping out your curves with his eyes as well as his fingers. 

“Eddie.” 

You breathe it out, your hands resting on his shoulders. He's getting hard beneath you, you can feel it as your hips start to move back and forth of their own accord. 

“Hmm?” 

He doesn't look up, busy stroking your sides, thumb brushing your breasts with each pass. Every nerve feels like a live wire, feeling more needy than you think you've ever been. 

“Eddie, please, just kiss me.” 

“No.” 

“No?”

He does look at you then, giving you a cheeky smile.

“I think I've got the hottest girl in the city on my lap right now, let me savour it a little.” 

Rolling your eyes, you reach to the front of your blouse and start unbuttoning it slowly, letting the silky fabric fall off your shoulders and away. The fates seem to be in your favour for once; this is your best bra, adorned in satin and black lace.

“Well, someone's eager. Were you looking to get lucky tonight?” 

Eddie says as he smirks at you, a hand stroking up, over your laced covered chest, coming to rest on the side of your throat. 

“It's been a while Eddie, forgive me for being keen.” 

“Oh yeah, what was it? Nine months, right?” 

Cringing at his words whilst he chuckles, you rest your forehead on his shoulder to hide your face. 

“Technically no.” It's muffled into the fabric of his shirt.

“No?”

Still unwilling to look at him, you reply, “that was a few weeks ago. It's ten now.” 

Pulling you upright again, he playfully pouts, a little mocking face that's making your insides pulse. 

“Aw, poor, poor baby. Guess I shouldn't tease so much. Why don't you take this ridiculous skirt off and sit for me sweetheart.” 

It's comical how quickly you follow his directions, shuffling your skirt off and laying back on the sofa, ass near the edge, as he drops to his knees on the floor in front of you. 

“That's it, right there. Such a good listener.”

As he runs his hands up the inside of your thighs, you spread your legs to make room for him, breath quickening in anticipation. 

“I suppose I better check,” he says as he looks up at you with a serious expression, pierced eyebrow arching. 

“Check what?” 

“How wet my words made you.” 

‘Oh God!” you squeak, hiding in your hands, “I can't believe you remembered that!” 

“Remembered it? I can't think of anything else.” 

His thick rough fingertips reach higher and higher; he slips two under your panties, hooking them to one side as his digits glide through your wetness. 

“Oh sweetheart, you're soaked. That must be uncomfortable. Don't worry I'm gonna do something about that.” 

You're thinking of something clever to say back but your mind empties entirely as his touch moves to your clit and rubs slow, deliberate circles. 

The relief of him finally stroking just where you need it has you near tears, breathy gasps pulling from your chest and rushing out your mouth. 

His fingers leave you suddenly and you resist the urge to stamp your foot like an impatient toddler, fists tight at your sides. Eddie raises up on his knees, leaning toward your chest. 

“I'm gonna take this off first, that OK sweetheart?” 

He runs a finger between the valley of your breasts as he speaks, making your back arch into the hint of a touch. 

“Y-yes.” 

“Atta girl.” 

He reaches behind you and flicks your bra clasp, opening it with such ease that it makes you question internally how many times he's done that before. Then, he pulls the straps down slowly and with such reverence that you forget your thoughts. 

“Jesus Christ, you are just perfect aren't you.” 

Solid knuckles rub gently over a pebbled nipple making you whimper and bite your lip. Leaning in, his mouth is wet and warm, almost leisurely massaging your nipple, then giving the same amount of care and attention to the other. 

When his teeth graze you an unfiltered moan shoots out from you, entirely unbidden. 

“Wow, you're really sensitive,” he says when he unlatches his mouth. He pinches one abruptly and you cry out, hand grasping at his bicep in pleasurable shock. Licking his lips, he grins at you. 

“Oh we are gonna have a lot of fun sweetheart.” 

Running a finger just under the hem of your panties, he pulls them down as you assist him, lifting your ass to give him room. He shakes his head, biting his lip as he takes all of you in with his eyes now that you're entirely exposed, as if he can’t believe his luck. 

Kissing down your quivering form, he finally slips that overbold tongue of his between your folds, running it back and forth over your sensitive nub. His tongue searches you, taking care to leave no spot untouched. It's deliberate; a slow and intense exploration of your sex, as if mapping out every sweet spot, spurred on by the moans spilling from your lips with ever increasing frequency. 

Each sound you make is echoed, mirrored by Eddie, as if he was taking as much enjoyment in eating you out as you were in receiving it. The build up is as slow as his movements, but that certainly isn't a bad thing. Far from it. The feeling fizzing in your very blood is deep and profound, and it keeps building. 

Until Eddie does this twirling thing with his tongue that makes your eyes cross, that sets each one of your nerves on fire, fingers desperately grasping at his soft waves as you moan even louder. 

“Fuck, Eddie! Right there!” 

His words are muffled, a hint of amusement in them, but you're sure he says “yes ma'am.”

Then he does it again, and again, tongue twisting like it's independent from his body, swirling you into a deep pool of overwashing ecstasy. Back leaving the soft confines of the couch you clutch at his hair as your hoarse moans pound out of you, until you flop back down, a glistening panting mess. 

Eddie's still kissing your delicate parts, leaving soft, almost innocent kisses. He presses his lips to your clit again and you squirm, trying to get out of his gentle, grasping hands. It's a soft touch, but his hands are immovable, like velvet wrapped around a steel bar. 

“Eddie, fuck, I-I'm really sensitive-” 

“Oh I know sweetheart,” he says, pressing his mouth against you over and over, “but we're not done.” 

Staring at him wide eyed, he lifts one hand, ring and middle finger outstretched, and brushes the tips of them to your kiss bitten bottom lip. 

“Can you get these nice and wet for me sweetheart?”

Parting your lips slightly, he slips the fingers inside and you do as instructed, licking and suckling on them, surprised by how fiercely you wanted to. They felt rough and heavy on your tongue. Eddie's staring at you with a burning admiration in his eyes, still pushing his lips to you. He suckles softly at your clit making you writhe and moan around him. As he pulls his fingers out you call to him. 

“Eddie, I can't it's too much-” 

“Shhh, princess, do you really want me to stop?” 

A little drop of shame trickles down your throat at the thought. 

“No,” you whisper. 

“That's what I thought,” he says as his fingers circle your silken entrance, “be good for me sweetheart, good girls come twice.” 

You're not sure if the heady moan that you release is due to his fingers slipping inside you, or his words. It could be a combination of both. Stroking at you incessantly, his fingers drive into you, perpetually caressing that soft spot inside that makes your toes curl. 

Your release creeps up unsurprisingly fast. It's all force and pressure, a tightening, full feeling that's gripping your insides in its strong claws. One minute you're holding on to reality and the next, you're gone, floating away as the pressure melts and cascades from you like stardust. 

Your vision unblurring, you realise what's happened when the sound of it reaches your ears. That squelching, soaking noise of Eddie's fingers working you through the last throes of your pleasure. 

As you look down Eddie's staring at your dripping pussy with awe, having to pull his fingers out of you with a bit of force since you don't seem to want to let go. He sits back on his heels with a smile that could rival the Cheshire cats, absolutely coated in your juices. It's covering his face, his hand, and it's even darkened the front and sleeve of his shirt. 

An apology nestles on the tip of your tongue, but it stays there when Eddie speaks. 

“Atta girl, did so good for me. Fuck, I kinda want to see if you can do that again.” 

Opening your mouth for a witty remark, it escapes you. Your usually sharp mind is now the consistency of spray cheese. All that comes out is a soft little noise, a cross between a hum and a thank you. 

“Stay right there, I'll be back.” 

You giggle a little as he runs off. Where on earth does he think you'll go? And more importantly, how? 

When he returns his face and hands are clean, and crucially, he's shirtless. Lean muscle gleams in the low light, decorated with a dozen or so tattoos. He's got a cloth in one hand, and a glass of water in the other. 

“Here, drink up sweetheart, you need it.” 

You search for a hint of playfulness or smugness in his face and come up empty. In fact, he's staring, waiting for you to take a sip. When you do, he smiles, and goes about wiping the tops of your thighs. The cloth is even warm. You've never been given a warm cloth before, the closest being a handful of scrunched up tissues. 

“Eddie, where have you been all my life?” 

Laughing loudly, he sits next to you, stealing a sip of your water. 

“I came as quickly as I could.” 

It was a cheesy line, but you're beyond caring, a goofy grin smeared all over your face. 

“Can I take you to the bedroom?” 

You nod and before you can get up he's scooping you into his arms. 

“Eddie, I can walk you know,” you say as you drape your arms around his neck. 

“Oh I know, I just want to take care of you.” 

Fuck. You could move in tomorrow. 

The only things you notice about the bedroom are the soft blue of the duvet as he places you gently on top of it and the bedside lamps he flicks on that bathe the room in a warm glow. The rest doesn't matter, not right now. Your eyes are on him as he stands at the edge of the bed, looking at you as if you were a beautiful sculpture carved from the finest marble. 

Getting up on your knees, you smile cheekily up at him as you hook your fingers into the worn denim and pop the top button. 

“And what do you think you're doing?” He asks, hand moving up to cradle your face. 

“I was going to return the favour.” 

You unzip the fly and pull them down, eyes widening at the swollen bulge in his trunks. They're tight, leaving little room for the imagination, but anything you may have imagined couldn't possibly compare to the real thing. 

“Not tonight sweetheart. Like I said, I want to take care of you.” 

He turns to the nightstand and rummages around, pulling out a packet of condoms. It's new, you notice, as he unwraps the film and takes one out, placing it on the side whilst he rolls his underwear off.

As he's putting it on you gawp shamelessly, truly wondering if it's actually going to fit. No wonder he's so confident. 

“Did you actually just turn down a blow job?” 

He smiles, crawling between your legs and caging your head between his arms. 

“What can I say, I'm a giver.” 

He stops for a moment, knuckles stroking your cheek. 

“You sure you wanna do this?” 

Smiling gently, you reach down and grasp his solid member making him jolt, and rub the tip through your slick. 

“Yes.” 

You line him up and his smile turns into an open mouthed groan, eyebrows knitting together as he starts slipping inside of you. 

“Eddie, holy- fuck.” 

“You're OK sweetheart, doing such a good job for me.” 

He pushes in further and you realise why all the foreplay was necessary. Clearly, he enjoyed it too, but you're not sure you could have taken him without it. When he's finally sitting flush inside you wince a little, hands tight on his shoulders. 

“You feel incredible, so tight for me.” 

Whimpering, you can feel your cheeks heat with the praise. 

“God you really do like my words don't you?” 

Grinning mischievously, he plants a soft kiss to your lips. It weirdly feels more intimate than him being inside you. 

“Y-yeah, it's really sexy Eddie.” 

His cock kicks up inside you, making you gasp a little. 

“You're really sexy. The little sounds you make, your moans.”

As if demonstrating that, he pulls out a little and thrusts in gently, forcing a quivering sigh from you. 

“See? Fucking perfect sweetheart.” 

He begins rolling his hips into you, never pulling out too much, as if he couldn't stand to be any further apart. 

One of his sinewy arms snakes its way underneath you, holding you close as he playfully nips your earlobe and breathing whispers into your ear. 

“How many times?” 

“Huh?” You respond, utterly lost in the feel of him dragging against your gripping walls. 

“How many times do you want to come?” 

You giggle, despite the situation, or maybe because of it.

“I don't usually, oh, get t-to choose, is there a- oh fuck- there a menu or something?” 

He chuckles and slows down just slightly, pushing into you devastatingly deep. 

“What's the most you've managed?” 

He's so thick, and the feel of him is otherworldly; it had you wondering how it'd feel without the layer of latex between you. 

“I can't- fuck- I can't think- like two?”

He stops, looking at you incredulously  with a furrowed brow.

“Two? We can do better than that.” 

He speeds up, leaning on one arm as his other hand finds its way down your torso and begins to rub your clit. That pulse inside you is sent into overdrive, mouth open and panting as you cling to his back, nails digging into his skin. 

Your release swells inside, growing, and intensifying, until it suddenly pops, showering you in pleasure. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes as you moan out your release an inch from his face.

“Atta girl,” Eddie says as he nudges you with his nose, “do that again.” 

Your clit feels a little sore, swollen and sensitive after so much pleasure. His touch is gentle, but it's still overwhelming. 

“Eddie, I-I can't, please-” 

“You want me to stop? I'll stop if you want that sweetheart.” 

The sharp feeling begins to dull, making way for another wave of euphoria that washes over your whole body. Legs twitching uncontrollably, you whine long and low, a flood of noises bursting from you that no damn could ever stop. 

“That a no, sweetheart?” 

“Don't stop don't stop don’t stop - oh!” 

You'd be embarrassed by the crazy noise you made as you come again, if you were even aware of it. A screeching loud moan, eyes scrunched as your body leaves the bed and your nails drag across his bare back. 

“That's it, knew you could, so good for me. Fuck, nearly lost it.” 

He does stop then, biting his lip to stop himself from unleashing his own orgasm as his breath comes in short huffs. 

“Eddie, you don't have to- ohmygod!”

The last of your sentence evaporates on your tongue as he hooks his arms under your legs and pushes your thighs flush to your chest. It seems even Eddie has lost the power of speech, dirty moans pouring from his mouth that rival your own. 

He's so deep, impossibly deep; as if he were in your guts at this point. You've never felt so full in all your life. Your third release is almost there, a tightening string wound around you, pulling and twisting and contorting your body into a writhing sweaty shambles. 

You're clenching and convulsing around his pumping length as he twitches inside you, his groans and grunts spurring you on. It's faster now, his thrusts becoming more erratic. Sweat clings to the very air, the heat in the room creating this cloying humidity that dampens each breath out, making hair stick to skin and creating loud slapping sounds of your conjunction. 

Eddie's face is red with effort, teeth gritted and lips tight. 

“Are you gonna come again? I can feel you. Please, sweetheart, please- fuck- I need it, I need it, come with me!” 

You let go. The tight string breaks and your orgasm spreads through your very soul; it's so profound and savage that tears spill out and down your cheeks with its intensity. Eddie joins you, coming as one with a drawn out groan that borders on feral. 

For a moment, you both revel in it, just panting, feeling sticky skin against skin, heartbeats slowing, muscles unwinding and relaxing. 

He finally unhooks his arms from your legs and you lay them shakily on the down as he clambers off, collapsing next to you on the bed. 

“You OK sweetheart?” 

“Hmm.”

It's all you can reply with, a little satisfied noise. Scooting closer to him, you place your hand hesitantly on his chest. 

“Hang on a sec.” 

He gets up and disposes of the condom, slowly padding out the room. Returning again with another glass of water for you, he hands it over with a raise of an eyebrow. This time you take it gratefully, chugging half of it before passing it back. 

A moment of panic grips your chest, followed by shame. You barely know him, yet you'd gone to his place with hardly any hesitation. 

As he lays back down next to you, scooping his arm around your back, you clear your throat. 

“I just, er, wanted you to know I don't usually do this.” 

“Hey, it's alright. Neither do I.”

Feeling slightly less trampy, you stroke his chest with delicate fingers, wishing for the moment to last but knowing it can't. 

“I don't think my legs work anymore, I think you'll have to call me a taxi.”

Eddie sits up suddenly, looking at you with anguish written all over his face. 

“You're not leaving, are you?” 

“Well, I don't fancy doing the walk of shame tomorrow in that outfit.” 

He pouts, looking much younger than he is. 

“Oh. Well, you can always borrow something to wear?” 

“That's even worse!” You laugh, hitting his chest softly. 

“Fine, then I'll go out in the morning and buy you something to wear.” 

Staring at him wide eyed, you realise he's not joking. 

“Really?” 

“Sweetheart, I'd buy you a whole new wardrobe if it meant you’d stay.” 

Heart beating just that little bit faster in your chest, you fight the tears that want to build up. 

“I just thought, you know, well, we don't know each other that well and that you might think this was just, a thing.” 

“You mean a one night thing?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. 

“C'mere.” 

Melting into his open arms, he kisses the top of your head.

“I want you to stay. I'll take you home Monday and-” 

“Eddie, tomorrow's Sunday.” 

“I know.” 

“Eddie, I have to work Monday. So do you!” 

You laugh, trying to break free of his arms but he doesn't let up. 

“Fine, I'll take you home tomorrow. Late. Then see you Monday night.” 

Face hurting from smiling, you settle into the cuddle, the swell of feeling in your chest almost too much for you right now. 

“Eddie I can't stay. I don't have a toothbrush.” 

You say it jokingly, and he squeezes you. 

“It's fine, I've got like 20 of them from work.” 

“Thief.” 

“I prefer to think of it as resourceful.” 

Suddenly he pulls you on top of him making you squeal. 

“So you gonna stay?” 

“Yeah, fine I'll stay.” You try to say it in a mocking manner but your silly grin belies your rolling eyes. 

“Good.” 

Holding you close, Eddie breathes such a sigh of relief; a deep one, one that sounds like he's been holding in for some time. A sigh that makes you feel special. 

Permanent Taglist (couple of these are assumed, if you want off let me know! Same if you want to be added sweethearts)

This year he’s wearing the one Eddie got him as a gift for his birthday. It’s black with a spatula and a two-pronged fork crossed in an ‘X’ formation with the words, 'My meat isn’t gonna rub itself.’ Eddie thought it was hilarious. Robin, on the other hand, shook her head muttering, ‘dinguses,’ under her breath. 

Every time they get together, Robin tries to show Eddie how nice it is to have a wife, often using Vickie as an example. It makes him roll his eyes—she’s so transparent, can’t hide her endgame if her life depended on it. 

Vickie hands Robin a plate of food she gathered for her from the buffet style table, the chatty woman too engrossed in a conversation with Eddie about the difference between Metal and Rock. 

“No, you misunderstand me! My point is rock is like an umbrella,” she makes a broad gesture above her head, “and metal—oh, thanks, hun!” She tips her head back to smile at Vickie’s figure behind her shoulder, taking the plate from her hands. 

Eddie can’t help but smile at their easy affection. He remembers hearing from Steve how horribly nervous Robin was about even talking to Vickie. Now they’ve been together for twenty-two years. Even that makes his cold, dead heart thaw a little. That is until Robin gives him a pointed look.

“Seeee? A wife is a plus! You don’t have to get your own food!” She says it like she’s trying to sell him the newest upgrade to his cellphone. It makes him shake his head, an amused expression settling onto his pale face. 

“Uh,” Vickie cuts in, a finger in the air as if making a point, “yes, you do have to get your own food. I’m only doing this because of that thing you did earlier.” Her voice lowers like it’s a secret Eddie shouldn’t hear. 

“Ah,” Robin nods, catching on to Vickie’s insinuation. “Yes, that thing that I did to you earlier with my thing on your thing.”

Eddie snorts, Robin has not changed in all his years of knowing her—never really a smooth criminal.

“You guys do know I know how the birds and the bees work—or,” he pauses, stuttering a bit before continuing, “I guess…the bees and the bees in this case.” His brow is scrunched, lip curled, cringing at his awkward save.

“You know I’d like to think that you do, Eddie. I really would, but I don’t see a ring on your finger.” Robin shakes her head, reprimanding him. 

Eddie guffaws, “What are you, Saint Robin? I need to marry first before I can have sex?”

“Well—,”

“And by the way, I have had sex before,” he implores.

“Sure you have, champ,” she pats his knee condescendingly, shooting him a placating look.

“Whatever, I don’t need to take this from you,” he mutters indignantly, getting up to check on Steve at the grill.

“Hey, buddy!” Steve drawls, flipping a burger before looking up at his best friend. 

Eddie grumbles a greeting, turning to face the party, his back to the grill, a cold beer in his hands. 

Eager to fill the silence, Steve picks the first subject that that comes to mind.

“I hate these singles, you know—,” he shakes his head, looking down at his messy grill station. He prepares to expand on his complaint, but Eddie beats him to it, a complaint of his own already on top of mind.

“Oh, please! Like you couples are a joy to be around! It’s always, ‘I gotta ask my wife,’ ‘Sorry, I can’t come out tonight, I’m too busy looking for my balls,’” he mocks. “News flash! They’re rolling around in her purse!”

Steve opens his mouth to ask Eddie what the hell he’s so bent out of shape for, but he can’t get a word in. The man’s too busy going off on one of his grand speeches—just like old times.

“I don’t need anybody, okay? I’m perfectly fine on my own! In fact, I’m more than fine. I'm happy! I’m glad I don’t have anybody waiting for me to get home! I’m fucking ecstatic that I get to eat alone! Nobody takes my food, I probably save thousands of dollars buying everything for one! Not everybody wants to be married and pop out a whole baseball team like you and your wife, Steve!”

Eddie’s meltdown draws the attention of a few surrounding partygoers, earning him some judgemental stares and curled lips. 

Steve looks at him like he’s grown two heads, his eyebrows furrowed, mouth agape as he lets Eddie’s words become stale in the hot summer air. Just really letting him stew in it before he decides to speak again. 

“Okay…project much?” He shakes his head in disbelief, “I was talking about the burgers. Robin bought me individually wrapped burgers, in single packaging. It’s been a bitch to unwrap all 30 of ‘em.” His explanation is saturated in a level of sass he hasn’t released in years. 

Eddie deflates at the sight of the scraps of white paper and cellophane littering the ground on the other side of the grill, feeling incredibly stupid right about now.

“Oh…yeah. I knew that…” He shoves his free hand into his pocket trying to fight through the embarrassment, “I love Jess, by the way. She’s great; gorgeous family you have there,” he rushes out, nodding his head with a forced grin that resembles bared teeth more than genuine happiness. 

Steve tilts his head incredulously, just in utter disbelief that Eddie would even think that’s a sufficient save. “Shut up.”

“Shutting up.” Eddie frantically nods, pressing his mouth shut, resigning himself to standing in the awkward tension he created. 

Thankfully, he’s ‘saved by the Robin’ as she comes rushing over with Vickie hot on her trail.

“Steve, you have a new neighbor! She just pulled in with her U-Haul, it looks like she’s unpacking everything herself.”

She stops to catch her breath, all the information spilling out in one excited spiel. In a flash, she turns her bright eyes to Eddie, his eyebrows raising at being singled out. “And she’s a total hottie! Maybe a little young, but you could be a manther!”

He recoils in disgust at the name, here we go again, he thinks. Matchmaker Robin to the rescue.

Steve looks at Robin like she’s grown two heads or asked him to go halfsies on a timeshare. “Robin!” he bites out, the clipped tone attempting to yank her proverbial leash like she’s a much too excited dog.

He can’t believe she just said that in front of her wife. If he said that in front of Jess, the balls that Eddie claims are in her purse would soon be at the bottom of Lovers Lake, right next to his weighted body. 

Vickie quickly cuts in, coming to her wife’s defense. “Oh, no, it’s fine! She is a total hottie,” she nods understandingly. 

“Robin, I am begging you to stop setting me up with the women you know.” Eddie holds his hands up, pressing them together, pleading with her. “Also, no offense, but you’ve lost all credibility in determining hotness. The last girl you set me up with looked like Uncle Wayne in a wig and a tube top,” he deadpans. 

“Um,” Vickie jerks her head back like she’s been slapped, a frown etched into her freckled face, “full offense taken, by the way.”

Before Eddie can tell her he didn’t mean to call her hotness as Robin’s wife into question, Robin is pulling him and Steve across the yard to the neighboring house. The one that’s been up for sale for six months.

Steve’s still clutching his spatula as he’s pulled away, shouting over his shoulder, “Honey, man the station! Don’t let my burgers burn!” He tosses the spatula to a very pregnant Jess who scrambles to catch it.

Eddie’s attempting to go deadweight, leaning back against Robin’s strong pull, but the woman must be on steroids because she’s trucking Steve and him along just fine. 

She pulls them from the backyard to the side of your driveway with frightening ease. When they arrive, your back is turned to them. You’re wearing high-waisted jean shorts and a pink tank top—an earnest attempt to stay cool in the hot Indiana sun. 

You’re reaching for a box you creatively labeled ‘clothes’ when you hear a woman’s voice behind you, causing you to turn around. 

“Hi, I’m Robin! Welcome to the neighborhood, I don’t live here! Here, have two men!” It all comes out in a jumble as she pushes Eddie and Steve forward towards you. “They can help you move whatever you need!” 

As quick as she arrived, she hurried away. You didn’t even get to introduce yourself to her. She just spoke quickly at you, then shoved two random men towards you. You watch her retreat back to the block party, amused confusion riddling your face.

In her absence, you turn to look at the men in front of you, hesitating on what to say—you’ve never had this happen before. Usually, men aren’t brought to you on a silver platter, despite your many wishes during ovulation week.

You open your mouth to say something when the man in the apron gets there quicker. “Sorry about her.” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, vaguely gesturing to where Robin disappeared to. “She can be really direct. I’m Steve! Nice to meet you.” He shakes your hand as you tell him your name. Both of you silently wait, eyeing his friend. It’s Eddie’s cue to introduce himself, but he’s too busy staring at you.

His jaw dropped the moment you turned around, thoroughly convinced he’s never seen a woman so beautiful in his entire life. The way your clothes fit you so nicely—your shorts might as well be painted on you. He’s immediately thinking lewd thoughts at the sight of the unyielding jean hem squeezing the fat of your thighs. 

He’s pretty sure he could paint your every feature from memory with how deeply his roving eyes are consuming your image. Don’t even get him started on the way your tank top accentuates your breasts. He feels like a teenager all over again, trying to think of math equations so he doesn’t pop an ill-timed boner. 

Then all of a sudden you’re looking at him. Everything is in slow motion: you’re coming closer; he’s breathing in deeply through his nose to desperately catch your scent; your gorgeous lips are moving and he’s imagining them moving up and down on his cock. But his reverie is broken when he feels a sharp pain in his ribs, sending him forward in a jolt, a sputtering cough tumbling out of his mouth.

Feeling like he just woke up from a dream, he quickly realizes Steve knuckle-punched him right in the ribs. Straightening up, he glares at his abuser before turning to you again. Your ethereal face looks across between concerned and amused at the actions his so-called ‘friend’ committed. He’s needs to have a talk with Steve about not hitting him like a 12-year-old in front of hot women—especially the hottest woman. 

“What?” Eddie mutters the question, having missed what you said before when he was too busy thinking about your lips on his—stop. Cringing, he considers how he probably sounds like such a doofus. ‘What?’ smooth, Munson, he thinks. 

But you don’t laugh in his face, call him an idiot, and go back to your work like you probably should. No, instead, you just grin at his clearly dumbstruck face. 

“I said, ‘And you are?’” You bat your lashes at him, tilting your chin down, never taking your eyes off of his. 

“Eddie…Munson,” he cringes at the way his name felt foreign on his own tongue just now. What the hell are you doing to him? You’re like some kind of siren and he’s a sailor being lured, except you’re not singing. Actually, you’re not even trying to lure him and he’s already showing up with goggles, flippers, and a snorkel, diving into the waves in your eyes, all on his own free will. If you are a siren, he’s planning to be your easiest catch yet. 

Steve’s watching his friend absolutely flounder in this interaction, shaking his head. ‘I’m happy alone,’ he mocks Eddie’s earlier words.

“Well, Eddie Munson,” you look him up and down like he’s a five course meal and you’re prêt-à-manger, “you look pretty strong, care to help a poor girl out?”.

“Yeah, I’m really strong,” he nods, unblinking eyes on yours, despite his awkward phrasing. That wasn’t what you asked, but his mind is running about as fast as Dial-up Internet. He sounds like one of Steve’s boys whenever the man asks if anybody can help him pick up the lawn chairs. The irony of a clearly younger woman making him feel like a horny, stuttering teenager again is not lost on him. 

Your smirk only widens. Steve’s looking between you and Eddie in the silence of your nonresponse, suddenly feeling very out of place—the tension thick like molasses. He clears his throat, drawing your eyes to him. 

“I’m here, too, by the way.” He raises his hand like it’s roll call back in high school. 

You huff out an amused breath, “Come on, I could use both of you,” nodding your head back to the truck. You push a large box out of the way, clearing a path for them to pick up your dresser from inside the truck. 

Eddie follows you, a little too close to your distracted body, his mind whirring at your comments about using him. 

When you turn back to ask them to get the dresser, you jump at Eddie’s proximity to you. You didn’t realize he was following so closely, practically on your heels. 

“Oh! Jesus!” You backup a little from his body, a hand clutching your heart as you laugh at the scare. 

Steve is quick to pull Eddie away from you by the back of his faded band tee, already apologizing for his friend’s creepy behavior. “Sorry, he failed out of obedience school,” he quips nervously. 

Eddie’s too busy staring at you to hit Steve for his comment.

“That’s alright,” you size the metalhead up, a flirtatious glint in your eye. “He seems like he’d be better at giving orders anyway.” 

Eddie’s fighting tooth and nail to withhold a groan at your words. The way you’re looking at him could send him into cardiac arrest. Every flirtation is accompanied with hungry eyes and an innocent smile, he feels like he could make a religion out of it. He’d develop a full on multi-level marketing scheme to recruit followers in your name, indoctrinating as many apostles as he could. He’d create the rules to your religion himself—rule number one would be: only he gets to fuck you. 

Steve blanches at your brazen comment, both thankful you’re not looking at him like that and traumatized he’s being forced to watch a woman flirt with Eddie while he fumbles the interaction astronomically. 

You move on like you didn’t just say the nastiest thing Eddie’s heard in a while. “I could use help with the dresser. I was supposed to have a friend come help me, but he actually called to flake out right before you guys came over here.” You chuckle nervously, feeling embarrassed for over-explaining yourself to these attractive strangers.

Eddie bristles at the mention of a male friend. He finds himself wondering if you have a boyfriend—which makes him feel even more weird. Regardless, he tries to convince himself you probably don’t, and if you do, he’d like to have a talk with the douche who left you to do all the grunt work.

Grunt work.

Now he’s thinking about the grunt work he’d like to do with you. Mentally slapping himself, he refocuses his mind. You asked for his help, so he’s damn well going to give it to you. 

“No problem, we can do it right, Steve?” He looks to Steve who’s hesitating. If he knew he was going to help somebody move, he would’ve stretched, or just offered to pay for movers so he doesn’t have to do any work. But that’s not doable, so he begrudgingly nods.

They work together to pull the dresser to the edge of the truck, carrying it into your new house at your direction, both releasing relieved grunts when they set the heavy structure down. 

“Thank you so much, guys, really! Is there any way I could repay you?” Your brows are furrowed, a hopeful, wide eyed gaze bouncing between the two huffing men. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve waves his hand at you, heading to leave your mostly empty bedroom. 

“No bed?” Eddie noticed the dresser was the only large thing in the U-Haul—no bed already in the bedroom either. He was hoping you’d need a little more help than one thing. He just gained the ability to talk to you, he doesn’t want to leave now. 

You’re caught off guard by his question, but you answer nonetheless. “Oh! Um, no, it's being delivered tomorrow, along with my couch and some other things,” you nod. 

Confusion takes over his face at your explanation. “Where are you going to sleep tonight?”

You have no couch and no bed—he doesn’t see any comfortable place for you to rest. You can’t possibly sleep on the floor, that’d be ridiculous. 

You smile at his scrunched up face, appreciating the cute wrinkle in his brow, and the concerned brown doe eyes. “That friend I mentioned earlier has an extra bedroom.”

“The flaky friend?” He knows that’s who you mean, but he feels the need to point out that the guy couldn’t show up to help his ‘friend’ with her stuff. And now he’s going to sleep with near you? Eddie feels like fighting this guy and he doesn’t even know him. He realizes his feelings are a bit dramatic, but you look like that!

Your smile widens at his comment, not taking any offense by it, but Steve cuts in before you can respond. “Okay, Eddie, you got your answer. Come on, she probably wants to unpack now,” he gives you a tight lipped smile.

“Well, we can’t just do one thing.” Eddie turns around, heading back out to the moving truck full of boxes. “Come on, Steve! You could use the workout, Mr. Dad Bod.” He pats Steve’s beer gut, causing Steve to smack his hand away.

You rush to follow their quick retreat. “No, you guys don’t have to help! I know you’ve got a party going on,” you gesture to Steve’s backyard, the chattering and the music still going strong. You can hear screaming kids and the splashing of pool water. It sounds like a great time, you’d feel horrible if they wasted such a beautiful day on helping a stranger move in. 

Steve’s quick to tilt his head at Eddie who’s currently stacking two boxes on top of each other to carry into your house. “Well, she does have a point—”

“Nonsense, Steve,” Eddie glares at him before nodding over his shoulder to the boxes waiting to be brought in. “Now, come on. Many hands make light work.” He’s already carrying the stacked boxes through your front door.

Steve just nods, resigning himself to helping.

You glance at him with uncertainty in your eyes. “Are you sure? You really don’t have to—”

He opens his mouth to speak, picking up a box, but before he gets a word out, Eddie’s jogging back out, clapping him on the shoulder. “Of course, he is! Plus, this’ll be good because once we get your stuff inside, you can come over to the party and have a drink!” 

His easy grin is intoxicating as he looks at you, shiny brown eyes alight with excitement, effectively relieving you of any doubt.

“Sure, I’d love to,” you nod, smiling to yourself as you pick up a box. 

Before you can turn around to take it inside, Eddie pulls it out of your hands. You frown, about to ask him what he’s doing when he reprimands you.

“Nope! Ladies aren’t for working, they’re for directing men and lookin’ cute,” he grins, leaning into you for emphasis. Turning around, he shoves the stolen box onto the one Steve’s already holding. 

You scoff at his arbitrary ruling, “But I—”

He shakes his head, cutting you off, “No ‘but’s. Now show me where you want these?” 

Sighing, you feel an amused smile work its way onto your face at his insistence on helping you.

Eddie was right, many hands do make light work. The men are done in no time, all the boxes brought into your house and placed in their necessary rooms, ready to be unpacked at your convenience. You’re directing Steve where to put the last box when Eddie comes up behind you, holding your vintage Coca-Cola sign. 

“You like a lot of old stuff,” he points out, looking between you and the sign. He nearly squealed earlier when he saw your massive framed Metallica tour poster. It was for the Damaged Justice tour back in ‘88—the one he actually went to. 

You smile at his comment, appreciating the way his t-shirt sleeves are rolled up to his shoulders, showing off his muscle definition. You can see the many tattoos littering his pale skin, all inky black and in perfect contrast. He must lotion himself religiously because they all look great for his age, assuming he got them when he was younger, of course.

Midway through helping you move, he had put his hair up in a low bun, his poofy curls resting in a knot at the knape of his neck. A few pieces seemed to have fallen free at all the bend and lifting, framing his face so beautifully it makes your mouth water. You hope to god he had a hair tie because of how often he puts his hair up, not because he’s got a woman at home. 

Only one way to find out.

“Well, what can I say? I like my stuff like I like my men,” you smile sweetly at him, taking the Coke sign from his hands and meeting his eyes, “old.” 

You turn around to put the sign back where he found it, knowing his eyes are on you—the feeling making you grin. No man has ever made you feel so powerful. You’re about to turn into a dictator if he doesn’t put you in your place, and god, do you want him to. 

Eddie feels like he could run a marathon from the vigor that your comment has instilled in him; he feels twenty-two again. Unsure how this night will go, he’s praying to his god—that is now you—that he can go home with you. 

Steve overhears your flirtatious comment, sees the felonious hunger in Eddie’s eyes, and suddenly finds himself searching for the nearest exit. He’s had it with the eye fucking happening between you two. 

“What’s that?” He perks his head up like he’s hearing something, his voice draws both your and Eddie’s attention. “Yeah, I’ll be right there, honey!” He calls out to his wife as if she were in the other room, not in the backyard next door. 

You laugh, meeting the amused eyes of Eddie before looking back at Steve. 

Of course, Eddie can’t help but fuck with his friend for his poor excuse of an exit plan. “I didn’t hear anything… Did you?”

You bite your lip, attempting to temper the smile threatening to take over your face at Eddie’s offer to team up against Steve. Not wanting to poke fun at Steve quite yet, you shrug impassively.

Steve knows exactly what Eddie’s doing and he could damn-near punch him for it. “Yeah, well, you’re not in tune with the vibrational frequencies of a very pregnant wife,” he bites. 

He goes to leave but not before stopping at your front door, turning to face you again. “It was nice to meet you. Feel free to come over and join the party if you’d like,” he smiles.

“Thanks, Steve! And thank you for all your help!” 

He simply nods and then he’s out the door, effectively leaving you all alone with Eddie for the very first time. 

Eddie’s watching the door Steve just left out of as you turn a flirty smile towards him. “Is your wife calling you too?” you ask after a beat of silence, a teasing lilt to your voice. 

Eddie’s eyes meet yours, a small smile on his lips before he shrugs. “Don’t have one.”

It’s a simple answer, but you can never be sure what you’re walking into, so you ask what feels like the most logical next question. “Widowed?”

“Single,” he quickly clears up, his eyes monitoring your every move with rapt attention, trying to gauge your reaction to the new information. Just like the siren you are, you give nothing away, remaining mysterious and alluring. 

Your eyes narrow at him, tilting your head, “Looking?” 

“I wasn’t.” 

The conversation is like a tennis match—both of you keeping up with unbridled enthusiasm, no clear winner in sight. 

You distinctly note the past tense he used to answer your last question. You wonder what he means by that. He wasn’t looking for a relationship? Is he now?

Eddie, on the other hand, is wondering how you’d look in a wedding dress, all pretty and innocent in white. He damns Robin for putting those types of thoughts in his head, always talking about how he should have a wife by now. He feels smug at the thought of showing you off to her, his pretty little wife. 

But then reality crashes back through and he’s thinking about that theoretical boyfriend that might not be so theoretical. Sure, you’ve been flirting with him pretty much this whole time, but he doesn’t know what the new generation gets up to. Maybe you and your boyfriend get off on cuckolding—he doesn’t know. 

Only one way to find out.

“How ‘bout you?” His eyes narrow, copying yours as he nods at you. 

“Oh, I just got here. I don’t think anybody’s calling my name,” you smirk, eyes teasing. 

Do you want them to, he thinks. 

His smirk matches yours as he tilts his head, noting how you dodged the question. He knows you understand what he was asking. You’re purposely being difficult, and he’s addicted to it. He wants to figure you out—wants you to make him work for it. You’ve already got a head start, and so far, he’s eating it up.

No modern porn or nudie magazines have ever thrilled him like you are in this moment—and he’s only known you for an hour and a half. Your voice is like an aphrodisiac in and of itself. 

“You know what I was asking you,” he mutters.

You shiver at the way his voice seems to have dropped an octave.

“I’m browsing,” you flash a flirty smile at him, an innocent shrug lifting your bare shoulders. 

-

Eddie walks with you over to the party, making the rounds and introducing you to all the neighbors, enjoying watching you socialize. Hanging around you during every idle chat, he picks up something new about you each time. Things like interests, hobbies, personal history, family life—all very important details that he’s storing in a mental file under your name. But most of all, he’s learning he wants you. 

You’re so sweet and funny that your natural charm draws a crowd, leaving you constantly surrounded by at least five people at a time. Eddie stands close to you, listening to the stories you’re telling, your proximity like a drug, leaving him feeling woozy. He feels like you’re his—like he brought his new toy to school and all his friends are jealous. 

He’s only had two beers, and he feels drunk on the way you crack a joke, get the crowd laughing, then turn to him to see if he, too, is laughing. He’s got a permanent smile etched into his face at the way you throw your head back when you laugh, the way you reach to hold his arm as you giggle. He almost flatlines when he sees you with the kids. 

One of the Harrington kids—little Charlotte—comes running to hide behind your legs. She’s clearly avoiding her older brother in a game of tag that has migrated a little too close to the adults. Eddie already knows what’s happening—he’s seen it many times before.

The boys play rough with each other, Charlotte asks to join just because she wants to be included, they chase her down until she’s ‘it,’ and then they spend the rest of the time easily dodging her until she ends up crying to Steve or her mom. 

Before Eddie has a chance to reprimand Cameron for nearly crashing into you as he tags Charlotte behind your legs, you’re already leaning down to the pouting girl, palm up, a devious smile on your pretty face. You let her tag you so you’re ‘it,’ and the minute her little palm slaps yours, you spin toward Cameron, who’s watching incredulously—because adults aren’t supposed to play.

You raise your brows at him, a shit-eating grin on your face as you shake your head. “You better run, kid.”

In a flash, the boy takes off and you’re flying after him. Eddie hears Charlotte’s giggles as Cameron screeches, “THAT’S NOT FAIR!”

He watches as you chase the boys around the yard—absolutely terrorizing them. In no time, you successfully tag Cameron, who groans dramatically. A shrieking laugh tumbles past your lips as you dart away from him, easily dodging his outstretched hand as you race around the playset. The other boys start yielding to you, calling for you to run with them. They’re probably feeling the coolness radiating from your every pore, he thinks.

A wide grin plastered over his face, Eddie wonders if it’s possible to love someone only hours after meeting them. His pondering is interrupted when Robin, Steve, and Jess sidle up beside him. They all watch as you side-shuffle, mirroring Cameron’s frustrated movements as he tries to tag you, the playset safely dividing you.

“I told you she’s hot.” Robin smugly punches Eddie’s shoulder, making him glare at her. But he can’t hold the glare for long; his eyes quickly return to you, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I like her, she’s funny,” Steve nods approvingly. 

“I agree. Also, she helped avoid a meltdown. That’s wife material right there,” Jess adds, nodding toward the way you scoop up Charlotte and run away from Cameron with her in your arms, both of you giggling and shrieking.

Eddie had never once wanted kids. He always thought they were far too much work with not enough reward, fearing the inevitable screw-up that would lead to years of therapy in their adulthood. He was fond of the Harrington clan, but he was always glad to return to his clean, quiet home. But watching you with the kids—the way you engaged Charlotte, the way you navigated a surely ground-shaking tantrum with ease—left him in awe.

He always thought kids would be hard—and he knows they are, judging by the gray hairs on Steve’s head—but he can’t help thinking you’d make it look easy. Just like you made talking easy, joking easy, flirting easy, even moving heavy stuff easy—you made everything feel fun. He stands there watching you, imagining how you’d treat your own kids—the ones he hopes to help create.

Glancing beside him, he notes the way Jess is rubbing her pregnant belly over the sundress she’s wearing. He turns back to you, picturing how you’d look pregnant. How beautiful you’d look in a sundress—and maybe, just maybe, he could convince you to wear nothing underneath. His mind whirs as he imagines how distracting your growing breasts would be—not to mention your adorable bump. The thought makes him gulp—he’s starting to think he’s already in too deep. Maybe just a little. 

-

As the sun sets, the pool water cools, prompting the kids to climb out, sleepy from the chlorine. The zombie-like children make the parents call it a night, thinning out the party crowd. Jess starts the nighttime routine for the Harrington clan—baths, showers, teeth brushing, storytime, and eventually, bedtime.

Steve grills a hotdog for you, since you missed the food earlier while you were moving in. Robin and Vickie are starting a fire in the pit Steve built, bickering over whether a log cabin style or a teepee style would be more efficient—and Eddie can hear every word.

He stands with you by the ice chest, dutifully playing the role of your shadow like he’s been doing all day. As he opens the cooler to grab another drink, he pauses, his hand hovering over the cans. Then he turns to you. “Can I get you a beer?”

You shake your head, a polite smile on your face. “No, thank you. Just water for me, please.” 

He nods, grabbing a beer for himself and a bottle of water for you. Straightening up, he starts to hand over your drink—but a sudden, terrifying thought halts him. Just as he’s about to place the chilled bottle into your outstretched hand, he freezes, pulling it back. “You are old enough to drink, right?”

He looks like he’s holding your water hostage until you answer his question, the apparent fear on his face making you laugh. Flattered, you nod. “Yes, I’m old enough to drink. I’m just not a beer girl.” 

A relieved breath escapes his lips at the confirmation. “Oh, thank god.”

You take the water he grants you, narrowing your eyes playfully at him as you watch him pop the cap off the bottle using the edge of the ice chest. “How old are you?” 

Chuckling at your question, his eyes shine with mirth as they meet your playfully suspicious ones. “Older than that Metallica poster you have,” he quips, “I was at that tour.” 

You smile at the mention of your poster—it’s one of your favorite vintage finds. 

“Forty-three,” he concedes. “How old are you?” He tilts his chin down as he asks, eyes glued to your face.

The heat of his gaze makes you feel lightheaded. You decide to blame it on the summer sun, but your plan is foiled when you remember it’s nighttime. 

Trying to regain some control, you ease the tension with a joke. “Well, a lady never tells, but I’ll give you a hint.”

He raises his brows expectantly, a pleasant smile on his face as he waits for the hint.

“It rhymes with twenty-seven.” 

Eddie snorts at your setup and how plainly you answered it. He finds himself tilting his head, admiring you fondly. He’s addicted to everything about you—your humor, your flirting, the light touches you occasionally leave on his arms, the teasing glint in your eyes that never seems to fade.

No woman he met on the shitty dates Robin sent him on could ever compare to you. He’s never met anyone who could go toe-to-toe with him when it came to jokes and bits. It feels like he’s known you his whole life—and yet, he still finds himself wishing he’d met you sooner.

His thoughts are interrupted as Steve calls you over. He follows you as you grab a paper plate and accept the food from Steve. 

“Thank you so much, Steve. I really appreciate you firing up the grill just for me.” 

“It’s no problem, I’m glad you came to the party. You’re a really great addition to the group,” he smiles. 

His comment makes your heart soar. The feeling of being accepted so quickly warms your soul. “It’s a great group,” you compliment. 

His smile broadens, feeling proud of the circle of friends he’s kept over the years. All of a sudden he hears Robin’s loud, “Damn it!” 

“Excuse me, I’m gonna go help the cavewomen create fire,” he quips, leaving you to head to the folding table where the condiments sit—right next to Eddie.

Eddie was one hundred percent eavesdropping on your conversation with Steve—and he’s glad he was, because it only makes him more certain that he was meant to meet you. That you were meant to be his.

You set your plate down on the table as you reach for the ketchup, glancing at Eddie as he watches your hands work. “I like the whole retired rocker look you got going on, by the way,” you say, vaguely gesturing to his whole body. 

Eddie snorts at that. “Rocker? Yes. Retired? No.”

“Oh, so you have an active income then, huh?” You look at him, playfully interested like you’re sizing up a possible sugar daddy. 

Your teasing makes him laugh, nodding his head. “Yeah, Head Mechanic at the garage off Piedmont. What about you?”

You smile, looking down as you close the cap to the ketchup. “Well, if you must know, my dowry is three goats and five sheep. Is that enough for you?” 

Eddie feels like he smoked your teasing smirk and got high. He shakes his head fondly at your ability to make a joke out of anything. You’ve made him laugh more times today than he’s laughed in months. 

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m lookin’ for, actually.” His eyes twinkle with amusement. 

“You know, I used to have a poster of Kirk Hammett on my wall in high school,” you muse, the memory of the faded poster making you smile. “I used to worship him. I thought he was the hottest guy I had ever seen… Now I’m not so sure.”

Eddie feels warmth flood his veins, all blood rushing south at the thought of you worshipping him instead. 

He shakes his head in awe. “I wish you were around when I was in high school. Hawkins women weren’t exactly down with this look,” he looks down at his ripped black jeans, studded belt, and black band tee.

You lift the hot dog to your mouth, not biting into it just yet. “Oh, I’ll be all over you,” you say quietly, voice sultry as you maintain eye contact, finally opening your mouth and taking a big bite. 

Your words, the tone you used, the eye contact, and the way you fit the phallic object into your mouth makes him huff out a sexually frustrated breath. He knows just what he’d prefer you have in your mouth right about now. You’ve been teasing him off and on all day and he’s pretty sure it’s driving him clinically insane. Though, in retrospect, his sanity walked out the door the second he laid his eyes on you. 

You’re chewing your food with a closed mouth smile, admiring the internal struggle clearly displayed on his pale face.

The chipmunk cheeks you’re sporting aren’t helping Eddie’s attempt at regaining his sanity—if anything, they’ve got his mind spiraling, imagining how you’d look with his balls in your mouth.

He huffs out a breath, clinging to any shred of decency he can find. “D-Don’t you mean you ‘would have been?’”

You swallow, tongue running over your teeth, and a salacious look in your eyes as you plaster an innocent smile onto your face. “That’s what I said, didn’t I?” You feign confusion, as if you’re not hunting him—using your best ammunition to take him down. 

Eddie gulps, his eyes never straying from yours, caught in a trance. “I live around here,” he says. “Just three doors down that way,” he throws a thumb over his shoulder pointing in the opposite direction of your new house. 

You know exactly what he’s looking for.

Game, set, match. You win.

You smile, missing the sound of his voice when you push his buttons. “I also happen to live around here,” you coyly add, batting your lashes at him.

He sucks his teeth, eyes daring you to prolong this. “I have a bed.” 

You nod your head at his rebuttal—plain and true. “Touché.”

In a matter of moments, he’s taking your plate from your hands, setting it down on the table, grabbing your now-free hand, and pulling you out of the backyard. Shouting a quick goodbye, he drags you past Steve, Robin, Vickie, and an exhausted Jess, who’s just now rejoining the group.

“Bye, guys! Thanks for everything, it’s been fun, we gotta do this again, okay, see you later!” It all comes out in one single breath, leaving the group shocked and confused. 

You look back as Eddie pulls you away with such force you’re struggling to keep up with his long strides. “Thank you, guys!” You shout, waving at them with an apologetic look on your face.

“Use protection!” Steve yells before dissolving into a fit of laughter as Jess hits his shoulder.

The last thing they see is Eddie’s middle finger as the two of you disappear around the corner of the other neighbor’s house. 

“And he said I wasn’t a credible source on who’s hot.” Robin shakes her head, feeling incredibly smug. 

-

Eddie doesn’t let go of your hand even when he’s fishing into his pocket for his house key. He feels around for the right key on the split rings, pulling the set out once he finds it. Shoving the brass into the door, he moves to the side to let you in first.

Eager from the day-long wait, you can feel how wet your panties are already. The caveman-esque way he pulled you all the way home solidified your burning desire. You giggle at the silly bow he does, emphasizing the open door for you to walk through.

“How very honorable of you,” you tease. 

He shuffles in after you, flicking on the foyer lights, quickly shutting the door and locking it. He’s not planning on leaving the house for the rest of the night and he’s hoping you won’t either. 

“Yeah, that’s not gonna last,” he mutters darkly, pulling your arm and spinning you so your back is against the closed door. His hands hold both sides of your head as he pants out, “I’m planning to do some very dishonorable things to you.”

He smashes his lips against yours, a surprised moan escaping you at his desperation. Your open mouth gives him ample opportunity to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue inside causing a needy whimper to tear from your throat. Your knees buckle when his hands slide down the sides of your neck. Before you can drop, he quickly slots his knee between your legs, his body pressing you into the door even more. 

Breaking away, he huffs out desperate breaths. Your head feels hazy, eyes glazed over. You feel like you got high from just one kiss—and what a kiss it was. 

“Do you want this as much as I do?”

The question is breathy and low. He’s nuzzling his nose with yours, teasing you with an almost-kiss as he waits for your response. 

The pull to his lips is so bewitching you can’t speak, only nod as your head bobs closer to sealing the kiss. Something stops you from completing it, like you’re waiting for him to do it. You’re waiting for his direction, his ‘okay.’

“Use your words,” he chastises you.

You whimper, shrinking at his intensity. Subconsciously, you lower your hip, attempting to relieve some tension against his leg.

When he feels what you’re doing, he straightens up, pulling his leg away despite your desperate whimper trying to call the sensation back. “Tell me, do you want me as much as I want you?”

“Yes! God, yes! Please,” you whine, needing him to touch you all over. You need his thigh back. 

“Yeah, you wanted me right from the start, didn’t you, honey?” He tilts his head, hungry eyes roving over your pleading face. You practically preen at the delicate touch he dances across your cheek. Reaching to affectionately smooth the strands by your hairline, he waits for you to muster up the power to respond. 

“Mhm.” Your eyes roll back as his rough hand travels from your hair to your jaw, holding you firm, pulling your attention back to him. 

“Flirted with me so openly, didn’t you, dirty girl?”

A grin stretches across his face at the sudden embarrassment you show, mortified at being called out for your actions. You look so cute, squirming, trying to avoid his eyes, despite his strong grip on your jaw leaving you very little room to look elsewhere. 

“I just wanted you…” you mutter, eyes not meeting his condescending gaze.

He’s pouting at you, mocking your embarrassment. 

“Well, you got me, sweetheart. What did you wanna do with me?” 

He leans in to nose his face against yours, hypnotically drawing your lips in again, but never granting you a kiss. No, kisses are for good girls who answer questions. 

You shrug, any confidence you had from your earlier flirting is nonexistent—the power he holds over you is too great. He’s all-consuming. He’s everything you see, everything you feel, everything you smell, everything you hear, everything you taste. 

“Can I tell you what I wanna do with you?” 

Eagerly nodding, you’re thankful he let you off the hook with the question. 

“I wanna marry you.”

His face is all you can see, not a doubt in his eyes, despite what he just said—no freudian slip to be found. 

Your stomach drops, brows raising in shock. His words wake you right up out of your love drunk haze.

He should bottle that sentiment and sell it to single women. It would beat out the entire market for smelling salts.

Your eyes are wide, jaw dropped—you can’t believe what he just said. You just met him today and he’s apparently already sold on you. You have to admit, it is flattering to have a man want to marry you right after meeting you. Can’t say that’s ever happened to you before. 

Shock aside, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same. Throughout the day, you had suffered daydreams of yearly summer barbecues, a king sized bed for two, cooking meals together, group dates with Steve, Jess, Robin, and Vickie. Afflicted with thoughts of pretty rings and curly haired, brown eyed children. But you shoved them down deep into a locked box, chaining the lid shut just in case. 

Now, here Eddie is, pinning you against the front door of his house, kissing you breathless—picking the lock to the box filled with illicit fantasies

He reads the shock on your face, not swayed by the reaction in the slightest—he knows you’re meant to be his. He knows you won’t get married today, and maybe not tomorrow—but it will happen. There’s no way it won’t. He’s certain. 

He doesn’t need your words, doesn’t want to hear what you stumble to say in response to his profession—so he doesn’t give you time to. No amount of obfuscation from you will convince him you’re not his. 

“But in terms of right this moment,” he elaborates, “I’m gonna fuck you.” 

Suffering from emotional whiplash, his words go straight to your pussy as you clench around nothing. You have no words, your jaw has not picked back up since he said he wants to marry you. 

“Are you gonna let me fuck you?” He tilts his chin down, eyes trapping you in an obscene staring contest. 

You nod, letting out a breathy, “Please.” The need for him is starting to drive you insane. 

“Good,” is all he says before he picks you up bridal style and carries you up the stairs, grinning at you. You squeal in uneasy surprise at his actions, arms settling around his neck, holding on for dear life. 

“I can walk, you know!”

You’re terrified he’s going to drop you, but you did see him do a bunch of manual labor today and you can’t lie, he is strong. 

“Ladies shouldn’t have to walk,” he admonishes—the same tone as when he scolded you for trying to move your own boxes earlier. You shake your head at his endearingly incessant need to do things for you. “And hopefully you won’t be able to when I’m done with you.” 

Scoffing at his dirty comment, you playfully hit his shoulder. “You know, for how much you talk about what ladies should and shouldn’t do, you certainly don’t talk to one properly.” 

He grins as he sets you down onto his soft duvet, caging you in with his thick, tattooed forearms, leaning over you with leering eyes. “I can talk to you properly,” he admits, “or I can fuck you properly.”

Your breath stutters, eyes darting from his deadly gaze to his soft lips before ending back at his eyes. 

He shrugs, lightheartedly, saying, “Your choice.”

Nodding with a bite to your lip, you breathily mutter “I’ll take option number two.” 

With a smug grin, he leans down to give you a chaste kiss. “Thought so.” 

He goes to pull away from the kiss, but you pull him back, languid tongue dancing across his bottom lip, begging for entrance. Your fingers inch into the mussed locks of hair as you messily make out. The bed dips as he kneels between your legs. Blindly reaching behind his head, you untangle the hair tie from his crazed curls, giving the roots a tug, earning you a lewd groan. 

He breaks away to pull your tank top over your head. With a newfound fervor to see you naked, his own shirt follows suit. You sit up a little to help him peel the fabric off, opting to take your bra off while you’re up. He turns slightly to throw both tops to the corner of the room near the laundry basket. When he turns back around, his jaw drops at the sight of your bare breasts. You make him feel like a teeanger all over again, because he’s close to busting in his jeans at the alluring sight.

“Fuckkkk,” he groans, large hands groping your chest. “You have the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen, baby. Been lookin’ at them all day.”

You moan at the rabid touch of his needy hands, the fire in your veins making you so sensitive to his every squeeze and grope. He pushes your breasts together, leaning down to attach his greedy mouth to one of your perked nipples. His lithe tongue circles the sensitive nub before giving it a light bite.

A borderline pornographic moan tears right from your throat. Mouthing at one nipple before moving onto the other one, his thumb toys with the wet peak.

When he nips at the second one, you instinctively tug his hair, eliciting a muffled groan, his mouth full of your tit.

You can feel how hard he is, his hips grinding into your thigh for relief. The imprint of his cock is making you impatient; you just want to feel him inside you now, want to feel every ridge and vein of. You moan at the nonstop attention to your peaked nipples. The overwhelming thought of how it’ll feel when his tip pierces your entrance and the relief that will wash over you leads you to pull his head off your chest. 

When his eyes meet yours, you melt at the fucked out look on his face. It almost looks like he was getting off just from sucking on your tits. You admire the string of saliva connecting his wet lips to your chest. The sight of his slobber on your breasts, the blooming of accidental hickies on the sensitive skin makes you whine. 

“Eddie, please. I need you.”

He nods, immediately working down your body, kissing and licking every square inch of skin. 

His hands are shaky with need as he unbuttons your shorts, working them down your legs. He moves to kiss your thighs, assessing exactly where he’s going to leave bite marks when you put your hands on his shoulders, effectively halting his movements. He looks up at you, concerned he did something wrong already. 

Your brow furrows; you know what he wants, but you don’t think this is the right time. “Eddie, I’ve been in the hot sun all day…”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t move. He’s trying to read your face because he doesn’t understand why you’re bringing that up. So was he. He was with you—all day. Are you just saying true facts about your day? He doesn’t think now is the time to do that, but if that’s what you want to do he’ll oblige. Weird foreplay, but to each their own, he thinks. 

“I cheated at cornhole,” he admits earnestly.

You frown at him—what the fuck is he talking about? He looks so genuine, it makes huff out a confused laugh. “What?”

Okay, now he’s very confused. His arms are still resting on your doughy thighs, elbows just outside both of your legs, leaning his full weight onto the bed. “What what?”

You shake your head at him, an amused look overtaking your face. “I just mean I got kinda sweaty playing tag with the kids…” You look at him, hoping he gets it, but when you see zero recognition in his eyes, you continue. “I don’t think now is the time for you to—” You can’t bring yourself to say it, embarrassment warming your face.

Thankfully, Eddie finally catches on. He’s relieved you’re not actually into the weird foreplay of revealing truths because he doesn’t want to tell you about the boner he got from watching you eat a hotdog. That would be mortifying.

“Oh! No,” he waves a dismissive hand, “honey, that's what I like to call seasoning.” He grins salaciously, leaning towards you. 

His wandering fingers inch under the elastic at the top of your hips, preparing to pull your panties down, but you stop him again. 

“But I’m not—”

A huffing breath leaves your lips. You’re frustrated. Not at his actions, no, but at the feeling of having to preface this in the case that he pulls your panties down and hates what he sees—or god forbid, tastes. “I’m not…trimmed…or anything.” 

He looks at you like you just told him the most ridiculously stupid thing ever. He shakes his head, a frown clear and present in his eyes and on his face.

“Baby, I was around in the 70s,” he implores. “I might not have been sexually active then, but I was still stealing my uncle’s nudie magazines. I’ve seen a few things—explored a few jungles in my time.” A dirty smile creeps up his lips.

You roll your eyes at his crass terminology, feeling a pinch to your heart at the thought of him with other women. 

“I earned my forestry badge, okay? So let me in there!” His eyes are shining with amusement, enjoying the cringe his words bring you. You’ll get used to how nasty he can be. It’s only down from here—he was on his best behavior today. He resumes his efforts to remove the last barrier between him and your needy core, but you try to speak up again.

“Eddie—”

“If you try to make up another excuse to keep me from this pretty little pussy, I will gag you with your own panties.”

His stern voice cuts you off, eyes dangerous as he reprimands you. You immediately close your mouth, wide-eyed, giving him your full attention now.

“I don’t know what boys you’ve been fucking, but only a real man deserves such a perfect cunt, and I’m Him. You understand me?”

His confidence makes even more arousal flood your already damp panties. You’re about ready to let him do anything he wants to your body.

You nod quickly, granting him access. Your breath hitched as he yanks your underwear off before stuffing them into his back pocket. He rubs his face against your thighs and you shiver at the scratchy stubble. Your pussy’s pumping out slick like it knows Eddie’s huge, sure to give you all the natural lube it can for when he fucks you. 

He nuzzles into the wiry curls on your mound, your breath catches when you feel a suck of air, realizing he just took a deep whiff. You’re too turned on at this point to be embarrassed, your arousal is dripping from your needy hole, you feel like you’ll die if he doesn’t touch you in the next five seconds. When he noses the hair guarding your slit, a lock of long, brown, curls fall in front of him. 

He lets go of your thighs to reach for your hands, pulling them into his hair, making you hold the curls into a makeshift ponytail that will double as a rein. If you had known he’d be going down on you you wouldn’t have taken his bun out, but it’s too late now, you have no idea where the hair tie is. 

When your hands are securely in his hair he takes one arm and wraps it around your thigh from underneath, guiding your leg over his shoulder and holding it hostage. He takes the other hand and rests his arm lightly on your pelvis to part your pussy lips from above, he leans in to give a long lick with a flat tongue, just getting a taste for you. He moans at the flavor, you have no idea just how much he doesn’t care that you were out in the sun sweating all day. He feels like he could cum just from the tangy taste dancing on his tongue.

You moan at the feel of the wet muscle, it feels like you can finally breathe when he explores your folds. You’ve wanted him all day, burned for him for hours on end, and just like a cool drink of water- he’s quenching your thirst. 

He gives quick flutter licks to your hole, just teasing you to get a reaction. It doesn’t disappoint, you’re whining, hips gyrating with need. He alternates between light pressured licks to your clit and plunging his tongue as deep as he can into your tight hole. He’s got you breathing heavy in no time, his fingers squeeze the fat of your thighs as he grinds his pulsing cock into the bed. You let out a pathetic mewl when he speeds up his actions, licking you like you’re ice cream, your hips occasionally jump when his nose catches your clit. 

You can feel your hole clenching around nothing, needing just a little more to get you there, the dull ache building in your stomach. “M-More, please, I need more,” you cry out. 

He’s more than happy to oblige, the hand that had been spreading your lips moves under his body, you feel a thick finger breach your entrance and it makes your hips jump and stomach clench. The sound of your moans and his dexterous fingers plunging into your drenched cunt fill the room. It makes him groan, the vibrations from it causing you to whimper. 

“Oh p-please, oh god, I’m so close, please Eddie,” you whine, bucking your hips against his face. 

He thrusts his finger in and out before adding another to stretch your tightening hole, you moan at the fit. He nods his head up and down on your pussy, licking messily, then he’s vigorously shaking his head side to side in your folds, slurping your juices up. 

The lewd sound pushes you right to the precipice of your orgasm, “Eddieee!” The squeal you let out has him chuckling, you can’t help but interpret it as condescending and that only makes you clench tightly around his fingers, inching you even closer to your peak.

At the feeling of your walls tightening around his fingers he moves his tongue to make quick, tight circles around your clit causing you to tumble over the edge practically screaming. Seeing stars and desperate for nonstop pressure to work you through your climax, you shove his face against your pussy. You’re pressing hard, in need of all encompassing pleasure, in need of his cock inside your pulsing hole. 

You’re basically grinding your cunt on his face and it has his hips jerking into the bed, wishing he was inside you already. The feel of your velvety walls squeezing his fingers in pulsing intervals has him moaning at the thought of you doing that around his cock. He can’t wait anymore, he pulls his fingers out once you come down from your high, shoving them into his mouth and relishing in the taste of your cum. 

You’re too busy catching your breath, never having experienced such an all-consuming orgasm like that before. You feel like you’re floating when you feel him hover over you again, his hungry eyes looking borderline felonious the way they rove over your face. You look down between your bodies, noticing he’s fully naked now, hard, leaking cock hanging just above where you need him most. 

You nearly gulp at the sight of him, he felt big when you felt him against your leg earlier, but this is a lot. He’s the biggest you’ve ever taken and you’re not sure if you can take him. The way his length bobs when he shuffles forward feels like a threat, you must look concerned because he leans down to give you a chaste kiss. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’ll make it fit,” he smoothes the hair by your temple, the soft actions and his dirty words make you preen, a whimper leaving your mouth. 

“Do you want me to put on a condom?” He didn’t do it on the off chance that you’d let him inside you raw, the thoughts of you pregnant whispering in his mind. He’s being driven insane by visions of his cum leaking out of your stretched out hole, the sight of you carrying his child, the way he’d take you from the back as your big bump rests on the bed beneath your arched body. 

Your eyes are wide, suddenly feeling like a virgin at the prospect of fitting all of him inside you. You’re certainly not, but he makes you feel so small, so taken care of, you feel like you need him bare inside you. You need to know what it feels like, you’ll worry about the consequences later. Famous last words.

You shake your head, pouting lips parted as you huff, all desperate and needy, your chest moves up and down, coaxing a nip from him. You mewl at the quick attention to your breasts.

He looks up at your face from your chest, “No?” 

He got it the first time when you shook your head, but he’s having so much fun treating you like you’re glass. It's like you're his sweet, innocent baby—his cute little neighbor needing him to talk her through it. You shake your head again, confirming your previous sentiment. 

“You want me to cum inside you, honey?” He coos, he can’t help the way he talks down to you, you make it so easy with your wet, pleading eyes. His question seems to work on you because you whimper, enthusiastically nodding your head, hands needy as you try to pull his body toward your open legs. He lets you pull him closer, but that’s about as much as he lets you do. 

“Wanna feel you- please,” you whine at his resistance to get any closer, your nails dig into his sides as you try to pull him exactly where you need him most.

He chuckles at your pleading, his amusement quickly halts, though, when you reach between your bodies, hand encircling his rock hard cock, guiding it to your hole. He’s quick to grab your hands and pin them above your head, a stern reprimand leaving his lips, “Be good.”

You whimper again, rolling your hips against nothing, searching for release. 

“I choose when I fuck you, got it?”

You nod your head vigorously, eager to please him after getting in trouble. 

“That goes for after this, too, you understand?” He looks into your eyes expectantly, expression firm, his lips remain in a thin line.

“Yes, sir! Please- I’ll be good!” You beg, signing on to be his whenever he needs a release. You’ll be a ready, open hole, with pleasure. The ‘sir’ just slipped out, but you’re glad it did because he seemed to like it. 

“You gonna let me fuck you raw,” your quick nod answering his question, “You want me to breed your tight little pussy, baby?” You let out an uncontrollable moan, you’d be embarrassed at how whorish you sound if you had any shame left.

“Please breed me, I want your cum, sir- please!” You cry out, rolling your hips again, seeking out his waiting cock. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, you’re pleading is breaking him down. He reaches for his cock, leaving both your wrists to remain pinned by his one hand. He guides the ruddy tip to your soaked, pulsing hole, rubbing up and down your slit, gathering all your wetness onto his cock. The movement earns him another moan that would put pornstars to shame, you’re thankful for the small relief it brings the coiling need in your stomach, but you crave more.

“You gonna let me put a baby in you, honey?” 

Forget the fact that you just met him today, you’d sign onto anything he suggested as long as you get to do this with him again, as long as you get to hold him at the end of the day. It doesn’t hurt that these sweet nothings, well- dirty nothings, are feeding every fantasy you had today. Especially the one you had at the sight of him holding the littlest Harrington, the way his tattooed arms held the baby girl. His thick forearm a seat for the little bundle of joy, his large hands softly patting her back as he bounced and rocked her on his chest. 

“Yes, please put a baby in me, Eddie! I need you- I just- please, god, please!” You’re bordering on incoherent at this point, it makes him smile, taking mercy on your fried brain. 

He pushes the fat head of his cock past your entrance, the stretch is so tight you can feel where your walls cling to him once the mushroom tip pops inside you. You cry out at the feeling, desperately refraining from rolling your hips onto him, you don’t want him to take away what little he’s given you. 

“Alright, honey,” he breathes out, trying to pace himself and not blow his huge load inside of you at just the tip, “I’ll give you a baby, but only because you begged for it.” 

The moment the last word leaves his mouth he thrusts all the way into you, knocking the air out of your chest, your loudest moan yet rings out around the room. He groans at the way your gummy walls nearly choke his thick cock, his head falls beside yours as he breathes through the all-consuming feeling. The hand that isn’t holding your wrists trails up the side of your body, groping your tit as he tries to calm down. 

When he’s certain he won’t cum too soon, he starts a bruising pace, muttering out curses at the way your moans sync with the pulsing of your pussy. “Fuck, honey, this the tightest cunt I’ve ever felt.”

You moan at his words, taking it as a compliment, mind reeling at the feel of every ridge, every bump, every throbbing vein of his massive cock. You’re letting out uncontrollable, ‘unh unh unh unh’s at the deep, penetrating thrusts he gives you, lips permanently parted at his intrusion. 

The constant panting and moaning in his ear is pushing him nearly over the edge, he ravenously attacks your neck, tongue gliding over it, biting and kissing the sensitive skin. He knows he’s too close to stop now so he continues his punishing pace, reaching down with his free hand to rub your clit. 

He circles your clit only once before you’re thrown off the edge of your second orgasm, your mouth is uncontrollable, you’re spewing the nastiest shit he’s ever heard and it gets him there. 

“Fuck,” your voice is a high pitched whine, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck meee!”

“Please, god, OH!”

“Cum inside me, breed me, please, sir, please- fuck your fucking cum inside me unhhh!” 

He groans, hips faltering as he jerks forward repeatedly. His stomach is clenching as he spills rope after thick rope of his milky white, hot cum into you. 

You’re breathing hard, trying to catch your breath as he settles on top of you, shivering from the power of his orgasm. He’s never cum that hard before, he feels like his spirit has separated from his body, only vaguely aware of his throbbing cock still inside you. His hand loosens, letting your wrists go, your arms move to wrap him into a warm embrace. You pet his sweaty hair, your other hand lightly scratching his damp back. 

When his spirit floats back down into his body he feels like he’s in heaven, the way you hold him like he’s so delicate, it’s such a contrast to the roles you both fell into earlier. His cock is softening and he can feel it slipping out of your used hole, it makes him gently pull away, allowing his cock to fall out of you fully. You watch him as he looks down at your messy pussy, he smiles at the way your hole clenches, the muscles still working through the power of your orgasm. The intermittent constriction of your walls pushes his cum out of you, he watches as it creeps down to your ass. 

You gasp as you feel him collect his own spend, pushing it back into your quivering hole. When he removes his fingers, they’re covered in a mix between his cum and your juices, you grab his wrist and pull his fingers into your mouth. Moaning at the taste of the spunky combination, you stare him down with the heat of a thousand burning suns in your sultry eyes. 

His mouth falls open as he watches you, his soft cock jumps at the view, in a flash he’s reaching under your ass, propping you up against his thighs. He’s got your hips angled up to the ceiling, you laugh at the sharp movement, loving how he manhandles you. 

“What-”

“I wasn’t kidding before, I’m making this shit stick.” You realize he’s angled you so his cum won’t leave your pussy, it’ll just pool in your hole. He’s hoping to go one for one, but he has no problems trying again. You’re going to have his baby, he’s going to make sure of it. He meant it before, but after seeing you lick the mix of juices off his fingers he’s thinking about where the nearest ring shop is. 

You laugh at the serious look in his eyes, biting your lip as you flirt, “Which one is it? What’s first, a baby or marriage?” You smile at his inability to figure out what he should do first, his words and thoughts contradicting himself throughout the night. 

“Both,” he grins, leaning down to kiss you like it’s the last time. You know it isn’t

A/N: the way they didn’t use protection after Steve told them to, smh. Also, yes, she has his baby, yes, they get married, yes, he’s insatiable, yes, Steve and Robin make fun of him endlessly, yes, he gets called a cradlerobber and other things by them.

Earlier today, Wayne greeted him when he got home from the garage. Not unusual, but what was unusual was the box on the table in front of him. As Eddie got closer, he noticed a large, brick-like item in his uncle’s hand. 

“Holy shit, is that—”

“Yeah,” Wayne croaked, cutting him off gruffly. “‘Least it would be if I could figure out how t’work the damn thing.”

Eddie’s eyes were wide, his mind racing with a million thoughts as he watched the man glance from the cellphone to the manual nearby. 

“How the fuck did—”

“Ed!”

Heeding the sharp warning, he rephrased. 

“Sorry. How the shit did you get that? Aren’t they like four thousand bucks?” he asked, sliding into the seat across from the older man. 

Wayne rolled his eyes at his nephew’s correction, but passed the phone into his waiting hand nonetheless. “Won it in a raffle at work. City-Suits won’t give the line a raise, but apparently, they’ll blow thousands of dollars on useless shit,” he muttered angrily. 

An evil grin curled at Eddie’s lips as he eyed the expensive prize. “Oh, I don’t think it’s totally useless…”

As Eddie pulls himself up onto the roof, just outside your bedroom window, he giddily thinks of all the prank calls you and he are going to make. No one in the town is safe tonight.

But his fist freezes in mid-air, just a few inches short of the glass. His whole body goes rigid, and his heartrate spikes so high, he’s surprised he’s not keeling over from cardiac arrest. Then, he remembers himself.

“Shit!” he hisses, ducking beneath the sill. When he doesn’t hear a scream or a string of shocked expletives, he rises slowly to take a peek. 

There, in the dimly lit room, you lay on your bed in what has got to be the most compromising position he’s ever seen you in. And he was there at the pool a few summers ago, when you did a massive cannonball into the water, sending your top flying off on impact. That was the last time you ever wore a bikini—he’s been cursing the day ever since. Due to one stupid knot, the rest of his summers were frighteningly dull. 

But this moment might top that—

Because only five feet and one glass window away, you’re half-naked from the waist down and writhing with your hand shoved into your thin, purple underwear.

Eddie’s breathing turns shallow, and his jaw feels incapable of shutting as he ogles you stupidly. Practically frozen in place, he observes the way you squirm on untucked sheets, the way sweat beads at your hairline—small droplets glinting in the low lamplight. 

And just like that, his cock twitches to life, hardening faster than he’s ever felt it; leaking and throbbing furiously beneath the restrictive denim. But despite the discomfort, his trance remains unshaken. 

Your bare legs tremble with every bulging movement of your hand beneath your panties, and he licks his lips, imagining the cause. The way your fingers are probably catching your clit at the exact right angle, sending shockwaves through your limbs. 

The closer he gets, the more the window fogs from the warmth of his breath. Any urgency to hide is zapped from him the moment your mouth opens. He strains to hear the sighs you let out—the moans. But the glass is too thick. Or you’re too quiet. Either way, he feels like he’s going insane, not being able to listen to the noises you make. 

Blunt nails dig into his jean-clad thighs as he refrains from losing himself. This all feels so wrong, but he doesn't know what to do. He can’t knock on the window now, he can’t embarrass you like that. Because he knows you. He knows you’d be humiliated. He knows you probably wouldn’t talk to him for a month out of sheer mortification. And he can’t go a month without you.

But he also doesn’t think he has enough willpower to drag himself away from this damn window. To work his way down that damn trellis. And act like he didn’t see a damn thing when you come into the garage tomorrow, excited to greet him like you always are. You, perfectly innocent and none the wiser. Him, wrecked and changed forever. 

He’s pulled from his thoughts when he sees your back arch into the mattress, hips lifting in a messy, gyrating rhythm, like you’re meeting imaginary thrusts. Like you’re desperate for more. When your lips curve around a familiar shape, a singular word he recognizes but can’t, for the life of him, make out, he loses the fight. 

About to yank the window up, he freezes, then decides to set the heavy cellphone down on the roof. 

After all, Wayne will have his ass if he breaks the device. He can just imagine it slipping from his grip as he struggles to climb through your window. It’d go tumbling down the shingles, bouncing off the gutters, and plummeting to the ground below. He’s heard that these things are supposed to be sturdy, but he doesn’t know how sturdy. 

As he looks around for a safe spot to hide the phone, a thought occurs to him. And surprisingly, it’s not motivated by the throbbing ache in his pants. Well, not fully. 

Instead of charging in, guns blazing and risking a years-long friendship, he figures he should call first. It’s only polite.

Pulse thrumming in his throat, he dials your number—the one he knows by heart. Shrill ringing pierces the air—even permeating the thick glass—spooking you. He watches as you wrench your hand from beneath your panties and glance at the bedside table, to the source of the interruption. He ducks low again, making sure he’s not in your peripheral view. 

With the cellphone waiting in his hands, he studies you, sees the cogs turning in your brain as you hastily consider your options—the same ones he ran through seconds earlier:

You need to pick up the phone, because, despite your vulnerable, frazzled state, it’s late, and you can’t have your parents waking up to the ringing of every landline in the house. 

It’s the perfect catch-22. 

And people say he’s stupid. 

You fail senior year three times and it’s a thing. You pass it once and everyone forgets. Whatever—

When you pick up the handset, Eddie grins. Gotcha.

He watches you inhale deeply, attempting to calm yourself. Then you press the phone to your ear and he does the same, mirroring your movements. 

A soft sigh floats through the receiver, and the sound burrows deep into his mind, sending fractured signals down his body that leave his cock flexing. And he almost cheers at the frailness of the breath—the way he gets to watch its birth from your lust-bitten lips, the way he reaps the benefits so intimately. 

Your voice is strained and scratchy from all the open-mouthed gasps, but sweet all the same. “H-Hello?” 

Eddie grinds his teeth, biting back the eagerness creeping up his throat. “Hey, sweetheart,” he mutters, tone low and husky. 

He nearly cracks a tooth when your thighs clench. Waves of filthy thoughts race through his mind, but he has to play it cool. He has to act normal. He has to act like he’s not right outside your window, painfully hard from watching you finger-fuck yourself. 

“Eddie?” you half-whisper, brows pinching tight in confusion. “What’re you calling this late for?”

A shiver wracks through his body at the sound of his name on your lips so soon after your wandering hands went exploring. Shifting his focus from your face, he slides his gaze down your figure, zeroing in on your glistening fingers. 

Suddenly, he feels parched. 

With a gulp, he ignores your question, opting instead to spend his energy fighting the wolfish grin from seeping into his voice, and replacing it with remorseful innocence. “Sorry, did I wake you? Didn’t mean to interrupt your beauty sleep…” 

It takes everything in him not to laugh when a look of panic sparks at your features. 

“N-No! No, um, I was just—” You lift your head up, looking around the room until your gaze fixes on something just out of his view. “Painting my nails,” you hurry, but it comes out more like a question than a statement. “So, what did you—”

“What color?” Eddie rasps curiously, biting his lip.

Your face drops, and your stuttering breaths get louder as they crackle through the receiver. “Sorry?” 

As if it has a mind of its own, his free hand hovers over the bulge in his pants, giving an experimental squeeze. He inhales sharply, quietly. His eyes close in ecstasy, but only for a split-second, before opening once more. Because he needs to see you. 

“What color are you painting your nails?” he purrs, tone dripping in a smoky desire. Though to you, it probably just sounds like dreary sleep, stuck in his throat. 

Sliding along the length of his shaft, he palms himself with precise pressure as he watches you shudder.

Your fingers toy with the waistband of your pretty panties, all frilly lace and deep violet. 

“Purple,” you sigh with a slow blink, letting your hand slip beneath the thin fabric. 

“Hm. Cute.” His hips twitch, jerking from the pleasure coiling tight in his gut. He watches as your knuckles stretch the material of your underwear once more, moving up and down a few times before starting a repetitive, concentric motion. 

The sight of you actively touching yourself to his voice has a steady stream of precum pumping out of his tip, thoroughly soaking a splotch into his boxers. Soon, he’s sure his jeans will bleed a darker shade of black. All for you. He’ll become a sticky mess, all for you.

It doesn’t help that he finds himself ruminating on how wet you must’ve gotten your fingers just now, dipping them low into your entrance and spreading the arousal up to your clit. 

Fuck, you’re going to be the death of him. 

A tiny voice in his mind bellows, belligerent and questioning how he’s going to come back from this. How he’s going to look you in the eye tomorrow, now knowing what you sound like when you fall victim to your basest desires. 

But then a pitchy hum dances through the line, and he can no longer hear the voice. He watches your legs spasm as you squirm helplessly, like your hands are not enough. 

God, Eddie wishes he could help you. He nearly draws blood, biting his lip, wishing on every star in the sky that he could open this damn window. That he could enter your room and you’d only cry out for him, begging him to touch you. That you wouldn’t yell, wouldn’t scream for him to leave.

He wishes you’d moan his name right to his face. Wishes you’d peel your panties off and open your legs like a wordless invitation. You’d send that famous pout of yours his way, the one you do so well, the one that drives him crazy. The one he can’t resist. 

He’d give you exactly what you need. He’d fill you up and devour every last mewling whimper right from your parted lips. And once you let him in, he wouldn’t abandon your warm cunt for all the money in the world. At least not until he got to leave your velvety walls dripping in his cum. Leave you with a piece of him. A promise of more. A pledge of devotion. 

Eddie’s shoulders hunch, matching your convulsing movements as you struggle to remain quiet. 

“‘S it light purple or dark purple?” he questions gruffly, eager to hear your voice—to hear the strain. 

You throw your head back against the soft pillow behind you, your face crumbling in pleasure, like the right amount of lightning has struck the sensitive little bundle of nerves between your quivering thighs. “D-Dark.”

He bites back a groan, surprised his laser-focused stare hasn’t burned a hole through the glass yet. 

“Like violet?” he huffs out, his gaze refusing to leave your delicate panties, or the actions happening underneath. 

“Mhm,” you mewl, trapping your lower lip between your teeth. 

His jaw drops in awe as the spasms seem harder to control, and the silence more difficult to hold onto, with lewd moans fighting their way up your throat, crawling agonizingly slowly from deep inside you.

“Y’alright, sweets? Y’sound a little breathless,” he utters, steady and calculating—a stark contrast to the harsh, hurried grip he has on his cock. 

You nod your head fervently before remembering the phone pressed to your blazing cheek. Humming a few seconds too long, you’re unable to stop the vibrato from guiding your voice into the pits of desperation.

“Y-Yeah, ‘m fine. Just— I’m, mm-painting my toes.” Your tone jumps an octave on the last word, matching the full-body jerk that leaves you quaking. “Can’t fuckin’ breathe with my knee in my chest,” you pant, forced anger saturating every last syllable as your back arches. 

He chuckles, amused by all your fabrications. For someone who’s squirming in bed like they’re running from their own fingers, you lie surprisingly well. 

It takes everything in him not to let the moan breach his lips when he watches your hand rip from your panties, reach for the decorative throw pillow beside you, and shove it between your thighs, aiding your grinding hips. 

Quickly losing rhythm, he clings to the last shred of sanity he can find, hoping to stave off the fiery heat just a bit longer. He’s not done with you yet. 

But apparently you’re done with him, because your mouth falls open in a silent scream, your body convulses rapidly before stopping suddenly, every part of you stiffening like a marble statue depicting the bowing ascent into pleasure-filled ecstasy. 

Though you’re still, it looks like calamity is bubbling just beneath the surface. One, two, three more weak ruts of your hips against the pillow seems to officially send you hurling over the edge, dragging Eddie along with you. 

Warmth blooms low in his gut and spreads across the front of his pants as his cock throbs angrily, shooting ropes of cum that are immediately stifled by the limitations of the tight fabric. His body jerks, matching your movements. Like you, his pleasure boils over, freeing him of any inhibitions. A groan tears from his chest, but you don’t hear it. Your cries drown out his noises.

“S-Shit, unh, Eddie!” 

He shudders at the way his name rides on the back of your moans, but you quickly cover for yourself.

“Sorry—fuck, I,” your hurried, huffing breaths interrupt your words, “I spilled the polish. I’m— I gotta go, Eds.”

Inhaling sharply, Eddie allows himself just a bit more teasing. “Can’t wait to see your pretty nails tomorrow, sweetheart.” 

Your responding whimper is cut short when you quickly hang up the phone and flop back onto your bed, pillow still hugged tightly between your trembling thighs. For a while, you just lay there with your arm draped over your face.

Outside the window, Eddie watches your rapidly moving chest eventually even out into soft, controlled breaths. He’s about to leave—the cooling mess in his pants starting to give him the bad shivers—but right as he begins inching backward, you sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed. 

His eyes go wide when he sees the dark patch on your panties. As you stand and make your way to the middle of the room, his eyes then practically pop out of his head when you shimmy the underwear down your legs, carelessly tossing it in the direction of your laundry basket. 

He gulps at the sight of your bare ass, vibrations rippling through flesh as you walk toward your bedroom door. But before you exit the room, you swipe a pair of panties from the top drawer of your dresser. 

Once you disappear into the dark hallway, leaving your door closed—presumably to stop any light from filtering through—Eddie snaps into action, yanking the window upward and throwing himself through. 

Tumbling to the floor with a quiet thud, his head pops up, looking over the edge of the bed, across the way at the still-shut door. With the cellphone safe in hand, he scrambles up to his feet, trying desperately to ignore the scent of you in the air. It’s partly your perfume lingering on every item in the room, partly the sweet smell of your arousal permeating the stillness of the night. 

Glancing down at the wet spot on the throw pillow, he bounces slightly, frowning in agony—it’s taking incredible restraint not to steal the stupid thing. Because fuck, he could do so much with that. He could rest his head on it, sleep peacefully to the scent of you. He could bury his face in the stain while he ruts his hips into his lumpy mattress. Hell, he could even grind his bare cock on the pillow itself.

But it’s too big of an item to steal. You’d notice. Especially because you were just using it, and for all he knows, this is a regular occurrence. This might be your special humping pillow. He doesn’t judge—he’s got his special jack-off hoodie. Actually, it’s your hoodie that you ‘lost’ a few months ago. It just barely smells like you anymore, but it still does the trick.  

Sighing, Eddie shakes his head, deciding to stick to his original plan. He hurries over toward the basket in your closet but stops short just before he arrives. There, on the ground, is the pair of panties you were wearing only moments ago. He plucks the still-warm material off the ground, holding it up to the light. 

Your juices have thoroughly soaked the fabric, and he looks inside at the gusset, nearly moaning at the glimmer of slick shining up at him. 

“Fuck yeah,” he mutters, pumping his fist. However, right as he moves to greedily sift through more of your dirty laundry, he hears the flush of a toilet from down the hall, then the click of a door. 

His adrenaline spikes, and he speeds back across the room, cursing himself for not just blindly grabbing whatever he could get his hands on from the full basket. Slipping out the window with ease, Eddie shoves the waistband of your panties into his mouth to free one of his hands, allowing him to softly, but swiftly, shut it behind him. 

He makes quick work of descending the trellis before ever witnessing you re-enter the room. As he jogs down the street to his van, he grins victoriously. 

He may not have been able to hang out with you tonight, but he definitely got something far better. A win is a win.

A/N: Pls lmk if you liked this fic!!!! Y’all’s reactions let me know what I should do more of. Also, I’m like a dog and if you guys give me snausages (compliments), I’ll do tricks (post fics) for you. 

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