#db.posts

There's no such thing as working up a sweat, and definitely no feeling flushed or hearing his heart beat so loud that it thrums in his ears anymore. The tips of his ears used to turn pink whenever you uttered his name, and you're still silently getting over it. You, having read and translated every single old text in Steve's attic about vampires, inform him that it'll take years to acclimate. 

On this scorcher of a weekday, you sit poolside, lost in an old, tattered book. Eddie likes watching you, uses his inhuman eyesight to hone in on the hair on your nape rising when he can't stop looking at you. Memorizing your soft skin and how you look in a black bathing suit. His left hand twitches towards the end table beside him, and fingers quickly grasp around the neck of a wooden piece, lighting the Gandalf pipe without further ado, averting his attention before you catch him hanging onto your every move. 

The sun does little to change the corpse-like temperature of his body, a golden signet ring catches the glint of the sun and sparkles as he rummages through a wicker basket. Offering up sunscreen, he stumbles on his words.

"Do you use protection?" 

You laugh so hard your face hurts.

"It's a yes or no question, Ms. Witch," he tuts, the teasing disapproval sounding awfully familiar. There's a creeping suspicion that your roommates are rubbing off on each other, possibly in more ways than one, which explains the absence of nightly jam sessions in the living room. 

"Well, if you're so adamant." Moving to rest against the sun-warmed towel, you shrug at him, partial to his mocking behavior and willing to play the game today. Turning slightly to meet his eyes, you swore you saw your own reflection in his dark stare.

"It depends."

"Total cop out answer." He scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

"Could you help me out here, or am I gonna have to lube myself up?" 

You've lived together for years, having known each other for even longer, but he’s never had much of an excuse to get close, let alone to touch you.

"There's a time and place for everything." 

"How about a vampire rockstar on a hot summer's day?"  He pops open the lid, eyes squinting through smokey, kohl-smeared lids.

"-- oh, definitely bareback city." 

"Jesus fucking Christ, you didn't even have to think about that." He loads up a dollop of its contents into his palms, rubbing them together to warm it out of the habit. 

"Doesn't matter if he's undead or famous. Plus, he's pretty and funny." 

"Flattery will get you nowhere. What about in the case of a charming and somewhat roguish lycanthrope roomie?"

"Rawdog, any day of the week. Would have his babies if he wanted me to."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, I'd let Steve Harrington breed me."

Maybe he's shocked, or he doesn't expect you to double down because the silence simmers, thickening the tension between you. Or maybe he's too busy finding the tense muscles in your back? You don't look back to check.

"Doing alright?" 

You nod, trying to steady your breathing, but you have a hard time coming to terms with how quickly he works you into putty. 

Eddie can sense the rush of blood pumping through your arteries, feeling your lungs contract and expand in his palms. He fails to hide the smile spreading across his face as he trails down your legs. Slowly working your body into relaxation, his cold touch gravitates towards your hips, then it edges closer towards your inner thighs.

"Are you interested in a happy ending?" 

Well, are you? You've only had a growing soft spot for the guy since day one.

"Yes, please."

Suddenly, he’s grabbing handfuls of your ass, pushing and pulling your flesh, spreading you wide apart, rewarding himself with a sweet eyeful of your clothed crotch up close and personal for the first time. You gasp at the change in pace, pawing at the cement floor, the edge of the pool, and finally grasping onto the towel, holding on tight.

He uses two thumbs to test the threshold of your waistband, see how taut he can yank them before you or the fabric start to complain. The outline of your pussy greets him, and he grins like he's seeing an old friend.

"Unreal," he says in awe, brains scrambled, mouth pooling with saliva, drooling at the sight of you.

Words seem to evade him as he leans in, kissing your covered center. He tries to commit the image to deep storage, but can't stop himself from getting distracted by the smell of you, something he's only caught glimpses of. The barrier of spandex does nothing to prevent Eddie from burying his face where your thighs meet, the ridge of his nose sidling up against your clit, and he takes the opportunity to inhale deeply. 

The longer he made out with your pussy through your swim bottoms, the harder it was to gauge if he knew how he made you feel. Your heart wanted to burst out of your chest, and he didn't seem one bit bothered. 

Pulling you into a doggy position, he stops his assault on your lower half to trail open-mouthed kisses along your thighs. 

"Eddie," you say, your patience dwindling while he ignores you, lightly biting into the globes of your ass before choosing to mark the right cheek, leaving a permanent enough notch in your bedpost.

At this point, your feet have fully dried in the Indiana sun, but you're still beyond frustrated. Eddie, as if he can read your mind, returns to the task at hand. 

He hesitantly makes direct contact with the most sensitive part of your body, lithe fingers pressing against your puffy clit every so often, not caring if his heavy petting produces obscene wet noises. He leans over you, chest hugging your backside, and he brushes your hair behind your ear; you get the pleasure of listening to Eddie's murmurings when he's not biting onto the shell of it.

Eddie works you up to a decent pace, and it doesn't take long for your muffled cries to come to light, unable to hold it back. He takes mental notes on what makes you swear, what makes your hips twitch, which few things make you stutter and short-circuit, but he never stops his ministrations. You try to warn him through a slew of moans, but then he frames your clit with the nylon material, letting your bare pussy lips protrude on either side, aimlessly bullying the singled out bundle of nerves. His name is lost on your breath as your bottoms flood, squirt soaking your thighs.

"Holy shit, Steve was right -- you are the real deal." He pushes aside your bottoms. “You think you can do that again?" 

Tracing a path over your sensitive skin, Eddie's plush lips latch onto your clit, pulling a broken sound out of you. His mouth draws out another rush of moisture from your pussy, coating his chin and neck. 

You have to push him off to get him to stop.

"So pretty," he says, stepping back to evaluate the aftermath. Then, Eddie's lips find yours for the first time.

When Steve gets home from work, he changes out of the suit and tie, throwing on a blue velour tracksuit before heading to the kitchen. He doesn't even make it past the fridge when he's hit with the distinctive smell of you. Looking past his reflection in the sliding glass doors, he spots you both poolside, lounging.

Must've been an eventful morning.

Later that evening, you sit on Steve's marble sink, watching him ball up a wad of his freshly washed hair in frustration. He can't decide between acid-washed denim and high tops, or Eddie's cropped Dio shirt and faded Dickies. 

"Ugh, maybe I should just wear my new sweater instead?" He looks to you for an answer.

"Wait, how many people are showing up?" Eddie asks, taking a long hit of a joint before leaning over you to hand it over to Steve.

"36 confirmed attendees."

"Wow, look at you, Mr. Big Leagues."

"Shut up." Steve takes a puff before passing it back to Eddie.

Laughing, they take turns boyishly pushing each other around, faces inching close with each iteration. You're hopeful they either kiss or take the fight to the ground, whichever comes first, but you're met with disappointment when their crosshairs set on you.

"No."

Eddie hums, tapping his chin in false thought.

"No."

"Steve, let's make a bet," Eddie's voice chimes out.

"On what?"

"What kind of underwear d'you think Ms. Witch is wearing tonight?"

"Why are you so nosy?"

"Hm… Okay, I'll bite." Steve tries to deduce an answer. "Black cotton panties because it matches the outfit."

"I bet you everything in your pockets that she's got nothing on under the skirt." They pause to think, making a silly pose for a moment. "Let's find out," Steve shrugs, folding you in half easily despite your complaints.

Eddie grins as the werewolf lifts your skirt, ripping away your hands when you try to shield your lower regions from their prying eyes. The metalhead perches his joint between thick lips, laughing, and Steve's face lights up like it's Christmas day.

"Wow, you're full of surprises." A warm finger traces itself through your folds. "Is this all for us?" he asks rhetorically, voice doting, leaving a smooch on your thigh. “Always had a thing for these legs,” Steve confesses at the altar before his friend’s front row seat, Eddie’s speechless at how the man obsesses over you. Eager to watch your reactions, the brunet's gaze remains on you, spitting on your pussy.

Eddie works on finishing the joint while Steve's drooling mouth leaves open-mouthed kisses on your clit, tongue dipping into your center every so often. Then, he pulls away, moving to frame you with his body, holding you with an arm tight across your hips.

"Your turn." 

Your mouth opens with a silent moan when you feel Eddie re-familiarize himself with every inch of your pussy, licking into your puckered ass for a solid minute before settling on the subject of your sensitive clit, drawing a strained cry from you. Steve is also speechless, inches away from the debauchery, half-lidded eyes tracking his accomplice's moves. 

It takes him all of three minutes to bring you towards the edge, moaning against your slick, leaving surprisingly delicate pecks here and there, telling Steve how good you were being. Eddie’s mouth is quickly replaced by tight circles thumbing your clit, his lips laughing as a clear stream squirts out of you. 

“No fucking way.” 

“— yes fucking way, Harrington.”

Eddie, of course, rubs it in further by biting the tender flesh of your inner thigh, sucking a mark into your skin to commemorate the occasion. Steve has to physically rip him off you, all but snapping at him, probably worried he’d eat you alive. 

"Stop being mean."

The rebel smirks in response, leaning in to capture his roommate's lips. The sight of them even standing together on a normal day makes your nerves skyrocket, so your heartstrings pull hard when they take up each other's space between your thighs and their chests heave, breath ragged over sharing the taste of you.

It doesn't take long for them to crowd in on you, Eddie joining you at your side and Steve fitting himself between your spread thighs. The corner of Steve's mouth twitches up when his darker counterpart leaves a peck on the corner of your lips. It's hard to focus on anything when two sets of hands grope and pinch at you, but Eddie pinning your leg back has you keening.

"I think we're gonna have to teach him how to share," he says to you with a lazy smile, velour-covered dick hardening as it grinds against your wetness. You nod, feeling Eddie’s grip on you tighten. 

Within seconds, Steve’s pulling out his length and holding it up against your pelvis, trying to visualize how deep in your guts he’d get — not today, of course. He’s never gotten this far with you, only one count of over-the-pants shit which he still dreams about til this day, so he figured taking it slow would be the right choice; he always had a good feeling about you. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re gonna fucking kill her with that thing.” The combination of Steve’s eye roll and Eddie’s mocking, lilted voice in your ear convince you that this is how you’d like to spend the rest of your days. 

“Shut up, Munson.”

Looking between Eddie’s big dark eyes and Steve teasing his length along your folds, you sigh, rutting up to meet his motions.  Finding his pussydrunk stare, your fingers curl into the hair at the back of his neck, and he groans, leaning into your touch, ghosting over your bruised skin. He likes the way it looks, maybe too much. 

“You know, I’ve had a crush on you since the 2nd grade,” Steve admits, using his free hand to apply pressure to the base of his cock, stabilizing how it grinds on your center, catching your clit on the offbeats. Your reaction is unreadable, but it’s enough for him to let out a groan, chest flushing pink. 

“God, I thought I was being so obvious all of those years, following you around like a lost puppy.”

“I think everybody knew that you wanted to blast her with baby-making juice but her, big boy.”

Brown hair flops down onto Steve’s forehead, and his rhythm slows, irises flashing red as he briefly loses control, his fingernails growing thick and sharp. 

“Steve.” You fail to get his attention. 

Eddie looks down, notching the head against your entrance.

“I always knew.”

Steve melts from head to toe as you yank him into a kiss. His eyes close, nearly falling onto you two, and his hips lower into your inviting warmth. You feel the tip try to push in several times before your pussy lips begin to stretch to accommodate his girth, and your hips fight against Eddie’s restraints. He pushes in slowly, like he's scared of breaking you, watching your face.

“Shit, Harrington, look,” Eddie draws Steve’s gaze down at where you connect. “She’s fucking milking you. How is it?"

“Super fucking tight.” 

His cock somehow hardens further inside of you, and it takes you by surprise. 

Unzipping his tracksuit jacket, still in his work uniform, he lets it hang wide open, a chain hanging from his neck.

Eddie's hard-on presses into your back as he helps fold you in half further, sucking on his ring-clad fingers before moving them in circles on your clit. 

Steve tries not to short-circuit, instead memorizing the noises your pussy makes when he sheathes his length halfway in you, shallow strokes that keep your orgasm at bay. "Doing so good," he says exasperatedly, eyes scouring you for signs of discomfort. 

"I can take it, Steve."

"You don't mean that."

Your head nods as you argue against his pout. His nose flares a couple times before he deciding to feed your cunt the remaining inches and he almost laughs in disbelief at the way your pussy just takes and takes.

"How the fuck?"

Your hands grip onto him, Steve, anything, just holding on for dear life. Pulling out almost completely to the tip, he pushes back in and discovers that you can take him up until his knot, and the bulge of his cock threatens to slip in every so often when he completely thrusts in you.

"C'mon, baby," Eddie begs into your neck, biting you, kissing it better by sucking another sizable mark into your skin. The cool metal of Eddie's rings rubs against the hot flesh of your clit over and over again. Steve pipes up. "I'm not gonna be able to last much longer.”

Somehow it's the desperation in their voices that makes you squirm, body tensing, and your vision goes white, then you're gushing uncontrollably. Words spill out of you, and so do your secretions, while Steve's overwhelming length pistons into you. 

"Alright, you asked for it." Steve's rhythm becomes erratic, and you can feel the pulsing of his knot against your nether regions as he pumps you full of his warm cum. Minutes go by until he stops throbbing against you. 

"That was really hot, and I'm pretty sure I just came in my party pants."

Steve withdraws from you, his still erect cock reflexively bounces against his stomach, leaving a wet spot, bending down to observe the way your pussy stays stretched open before his cum starts leaking out of you. 

"Holy fuck. I think I'm in love with you."

Steve gets down on his knees, ignoring the wide-eyed look you and Eddie shared at his admission, trying to push the mess of your shared fluids back into you, sharp claws gone. He pulls you off the counter, making your tired legs stand over his face, mouth eagerly licking through your folds, lovingly dragging his tongue up your ass as he cleans up the leftovers of your desecration, moaning at the taste of you.

Eddie corrects himself, lighting a cigarette. "Wait, no, I take it back. This is super hot."