#bitterwrites

Slightly begrudged, Eddie continued his sulking pace. Not that he really minded his job, after all.

"Remember," Wayne said as he pushed the big doors to the garage open, "I need you to be on your best behaviour today. No antics, you get me?"

"Oh I got you," Eddie quips absentmindedly, too taken aback by the legion of vintage cars that awaited them. "These are all property of your supposed childhood friend? What is he? A mob boss or something?"

Wayne rolled his eyes, "Just a businessman, Eddie, and I mean it, no standing around either, he's been a customer for almost twenty years now, and I'd like to keep it that way. I even held his daughter when she was a baby, this is not someone you want to disappoint."

But Eddie was lost in the shiny contours of the expensive cars, trying to calculate just how much cash was gathered in this room alone. 

"Oh and make sure to keep an eye out for the neighbourhood kids, they like to sneak looks inside, so don't let them in, understand?" Wayne got no answer, "Eddie?"

"Yeah, yeah, let no one in, I'm not a toddler you leave home alone for the first time I'll be fine." He waved Wayne away, perusing through the rows of cars.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Half way through the day, the first kids popped up at the large doors. At first Eddie just heard giggles, then whispers, then he saw three little heads poke through the doorway, eyes twinkling in the bright sunlight.

"No, nu-uh, out, you three!" He felt like an old man yelling for children to get off his lawn. But it worked, the kids scurried away again, giggling and screeching in the process.

Eddie wiped the sweat off his brow, again, as he had done every ten minutes since he had gotten here. He was eternally grateful for the faint breeze every once in a while, but the white tank top he was donning was - besides smeared with oil - now also almost drenched. Great. Just as he was about to bend back over the 1957 Porsche, he heard more footsteps approaching. Wayne had left to go get them some lunch in the supermarket down the street, leaving Eddie to deal with the greedy little onlookers all on his own, but he was getting tired of scaring them away.

"Just go already! How many more times do I-" his tirade halted when he turned around to find you. Huh, he thought, okay, not the normal crowd, but he wasn't one to judge. "Um, sorry, you can't be in here."

You cocked your head at him, cherry lollypop between your lips, your summer dress faintly blowing in the wind. "I can't?"

Eddie was somewhat taken aback. "This is private property" was his lame response, which even sounded unconvincing to his own ears.

"Is that so?" you replied idly, stalking forward and running your fingers over the hood of one of the cars. 

Eddie surged forward, "Hey! You can't just-" he grabbed your wrist, not hard, just to keep you away from the precious cars left in his care. All you did was smile up at him, completely unbothered.

Eddie was stunned, like all the files in his mind had been corrupted, and in pure desperation threw it back onto the old guy lecturing kids, "Listen here, missy," (missy, really, Eddie?) "You can't just barge in here, okay? I'm gonna need to ask you to leave, respectfully."

The cheshire cat grin on your face only grew at his words, "Ooh, respectfully? Well, if you ask so nicely…" Your tone was teasing, all drawn-out and suspiciously sweet. "I guess I'll see you around, then…"

"Eddie," he supplied, partly against his better judgement.

"See ya, Eddie." And then you were gone.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

"Wayne, I already know what you're going to say, but can I test-drive one of these babies?" Eddie harboured no hopes that the answer would be yes - ever - but daydreaming never hurt anyone.

All he got back from his uncle was a deadpan stare and a raised brow.

"Right, right." 

I was the next day, still doing check-ups on the cars, whose drivers' seats seemed to glint alluringly at him every time he popped their hoods. 

"Did I tell you about that girl who came by yesterday? That was weird,"

"Eddie. You've told me several times now, I think I get it." Wayne was changing the oil on one of the Ferrari's, wondering for the umpteenth time why, again, he had hired his own nephew?  

"Oh, right. Right." Eddie couldn't seem to get you out of his head, the way you had been so unfazed, your eyes trained on him the whole time, there was an undeniable pull towards the idea of you. See you around, you had said. Faintly, somewhere, Eddie hoped it was true. 

And it was.

Around noon, once again, you appeared in the door opening, this time with a different coloured lollypop and a dog circling your feet. Eddie took in the sight of you, radiant in the contrasting light of the doorway, but it wasn't him you were looking at.

"Mister Munson!" you exclaimed, a bright, honest smile taking over your features.

"Sweetheart, hey, how you been?" Wayne wiped his hands on a rag and came over to you, smiling almost affectionately.

"Not too bad, just making sure I don't melt, you know, in this weather. How about you? I see you brought help this year?"

"I'm good, honey, thanks, yeah, this is my nephew, Eddie." he gestured vaguely in Eddie's direction.

"Nice to meet you, Eddie," your smile was coy and well-practiced, with a glint of mischief behind your eyes that Wayne didn't seem to notice at all when he tumbled into a slew of questions, keeping you entertained. 

 "Tell me, how's your father, how are you finding college? Are you home all summer?" 

Eddie was gobsmacked. Could it be that he had commanded you to leave your own garage? Your own house? Oh how he wished the floor would grow teeth and swallow him right about now. Instead, he busied himself with polishing the same mirror roughly eleven times over, not so subtly eavesdropping on your conversation. 

"So, I'll be heading off now, gotta take this one out for a walk," you scratched the dog behind her ear, "See you later, Mr. Munson," you looked over your shoulder, smiling sweetly "and bye, Eddie." All Eddie could muster was an impressively fake smile until you rounded the corner.

"Wayne!!" Eddie exclaimed, throwing his dirty rag at his uncle, "what the fuck??"

"Hey!" Wayne scrambled to swat the rag away, "what now-"

"That's the girl! The girl that came by! The girl that I sent away!"

Wayne could hardly suppress his smile, "You sent the daughter of the owner away? Nice, Ed, real classy."

Eddie raised his hands in desperation, "You said his daughter was a baby!"

"Boy, I said I held her as a baby! Years ago! That's what you get for never listening to me," Wayne snickered.

Eddie groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I called her missy."

At that, Wayne couldn't help but properly burst out laughing, "Missy?! Well, you have only yourself for that one, don't ya?" This earned him another rag to his face.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

That afternoon, heat almost unbearable in the garage, Wayne had a plan.

"Eddie, fetch some water, will ya?"

"Water, from where? The store?"

"Nope," Wayne answered, barely looking up from the screw he was fastening, "the kitchen."

Eddie stood up straight, "The kitchen? You're kidding me."

"Nope."

"Why do you want to punish me, Wayne?"

"Boy, it's just some water, go fetch."

"I'm not a dog," Eddie mumbled as he wiped his hands and attempted to fix his untamed curls in the reflection of one of the windows. He stalked out of the garage and rounded the corner into your backyard. They had been given permission to help themselves to anything they needed, but normally Eddie made Wayde grab him stuff. Not that he was scared of you, or anything.

He climbed up the steps to your backdoor, looking down at his oil-smeared outfit that clashed starkly with the light blue kitchen tiles coming into view. If he was lucky, he would be in and out before anyone noticed him. He just had to find the cabinet you kept your cups in and get some water and he'd be a free man. Only, which cabinet?

This kitchen was about seven times as big as his own, with about seven times as many cabinets, which made the guess, somewhat… impossible. So he started opening doors, and shutting them as silently as possible after the so manieth cupboard of only decorative plates. (How many decorative plates could one family need?)

He was almost getting desperate, nearing the end of the row of doors, thinking maybe fancy people didn't use cups? Until he finally found them, shiny and sparkling. He grabbed the first one he saw, finally turning around towards the tap and-

"Jesus- oh my god, what the-" You were smiling at him from the other side of the room, languidly draped against the doorframe.

You cleared your throat, putting on fake wide eyes, "Um, sorry, you can't be in here."

"I, um, I just needed to get some wat-" he barely managed.

"This is private property" you mocked, a smile seeping through your tone. The twinkle in your eyes was what finally betrayed your agenda to him.

"Ahh, ha ha, real clever, I get it." he turned the glass over in his hands, trying to will his nerves away.

"Took you long enough," you chirped, pushing yourself off the doorpost and strolling towards him. "Thirsty?"

"Yeah, um, no, it's, it's for Wayne," could he sound any more like a middle schooler that got caught red-handed?

"Aah, then you'd want this," you said, pulling open the doors of your giant refrigerator and producing a bottle of sparkling water, "he likes this one the best." 

Eddie had never seen the drink before, probably too fancy to keep around in the trailer, "Thanks," he mumbled, taking the blue bottle from you.

"No worries," you started backing away into the doorframe you had come from again, while Eddie grew faintly more aware of a feeling blooming in his chest that somehow wanted you to stay. "Just, yell if you need anything else, alright?" 

And then you were gone. Again. The smile on your lips lingered in Eddie's mind for longer than he'd care to admit.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

The next day, Eddie was determined to strike up a real conversation with you. Preferably one where he didn't scold you like a mean teacher or came off extremely clueless, if possible. But the day rolled by, and no sign of you. He even volunteered to get more water in the kitchen, hoping to run into you, but to no avail.

He had all but lost hope, until he spotted you in the garden. You were sitting at the far end, reading a book at a picnic table underneath a wooden arch covered in flowers. You were a vision, in your short shorts and the soft sunlight on your face, you could have stepped into any of those mushy romance movies Eddie pretended not to like. 

"Hey, Wayne, you go ahead and leave without me, alright?" Eddie said, hoping to sound casual.

Wayne glanced up from packing his things, inquisitively at first, but then he spotted you. "Sure, kid. Just one word of advice-"

Eddie groaned in anticipation of the words to come.

"Don't call her missy, alright?" a grin taking over his face.

"Yeah, yeah, thanks, I'll try for sure." Eddie rushed away from his uncle, checking his appearance one more time in one the windows of a particularly shiny Mustang. He looked like he just worked an entire day in unbearable heat, which he did, so at least that checked out, but it would have to do. He slowed his walk, tried his best for casual, and strolled up to you in your large, well-kept garden.

"Hey there," he said, alerting you of his presence, and slid onto the bench opposite you.

You looked up from your book, not startled at all, Eddie noted, and smiled at him, "Hi." 

Eddie smiled back, already scrambling for words, swallowing hard at the sight of you, framed inside a border of roses.

But conversation seemed to come easily to you. "So, which of the cars have you been dreaming of stealing the most?"

Eddie let out a surprised laugh at that.

"I bet it was the red Porsche, or the Black Corvette?" You raised your eyebrow, "or are you more of a convertible type, Eddie?" 

"Aah, you got me," he threw his hands up in surrender.

"Hmh, then I bet you'd like, the dark green one," you snapped your fingers, "the uh, um, what's it called?" 

"The 1955 Ford Thunderbird, with the 312 cubic inch Y-block V8 motor," Eddie blurted out, too enamoured with the car to curb his enthusiasm. 

"That's right," your smile widened, "See, I got you all figured out."

Oh, Eddie was in looooveee. And very much unable to play anything cool, ever, though he was willing to die trying. "And you? Any favourites you'd run away with?"

"Oh, I'm not really a car kinda girl, only really know what my dad tells me about them."

"Oh really? But I bet you have a favourite, right?" He was trying to throw all of his charm in the ring.

"Hmm," you pondered his question, "I guess I have a soft sport for the Porsche, the light blue one?" 

"The 911 T? Good choice, good choice, a lady with taste."

You laughed at that, "Yeah, you know how cars kind of have a face?"

"I, um, I can't say I do?" but he was intrigued by where this was going.

"Yeah you do, the headlights are the eyes, the bumper is the mouth, and that one just looks, kind? I don't know," your laugh was getting bashful now, almost shy, "Maybe I'm talking nonsense."

"No! No, I see it, sure, you're right, even, very friendly car. Real sweetheart." You swatted at his arm, only making his lopsided grin more fond. "No, I mean it, didn't even give me any trouble during its check-up."

"Isn't it exhausting, all these long days in this heat?" You asked.

"Eh," Eddie waved his fingers, "had better days, but it's alright, honest work, you know."

You nodded, "Seems like hard work… you must be tired." Your eyes were flicking over his body now, but your smile remained kind and compassionate.

"I mean, well, yeah, kinda…" Eddie was slowly getting flustered by your attention.

"Working with your hands all day, can't be easy…" you trailed off, fidgeting with the edge of your book, "You know, I admire that, the craft, I mean." You slowly stood up, abandoning your book and walking around the table.

Eddie swallowed hard, trying to stay cool and collected, as he couldn't tell where this was going for the life of him. 

You came to a halt behind Eddie, still musing aloud, "Not afraid to get your hands dirty, and, you have to be quite strong… right?" 

You trailed your fingertips over his exposed upper arm, just like how you had done to the car a few days ago, but this time, Eddie didn't stop you. Instead, he inhaled sharply, tracking your movements with his eyes. 

"Right, Eddie? I bet you're really strong, carrying all those things, lifting the tires…" You bent down, your face nearing his ear, to whisper, "I bet you work really hard, Eddie, and I think- " your lips grazed the shell of his ear and Eddie thought he might faint on the spot, "I think you deserve a reward for that."

Eddie felt a shiver run down his spine at your words, his eyelids fluttering to stay open. Your hands were on his shoulders now, while your lips dragged over the hot skin of his neck. Sparks ignited all over his body upon the soft contact, rendering him speechless.

"Right, Eddie? Don't you think you deserve to be spoiled a little? For all your hard work?" You planted small kisses all over his neck, and when his head tipped back - involuntarily - you moved on to the column of his throat. Not satisfied with his lack of response, you purred his name again, "Eddie?", which poured oil on the flames igniting in his belly.

"Y- yeah, I do." His voice was hoarse, even to his own ears.

You smiled against his skin, satisfied with his reply, "That's right, so do you want me to take care of you, Eddie? Spoil you? Hmm?" Your voice was velvet to the touch, the words curling around him in an intoxicating spiral.

"Yeah, yeah, I- I do," his mumbling was interrupted by a low groan that left his throat as you planted hot, open mouthed kisses on his jaw. He was pretty sure he was in heaven.

"Turn around then," was all you said, and Eddie couldn't obey you any faster, swinging his legs over the bench to face you, no doubt red-cheeked and with dazed eyes. And you, you were a vision. So innocent looking, just standing there with your sweet smile and your gorgeous legs, looking at him, of all people. 

Then, you slowly, ever so slowly, got on your knees in front of him. And oh god. Eddie thought he might lose it, might wake up from this daydream, might get told this was all a cruel joke, but the way you held his eyes as you sank down, this was his ultimate wet dream come true right before his eyes. He swallowed, by lack of anything else to do, as 'casual' had gone out the window a long time ago. 

You looked so pretty sitting in between his spread legs, Eddie almost felt the need to stop you right there and ask to take a picture. But he didn't, because you were reaching your hands up to his belt now, carefully unbuckling it. The metal sounds of the clasps sounded out of place between the twittering birds in your garden, but Eddie couldn't care less, so entirely enveloped by your gentle stare and careful hands.

"May I, Eddie?" you asked, voice still as sweet as ever.

All he could do was nod, vigorously, and lift his hips to help you slide his jeans down his legs. He was hard. Of course he was, who could blame him? He had been living out his own personal wildest fantasies for the last ten minutes. 

His breath hitched once more when your lips got closer to his length, but instead you attacked his thighs, planting sweet, soft kisses on the pale skin there. You were driving him wild, insane, mad, deranged, you name it. All of it the work of your plush lips on his skin.

Suddenly, a clear thought made its way through the fog in his brain "W- what about your parents?" There was a clear wobble to his voice, but he was under strict instructions from Wayne not to screw this up. 

You laughed a little, maybe at his question, maybe at his disheleveld state, "Out of town, Eddie, don't worry." 

"Oh," he swallowed thickly, "right, yeah. Neighbours?" 

"What neighbours?" you giggled, as indeed, your house was located far away from the rest of the town.

"Right, right," he couldn't think straight with your lips so close to his aching dick that was straining his boxers by now. 

You smoothed your hands up and down his legs, "Relax, Eddie, lay back, let me take care of you, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah…" he tried to chill, but the mix of nerves, butterflies and arousal in his stomach was a hard one to swallow. All of his efforts, though, went completely out the window as soon as you palmed his dick through the fabric. A sinful, drawn out moan immediately escaped his lips upon the first experimental stroke you gave.

You giggled quietly, a matching heat catching on your cheeks as you leaned forwards and licked his leaking tip through his boxers. Another sound escaped him, and he was sure by now his mouth was hanging open, bewitched by the (un)holy sight before him.

"You like that, Eddie?" you purred, slowly working his dick over.

"Y- yeah, oh fuck, yeah."

"Good," you said as you finally hooked your fingers behind the waistband, pulling his boxers down. "Be as loud as you want, by the way, I think it's really hot."

The compliment, paired with the casual way you said it, made the burn on Eddie's cheeks even brighter, the blush now creeping down his chest as well. You looked absolutely angelic, and yet absolutely sinful, the way your beautiful face was framed between his thighs now, and your delicate hand wrapped around his dick. 

When you licked up his shaft for the first time, fire sparked right through his entire body, igniting something stronger, deeper, than he had ever felt before. Your tongue wrapped around his head next, while it glided between your soft, plush lips. Eddie was so gone, groaning in pleasure with every stroke. 

You worked up a steady rhythm, your mouth as warm and intoxicating as your touch. The way you looked up at him, all innocent and pretty, made Eddie's insides swoop, drawing a high-pitched whine from him which he didn't know he was capable of. 

His eyes wanted to roll back into his skull, but he fought to keep them open, not wanting to miss a single second. He carefully weaved his fingers through your hair, not so much steering you as just going along with your movements, craving more contact. "This okay?" he asked, voice raspy and deep.

You hummed around his dick, sending shivers of pleasure through Eddie's body. He was sure you'd be the death of him. 

Eddie was getting closer, though he tried to hold off from finishing for as long as possible, both to save his ego and to savour every last second of this moment. But your skilled movements and honestly just the mere sight of you kneeled between his legs alone made it extremely hard on him. 

His moans became breathier, and he knew that he was getting close. His heart was pounding in his chest, the muscles in his abdomen were flexing tight, and pleasure was clouding his brain to the point that the only thing that existed in the whole universe for him were you, and the way you looked, and felt around him.

"Fuck, fuck, sweetheart," he moaned the words rather than said them, "Oh, fuck, I'm so- so close." But you didn't stop. On the contrary, you kept going, even faster, sucking the head exactly the way he liked it. "Oh god, jesus, fuck," all kinds of profanities tumbled from his lips, feeling his high rapidly approaching. You looked up at him one final time, your big eyes locking onto his, and that's what did him in.

His orgasm crashed over him in burning, white- hot waves of pleasure, making him moan out your name over and over as he finished. His hands were still in your hair, feeling the way you carefully worked him through his high. When he opened his eyes again, he saw you wipe your mouth, a satisfied smile on your face.

Eddie was still beyond dishevelled, completely out of it, you name it. He watched you with wide eyes and pink cheeks as he caught his breath, still half in disbelief about what just happened. 

You licked your lips, still kneeling before him, "Was that good?" 

"Good? Good?" (Eddie's brain had stopped working like half an hour ago) "Sweetheart, 'good' would be the understatement of the century." He brushed your hair behind your ear, "That was, fuck, that was like, the best moment of my life." 

You laughed at that, finally standing up and dusting off your knees, "Ah, don't flatter me, Munson." Your smile was bright and warm, and Eddie found himself in deep, deep trouble. 

⋆⭒˚.⋆🐛 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

After a while of soft blinking and small smiles, Eddie pushed himself up on his arms, his biceps bulging deliciously, and draped himself over your body, his face coming to rest in the crook of your neck.

"Am I crushing you?" were the first (muffled) words of the morning.

"Yeah," you wrapped your arms around his torso, "I like it."

He exhaled and melted into you, brushing his nose up and down the column of your neck affectionately. "You smell nice."

"Yeah?" your smile was evident in your voice.

"Hmh, like you."

"I'd hope so."

You dozed off again, shushed to sleep to the tiny kisses Eddie peppered on your neck. When you opened your eyes again, he was peacefully asleep on top of you, his long limbs sprawled on top of yours. He looked sweet like this, innocent, though you could still faintly make out some of the hickeys you had left on his shoulder. You smiled to yourself, and secretly grew hungry for his touch in other ways besides cuddles.

The anticipation built slowly, a small flame flickering to life in your belly, the conviction that Eddie would do anything but reject your offer - on the contrary, even - making you giddy. You waited patiently for him to open his eyes again, elated when you soon saw his eyelashes flutter. 

"Hey," you smiled, broad and still sleepy.

"Hi," he replied in his scratchy, deep morning voice.

You knew you didn't need any words with Eddie, he would immediately understand. So you raked your fingers through his curls, earning a contented sigh in the process, and carefully manoeuvred his face in front of yours. You kissed him, soft and slow as per the tempo he set, but you had other plans. You licked into his mouth, gaining immediate access, and softly bit his bottom lip. 

The coy look on your face when Eddie pulled back was met by his hungry one, just as you knew him, always up for adventure. So you let your hands scratch his back, which made his shudder into you, dipping his head down to kiss your shoulder. You smiled to yourself, you knew him too well. 

When he kissed you next, it was deep, languid, but with a burning need behind it. Licking into your mouth in passionate motions he had you a panting mess in no time. His hand dropped to your hips, squeezing the soft flesh once to then glide to your inner thigh. He shifted his body up and between your legs, bringing your thigh up and around his, so his growing hard-on was now pressing against your core. The soft gasp you let out at the faint pressure earned you another lopsided grin.

"So needy, so early in the morning?" Eddie teased as if his reciprocity wasn't clearly outlined in his boxer briefs. 

You did nothing but smile at him, waiting for him to roll his hips into yours. And when he did, you were too pleased to hold back the soft mewl that spilled over your lips, matching Eddie's satisfied sigh. Pleasure sparked through you, your entire body seemingly internalising the faint sunlight that enveloped you.

Eddie's curls gleamed in the light, a golden halo framing his head, rightfully so, you thought. He pressed his forehead against yours, the drag of his dick through two layers of fabric deliciously tantalising. You had been good, but now you wanted all of him.

"Need you, Eddie, please," you gasped, winding your arms around his torso tighter. Eddie shone with delight at your begging, all too willing to grant you your wishes. Meanwhile he himself could hardly hold back from you either, rock hard and craving your body.

"Anything for my girl," he punctuated his love with a quick kiss on your forehead. His hand reached down and dipped below the hem of your panties, "do you need my mouth first, sweetheart, or-" his sentence got lost as soon as he slid his fingers through your folds and found them soaking. "All this from a little grinding, huh?" 

"All this for you, Eds," your tone was saccharine sweet, while you were pawing at his chest because you just couldn't not touch him at all times. 

Eddie's tone had been cocky, but you saw the tell-tale sign of his blushing cheeks that betrayed how bashful he still got at your compliments, at your arousal over him. His gentle nature and sweetness he laced through every touch made you unafraid to get a little whiny, because you knew he loved it. "Need you inside me, Eddie, need to feel you."

You saw the effect your words had on him, his blush creeping down his chest now, his lips red-kissed and parted, his pupils blown wide. 

Eddie's voice was hoarse with need when he cleared his throat and said "my girl always gets what she wants." 

He pulled his boxers down enough to free his aching dick, too hurried to take them off completely, and pulled your panties to the side, not wanting to waste another second. He groaned when he saw your glistening pussy in the dim, golden light, making your own cheeks heat up to match his.

"Fuck, baby," he dragged his tip through you folds, spreading the wetness all over. You moaned unabashedly when he hit your clit and gave it a few little taps, a devilish smile crossing his lips briefly before falling back into a concentrated stare at where your bodies were about to merge. 

He pushed in slowly, letting you revel in the delicious stretch his tip brought to your entrance. He carefully studied your face as he slid in further, pleasure taking over your features, mirroring his own. 

"You feel so good around me," Eddie groaned.

You couldn"t find it in yourself to respond once he bottomed out, the sensation of being so full overwhelming all of your senses. It didn't help when he started his slow pace, dragging against your walls at an agonising, yet heavenly pace.

"That feel good, baby? Yeah?" Eddie's large hand pushed your thigh higher up on his hip, pounding into you even deeper.

The only word that left your lips in this state was Eddie's name, which he didn't mind at all.

"That's right, look at you," and he did, look at you, he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, in fact. "Oh- god, fuck, you're so gorgeous, fuck-"

Eddie had a filthy mouth, you knew that, but his words never failed to make your stomach swoop. You smiled through your moans, with Eddie returning it, both fully aware of how sappy and in love you were being, and fully reveling in it. 

"Kiss me?" you managed to say through the haze in your brain.

Eddie obeyed immediately, bending forward and smashing your lips together while he continued his relentless pace. His plush lips moved against yours as if you were his last meal, though soon those efforts were abandoned due to the fact that you were both panting messes, now just whining into each other's mouths.

"Fuck, baby, I think I'm close already-" 

"That's ok Eds, me too," you buried your head in the crook of his neck, planting open mouthed kisses all over.

"Yeah? Let me help you," ever the gentleman, Eddie was determined to always make you finish first, Even in this still-sleep-drunken state, he took care of your needs first. His hand snaked between your bodies, easily finding your clit and rubbing small, controlled circles around it, just the way you liked it. 

"Ah- Eddie, oh my god-" you could feel yourself starting to fall apart at the edges.

"Yeah, that's it, good girl, are you gonna come for me?" his eyes gleamed with adoration, "Hmm, come on my dick for me, pretty girl."

His words were what pushed you over the edge, together with his deep, sloppy thrusts that hit all the right spots. You felt the coil in your gut snap, emanating deep waves of pleasure through your body as you arched into Eddie, who watched it all happen with an expression of awe on his face. 

He followed only seconds after you, the way your pussy squeezed his dick being too much for him to bear. He came with a deep, guttural moan, burying his dick deep inside your pussy and releasing his load.

He collapsed back onto you, almost the same way this had started, and once again buried his face in your neck, sighing contently as you both caught your breath. Your nails idly traced the skin on his broad shoulders, revelling in the feeling of Eddie's warm skin on yours and the daylight that now threatened to spill over your curtains. 

Once Eddie had composed himself a little bit, he slid off of you, coming to rest next to you on the bed, a satisfied smile plastered across his face.

"You're pretty in the morning," you told him, waiting for his trademark blush to once again colour his cheeks.

"You're pretty always," he retorted, pulling you closer to him and earning a giggle in response. 

You knew you should go shower, you did, but you also knew the day was young and you loved your boyfriend way too much to get up and out of his arms just yet. 

⋆⭒˚.⋆🍯 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

"I'll be right back, baby" you said, as you took the dirty plates to the kitchen. 

A sigh escaped your lips as soon as the door closed behind you. Not because you were tired of Spencer, never, but your heart just felt so heavy having to see him like this.

It had been a little over a week now since Spencer had been seriously injured in the field. His injuries had been worse than any other member had ever been harmed, and after having to spend a few nights in the hospital, you finally had him to yourself again. The last few days had been some of the worst of your whole life. Getting the call about the shooting had felt like being shot yourself, and racing to the hospital in a perpetual state of panic and despair had felt like it lasted forever. Seeing Spencer unconscious on a hospital bed, being dragged away to surgery, it had almost been too much to handle. It all seemed so far away now, and getting to sit by his side as he opened his eyes again, that was a flood of relief that would never again be parallelled. "Hi…" he had said, large eyes lidded, a faint smile on his lips, and you had just burst into tears on the spot.

You shook your head to get away from the thoughts, feeling the warm water hit your skin as you started to wash the dishes. It hadn't been easy, having Spencer home and pretty much immoble for another while. Of course you had immediately jumped at the opportunity to take him home and care for him yourself, you loved him so much and nothing could change that, but that didn't mean it wasn't hard on you, or on Spencer.

You could see that he was really struggling. He was always so independent, from a young age already and now even more so, so naturally being unable to even stand on his own was like torture to him. You did your very very best to accommodate him, helping him where necessary and letting him take the wheel where he could, but it was a tough balance. He was extremely proud and though he was more than grateful and appreciative of your help, his frustrations were beginning to run high.

Not that you didn't understand, of course. Despite the frequent and sincere thank you's you were given every day, it must all have been so frustrating to him… Spencer was not good at being taken care of in general, you had noticed. He was a giver through and through, selfless, kind, generous, and he had never been in a position where he received just so much. It was eating him alive that he couldn't give you anything in return.

Of course you didn't want or need anything for your care, you loved him and would do anything to make him comfortable in his time of need, but you could see the (entirely misplaced) guilt on his face when you made him his meals, helped him into his clothes, or fetched him another book.

You strolled back into your bedroom, Spencer still in the exact position you had left him in. Not that he had much choice. He put his book down slowly and smiled at you warmly. You returned the smile, but seeing him like this made your heart hurt every single time, no denying it. His right leg was propped up on some pillows. The bullet had penetrated his knee, and at first the doctors weren't sure he would ever be able to use it again, but after emergency surgery, luck had finally been on Spencer's side. During the fall, he managed to sustain an injury to his ribs which had needed stitches, and he had hit his head on something, which had left a glaring gash right though his eyebrow.

"Hi, baby" he said, looking extra soft in his pyjama pants and shirt, "ready for the movie?" 

"Sure am," you smiled warmly at him and got on top of the blankets. You had deemed every single night movie night while Spencer was bed-bound, you know, silver linings and such. Spencer lazily put his arm around your waist as you cuddled up next to him - carefully - and pressed play on the old Italian black-and-white drama. (Spencer's pick, naturally.) You had had to beg him for subtitles, because no matter how much you loved his whispered translations in your ear, you just could not keep up that way. Not that you understood all that much of it this way either, but Spencer seemed to enjoy it, and anything for him.

"Hey, baby, you want some hot chocolate?" you were halfway through the movie at this point, not that you understood anything close to half of it, but anyway.

Spencer smiled sheepishly, which you had learned to take as a yes from him. "Yeah?" you smiled at him, kissing his shoulder briefly before getting up.

"Only if it's not a bother!" he was quick to say, holding your wrist gently in his palm, his eyes pretty and impossibly round.

"For you?" you kissed his nose, "Never."

He smiled in the bashful way that you knew all too well. You tried to sprinkle in little sentiments like that last one, in hopes that he would finally start to believe them, but for now you knew that some twisted sort of guilt over being taken care of was eating at him.

When you returned with the mugs, you placed his on his bed-side table, as it was still too hot to drink immediately. You got back into bed, right away finding your place next to Spencer again. The movie progressed slowly, but you were content just cuddling with Spencer all night, or this careful version of cuddling, at least, trying to avoid any bruised or battered parts of him.

"Did you know that actually-" (you already knew you would not know whatever was to follow), "the director of this movie wanted to shoot it by the sea, but the guy who plays Phillipe just absolutely refused to?" Spencer giggled to himself, "They had to shoot by a big lake instead."

"How do you even find all these fun facts at this point?" the warmth you felt for him was evident in your tone.

"Don't know," he smiled down at you tucked beside him, "just catch them here and there, I guess"

"Oh yeah," you drawl, "me too, I'm always just hearing about old Italian movie stars and their affinity for lakes."

This drew a chuckle out of Spencer, his eyes sparkling like they always used to do. "They actually did end up winning multiple prizes for this film back in the day, so people could hypothetically still be talking about it to this day, you know, it made a lasting impression on the way they still today portray loneliness in relations to large bodies of water and how people-"

Spencer suddenly hissed out in pain, after which you heard a dull thud on the floor beside him. He had tried to grab the mug off the table, but the wound on his ribs must have caused him to drop it, you deduced and, oh, you knew this was so not what he needed after the already difficult day- week- month he'd had. You charged up for maximum damage control.

"Spencer-" you tried.

"Shit. I- Auch," he groaned in pain again, clutching his side.

"Spencer, no, baby stop trying to twist your torso, it's alright, I-" He wasn't listening, he was looking over the edge of the bed with clenched teeth, staring at the slowly spreading stain on your white bedside rugs.

"I- I'm so sorry, I'm- I'm just-" you could see the emotions taking over, it was all just too much in this moment. You had known this would eventually happen, he had been so brave, so well-behaved, just like you knew Spencer to be, but the frustrations had to come to the surface one way or another, you knew that very well. 

"I, just, FUCK" he near shouted. It was strange hearing Spencer cuss in this setting, normally so calm and collected.

"It's alright, Spence, really, I know it was an accident," You slowly got out of bed to take out some paper towels to try and manage the bleeding stain. "I can just throw these in the wash and tomorrow all will be alright." You tried to smile at him, but he wouldn't meet your eyes, still transfixed on the rug. 

"No." he said, just as you crouched down. "No, let me do this, it's my mess." there was a red blush creeping up his neck from below his collar and his eyes were fiery. He tried to lift his leg off the mountain of pillows, to no avail, as he immediately had to cease his efforts due to another spell of pain washing over him. 

He groaned - in frustration or pain, or both - and your heart broke in two. "Spencer," you said softly, sitting down carefully on the edge of the bed. He tried to get back up again and failed, clenching his teeth as he held onto his side. You reached your hand out to him, wanting to stroke his hair, but he ducked away harshly. Your hand faltered in the air, not used to reactions like this, and so it took you a second to remember to take your hand back into your lap.

He looked back at you, his scrunched-up brows smoothing out again when he saw you sitting there. "No- God, I'm sorry, I don't- I didn't- mean to-" he was breathing irregularly now, almost hyperventilating, wringing his hands in strained motions. There was so much pent up emotion in his body, fear from the shooting, pain from its wounds, anger over their consequences and guilt for the care they required, it was all coming to a head now. "I'm just so fucking, it's all so incredibly-" he was trying to push it back in, keep it all to himself again, but you knew the both of you couldn't continue like this. And he knew it too. It was as if he was trying to cram too many emotions all into one envelope to seal it off again, but finding it impossible. The fiery waves still spilled out of his eyes, the desperation layering onto itself until he was nearly shaking.

"Just, let it all out Spence, you don't have to hold it in, you can just yell for a while if it would make you feel better." you tried to soothe him best you could, you didn't know what would calm him now, and you didn't really dare to guess, but his eyes looked so pleadingly in your direction, looking for answers you didn't have.

"No, No," he shook his head, wincing again afterwards "I-" he groaned, now out of pure and visible frustration, and suddenly he took your hands, placing them on his chest "Will you just, touch me, please?" His amber eyes, impossibly big and begging, bored into yours.

"T- touch you?" you weren't sure you understood him right.

"Please-" his voice broke, desperate, desolate.

"O-okay, sure, Spence, anything," You didn't quite know what to do exactly, your hands stayed still on his chest, your mind racing with what to do. 

Clearly displeased with your inactivity, Spencer whined and his hands reached out, he took a light hold of your waist and tried to pull you closer, which was not as simple in your current position. You finally understood, he wanted you close, so you snaked one hand behind his neck to tangle in the curls at the bottom of his skull, and let the other one lightly graze the skin of his collarbones, making his muscles relax ever so slightly. His eyes still stared disparagingly back at you, as he kept clumsily pawing at you to get closer.

You leaned in slightly and gave him a quick, experimental peck on his lips. Hungry like a tiger, however, he kissed you back, hands immediately tangling in your hair, lips immediately seeking more contact. He kissed you like a man starved, like it had been ages since he had you close at all. You kissed him back, taken aback a little, but the familiar deep lull of his kisses didn't go unnoticed as you let your guard slip just a little, giving into his touch. 

Still not exactly sure where this was going, or what on earth he was trying to communicate, you let him manoeuvre (more like manhandle) you fully onto his side of the bed. You knew he was being careful - it was Spencer, after all - but in his desperation and need, he failed to account for his current situation, bumping into his painful leg or his bruises. He winced into the kiss, but still refused to break it, kissing and softly licking into your mouth as he went. 

"Spencer-" you tried, as you momentarily leaned away, but the amber of his eyes had molten, pools of craving peering back at you. He leaned forward with you, closing the gap again and once more capturing your lips with his. His gentle but guiding hands on your waist had directed your legs open on either side of him, essentially hovering you over him in a straddling position. You didn't dare to bring your hips down in fear of hurting his leg, so you just awkwardly loomed over him.

Getting his lips off of yours proved to be harder than you'd anticipated, with Spencer kissing you like you were the air he desperately needed, yet holding you so firmly to his lips that there was hardly any chance to breathe. It didn't help that his kisses were absolutely intoxicating. The need and passion he poured into each gentle peck and deep lick made you want to sink into him more and more. 

When you finally came back to yourself and managed to get some distance between your faces, he whined softly at the loss of contact, his lips red and slightly shiny in the dim light. 

"Spencer," your tone was somewhere balancing on a thin line between affectionate and scolding. He was blushing, of passion, of something more akin to shame, you didn't know for sure. He was pleading, he was pawing at your hips again before you could utter the next word. "I'm not sure we should- you're still-" he winced at your careful words. 

He gently pushed your hips towards his, softly, lovingly, like he had done a hundred times before, but this was different. "Please," his voice soft and almost breaking, "baby?" And with that plea, your hips slowly connected. How were you to refuse? Softly, you sat your weight down on him, terrified to hurt him, only thinking about his knee, his bruises, but Spencer only hummed when your core connected with his obvious hard-on. 

"Are you alr-" his large hands were on the side of your face once more, drawing you in for another kiss. It was intoxicating, his lips moving against your own just the way you liked it, slow, but drawn out long and passionate, with Spencer's little sounds mixing in here and there to pull you under completely. You had missed this so much, this closeness, this heat, his lips and touches. But you could not get carried away, he was being rash, he needed to communicate. This could not be something that hurt him down the line.

You kissed him back softly, trying to take the heat out of the exchange, but he kept pouring it back in, deepening and deepening. You slid your hands into his hair, which he took as an affirmation to grind your hips into his. He let out a flustered sound at the contact, like a craving finally being met. But you had other plans. You pulled his hair softly, just the way he liked, but you pulled his face away from you. His eyes shone with betrayal, being unable to reach your lips now.

He couldn't look at you. This was not his usual way of initiating anything. He was always so communicative, so in search of consent and praise wherever he went. This sudden desperation worried you, like it was all just a cover, a trick.

Despite his lanky frame and current state, he was strong, he leaned forward (your mind immediately going to the purple splotches on his ribs) and buried his face in your neck, so as to not look at you. There he began planting small kisses, carefully, sweetly, like you knew him. But his hands also continued to grind your hips into his, seeking friction.

"Spencer- are- are you sure?" You gently offered, still combing through his hair, feeling his hot, now slightly quickened breath on your neck.

He only whined in response, only grinding you down more desperately on his lap.

"Spence, baby," you shushed, trying to convey that it was okay, that there was no need for this urgency, that you were not going anywhere. His breathing in the crook of your neck was frantic now. "Spencer," you tried again, as you softly ground down your hips on your own volition. Immediately his grip loosened, a small moan being drawn from his lips. You softly continued the movement, as it seemed to physically melt his pent up state back to the man you knew. The heat low in your belly started to burn at the edges from the friction his clear arousal warranted, but you ignored it in favour of checking in on Spencer.

You carefully cradled his head and brought it so you could look him in his eyes, but he kept them closed. As long as you continued the movement, his face stayed relaxed and borderline content, though you could still sense his frantic state in the occasional scrunch of his nose or the semblance of a frown pulling his eyebrows tight. You made the movements come to a halt, carefully inspecting Spencer's face, awaiting his reaction. His breath stuttered, probably from the sudden lack of friction, and his eyes slowly opened. 

His big brown irises were overflowing with a desperation you thought only existed in Victorian novels. You could almost see the inner emotions of it all working, a glimpse of sadness, toppled over into guilt, pushed under by the sheer need for closeness, and then the fear of it. You carefully caressed his cheek with your thumb, "baby…", he immediately leaned into the contact. "I'm right here, okay?" Big brown doe eyes just peering back at you, 

"I'm right here, but, you have to talk to me, Spence. I don't know what's going on in your head," your own voice sounded surprisingly small and sad to your ears, and Spencer winced at the words. 

"I-" he opened his mouth and closed it again. You could see he was at a loss for words, that he probably also didn't know what was going on or where this was all coming from. "I'm, I'm so sorry" he spoke, his eyes wide and sincere, like he was just looking down on the situation for the first time. He let go of your hips at once, looking at his own hands with a degree of bewilderment, his eyes somewhat glassy as they floated back up to you.

"No- no, you don't have to apologise," you felt guilty at once, "there's nothing to be sorry about." A small smile formed on your lips, caressing the sides of his face once more. "Hey," you tilted his face to yours, eyes flickering over the gash in his eyebrow, down to the yellowing bruise high on his cheekbone, "It's alright."

He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering closed at the gentle contact. "I'm sorry," he whispered once more, turning his face slightly to kiss your wrist softly as it passed by his lips. "I just, I just think I missed you… you know," a blush took over his cheeks, colour muddling with the bruises, "this… this way", his sentence trailed off towards the end.

"Oh," you felt your own cheeks burn at his gentle confession, "Oh, I- I didn't know," you were at a loss for words yourself now. You had been so caught up in caring for him that any physical intimacy honestly had just slipped your mind. 

"No! No, no, no, you couldn't have known, I, I should have said something, but I didn't know how, you're so sweet, for taking care of me, I didn't want to ask for even more" he closed his eyes, furrowing his brows, mentally beating himself up, no doubt.

"Oh Spence," you leaned in slightly and softly pecked his lips, "I'm sorry, I just didn't think of it, honestly, I was so focussed on taking care of you, your knee and your bruises, I just got caught up in it all I think… I was just so worried-" 

"Yeah, no!" he sounded slightly panicked. "I- oh God, I'm such an asshole," he pressed the palms of his hands against his eye sockets, "you're here taking care of me - excellently! Oh, so excellently, couldn't ask for anyone better, nicer, I mean- God, you're here caring for me and I'm just here complaining about not- not-" a deep blush found its way back onto his cheeks and he looked away, deflating just a little. 

"Look," his eyes bored into yours again and this time they were soft around the edges, a little pleading, "I don't want you to think that you did anything wrong. At all. I just, it's all been so much, you know…" 

"Of course, I know, baby," you stroked a stray lock of hair out of his face and he softly took a hold of your hand, rubbing small circles on the back of it.

"And you just, this just-" you quietly marvelled at how, still, after all this time, Spencer was just as bashful as the day you met, "brings me comfort?" his eyes were glued to your entangled hands. "I just really want you close, … this close." he sheepishly motioned to where your bodies connected.

The puzzle pieces fit. He just needed extra comfort, especially at a time like this. You smiled at him, hoping to calm the vibrations of nervous energy coming off of him. "Well, we can do that," you whispered, trying to make your voice soft and velvet to the touch. Spencer seemed to soften at the edges. 

"Yeah?" his eyes impossibly wide and full of adoration.

"Of course, Spence," you kissed his lips softly, combing through his hair once more and staying closeby. "It's just, I'm scared of hurting you."

He peered up at you, hands finding your waist once more, "Don't be. I'm not made of glass."

You appreciated the false bravado, but you also knew the way he winced in pain every time he had to do as little as get dressed. You could hardly stand the little sounds of pain, the way his pretty eyes screwed shut. "Spencer," 

The pleading look was back. He kissed you softly, intimately, his lips finding yours like they were made to fit there, "we'll be careful," he promised against your lips.

"Very careful?" you asked as you lost yourself little by little in the kisses. 

"Very careful." he confirmed, his voice low and breathy. God, you had missed seeing him like this, feeling him like this. The way he held your face while he kissed you, borderline possessive but mostly so insanely sweet. His tongue traced your puffy bottom lip, asking for entrance you gladly gave.

Your arms snaked around him for real this time, pulling him closer by his hair. He moaned into the kiss, a gentle vibration you hadn't known you missed so much until you tasted it again. He was hungry, hands tracing your body, but he was still so Spencer. So warm and lovely, large fingers caressing your sides and back like you were something to worship. 

You revelled in his adoration, letting yourself melt against the familiar warmth of his body, the distant smell of his sweet cologne and shampoo. You couldn't help but moan softly when Spencer squeezed the soft flesh around your hips, only now realising how much you had missed his gentle touch. 

You carefully brought your hands down from his hair and started undoing the top button of his pyjama shirt. Spencer smiled into the kiss, content with your cooperation no doubt. You never could deny the pretty boy in front of you anything after all.

The shirt falling away revealed a canvas of pale skin dotted with bruises in various shapes and colours. Peeling the fabric off his shoulders carefully, you finally broke the heated kiss and ventured to look down to his chest. Spencer eyed you carefully, not quite bashfully, but with an uncertainty in his eyes. You vowed to make it disappear at once.

Small kisses starting from his jawline found their way through the minefield of bruises, paying attention not to hurt him in the process. First his collarbones, then downwards to his chest and abdomen, you left no untouched space unkissed. Spencer revelled in your attention, your care, your love.

"Hey," he said softly. You looked up at him in the dim light, your hair falling in your eyes. He took your face into his hands and kissed you tenderly. His fingers found the hem of your t-shirt, gently lifting the edge until you raised your arms to let him pull it over your head. Wearing no bra, you were now topless sitting in his lap. Oh how you had missed seeing the warm brown of Spencer's eyes flash up into something sharper. He let his eyes roam over your body in a way closer to reverie than hunger, though you knew it possessed both. If he hadn't had an eidetic memory, you would almost believe he had actually forgotten what you looked like, the way he drank in the sight like it was his last meal. 

You couldn't help but smile at him, a coy little gesture that Spencer returned as soon as his eyes made it back onto your face. "Missed you," you whispered softly.

"You have no idea," he replied. 

Then his large hands slid up to your chest, one gently brushing your hair away over your shoulder, the other cupping one of your breasts in his palm. He massaged the soft skin gently while leaning forward to pepper your neck with kisses. You sighed into him contently, eyes closing upon the tender contact. His finger grazed over your nipple, making goosebumps spread over your arms like the fire did in your belly. A soft sound escaped you, not quite a whine, but not far from either. You felt Spencer smile against your skin, the kisses turning to little nips as he neared your collarbones. 

Your eyes shot open as you heard Spencer wince. "Spence?"

He shied away at the concern in your voice. "It's nothing," he assured. "Just, um, overdid it." He had leaned too far into you, the bruises on his ribs not quite allowing him to. "I'm fine, you're just, well," he raked his fingers through his hair and let his soft smile return, "well look at you, how could I not."

You tried not to worry, to let yourself melt back into the moment. "Well, let me help you, then," you purred, coming up off your knees so your chest was on his eye level. 

"Perfect…" Spencer mused, more to himself than anyone else, before he recommenced his sweet attack on your skin. Flicking his thumb over one nipple, he took the other one in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. Your head almost fell back, but you wanted to enjoy the sight before you. Remembering exactly what you liked, Spencer's skilled hands and mouth worked over the soft skin of your breasts until you were a whining puddle in his arms, just how he liked you.

And now it wasn't Spencer that was eager, no, you had felt yourself grow wetter for him with every passing second, and the want and need of the last few days washed over you in waves of anticipation. Your hands instinctively went to the hem of his pyjama bottoms when he came up for air, and you ran your finger along the waistband teasingly. 

Spencer looked up at you dazedly, big puppy eyes glazed over with lust, a sweet smirk playing on his lips. You carefully slid off of him, helping him out of his pants and boxer briefs, careful not to hurt him. Your heart ached a little when you heard him hiss in pain and steady himself, but you reminded yourself that you both wanted this. Once his pants were off, you shimmied your own plaid pyjama shorts and panties down your legs, now sitting completely naked on the bed next to Spencer. 

"C'mere," Spencer reached out his hands for you to take, affection muffling his otherwise perfect diction. 

His broad hands positioned you back into his lap where you belonged. The kiss that followed was hungry. Hungrier than you had ever felt Spencer before. His hands were everywhere on your body, grabbing your hips, smoothing down your back, on your tits, you felt him everywhere, except where you needed him most. 

You whined into his mouth, "Spence, please." 

His eyes glinted with something akin to mischief, and his teasing words of "Aw, is my baby so eager?" would almost be convincing, if he wasn't hard and desperate himself right underneath you. So you moved your hips slightly, your folds dragging over his erection. That shut him up real quick.

"Cat got your tongue?" You purred, drinking in the feeling of his skin on yours once more. 

Spencer's long, dark lashes fanned out on his cheeks as he breathed heavily from the friction. The sight was from a movie, the prettiest boy you had ever seen, bruised up, but revelling in feeling your body. You wanted him, needed him.

You slowly lifted your hips, careful not to put too much of your weight on him, and let Spencer position himself at your opening. The anticipation in the air was sweet, almost stifling, you could already taste the sweet release. 

Spencer dragged his tip though your folds, spreading the wetness that had accumulated up to your clit, circling it a few times before going back to your entrance. 

"So wet for me, baby."

"I'll be gentle, yeah?" you checked with him. 

"Yeah, hm, sure," his eyes flickered up from where you two almost connected to your face, "god, i need you, please."

Who were you to deny? You sank down slowly, just the tip at first, and the stretch was already delicious enough to warrant the soft, whining sound leaving your lips. Spencer looked dizzy with it, patiently waiting on you while he steadied your hips. You sank further down on him. God, you had missed feeling him inside you. 

When you had taken all of him, you tried to check in on whether this position was comfortable for him, but instead you were pulled into another desperate kiss. His tongue was in your mouth in seconds, making you lightheaded with the eagerness Spencer poured into you. He moved his hips up, thrusting into you once, and it felt amazing, but he winced into the kiss.

"Babe, Spence," you halted the kiss, "let me do the work now, please," you gently pushed him back against the pillows, "let me take care of you, yeah?" 

He looked up at you straddling him, hair messy and cheeks red. "Yeah, yeah, sorry," he replied bashfully, his voice hoarse and deep with want.

You rolled your hips into his, soft but deep. His pretty lips, red from being kissed stupid, parted and he made a delicious sound that went right to your core. You continued to roll your hips, trying to get leverage to ride him, but not wanting to put pressure on his bruises.

"Here," Spencer positioned one of your hands on his chest and one on his shoulder. "And no, it doesn't hurt there," he replied to the silent question in your eyes. You believed him. 

With the new leverage points, you could ride his dick properly. The sensation was dizzying, feeling him so deep inside you. The drag of your clit against his skin with every bounce was delicious, making you moan into Spencer's neck. 

Spencer's hands were moving your hips along with you, squeezing and petting along with his own shallow breaths. He started attacking your neck with kisses again, open-mouthed and sloppy this time, leaving marks for you to discover in the morning, no doubt. 

The drag of him against your insides was maddening. The position gave you all the control and with just a bit of Spencer's help, you found the spot that made you go crazy every time his tip grazed it.

"That's it, that's it, oh god, keep going," the desperation is Spencer's voice set your core on fire. The way he said your name over and over sounded like a prayer, like a man starved. He moaned unabashedly when you sunk down on his entire length, looking at you like you personally cured all of his pain. 

"Spence, you feel so good," you practically whimpered, and Spencer nearly came right there and then. He held you closer, nearly all of you touching, like he couldn't get enough of you.

The way you moved together was perfect, a practised ease that came with knowing each other so well that you knew exactly what the other loved most.

"Fuck, baby, oh, I'm- I'm not gonna last much longer," Spencer said though laboured breaths as he snaked his arm between your bodies. 

You were already close, but when you felt Spencer's skilled fingers on your clit, you knew you were done for.

"Come with me?" Spencer spoke into your ear, planting more soft kisses on your jaw. 

Once again, who were you to deny him anything? With a loud moan from you and a stutter of Spencer's hips, you both came together, your release washing over you in white hot waves of pleasure, with Spencer buried deep inside of you. You rode out both your highs, seeing Spencer's eyes gloss over in real time once the satisfaction settled. 

He smiled his wide, dopey smile at you, the picture of contentment, an entirely different version of himself than the one before. You returned the smile, carefully draping yourself over his chest, completely spent.

"Hey," Spencer whispered into the quiet air, "I can't do it for you, now, but you'll have to go clean up, sweetheart." 

"Mmm," you bury your face in his neck, "I will, I will." You could hear the overflowing fondness in his laugh that followed.

"Hey," he said again, smaller this time, "thanks for taking care of me."

You languidly sat up, staring into his big, earnest eyes. Your fingers pushed his hair out of his eyes, revealing the cut above it. You leaned forward to kiss his forehead. "Was that an innuendo, Doctor Reid?" 

He burst out into an unexpected laugh, his eyes twinkling again, "maybe, maybe." 

<3

🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

Spencer had just been… curious, okay? He had just seen one too many girls on the subway, on the train, in the park, in a café, everywhere, it seemed, reading that book. That stupid book. "Dark Fantasy" the back had read. Spencer hadn't known what to imagine. The Middle Ages? Anyway, the cover had stuck in his brain. Stupid eidetic memory. 

So, the next time he found himself in a bookstore, it wasn't his fault he gravitated towards the familiar dark purple cover art. He had picked it up idly, innocently, just flipped through it absentmindedly. He swore. It's not his fault he reads faster than the average reader. It's not his fault he read the whole thing in ten minutes standing in that stupid Y/A section of that stupid store. 

He hadn't know what to think of it. The thing these men (men? fairies? fae? whatever.) did to these women… did people actually like that? Did you like that? 

Spencer had spent his entire life feeling as if there was an unwritten code the whole world just naturally knew by heart, except for him, so it suddenly seemed scarily plausible that this was the same thing all over again. That everyone knew these kinds of things were the things normal people did, said, thought, and he just didn't know it. So he turned to the only source that had never let him down: academia. And sure enough, 8.235 hits of articles, research, interviews, and other evidence detailing how women liked to be handled, talked to, treated like they did in those books. 

The next few days, Spencer just couldn't shake the feeling. The feeling that he had been doing it all wrong, that he had been making a fool of himself. And that wouldn't have bothered him so much in the past, the few girls here and there that he built up his measly amount of experience with, but you, oh, there was nothing in the world that he wanted to do right more than making you feel good. The thought that you had been feeling unsatisfied after your lovemaking made him nauseous on the spot, especially because he enjoyed it so thoroughly. And you were so nice to him, so understanding of his inexperience and taking it slow, just for him. He knew you would never want to hurt him, so he assumed what was the most logical conclusion: you had been disappointed with him, but too shy to say what you wanted. Yup. That was it. (To Spencer's overthinking brain, at least.)

And so, the next time you were over at his apartment, he vowed to make it right. Only there you were, sitting on his couch, smiling at him sweetly as he brought over your matching cups of tea. He didn't know whether he could ever be a man like those ones he read about. He was made for crossword puzzles and mismatched socks, old black and white movies and cozy evenings under a blanket, not brute force or coarse language. But he was going to try tonight. It killed him to think that he was selling you short of something you deserved just because he was too inexperienced to know about it.

And he knew, vaguely, that he should just ask you what you would like, but the insecurity of the last oh-so-many years of his life gnawed at him, propelling him into rash decisions. He should just ask you what you wanted, but those guys never did, and he could be smooth. Right? He could "smirk smugly," whatever that might mean. He could just go with the flow, be chill, relax. Right?? He would just, do the things, say the words, and you would like it. You would be pleasantly surprised. Right??? He was going insane.

And of course, you noticed. "Everything okay, Spence?" 

"Y- yeah!" (Could he sound any less convincing?) "Yeah, just, um, tired?" He smiled apologetically.

"Aw," your smile in comparison was broad and lovely, the picture of fondness, "you should get a good night's sleep tonight then."

Yeah, great. Very sexy, Spencer. He didn't know how he would ever stop being so damn soft and just man up. For you. 

"You should tell me if I should get out of your hair, okay?" You set your teacup down on the coffee table, "you probably have to get up early tomorrow, so…"

"No!" he blurted out before he even caught himself. Your eyebrows shot up in response, an amused albeit confused quirk playing on your lips. "I, um, I thought we could…" god, what was wrong with him? He should just, ummm, kiss you? He didn't even know. 

He breathed out, hands flexing against the soft fabric of his couch, looking you in the eyes. Your expression was warm and kind, which only made him more nervous. 

You let your head fall to the side, looking at him inquisitively. Spencer's heart soared at the little genture, his eyes no doubt betraying his nerves, or his impending insanity. To his utter surprise, you shuffled closer to him on the couch, lacing your fingers through his, which were (to his own surprise) still flexing and relaxing in a steady rhythm. You didn't say anything, just looked at him with your round, shiny eyes, but it was enough to turn Spencer into a puddle.

He decided to test the water, still never entirely sure of whether he understood your context clues, even after having been intimate with you multiple times by now. Still, he ventured into a slow kiss, his lips brushing yours while you stroked the top of his hand with your thumb. You kissed him back immediately, to his relief.

Spencer was fighting off the butterflies, but no amount of willpower could withstand the plush softness of your lips. His instinct was to go pliable under your touch, let you kiss him stupid here on his couch, but he had an agenda tonight. So he willed his hands to take a careful hold of your face, gaining control of the kiss. You betrayed no surprise, no particular reaction, you just went along with him. So Spencer upped his antics. His kisses became deeper, his brows furrowing in concentration.

Your response was just as lovely as always. You moothed his hair out of his face and went along with the deep lull of his kisses, moving in tandem with his body. Spencer had to fight not to just give in to the sweetness of your kisses, of your careful touches to his neck and chest. Still he tried to be more dominant, in his own clumsy ways. He wanted to push you into a horizontal position and crawl over you, but what happened was that he gave a light nudge to your shoulder and you fell backwards voluntarily, smiling up at him and softly weaving your fingers through his hair. 

You made it very difficult to give you what you wanted, Spencer thought vaguely. So he continued on with his quest. He traded your lips in for your neck, trailing kisses from your collarbone up to your neck. You made a small, sweet noise when he placed his lips over your pulse point, and Spencer scrambled for words to reply to you. "You like that, huh?" was what came out. The words tasted foreign on his tongue. 

You giggled in response, twirling the hair at the nape of Spencer's neck around your fingers. Not what he expected. He continued his kisses, reaching the opening of your blouse. He looked up at you as a form of asking for permission to unbutton it further, and you nodded with a shy smile. A surge of affection bloomed in his chest at the way you blushed when he started undoing the buttons, still bashful each time, he smiled to himself. He pushed the wave under, though, hiding his own reddening cheeks behind his hair while he worked to get the fabric off of you. 

Once your blouse was discarded somewhere on the floor of his apartment, he took in the sight before him. Your skin looked smooth and soft in the dim evening light that flickered through the curtains, your glittering eyes tracking Spencer's every move. Sickeningly sweet compliments threatened to spill over his lips, but he was unsure they would fit his performance tonight. So he gathered his courage and instead commanded you to "open your legs for me." You obeyed swiftly, albeit with that confused glint back in your eyes. Spencer positioned himself between your legs, leaning his hands next to your head. Everything in him wanted to oppose his brain when it made him say "good girl," but he pushed through. The words leaving his lips and settling into the air felt odd. He immediately went in for a kiss, as part of the plan, or to hide from you, he wasn't sure, cutting off your confused stare.

Your hands didn't quite know what to do, he registered, but eventually they found their place on his neck. Your kisses didn't betray any more enthusiasm than usual, he noted disappointedly. He must have been doing it wrong. What did those guys in the books do? Snarl? He could not, in good faith, bring himself to do that. He mentally flipped through the pages, unsure of where to go next. 

He let his hand drop down to the button on your jeans, opening it swiftly (at least one thing that went right) and zipped the zipper down. You lifted your hips up while not breaking the kisses, so that Spencer could shimmy you out of them and throw them with your blouse. The kisses had grown passionate and deep, your pupils blown wide when Spencer eventually pulled back. You looked angelic. Your hair splayed out on the couch cushions, your lips kissed red and puffy, and your lidded eyes intently focussed on him. All he wanted to do was kiss you for ages, until the sun set and you would fall asleep in his arms, but alas, he swallowed his lovesick daydreams down. Instead he took a hold of your hips, squeezing the soft flesh before pulling you forward by them so that you came to lie flat on your back. You let out a startled gasp, blinking your eyes cartoonishly up at him. Spencer took this as a good sign, giving your plush thigh another experimental squeeze, but your hand resting on his wrist halted his movements. 

"Okay Spence, what's going on?" your voice was not angry, rather, slightly bewildered, emphasised by the way your one brow was raised higher than the other. Spencer immediately felt the heat rush to his face, feeling like he just got caught red-handed. His big baby deer eyes wide like he was frozen in front of nearing headlights.

"Nothing…" was his - very convincing - response.

"Spence," you were smiling now, the corners of your mouth quirking up as you shuffled yourself to sit upright opposite Spencer. 

"You didn't… like it?" Spencer cringed at the insecure tone in his voice but didn't know where to hide it. 

You blinked at him for a second. "I didn't, um, expect it?" you offered, your smile seeping into your tone.

"But you… want… that? Stuff like that, right?" he fidgeted with his hands in his lap, looking unsure of his very own claims now that he said it out loud. "R- rougher?"

You let out a confused little laugh, "what would make you think that, Spence?" Your tone was affectionate, the crinkles next to your eyes betraying your fondness for your clueless boyfriend. 

His cheeks must have been quite literally on fire by this point, as he scrambled for answers he suddenly couldn't seem to find.

You reached out, caressing his cheek with your hand, "It's okay, we can talk about this," you tried to reassure him.

Spencer was wiggling in his seat, annoyed with himself on all fronts, and unable to stop himself from blurting everything out all at once: "I just, okay, um I stumbled upon this book and," he raked his fingers through his hair, realising how stupid his explanation was about to sound, "and all girls around were suddenly reading it, so i thought it must be, good, then, so I found it in the book store and read it and it was, um, spicy? Is that what they call it?" If the floor had decided to swallow him whole at that point, Spencer would have been thankful. "So I thought, since everyone seemed to like that sort of thing I would research it, and I found all these papers on dirty talk and rough sex and dominance, so I thought, I assumed…" he trailed off when seeing the look of equal parts confusion and amusement on your face.

You couldn't hold back your laughter anymore, breaking into a fit of giggles at the huge dismay of Spencer's burning cheeks. He felt his eyes grow impossibly wider, afraid he had messed up forever.

"You?? Reading smut?? Spencer, oh my god, that is both adorable and so so so stupid, babe," you said through all the giggles. Spencer joined in with a hesitant giggle of his own, starting to see his ridiculous thought process in perspective. "Why didn't you just ask me about it?" 

To his relief, you didn't sound accusatory, just soft and sincere, supported by your bright smile. "Yeah, huh," he chuckled, "hindsight sure is 20/20, huh?" he felt his nervous energy slowly flow out of him at your gentle stare. "I know I should have, I just wanted to 'fix' everything on my own, without," he looked away, "without disappointing you further…"

"Disappointing me?" you exclaimed, genuine worry in your expression, "Spencer, you haven't disappointed me once. I'm perfectly satisfied, baby, did I not show that enough? I never, ever, wanted to make you feel like you were lacking, in any regard."

"No! No," he was quick to defend, "you did nothing wrong, at all. I think I'm just, I don't know, you're more experienced than me and I thought I was just missing the mark? I thought maybe you just didn't dare to ask for what you really wanted." He smoothed his palm over his face, spilling all of his inner thoughts taking a toll on him.

"Spencer," his name on your lips sounded sweet, like it had gotten drenched in syrup, it was Spencer's favourite sound. "Please believe me when I say that you give me everything I want and more." your hand came up to cup his cheek and Spencer immediately leaned into your touch, embarrassingly aware of his own neediness. "I wish you would have just asked me about it, because then I could have told you that I love your sweet and gentle ways. I love the way you make me feel cherished." 

You were looking up at him with big, honest eyes, and Spencer started to wonder how or why his brain would ever lead him away from this soft, quiet intimacy between the two of you. "I'm sorry," he offered, a weak rebuttal, as he kissed the inside of your wrist.

"Don't apologise, silly," you leaned in, brushing your lips against his. He kissed back immediately, soft, slow, as tenderly as his need for you would allow him.

You crawled over him, still only in your underwear, and positioned yourself in his lap. Spencer's hands immediately fell to your waist, addicted to the feeling of your soft skin. Your kisses grew deeper, impossibly more intimate, as you pushed your chest into his, craving closeness. 

When Spencer pulled away, eyelids heavy with want, he groaned softly at the sight of your red, puffy lips, shiny with his spit. "You mean it? everything? " He had to ask, he had to. 

"I mean it. Everything." Your response was easy and immediate. Spencer detected no doubt in your voice, and he would know. So he kissed you again, with an almost shaking feeling, pouring himself into you. The way you gasped into his mouth sent shivers down his spine. 

When you pulled back, both breathing heavily, your lips immediately found his neck, kissing a stripe up to his ear, where you started whispering sweet nothings that sent heat straight through his body. "I like your hands, so strong and big, but so gentle," "and I love the sounds you make," "and how you touch me like i'm delicate, makes me feel so special, Spence," each one of your compliments was punctuated with more kisses to his neck. 

Spencer didn't know what to do with himself, lost in your voice and your praise. He wondered what he must have done in a previous life to deserve the most gorgeous girl ever, in his lap, almost naked, telling him how good he made her feel. His hands squeezed your hips, softly this time, and the small moan that left your lips afterwards made him dizzy.

"And I love the way you talk to me," your compliments just kept coming, "all sweet and loving, makes me feel really pretty."

"You are," he answered immediately, his voice hoarse to his own ears, "you are very pretty, gorgeous even, I- just look at you," his hands smoothed up and down your back. "Look at you…" he was almost whispering now, completely lost in you. 

You giggled into his neck, "so are you, my pretty boy."

Spencer didn't know whether he would survive. His head fell back, giving you even more access to his neck, while he felt your hips softly grind on his erection through his dress pants. He thought faintly that he might have died and gone to heaven. 

His fingers trailed up your back to the clasp of your bra, though he waited for your nod against his skin to undo it. He threw it with the rest of your clothes, into oblivion, and snaked a hand between your bodies to palm your breasts. The moan he got after grazing your nipple had him salivating, wanting to hear you fall apart entirely. 

"Baby," his voice sounded breathy, "can I take care of you, please?" 

"Of course," you withdrew from his neck, cheeks hot and eyes dark.

"Need to taste you," he mused while carefully laying you down on his couch, making sure you were comfortable. Kissing down your body until he reached the hem of your panties.

"Fuck," he groaned when he saw the small wet patch that had formed.

You smiled bashfully, giving permission for Spencer to pull the fabric down your legs and throw it god knows where. 

Spencer was, once again, completely enamoured by you. He let his fingers slide through your folds, collecting the slick and bringing it up to your clit to circle it slowly. He watched your face intently, pride blooming in his chest with every moan and eyeroll he got out of you. He positioned himself between your thighs, fully intent on worshipping you for as long as he could hold out.

He started by kissing your plush thighs, the soft skin feeling heavenly under his lips. As he started to get closer and closer to where you needed him most, you grew more desperate, whining his name and making Spencer almost delirious with your voice. "I know, baby, I know," he shushed you, finally planting a kiss in your needy clit.

You involuntarily bucked your hips up, finally getting some release, and Spencer watched in awe as your eyes screwed shut when he licked a broad stripe over your pussy. "Feels so good, Spence," you whined, just as Spencer thought it would be impossible to turn him on even more.

He continued licking and sucking just as you liked, your hands eventually finding a home in his curly hair, softly running your fingers through it. Spencer thought he could spend eternity there, between your thighs.

He carefully introduced a finger, revelling in the reaction he got, and started pumping in and out of your slick opening. It didn't take long before you could take two, as Spencer's gaze remained transfixed on the way you were swallowing his digits. "You're doing so well, baby."

"I'm- I'm getting close," you gasped, and Spencer could feel it. He could feel you squeezing his fingers. The thought alone made him crazy, making him go faster, chasing your sweet release.

You fell apart on his fingers with a last, high-pitched moan, arching your back beautifully for him. He worked you through your hugh, being careful not to overstimulate you. 

"Was that good?" the words had left his mouth before he could register them, betraying his insistent insecurity. 

You were looking satisfied and dazed from your spot between his throw pillows, smiling up at him through your lashes. "Good? Spence, that is the understatement of the year. I think I saw stars."

Your bright giggle calmed his nerves as he joined in, leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.

"But now," you started as you pushed yourself upright, "it's time to take care of you, pretty boy." 

Spencer revelled in your attention, willingly going along with your motions to undress him. He watched as you struggled with the buttons on his shirt, helping you with a broad smile, and once again mentally thanked whatever deity and deemed him worthy of you when you skillfully undid his belt and trousers. Freeing his aching dick out of his underwear, you couldn't help but stroke him a few times. Spencer hissed at the contact, already sensitive.

"Such a pretty boy," you mused. Spencer's dick twitched at your words, but he didn't have it in him anymore to feel embarrassed. Instead he eagerly helped you into his lap, your pussy hovering over his needy dick.

He positioned himself at your opening, dragging his tip though your folds a few times to gather your wetness, enjoying the little hitch in your breath when he brushed against your sensitive clit. You started to sink down on him, exhaling harshly once you felt the stretch of his tip at your opening, "take it easy, baby, no rush," Spencer reassured you, marvelling at how good you looked on top of him. You sank down on him slowly, taking all of him and letting out a content sound that matched Spencer's low moan. 

You started riding him slowly, guided by his large hands on your hips, and Spencer could hardly hold it together. He drew you in for a passionate kiss, but he soo had to halt those efforts because he could do little else but moan and sigh against your lips. You were in equal levels of disarray, loving the way he felt buried deep inside you just as much as he loved it.

"Fuck, baby, oh, god I'm- I'm so close already," Spencer managed between breathy gasps.

"That's alright, Spence, ah- me too."

Spencer saw this as his perfect chance, taking a stronger hold of your hips and driving his dick into you at the exact angle that made you a whining hot mess on top of him. Thank god for his eidetic memory, and the way you felt clenching around him. He made sure your orgasm came first, feeling your pussy squeeze his dick deliciously as your nails dug into his skin with a raw, drawn-out moan. Spencer followed seconds behind you, completely overwhelmed by how good you felt pulsing around him, spilling his load into you while holding your body impossibly close to his, babbling your name and sweet nothings as he reached his high.

You rode out your pleasure together, eventually stilling in each other's arms and catching your breaths. 

"Spencer, oh my god…" that was all you could muster to say to your boyfriend in your current state, but Spencer understood. He gleamed with pride, planting a kiss on your shoulder and slowly taking your face in his hands to kiss the tip of your nose.

"Let me get you cleaned up, pretty girl," he said after a while of basking in your collective post orgasm glow. 

You were pouting as you languidly willed yourself to get off of him, but with another kiss and a promise of cuddling later, you agreed for Spencer to fetch you a towel. As he walked into his bathroom, he couldn't help but notice all the small marks you had left on his neck and chest, smiling to himself in the dim evening light, completely satisfied. 

🍏🍏🍏🍏🍏🍏🍏🍏🍏🍏🍏🍏🍏🍏🍏🍏🍏🍏🍏🍏🍏🍏🍏

Unsatisfied with the end result (the heat and humidity made his curls extra puffy), Eddie dragged himself out of the bathroom and to his uncle's van.

"You ready, kid?" Wayne asked as Eddie finally hoisted himself into the passenger's seat.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Eddie mumbled, winding down the window to feel the soft summer breeze on his face. It was only 7:30 in the morning, which meant that the excruciating temperatures that were to come had not yet fully woken up. Instead, Eddie welcomed the mellow warmth on his face, closing his eyes to mentally prepare himself to face you again. 

He had no idea how today would go. Friday had been his literal dream come true, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen had just - somehow - liked his awkward charm enough to give him the best present of his life, but how did he act now? Was it a one time thing? Would you suddenly ignore him now? Eddie felt a sinking feeling at the thought of it. He really liked you, he realised somewhat hesitantly. Because he knew very well that there was a huge difference between a heat-of-the-moment kind of fling and the soft, colourful-winged nerves he felt fluttering around inside his body. He just hoped you felt the same.

⋆⭒˚.⋆⭒˚.⋆

Eddie spent the day on high alert. With every move he made, he was painstakingly aware you could be watching. You weren't, of course, so Eddie looked like a fool every time he turned around in his (definitely not practiced in front of a mirror or anything) movie-like manner, to an empty door frame, or worse, Wayne, who gave him increasingly weirded out looks. 

He was starting to lose hope. Maybe it had meant nothing to you, maybe you had meant nothing by it, maybe you hadn't thought of him at all since that night, maybe you didn't like him, maybe he had done something wrong, maybe he- 

"JESUS! Oh my god- oh you have to stop doing that!" Eddie blurted out, steadying himself on one of the cars. 

You stood beside him, close enough so he could smell the sweet vanilla-like scent of your perfume. You were even more beautiful that he remembered, the ache in his chest told him without uncertainty. And you had a love for scaring the living shit out of him, apparently, as he gathered from the satisfied smile on your lips.

"Hi Eddie, good morning," you said, voice betraying no ill intentions.

"Good morning," was all Eddie managed, paired with a smile he hoped was not as awkward as it was in his mind. This was just typical. He had daydreamed about what to say to you all weekend, played out entire conversations in his head, and now he was reduced to a nervous mess in front of you.

"How are the cars behaving today?" you asked, stalking around the one he was working on, "This one is notorious, if I remember correctly."

"Yeah, yeah, this one's feisty," Eddie said while lightly smacking the side of the car like it was a horse, "she's a real piece of work."

"Hmm," you mused, sitting down on one of the stools in the garage, "she's pretty though."

"Yeah," Eddie wrung the oil and grease stained rag he wiped his hands on between his fingers, "real pretty." It was unclear to himself whether he was still talking about the car. 

Wayne had gone out to fetch a part for one of the Mustangs in the town over, so it was just you and Eddie in the sweltering heat trapped inside the garage. Had you waited until Wayne left to be alone with him? The thought alone made his heart skip a beat. 

"So, uh, how've you been?" was the only sentence his scrambled brain could produce on the spot, somehow. 

You smiled at him as if you saw right through him, "Melting, mostly, what about you?" 

"Yeah, same…" Eddie internally cursed himself for his total lack of social skills, "real uh, real warm." He could about die right now, yeah.

You snickered at him, luckily more in a (dare he say it?) affectionate way than a mean one, to Eddie's surprise and delight. "Right on, Munson," you said, "Hey, would it be okay if I just hung around here for a while? Just reading all alone in an empty house is just a tad sad, you know?" you asked while producing a book, seemingly out of thin air.

Eddie couldn't agree to your request fast enough, "Y-yeah! Sure, sure."

"Alright, don't mind me, don't want to distract you," your smile was sweet, comforting in a warm way that had nothing to do with the temperature.

But distract him, you surely did. Eddie was a mess in your presence, no one needed to spell that out for him, but just the mere fact that you were now sitting a mere few steps away from him messed up his brain to a fatal degree. He spilled oil, screwed bolts on the wrong way, tried to open a hood that was already open, and that was all in the first ten minutes. Meanwhile, you seemed completely unbothered.

But for Eddie, the unspoken events from a couple of days ago hung in between you, making the air he was trying to breathe thick and syrupy. He didn't know what to do with himself, somehow completely enamoured with the simple sight of you reading a book, but nervous to his core when he thought about starting a mere conversation.

He was pulled out of his spiraling thoughts by the sound of you snapping your book shut. You stretched your limbs, your top riding up to expose a sliver of your waist that Eddie was sure would come back to haunt him in his daydreams and nightmares alike. You looked up at him, and Eddie suddenly realised he had been frozen in place, bending over one of the motors, screwdriver in hand, frozen mid-air. He quickly straightened up, going for unbothered and casual. (he was neither)

"Hey so, would you like to go get ice cream later?"

Eddie felt like he had been hit over the head with a lottery ticket. You had just… asked him out. Why didn't that cross his mind? Why didn't he do that? "Yeah!" he blurted, quickly reigning himself back in, "Yeah, sounds nice."

"Great," you smiled at him while you got up from the chair, "I'll come back here around five, yeah?"

"Yeah, great, great," Eddie could hardly school the broad smile on his lips into something less euphoric, "See you then!" 

"See ya."

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

The hours crawled by achingly slow, making Eddie wonder multiple times whether the big grandfather clock was even still working. But then, finally, a quarter to five arrived. He wished he could take you out -was this a date? He still wasn't sure - in an outfit different from his dirty tank top and ripped jeans, but it would have to do. Besides, if he wasn't mistaken, you seemed to have a thing for it?

Anyway, at exactly 4:58, you appeared. You had changed into a flowy sundress, and wow. Eddie marvelled at how the colour brought out the depth in your eyes and complimented the glow of your skin tone perfectly. Simultaneously, he wondered when exactly he had become Shakespeare? He had never noticed these kinds of things before. But then again, it had never been you standing before him.

"Hey Mr. Munson," you greeted Wayne.

"Hey Sweetheart, what are you doing here, shouldn't you be out enjoying your summer?"

"Oh I am, Mr. Munson, promise," you smiled your infectious smile at him, "mind if I borrow your nephew for that tonight?" 

Wayne's eyebrows shot up as he gave Eddie a surprised look over your shoulder. All Eddie could do was smile back sheepishly. It's not like he had wanted to keep it a secret per se, he just didn't want to put up with all the teasing. 

"All yours," he motioned to Eddie, "And I've told you a million times, sweetheart, just call me Wayne."

He packed the last of his things into the truck while you made your way over to Eddie. Before he left, Wayne gave him a pointed look, the same one as when Eddie looked at the expensive cars a little too long. The same one that applied to everything else in this garage, now including you, be careful, boy. 

But Eddie didn't have much time to heed his warning, as you were now standing right before him, and his nervous system once again crashed and burned inside his chest. 

"So, which one?" you quipped.

"Hmm? Which what?" Eddie felt like you always had his brain working overtime.

"Which," you swung the door of the cabinet containing all of the car keys open, "one, Eddie?" 

"No way."

"Yes way," your smile grew even wider, "I'm driving, of course, but it's you pick tonight."

Eddie thought he might spontaneously propose to you right then. Instead, he went on a rant about all the dream cars that were gathered in this room. "Maybe the Camaro! Or the Miata, the Aston Martin, the Carrera 6…" he was almost bouncing from excitement.

You laughed along with him, the affectionate tone seeping back into your voice, "Your pick!"

"Sweetheart, you're making it real hard on me," he half-whined, somewhat finding back his charm, "Any requests from your side?"

"Nope, all yours."

"You're too kind to me," he drawled, "but I bet you already know which one I'm going to pick, right?"

You grinned, taking a key from the cabinet and tossing it in the air, "Thunderbird, of course." 

"Of course," he echoed, now it was his turn to sound fond.

"M'lady," he said as he opened the car door for you.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Eddie shouldn't be surprised by your driving skills, logically, you had grown up with all sorts of classic cars around, obviously. But he still was. The genuine smile that took over your face as you shredded through the bends in the country roads made his heart do flips inside his chest. He was, once again, quite aware of how pathetic he was being, sitting there in one of the most beautiful cars he had ever seen, and only looking at your side profile.

When you got to the ice cream shop, it was extremely busy. Heatwave, and all. So you stood in line, and Eddie's nerves seemed to have sufficiently calmed down for him to behave like a semi-normal person again, so he ventured into starting a conversation.

"What flavour are you gonna get?"

You thought it over for a second, "Cherry."

"Cherry?" Eddie craned his neck to see past the cue, "they have that?"

"Yeah," you nodded, "they have all kinds of crazy flavours, way crazier than cherries, I once had strawberry cilantro sorbet here - that was a mistake," you giggle, thinking back. 

"Cilantro??" Eddie exclaimed, "Sorry but anything green does not belong in ice cream." 

"I agree, definitely, but I have this terrible habit of always picking the strangest flavour and then regretting it." you mused, getting closer to the end of the line. "Hey, they have clementine!"

"Clementine?" Eddie barely even knew what a clementine was, but before he could ask you whether that would even taste remotely good, you had already ordered a scoop of it. When it was Eddie's turn, he ordered cherry. 

You walked away from the stall to an area with some benches under the shade of a large tree. Eddie watched as you took the first lick of your bright orange ice cream, and saw in real time as your face went sour.

"I think I did it again," you said after you had swallowed, "this is… this is a crime." The crinkle in your nose made Eddie's lopsided grin even wider.

"Trade?" he offered.

"Would you?" you said, eyes lighting up.

"Hmh," he nodded, "let me taste," you held out the cone and Eddie took a broad lick, trying not to think of any underlying implications and/or flashbacks, and indeed, it was terrible. The ice cream tasted like straight up chemicals, pure food colouring, paint, something like that, and Eddie had to try so hard to school his face into an agreeable expression. "I like it."

"You don't!" you exclaimed, "you can't!" 

"I do, though" he sing-songed, plucking your cone out of your hands and replacing it with his. 

"Did you order cherry just because you knew I'd like it?" you wondered, eyes slightly wide, slightly thrown.

"Maybe," Eddie mumbled before he took a big bite from his ice cream, "just enjoy the cherry for me, alright?" 

"Alright," you said quietly, smiling into your ice cream, "thanks, Eddie." 

Even the chlorine-like taste was worth getting to see you enjoy your bright red treat. 

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After you had both finished your ice cream (Eddie was so glad it was over), you talked for hours. Afterwards, Eddie couldn't even begin to name the topics, but what remained was a warm, fuzzy feeling, and the fact that you were not only the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, but also the funniest. Oh and you were so smart, and kind! And Eddie could keep going, but you were currently throwing the keys to the Ford in his direction.

"Fancy a test drive, Munson?" 

"No way! Can I?" Eddie's eyes went comically wide, excitement bubbling up in his chest.

"If you can sit through that ice cream, I think you deserve a ride," you smiled, broad and careless, and Eddie couldn't tell what he was more excited for, driving the car, or more time with you.

When he carefully let himself drop into the driver's seat, he marvelled at the beauty before him, "You're sure?" he had to check.

You just nodded, "Just, never, ever tell my dad. Ever." 

Eddie swallowed, alright, no pressure.

But it was so worth it. Eddie was careful enough in handling the car, luckily, but still managed to rack up speeds that would make Hopper frown, even though he reserved them for the deserted backroads you had directed him to. 

When he had finally had enough of driving (speeding) around with you giggling beside him and your hair swooshing around your face in the wind, it had already gotten dark. He parked the car at the side of the dirt road in the middle of nowhere you were currently on, somewhere between the corn fields.

"Look at the stars!" he exclaimed, as he marvelled at the sight above him. You tipped your head back as well and smiled.

"If you want to stargaze, we should sit in the back, there's more room there" you suggested. And it was an innocent enough suggestion, sure, but Eddie's voice surely thought otherwise when it almost broke at the word "Sure."

So, you climbed into the backseat together, Eddie's long legs still a bit cramped, but there really was more room, he had to admit. You settled into the backseat next to him, and Eddie was almost surprised by how easy it was to put his arm around you. The way you fit into his side made him question why he was so nervous at all, because it just felt right. 

You sat there silently, cuddling up to each other in the faint moon light. It was quiet, serene, almost. Until you shrieked. And jumped. Or, well, as much as you can jump in a car, at least.

"What! What's wrong?!" Eddie exclaimed.

You were frantically swatting around you, "Grasshopper!!!" was the only thing you shrieked, and Eddie would have burst out laughing if you hadn't yelled it so loudly. Still he huffed a little laugh, but wasted no time in helping you catch the thing. Eddie eventually succeeded in capturing it in his hands and throwing it into the fields, bringing peace back to the car. 

"It was, it was just really big," you managed, out of breath from the swatting. But once your wide eyes met Eddie's, you both burst out laughing. 

"He was pretty big, I'll admit," Eddie eventually managed, "But you were really brave, sweetheart." 

You shoved his shoulder, wanting to wipe the teasing grin clean off his face, but you accidentally lost your balance, falling into Eddie's chest. He caught you, and suddenly all giggly, lighthearted giddiness evaporated. Your face was so close to his that he could practically feel the burning of your cheeks reflected on his. 

He was almost lying down already, but with one smooth movement from you, he was now flat on his back, with you on top of him. Your hair softly swayed in the wind as you looked down on him, your smile hovering somewhere between playful and sincere, and Eddie thought that he should take a moment to imprint this sight into his brain forever. Your beautiful face, the stars above you, the soft sounds of crickets in the grass around you, and the bone-deep silence beyond that. 

He smiled up at you, embarrassingly aware of how sappy he was being inside his head, and cupped your cheek with his large, warm hand. You instinctively leaned into his touch, which made his heart flutter, as he slowly caressed your cheek with his thumb. 

After what felt like hours of staring into your eyes, the wind whistling softly through the fields, you draped yourself on top of him and buried your face in his neck, where you - ever so lightly - started planting kisses. Eddie's eyes immediately fluttered closed, not used to the soft, intimate touch, but reveling in it. 

Your kisses slowly grew more heated, your teeth scraping over his pulse point had Eddie writhing beneath you, not being able hold back a whiny moan when you followed the soft sting with careful laps of your tongue. His hands found your waist, softly caressing your curves through the fabric. Just the shape of you, the dip in the small of your back made him go crazy. His hands roamed your body, not quite daring to dip below your waist just yet, but his inhibitions were slowly melting away with the way your mouth attacked his skin.

By now, you were planting open-mouthed kisses on his collarbones, and Eddie had never wanted to bottle a feeling as much as the feeling of your body pressed to his and your mouth on his neck.

When your hand slowly slid between your bodies and you reached for his belt buckle, he stopped you, though. Eddie was a gentleman, of course, and he had been daydreaming about this moment all weekend.

You halted your gentle attack when you felt his fingers curl around your wrist, insecurity flashing in your eyes for just a second before Eddie smiled and said "Not this time, sweetheart, it's time to let me take care of you tonight."

Your eyes went a little wider at his words, and then a lot wider as he grabbed your waist and flipped you over, him now hovering above your frame. The gasp you let out was followed by your giggles, which only encouraged Eddie's antics. He smiled wolfishly down at you, at your delicate features framed by the moonlight, the smooth expanse of your neck and collarbones until his view was obstructed by your dress. He had been dreaming of kissing the soft skin behind your ear since he met you, he could finally admit now, and when he did, the feeling was unmatched.

The soft mewls he pulled out of you with each peck and precise lick fueled him on even more, kissing a stripe down your chest to where the swell of your breast disappeared into your dress. He didn't particularly think it would be a good idea to strip you completely naked somewhere in a random field, but god, how he wanted to. Instead, he would have to settle for his next plan. 

After making sure he left no part of your neck untouched, unkissed, his large hands curled around your waist again to slide you further up on the seats. He positioned himself in between your legs, smoothing his large hands up and down the expanse of what was already revealed of your thighs. He could hardly think straight anymore already, he vaguely thought, so lost in the sight of you, even while still fully clothed. 

He looked up at your face, your eyes were heavy with need, tracking his every move, while your bottom lip was tucked between your teeth. You were a vision. 

"'This alright?" Eddie asked, an almost breathless quality to his voice.

"Yeah," you said, softly, a smile playing on your lips.

At your confirmation, Eddie wasted no time in bunching your dress up at your hips, revealing your light blue panties, complete with a little bow. He groaned as soon as he saw the little wet patch that had formed on the soft cotton, growing hungry in a way that was new to him. But he wanted to draw this moment out for as long as you would let him. 

He started by kissing each of your knees, working his way down your thighs kiss by kiss. The skin there was just so soft, Eddie thought he could drown in it. The plush flesh felt divine underneath his fingertips as he softly squeezed your hips, getting closer and closer to your centre. 

You were growing impatient under him, your body writhing and wiggling in his grip. He smiled against your soft skin, "Needy, are we?" he remarked, as if he had any resolve left in him. 

At the simple "Please, Eddie, need you," that left your lips, he was a goner. He capitulated instantly, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulling them down your legs. His eyes were fixed on your pussy, the way your slick glistened in the pale moonlight seemed to him the single most alluring thing he had ever seen. 

He carefully leaned down, as in trance, and swiped his calloused fingertips through your folds, gathering your wetness. You moaned instantly at the relief it brought, making Eddie even more crazed to taste you.

"All this for me, sweetheart?" his voice was thick with anticipation.

"All for you, Eddie," you cooed, arching your back for him.

That was what did him in, what made the very last of his resolve crumble. He dove in, licking a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit. The way you arched into him and moaned his name upon the contact made him dizzy. So he kept going, licking deliberate strokes up your soaked pussy, while you mewled above him. He had a steady grip on your waist, holding you to his mouth as he experimentally wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked. 

The pornographic moan you let out went straight to Eddie's rock hard dick, making him moan against your core. He didn't have a lot of experience, but he sure made up for it in enthusiasm, plus, he liked to think of himself as a quick learner. That's why, when your hands found their way into his hair, he let you softly pull his hair to guide him to all the right spots. He followed your directions carefully, devoting extra attention to your most sensitive spots, all while you ground your hips onto his face.

Eddie had never been this happy in his entire life, he thought. The way you tasted, the way you sounded, the fact that it was his name tumbling from your lips amidst your moans and curse words, he must have gone to heaven. 

When he broke away for just a second, your eyes were heavy lidded, your chest rising and falling rapidly, and your lips were bitten raw. Eddie had never seen anything more beautiful. 

"Sweetheart, do you want my fingers?" 

You smiled coyly, almost bashfully, as you nodded, "Yeah, please?"

And who was he to deny you anything? He gathered some of your wetness first, circling your clit just a couple of times, reveling in the soft "oh" sounds you made with every pass of his fingers, before he carefully pushed his middle finger into you. He studied your face intently, but he only found pleasure there, in the way your eyes screwed shut, your lips slowly parted, and the way you clawed at the expensive leather of the seats. 

Eddie couldn't care any less about the seats right now, though, being entirely mesmerized by the way you were taking him. 

"More?" he offered.

All you could do in your blissed out state was nod.

So Eddie added a second finger, steadily pumping in and out of you, watching your body react as if it was pure magic. The whiny sounds you started to make tipped Eddie off about how close you were getting. He quickly added his mouth back into the mix, going back to licking and sucking on your clit as his fingers still worked your entrance. 

The sounds you were making were divine, and also the backdrop to all of Eddie's future fantasies, he was sure. So he kept going, spurred on by every breathy "Edddie, Eddie, Eddie," that left your lips.

Your hands found his hair again, raking through his curls and softly pulling on them. "Eddie, baby, I'm so close, ah-" your thighs were trembling by now, a sight that made pride bloom in Eddie's chest.

"Yeah? Are you gonna come for me, sweetheart? Gonna come all over my fingers for me?" 

And that was all you needed. With a last high-pitched moan and a dozen more chants of his name, your back arched into him as your orgasm crashed over you. Eddie felt your pussy squeeze his fingers even tighter as he worked you through your orgasm, completely in awe with the stunning sight playing out before him. 

When you came down from your high, cheeks glowing and smile cherry red and satisfied, Eddie felt a surge of affection blooming in his chest that had been just as strong as his lust. 

"Was that good, sweetheart?" he asked, partly to mirror your earlier question, partly because he still needed some validation.

You leaned forward, raking your fingers through his wild hair once more as you planted a careful kiss on his forehead, "Eddie, that was the best orgasm of my life," you giggled, dropping your head on his shoulder. Soon, you were joined by Eddie's matching giggles, which he just couldn't hold back at your compliment. He was glad your face was buried in his neck again, because his cheeks were burning so hard, he was sure not even the night air would be able to hide his deep cherry blush. 

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let me know if you guys still want a part 3! :)) thanks for reading and feedback is very very welcome! <3