Robin groaned.

Steve muttered something about being replaced.

Dustin dropped the contents of his sandwich.

You just raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Are you always this chivalrous, or is it a special occasion?”

Eddie leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin propped in his palm.

His rings caught the light like tiny presages. “You tell me, sweetheart. I can turn it up if you like.”

And that was it.

You snorted.

He laughed.

And the fire was lit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2. The desk match

Hawkins High, a few days later, vacant class

It was the first time Eddie sat next to you.

Usually, he kept to the back desks, sprawled on the chair like a delinquent king on his throne of poorly carved initials and ancient chewing gum.

You always sat closer to the window: natural light, quiet, focus.

Today your teacher called out sick at the last minute, replaced by a substitute assistant who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

He only told you all to work on your independent assignments and then proceeded to zone out behind a book.

You had barely opened your notebook when you heard the scrape of a chair beside you.

“Hope you don’t mind, sweetheart,” Eddie said casually, flopping down like gravity had a personal problem with him. “Sometimes the back row gets a little bit lonely.”

You raised your eyebrows but didn’t answer.

Inexplicably, he took it as an invitation.

He chuckled, leaning closer, voice a conspiratorial whisper.

“I promise not to bite, princess. Unless you ask me real nice.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched in the beginning of a repressed smile.

“Are you actually going to study something, or are you here just to annoy me?”

“Can’t I do both?”

You puffed.

“I'm actually surprised you can even do one thing besides breathe.”

Eddie mimed an arrow to his heart, exaggerated and worthy of a stage actor.

“You're killing me, honey. So rude for a cutie like you.”

You went back to your book, (apparently) unaffected—but he didn’t.

Instead, you felt his boot nudging your shoes under the table.

Light at first, testing.

Then firmer, deliberate.

You gave him a warning glance and he waved his eyebrows innocently, tilting his head closer.

“So, what are we pretending to read today, sweetheart?”

“I’m actually trying to read history.”

“Mmm,” he murmured, taking a lock of your hair to curl it around his ringed index finger.

“Can’t say I’m interested in the past right now. Much more curious about the present.”

You froze, heartbeat stuttered, and he grinned.

“You know—you’re so pretty when you’re pretending you aren't enjoying yourself.”

“And you’re so cocky when you think I do.”

“Oh… of course you do, darling,” he whispered, voice dropping. “I see it every time you smile at me and then look away like you didn’t.”

Your stomach flipped, heat rises from the base of your neck.

His mesmerizing hands were on the edge of your desk now, drumming an idle rhythm.

“Eddie,” you growled, warning.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“We’re in a classroom.”

He exhaled, bored.

“Indeed we are, but still I want to see if you’d turn red like a chili pepper if I whisper something filthy in your ear.”

Your throat dried instantly, eyes wide.

He leaned just an inch closer, his breath warm against the shell of your ear.

“Would you, little one?”

The air between you electrified.

You didn’t answer—couldn’t, this time.

But yet, you didn't move back, or looked away.

It was as if his warm and deep irises had anchored you, pulling you towards him in a spiral—

“Mr. Munson, do you happen to want to take the umpteenth tour of the principal's office?”

The assistant's too shrill voice broke the spell, but still when Eddie winked at you, you couldn't stop an abetter grin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3. Truth or dare? Pool edition

Harrington's backyard, a week later, last sunday of summer

The weather was unusually warm for late September, the golden light reflected off the water in the swimming pool like a cracked sparkling mirror.

Someone had lit citronella candles, someone else had dropped a pop mixtape into the boombox—for Eddie's most delight.

Robin was already two beers in, feet kicked up on the cooler and heart shaped sunglasses, and Steve was flipping burgers with a ridiculous apron that said ‘Kiss the Grill Daddy’ across the front.

You sat on the lawn with the others, plastic cup sweating in your hand, sunscreen sticking to your body.

It was still quite hot, the last gasp of summer clinging to everything.

Right beside you, lounging like he was born for this kind of lazy shit, was Eddie Munson.

Black swimming shorts, no shirt—just his wild curls and skin that had no business being that pale.

His tattoos caught the sunlight like spells inked in magic.

His rings clicked against the rim of his can and his rich honey eyes?

They were all over you.

Not subtle.

Not even trying.

Fuck.

He stared boldly when you laughed.

When you licked some lemonade off your thumb.

When you stretched your legs out and leaned back on your elbows.

You weren't doing it on purpose—or at least that's what you told yourself, but you felt it.

That strange pull.

Loud and clear.

“Okay, I'm bored—the time has come. Truth or dare, pool edition.” Robin announced, voice sing-song and dangerous.

A general chorus of approval and grunts rose around you.

She winked at you.

You blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“Truth or dare,” she grinned, evil and knowing. “Don’t act all innocent now.”

“I understood that, thank you. But what does pool edition mean?”

You could feel all the eyes on you.

Mostly, his.

Eddie was still beside you, a smirk growing slowly like a wicked little secret.

He leaned in just a bit, shoulder brushing yours.

“My little sweetie,” he murmured, voice low and warm. “Maybe you may know it as ‘strip truth or dare’.”

Suddenly you felt like you were in Death Valley—it was so hot, but you tried to play it cool anyway.

The game began and soon it was your turn amidst laughters, jeers and shouts.

The idea of wearing just the bottoms of your bikini and a thin tank top suddenly didn't seem so good anymore.

Of course Robin was the one who should ask you the question and of course her truths were certainly particularly embarrassing…

You raised a brow. “Dare.”

Robin lit up instantly.

She didn’t even hesitate.

“Take your top off.”

The group hollered.

You choked on your drink. “Excuse me?!”

“You heard me.” Robin crossed her arms smugly. “Just the tank top. It will still be enough to drive Munson crazy. ”

You turned, wide-eyed.

Eddie nearly choked on his beer.

“Robin,” he hissed, “I swear to God—”

“Oh shut up, you'll thank me later,” she shot back, grinning at you.

You laughed too loud, your pulse was a thunderstorm.

Every nerve screamed at once that you must say no.

But the penance would probably been even worse, so—

With a mock sigh, you stood up fast.

“Okay.”

Your fingers trembled while curling under the cotton hem.

You tugged it up, trying not to think, until air kissed your stomach, your ribs, your chest.

And then it was off, your bare nipples hard.

The yard went silent for a beat too long.

“Jesus H. Christ—”

It was Eddie's raw whisper, then total chaos.

Max whooped with El.

Dustin dropped his soda.

Mike and Lucas turned bright red.

Steve was about to burn several dozen dollars on the forgotten barbecue.

Robin looked way too pleased with herself and… proud of you?

“Girl power! Fuck yeah!”

You chuckled, shaking your head—but Eddie?

When you turned towards him, he was staring like he’d just witnessed a religious miracle.

Eyes locked to your pink peaks, mouth parted, knuckles white around his now crumpled can.

He didn’t blink.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

You stood there, flushed, heart in your throat and damp fabric fisted in your hand.

He looked you up and down one last time, very slowly.

And when your eyes met again, his voice was soft velvet.

“I'll never forget this moment for as long as I live, sweetheart.”

You grinned, completely forgetting that you two weren't alone—in fact, your friends were looking at you askance, somewhere between confused and embarrassed.

“That’s good, Munson.”

He shook his head, dazed and reverent, then leaned toward you with a smirk that could melt steel.

“I was already half in love with you, but now? Now I’m gonna need CPR.”

You chuckled. “From Steve or from me?”

He raised his hands in surrender.

“Oh, sweetheart. If you so much as breathe on me right now, I’m not responsible for my actions.”

You were about to argue, but a clearly fake cough made you both jump.

"Uhm, sorry lovebirds, but... maybe it's not exactly the right time to have sex here in front of everyone… I mean, Steve hasn't had sex in ages and he might have a heart attack—ouch!”

Robin had been hit by a flying mayonnaise jar from the barbecue.

“Shut the fuck up, uh?”

You sat down with a smile, reclaiming your spot beside him.

This time it was Dustin who cleared his throat.

"I think you can put your tank top back on, what do you think?!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4. Idiots in sight

Early October, Hawkins High parking lot, late afternoon

You had stayed behind to finish a late lab report with your assignment group.

The halls were quiet, just the faint echoes of your footsteps on scuffed linoleum and some janitors sweeping the empty classrooms.

Outside, the almost desert parking lot was bathed in the orange light of approaching sunset.

The air was crisp and you breathed it in after a long school day.

You didn’t notice them at first, perched on a sports car at the side of your field of vision.

Two boys.

Immaculate letterman jackets, too much gel in their hair, that same ugly smirk they always wore when they saw someone different.

They stepped into your path like it was a game and you were the prize.

“Hey, sweetheart—right?” One said, poorly imitating the tone of voice of the guy who against all odds was becoming one of your best friends. “You’re the new one hanging around with Munson's weirdos crew, huh?”

You didn’t answer, just tried to get around them.

“Why so fast, love?” The other one came closer, catching your wrist in a smooth move.

“Don't touch me, you asshole!” you raised your voice.

Barking laughs.

“Has your dungeon master fucked you yet? Bet you’re the kind of girl who likes it rough on all fours in a van full of dirt and Judas Priest.”

Your hands tightened in fists and you tried to free yourself, but in vain.

“Go fuck yourselfs!” You squirmed. “Let me go!”

“Oh, what a big mouth you have, little slut. Maybe someone should fill it up for you—”

The voice came sharp, clear, full of ice and rage.

Right behind you.

“Say one more word, I dare you.”

Eddie.

He stepped into view slowly—tensed jaw, eyes dark.

You had never seen him like that.

He wasn’t smirking, wasn’t cocky.

He seemed ready to do to them what Ozzy Osbourne had done to that poor bat on stage.

The two idiots hesitated, then scoffed, falsely bold.

“Easy, freak. We were just chatting.”

He looked at you while stepping closer, then suddenly grabbed the one who was still holding your arm and pulled him against his chest by the jacket's collar.

“Do you want to chat with my knuckle duster, motherfucker?”

And without adding a word he threw him at his companion, making them roll on the ground in a pathetic spectacle.

“I suggest you leave and never come near her again—unless you want to play treasure hunt with your teeth scattered all over the damned school.”

You watched them retreat to their car and speed away, throwing glances in your direction that were probably meant to be intimidating, but just came across as ridiculous.

You realized you were shaking only when his hands landed on your arms, just under your shoulders.

Not arrogant, nor intrusive—just there.

Warm. Solid. Safe.

Eddie began to move his thumbs in small, delicate circles, massaging your tense muscles with a delicacy you never would have thought he could have.

Without thinking, you pressed your forehead to his chest, breath shallow.

“You didn’t have to—”

“Of course I did.”

His voice was low, vibrating.

You could feel his heart against your cheek.

Fast, furious—for you.

One hand cupped the back of your head, the other held your waist tightly, like he was afraid you’d slip away.

No one had ever held you like that.

You clutched his shirt in your fists, hot everywhere.

“None gets to talk to you like that. I don't give a fuck—” A pause.

You pulled back, just a little.

His eyes dropped to your mouth for a long second, then flicked up again.

“If I had it my way,” he continued, voice hoarse, “they wouldn't even get to look at you, or get to breathe the same air.”

The tension between you was thick enough to drown in.

He was so close—your lips just a breath apart…

But neither of you moved.

Finally, Eddie smiled softly and wrapped his arms around you. You mimicked him with a happy sigh, time frozen in a parking lot that didn’t exist anymore if not for you two.

Your world had narrowed to his presence.

His body, his warmth, his particular scent—and the knowledge that after today nothing would be the same again for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

5. Pool table for two

The Hideout, a few days after, early evening

Messy bars weren't exactly your scene, so you weren't planning on staying very long.

The room smelled of cheap beer and funny smoke, floors were always sticky and the poor light was provided only by flickering red and green neon and dusty bulbs.

Your friend was running late and you bathed in that kind of midweek haze where nothing really happened—just local bands tuning too long and bartenders with hollow eyes.

That’s when you saw him.

Eddie was here—half sprawled in a booth near the back with Gareth and Jeff, nursing a longneck and laughing over something his friends had just said.

His curls were a little messier than usual, leather jacket and battle vest open over his Hellfire tee, silver rings catching the dim illumination.

When his gaze flicked up and suddenly found you, he stilled mid-talk, eyes shining like dark diamonds—like someone had flipped a switch inside him.

And then—holy shit, he smiled at you as if the whole day had suddenly improved.

Your heart somersaulted.

He pushed off the booth, his movements loose, predatory.

“Didn’t think I’d be blessed tonight,” he murmured as he reached you. “But here you are, sweetheart. You alone?”

“I’m waiting for a friend. She's late.”

You toyed with your fingers—something you only did when you were nervous, and of course he noticed.

Eddie tilted his head. “Well, I’m early. Guess that makes us… perfectly timed.”

You bit back a smile. “You’re quite the smooth talker, mh?”

He basked in it, eyes trailing over your face like he was learning it on the spot.

“You wanna kill time with me?” he asked, nodding toward the forgotten pool table in the back. “Could teach you how to hold a shaft properly.”

You raised a brow, heat spreading from your neck to your cheeks.

“You sure it’s not the beer talking now, Munson?”

“Maybe… or it could be the lack of oxygen to my brain—since blood always rushed south every time I see you, princess ”

That made you laugh—sharp, surprised.

Flattered.

It was stupid, nothing but a normal ‘Eddie Munson tease’—but his eyes… his fucking eyes were eating you alive.

You shrugged, trying to play it nonchalantly while all your body went boiling.

“I didn't know you were a pool master, too.”

He grinned, gently pushing you toward the corner with just one hand barely on your back.

“I’m shit at math but real good with angles, I assure you. ”

You laughed again, biting your lip.

He racked the balls with exaggerated flair, glancing up at you through his lashes.

“Ever played?” he asked.

“Not really.”

“Perfect. I love corrupting virgin beginners.”

He stepped in behind you and the air changed immediately, his chest almost but not quite touching your back.

“Okay, first off,” he murmured, his voice practically a growl near your ear, his hand skimming yours, “you grip the stick gently, but firm. Relax your wrist, let it glide through your pretty fingers...”

You glanced at him, smirking.

“That’s how you like it?”

He swallowed thickly, dilated pupils.

“Don't tempt me to show you, baby.”

You chuckled and lined up, trying to focus, but the warmth of his body—his fingers sliding down your arm, arranging your hold around the wooden cue like it was more of a lesson in seduction—was too much.

The metal of his rings was cool, a perfect contrast to his big hands—hot, firm, precise.

You exhaled deeply and adjusted your position a little, letting your hips tilt into his just enough for him to feel the brush of your ass against his jeans.

He stilled.

“Whoops!”

You turned your head in mock innocence and there it was—his plump mouth right there, a few inches from yours.

Your breath caught, a hot shiver slid down your spine.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, low and devilish. “You’re shaking? For me?”

“Maybe,” you bubbled. “Maybe I’m just cold.”

He grinned, eyes flickering to your lips. “I could fix that.”

His hands grabbed your hips, pulling you against him merciless.

You felt his hard presence loud and clear against your lower back and bit back a whimper.

“Time to shoot, princess. Show me what you can do.”

You lined up again, aiming a hit. Took it. Missed completely.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

He chuckled, shifting just enough to bring his mouth closer to your neck.

“Yeah,” he said, voice velvet and gravel. “That about sums it up.”

He stepped back just slightly, jaw tight, fingers twitching at his sides.

The next few minutes were a vicious dance of touches, hungry glances and malicious jokes.

Eddie watched your every movement—tongue flicking across his lip, eyes black.

At one point you turned abruptly, bumping into him and catching him staring—your hands landing on his chest.

His heart was a war drum.

“I was thinking…” you whispered, sweet and venomous, “you offered to keep me company just to make me bend over this table, so you can get behind me and stare at my ass while I try to shoot.”

He didn’t flinch a bit.

“Guilty, sweetheart. But I’d be lying if I said I haven’t already been doing that every time I could since Robin introduced us.”

You gasped in fake disbelief, then laughed, and he looked at you like you’d just challenged his last shred of control.

“Not my fault you always wear those tight little jeans and look at me like you know exactly what you’re doing.” he shrugged.

You raised an eyebrow. “And what am I doing, exactly?”

He smirked, leaning down just enough for you to feel his scent radiating off him.

“You’re playing a game,” he murmured. “And I’m losing it.”

Before you could answer—before either of you could cross that last delicious line—you heard a voice call your name from the entrance.

Your friend.

You both froze.

Damn—you practically had forgotten about her.

The spell cracked, but didn’t break.

You looked at him, cheeks flushed, chest rising.

Eddie leaned closer, voice just for you.

“We’re not done, baby—know it. Now go and have fun.”

He stepped back, letting his fingers trail slowly down your arm like a promise.

Your skin burned.

You turned and walked away, but you felt his eyes on your ass the whole time.

And for the rest of the night, the only shot echoing in your head was the one you almost took—with Eddie pressed up behind you, his breath on your skin and your pulse in your throat.

You were both gonna explode.

Soon.

So very soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

6. Movie night

Hawkins theatre, Poltergeist II, a week later

It was supposed to be a group thing, just a way to wind down after a long school week.

But when you showed up in that tiny black miniskirt, sheer tights and a faded Guns n’ Roses tee tied on your waist, Eddie all but lost his fucking mind and nearly walked into the candy stand.

“Shit!” he muttered under his breath as Robin hugged you, “I’m gonna have an aneurysm.”

You greeted him before anyone else, smiling with that sweet curve of your lips that secretly made his knees feel like they were made of melted vinyl.

“Hello Munson,” you waved, breezy as hell.

“Hello, Trouble,” he said and you laughed.

You caught him staring more than once—while buying tickets and popcorn, or having a last smoke before the movie, and he made no secret of his plan to sit next to you in the very last row.

Before the lights went down, his eyes kept traveling from your lips to your thighs, lingering at the way your studded boots dug into the red theater carpet.

Darkness settled down and soon the screen was flickering with fake blood and bad special effects—but you didn’t actually see a damn thing.

You leaned back in your seat, trying to relax… but you were only hyperaware of him next to you.

His fresh cologne. His cozy heat. His thick tension.

Suddenly Eddie had gone strangely quiet, his hands tumbling on his thighs like he was trying to behave.

You noticed—and smirked.

You were so tired of fighting the current…

So you crossed your legs, slowly.

Deliberately, letting your knee brushing his.

“Oh, sorry Eds.”

And yep, of course here it was: a sharp inhale from him.

A tiny twitch of his ringed fingers.

A suffering sideway glance.

“Are you trying to kill me, sweetheart?” he whispered, voice barely audible under the soundtrack.

You turned your head just enough.

“Why? Is there something wrong?”

His eyes dropped to your pressed thighs, shameless.

“Yeah. Your whole minx existence.”

You laughed softly, sweetly—then leaned over and whispered: “You didn't tell me if you liked my outfit…”

He snorted.

“I had to hide behind the peluche machine for ten minutes when you walked in—so you tell me.”

You chuckled, amused, and he went perfectly still.

The next time the screen lit up, you caught his fingers right there, on the reclinable armrest—so close to your bare thigh.

Only one inch.

Half breath.

You tilted your leg a little closer and he fidgeted.

You said nothing, just waited, feigning stoic interest in the new Poltergeist.

Soon enough, he cracked.

One long finger brushed your knee carefully.

Then another.

Then—encouraged by a languid sigh of yours, his hand landed there fully.

Palm warm, calloused fingers spreading slowly.

You exhaled through your nose, loud enough for him to hear—not loud enough for anyone else.

You grinned, letting your own hand fall casually between his legs, palm pressed to the inside of his thigh.

He tensed, a low growl giving him away.

His fingers squeezed your leg.

“Fuck, princess—”

You felt it all.

The jolt of excitement.

The pure, undiluted want.

Not just in your stomach but lower, deeper.

You smirked. “You okay, Munson?”

His hand massaged your thigh, dangerously close to the hem of your skirt.

“Do you want to have me arrested for indecent exposure in a public place?” he muttered, lips near your ear, voice all husky mischief.

You arched a brow, innocent as an angel.

“Absolutly not… Maybe I just like a little attention.”

Eddie scoffed, low and dangerous.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’ve got all of mine and even something more.”

You shivered, heart pounding as the movie went on.

You didn't know why, but after he defended you from those two idiots, he had become a constant thought—an extremely pleasant and hot one, too.

You kept your eyes on the screen, but you spread your knees a little wider.

He groaned, barely audible, as his thumb traced slow circles at the edge of your skirt, right at the crease of your thigh.

You let your hand move higher up his thigh, knuckles brushing the heat under his zipper.

Leaning in, your lips almost grazed his skin.

“How is this?”

He swore under his breath, jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscle jump under his dimmer lighted face.

“Keep that up and I’m not responsible for what I’ll do,” he warned.

You turned to him, your voice was honey and gasoline on a yet wild bonfire.

“Maybe that’s what I want.”

Slowly—so slow it was torture—he pushed your skirt just high enough to slip his hand underneath, palm cupping between your thighs.

You held your breath, biting your lip and hoping for more.

All you felt was Eddie.

His fingers teased the inside of your crotch, so close to the spot you wanted him you thought you might moan out loud.

“You’re so fucking soft,” he murmured, voice wrecked. “You wore this ridiculous short skirt just to drive me crazy, didn’t you?”

You grinned in the dark and pressed your palm firmly over his cock—hard, long, straining against his jeans.

He jerked under your touch, teeth gritted.

Eddie turned his face just enough to whisper in your ear.

“Keep on misbehaving and I’ll pull you onto my lap right here, movie or not, sweetheart.”

You squeezed him, slow and mean.

He bit back a whimper, head falling back against the seat for a moment.

“God, you’re an evil woman,” he panted.

You felt his hand slip under the edge of your tights—skin on skin, at last.

You gasped, covering your mouth.

“You want me to touch you here, baby?” he whispered, voice filthy.

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

“Say it.”

Your cheeks burned, your pulse hammered.

But you leaned in, mouth a millimeter from his.

“I want you to touch me, Eddie. Everywhere. Right here. Right now.”

He cursed and wasted no time.

A single fingertip, right against your panties.

You were already soaked.

He felt it, swore again, almost desperate.

“Fuck, you’re this wet for me?”

You smiled, a wicked little secret.

“Only for you, for days, Munson.”

His finger pressed a little firmer, rubbing a slow circle over your soggy panties.

“Good girl—”

You shivered, clamping your hand tighter around his cock, feeling the throb through the denim.

Neither of you cared about anything anymore.

It was just the dark.

Just your hungry hands.

Just raw want.

“So, tell me, Eds… is this movie actually any good? Or am I your main interest tonight?”

Another finger dug in, just a little harder.

“Baby, you could recite the phone book and I’d still be hard for you on every occasion.”

You stifled a laugh, pressing your lips to his neck, warm breath making him shudder.

“Maybe I should’ve worn something even shorter. I have this little red dress…”

He groaned, pressing his mouth on your forehead.

“Careful,” he warned, voice low, “or I’m going to do something really fucking stupid. Like drag you into the bathroom and make you scream over the sound of these damn demons.”

You squeezed his rock hard erection, delighted.

“Promises, promises...”

He looked almost feral in the penumbra.

“You know, I’m never going to make it through this fucking movie like this. All I can think about is what you’d sound like if I actually—”

But then the screen flared, a scream echoed through the theater and your group burst out laughing around you—breaking the secret, dangerous spell.

You locked eyes in the blue light.

Eddie’s hand retreated, but not all the way.

His thumb stroked your skin once, slow and possessive.

“After the credits,” he murmured, mouth against your ear, “you’re not leaving my side. Not for a second.”

You smirked.

“Not planning on it.”

He leaned back, finally, but left his hand resting exactly where you wanted it.

The movie played on, but all either of you could hear was the rush of your own breath, the thunder in your veins and the vicious promise of everything that was about to happen right after the credits ended.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

7. Van time = Fun time

Midnight, post movie, Eddie’s van

The second the theater doors opened and cool air hit your skin, you knew.

You can definitely feel something had changed.

Eddie was still ghosting all over you—his fingers between your thighs, the press of his erection under your palm, the cracked sound of his breath when you made him curse through clenched teeth.

You didn’t speak to him as you walked out with the others, didn’t even look at him, but you felt him.

Right behind you, watching you like you were still under his touch.

When the party reached the parking lot, Steve launched into a half-assed monologue about the movie’s plot holes, Robin kept rolling her eyes while yawning and Dustin was babbling about nonsense with Mike and Lucas.

El and Max looked like they were about to collapse from boredom.

Eddie was also strangely taciturn and rather sulky.

At a certain point Steve decided to call it a day.

"Okay, let's organize the cars: I'll take the boys home.”

Robin smirked.

“Yes, separate transportation. The girls with me, pajama party at El's.”

The situation had presented itself on a silver platter.

With the distinct feeling that Eddie's gaze was burning a hole in your back, you happily skipped toward your friend's car, taking care to stay slightly behind.

And indeed….

Eddie grabbed your wrist.

“You come with me, sweetheart.”

You laughed as everyone turned to look at you.

"Oh yeah, I forgot, sorry—we have something to finish... Bye guys, see you!”

He tugged you to his van, waiting in the night in the far corner of the parking lot.

“You think you can do that shit in there,” he rasped once the doors closed, “and just walk away like nothing happened?”

Your back hit the cracked leather of the front seat with a soft puff, his arms bracing both sides of your body.

His breath was hot on your face, his scent everywhere in the cockpit.

Your smile was pure mischief and fake innocence.

“Thought you liked it.”

“Liked it?” He laughed—low and wrecked. “Sweetheart, I’ve been hanging around with a boner for the last two hours because of you.”

You reached down and palmed him through his jeans again, slow and firm.

“Mmmh. Still there—I can feel it pretty well.”

His eyes flashed.

He shoved your hand away and grabbed your waist, hauling you against him.

“You drive me fucking insane, you know that?”

You straddled him, adjusting your soaked panties exactly against his erection.

He hissed and bit his lower lip, hard.

“Then do something about it, Munson. Or do you need a written invitation?”

He practically growled like an animal, then his mouth crashed into yours—hot, raw, no hesitation.

You gasped in surprise and he swallowed the sound, tongue sliding against yours like he’d been dreaming of this kiss for years.

His hands gripped your ass, making you rub your hips back and forth against him.

Your moan was instant, loud.

“God… you’re perfect, sweetheart. Fucking made for me—”

His lips traced your jaw and down your neck, sucking gently at your pulse point until your knees went weak and a bruise formed.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, grabbing and pushing.

He pulled back, chest heaving.

“If you have any objections, say so now.”

You didn’t.

Instead, you pulled off your jacket and the t-shirt over your head in one quick move.

Under, no bra—just your flushed skin waiting for him.

His jaw dropped.

“Holy shit. You’re such a tease—”

He was on you in a second.

Mouth on your soft breasts, tongue lapping over your nipples like he was starving.

His hand cupped your tits, thumb brushing, squeezing, as his lips worshipped every inch of you he could reach.

“I’ve been thinking about these gorgeous boobs since the pool party,” he groaned, voice muffled against your body. “You haunted me, baby. I jerk off every fucking night with your name in my mouth.”

You whimpered, grinding against his thigh with his restless help.

“Eddie—”

“I’m here, sweet thing.”

He grabbed your knee and lifted it around his hip, pressing his throbbing cock right against your sloppy covered core.

Dry humping had never felt so filthy, so good.

You rolled your hips, gasping into his mouth as he devoured you—kissing you like he needed you to breathe.

Your skirt rode up, your panties already drenched, clinging to him as you rubbed together.

His hands were everywhere—your waist, your chest, your throat, your thighs—like he couldn’t decide where to worship first.

“You gonna come like this, baby?” he panted, thrusting up into you. “Wanna make a mess on my favourite jeans?”

You bit his shoulder to muffle the absolutely dirty moan.

Your body was shaking, legs around him, lips swollen from his assault.

“Please,” you begged, almost crying. “Don’t stop, don't you dare stop!”

“Never,” he growled. “Not until I’ve made you come on every fucking part of me.”

And you believed him.

Every word.