queerly-anxious - Tumblr blog

queerly-anxious · 17 hours ago

Text

Bad Habit

The show goes on, and Volt and Eddie decide that it's the perfect time to practice a performance of their own with you, so to speak.

Word Count: 2K

Dividers both by cafekitsune.

Tags: afab but gn!reader (reader uses they/them pronouns, is wearing lipstick), established relationship, polyamorous relationship (Do! Not! Separate!), semi-public sex, marking (what else is lipstick good for), fingering, praise, petnames (live wire (duh), sweetheart, dear, love), I give some vaguely nonhuman descriptions to their features (scents and Volt's eyes glowing mostly, but maybe this will be unnerving to someone?)

Author's Note: I think it's just my cross to bear now that my schtick will be (outside of collab pieces) "publishes something for a niche fandom titled after a song listened to during creation, disappears for over a year, comes back to rinse and repeat". Works for me.

The curtains drawn, a beautiful, classic red.

An act that audiences actually wanted—at least in hindsight—to see onstage—

(“You know you’re lucky tonight, right?” you murmured to Volt as he joined you, bringing to mind any collection of previous Breaker Box open mic failures.

“Live wire, tonight, we all are,” he countered, Eddie snorting as softly as he could beside you.)

—and kept the audience’s attention rapt.

The bar slowed for ten minutes. Twenty, if things went well enough altogether.

And the owners and face (faces, really, if you were being realistic about it) of the Breaker Box retired to a corner booth, just out of sight of the stage and the audience for all but one seat on the outside, facing the stage. This VIP seat was always reserved—for good reason.

Others of particular fondness to Volt, or rarer, Eddie, perhaps found reserved seats close to the stage, or the bar, or just under the air blowers for particularly hot days. You, on the other hand, were here. In this booth. Because they were also here.

And for the ten minutes, at least, that they had, you would be between them, and they would be yours.

Usually—which is to say every time there was still any risk of audience or interloper, every time the “closed” sign was not buzzing dully in a window—Volt was content to play interference, face, charming host in a misdirection act that would dazzle even the best stage magician. After all, his hands were above the table—one flung wide over the back of the seat, the other thumbing idly over the condensation on the side of the short glass that held his whiskey sour, or during particularly affectionate moments, teasing your hand open to once again play fortuneteller with the lines he traces ticklishly over your palm.

Eddie’s hands, meanwhile, were not above the table.

One was busy trapping your thigh on his lap, spreading you open for him, and the other, dexterous, rough, diving under your unbuttoned waistband and the hem of your underwear to trace patterns, curving and soft, around your clit, while you try so so hard to not squirm so much for him.

“Stay still, live wire,” Eddie half-orders, his voice low, a rumble of thunder, “You don’t wanna let anyone else know what we’re up to, do you?”

You try to answer—I’ll be good—only for him to finally directly touch your clit, and your legs to try closing as you desperately swallow back a moan. His lips quirk into a half-grin, and the accusation settles on your tongue to be unspoken: tease.

“Certainly not,” Volt replies, and it doesn’t take much to recognize that he’s joining in on teasing you before he adds, “I doubt we’ve corrupted them so thoroughly.”

“Unfair,” you whined, softly, willing to play up the helpless, shy act only so far as it let you pout at the pair of them for the way they teamed up on you.

Eddie didn’t respond to that past a pleased chuckle and a squeeze of his hand around your thigh. “Remember what we said, dear,” Volt chided softly beside you, his arm lifting from the back of the seat to wrap further around you, to cup under your chin and tilt your gaze back towards him. “You need to tell us the truth of what you’re feeling. Otherwise how are we to know that you like it?”

A challenge. A response to your stubborn and reserved nature denying you your ability to tell them the truth—even if they already knew that you look forward to the chance to be stuck pinned between the two of them one way or another every day.

Eddie slows, as though agreeing to Volt’s point, and you swallow back your whine, your hips now squirming under his stalled touch. You free yourself from Volt’s grip to lock eyes with Eddie—he doesn’t budge. “Well, live wire? Y’got something to say?” he asks.

You don’t hesitate. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Eddie—” you whine his name at his teasing before you break character, lowering your voice to finish your sentence, all too aware of the risk posed of onlookers, “—you both do know that talking about the fact I enjoy you fucking me on your fingers during the shows isn’t exactly discreet?”

Now it was Volt’s turn to snort, amused at Eddie’s expression dipping into surprise—was it the language? Or the way that his mind jumped to images of other encounters, far more explicit than the one before him? It doesn’t last, quick as he is to try and obscure his weaknesses, and he counters, smoothly, “Haven’t gotten that far yet, though, sweetheart.” It’s pretty clear a situation he’s wanting to remedy, his thick fingers slipping down to play at your entrance (his tongue flicks out over his lips at feeling just how wet you’ve gotten from just so little). “You want that?”

You nod, softly, and before Eddie can, Volt corrects you, voice low as he leans down to your ear. “Use your words, live wire.”

His voice was just a little breathy—both a choice to keep himself quiet, and a factor of his want, a live current running through his blood.

He’ll get his chance to touch you later, he’ll see to it.

“I want you, Eddie.”

It was all meant to tempt him—the phrasing, the desperation in your hushed voice, the way you spread your legs a little further, shifting the one in his lap until it rubbed against his cock, already hard in his pants.

His grin grew a little wider, lopsided as it was—you were testing his patience. It was on purpose, you liked testing his patience. Thought it was fun.

It helped that he thought so, too, most times.

He leaned in to kiss you, muffling, swallowing the noise you made when his fingers (one, first, testing your comfort, then two) sank into you—and curled, sending a full-bodied shiver coursing through you.

You feel dazed, the scent of copper and ozone and the taste of sweetened alcohol all curling around you, the warmth of their bodies—it’s easy, it feels, to lose yourself in the pair of them, it had been since this dance all started with you and Volt in front of the mainstage and you and Eddie behind the scenes.

The reminder of the audience’s presence from the polite applause by the stage, and Volt’s soft, “Keep quiet, live wire,” just before Eddie pulled away to catch his breath grounded you in the reality that you didn’t want anyone else to know what was happening—didn’t want anyone but them to see you like this. They didn’t either, and Eddie—flushed over the tips of his ears already from more than just the one drink he’s had tonight, your lipstick smeared messily over his lips—straightens up, helping in the illusion that nothing is happening as his free hand shifts from your thigh to the back of the booth. In response, Volt’s arm drops to wrap around your shoulders, something synchronized between the rhythms of the two.

(It feels possessive. Maybe it is possessive. Perhaps less mine like an object and more mine like a love.)

Volt slides what was initially his drink across the table, and Eddie takes it gladly in his free hand, a slow, thoughtful sip while he grinds his palm against your clit, forcing you to swallow another sound.

He does it again and his lip quirks against the rim of the glass at the way you squeeze around his fingers.

He returns the glass to Volt and replaces his arm on the back of the seat, and unable to help yourself you reach out to him and try to wipe your lipstick from his lips as best you can—feeling as the moments pass less like a true effort to clean him, and more and more like an effort to distract him. To send his mind just a touch hazier from the touch of your thumb against his lips.

It turns affectionate sooner than needy. Turns into you cupping his cheek and him leaning into your touch, even as his fingers curl into you, drag out of you, give you more, more.

You lean your head back against Volt’s shoulder, your hand dropping to Eddie’s vest, grabbing on in your effort to ground yourself. You can feel, more than hear, the way he chuckles at you as you melt for them both.

“You know, you’re not exactly hiding anything, live wire,” Volt muses, quietly, shifting, curling a little closer, almost shielding you from the rest of the club with his frame, made wider by the coat still on his shoulders. “Such a sight for sore eyes all the same.”

You make a small, displeased noise—and neither of you can quite tell whether it’s you being flustered from his praise or fighting back against his claim that you don’t know how to hide what’s happening. It doesn’t matter, ultimately, your response is the same regardless—you tilt yourself a little further up, and start littering a collection of kisses against Volt’s throat.

You can feel him shiver, feel the way his hum vibrates in his chest—can hear the smile in his voice when he murmurs, “Aren’t you sweet,” a teasing lilt that you meet with a little nip.

He’s laughing when Eddie tries to get your attention back on him, unwilling to hide the affectionate warmth in his eyes at the sight of you and Volt, even as he ups his pace, curls his touch a little more insistently, grinds a little harder against your clit.

You’re partway through stubbornly sucking a mark on Volt’s throat before Eddie hits just the right pace—and suddenly how much he’s teased you, how much he knows exactly what to do with his hands, it becomes very clear. Your attention returns to him, your hips grinding against his hand, whining a soft, “Please, Eddie.”

There it is, that narrowing of his eyes, that quirk of his lips. “Aw, you gonna cum?”

Well now you didn’t want to. Now you wanted to be stubborn and in control of yourself and not even half as desperate as you are, have been for them. Not like he’s giving you much of a choice, though, with how he ups his pace, gets a little rougher, more demanding.

You’re shaking as you get closer and closer to the edge, struggling to swallow back your noises, struggling to breathe even, hold yourself back from the edge Eddie insistently pushes you towards—and now Volt takes the chance to play sweet.

His free hand comes up, and covers your mouth, squeezing into your cheeks just a touch. His other held you tighter against him.

A clear message. You could thrash, he'd hold you still. Moan, and he'd muffle you to the point you couldn't be heard over the music.

And now you didn’t, couldn’t fight. Not with how sweet Volt sounded as he soothed, song-like, “Let go, love.”

Eddie’s eyes were pinned to you—hungry for the sight of your eyes fluttering, rolling back, your body jolting as you squeezed around his fingers, and finally, finally let go.

“Look at you,” he murmured, all gravel and affection rumbling in his chest. “All for us.” Said like a prayer, like a dream.

And while he worked you through the shivers of your orgasm, hidden away from the world behind Volt, you nodded.

“All—” the word came out muffled the second before Volt realized you were trying to speak and lifted his hand. “All yours. Both of yours.”

Theirs like a love.

Eddie’s eyes softened in a heartbeat. Volt’s, however, when you tilted your head to look at him, seemed to grow almost wild, the pleasure in his smile clear, even while his eyes glowed in an eerie light.

The music came to a close, another polite round of applause from the audience.

“I’ll be back for you, live wire.” And then, just as tender, just as delighted, wanting, greedy, he reached out to cup Eddie’s cheek, rub his thumb over the other man's lips, cleaning what you couldn’t of your lipstick. “You, too, Eddie.”

“Uh-huh.” It was adorable, seeing him so stunned.

Volt seemed to think so, too, as he extricated himself from the booth, laughing like a summer storm, the static trailing in his wake.

You can't help but shift—both to watch him on the stage, and to help Eddie as he pulled his fingers from your core, careful to avoid any undue discomfort.

Volt turns, slightly, and immediately your eyes widen, a soft, “Oh no,” leaving your lips as you sink back into your seat.

“What, what is it?” Eddie asked, pausing for a moment his debate on which he'd prefer—dipping his fingers into your mouth for you to suck clean, or to do the job himself for the taste of you.

“He’s—he—” you trailed off, a huff of embarrassment at trying to explain that Volt just went onstage with your lipstick still smeared all over his throat, accentuating the clear marks you had left behind.

Eddie barks out a laugh when he, too, peeks out at the stage.

(He didn't do it unwittingly. Eddie knows.

He’ll laugh at your embarrassment again later.

“So cute,” Volt will croon, catching your flushed cheeks in his hands as he presses his forehead to yours, nuzzling, almost, against you, eyes closed, purely happy.

And then opening, sparks flying in mischief. “My turn.”)

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queerly-anxious · 20 hours ago

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flip the switch - eddie/volt/reader

⋆syn: It's Volt's birthday, and he has a special request for his present.

⋆wc: 4.2k

⋆cw: m/m/afab threesome, bottom volt and top eddie, fingering fucking, rimming, cunninglinus, erotic electrostimulation

⋆notes: reader insert uses g/n pronouns and is not described with feminine attributes. AFAB genitalia, terms used include hole, folds, entrance, cunt and clit. e/v masterlist.

this does include dialogue and references from the final day of their route, so if you haven't finished them, i'd avoid for spoilers. there is also a few sentence description of what Volt's realization outfit looks like - they're not being realized, I just want to use the outfit, which you can see here in high res.

⋆snippet:

Before you can blink, Volt's above you, hands on either side of you, and you shudder at his white hot eyes when he says, in a voice smooth as silk, “I would rather love to fuck you, my live wire.”

Okay, that wasn��t too wei--

“While our Eddie fucks me.”

Oh, fuck.

flip the switch

“I didn’t realize it was actually this big of a deal.”

Eddie cranes his head at your voice, only being able to catch a glimpse of you from his precarious angle atop the ladder. “Ah, hey live wire,” he says as he turns back to his task. “Gimme a minute to finish this, yeah?”

He’s hanging a banner across the top shelf of the bar, decorated with bright, hand-painted lightning bolts and stars across the dark fabric. In a darling, cursive font, it reads, “Happy Birthday Volt!”

You look around the empty bar, see the stage adorned with balloons, the tables strewn with party hats and glitter. The Breaker Box, on any given night, is vibrant, lively, electric, but not often is it bright, with an anticipation in the air for celebration. You like it, you think, it’s different, in a way that makes you feel like a kid again.

You hear Eddie sigh, and you turn to see him lean back, survey his work. He studies the banner for a moment before calling over his shoulder, “Hey babe?”

“Yes?”

“Is it straight?”

“As an arrow, Eddie.”

He huffs as he descends the ladder. “Works for me then.”

You meet him behind the bar after he puts the ladder away, and he gives you a kiss on your cheek before he starts to fix himself a drink. “Want anything?” You nod, accept the cocktail he creates, and you lean against the bar with him. He must notice how your eyes keep flitting to the balloons, to the banner, to the white cake box that sits at the end of the bar, because he takes a long sip of his drink before saying, “It, uh, yeah, is a pretty big deal.”

You look over at him, surprised by the shyness in his voice that you haven’t heard notes of in months. “A big deal, because it’s Volt?” you ask, watching his face, see his brows furrow. “I know he’s a diva, he’s our diva, but surely he doesn’t ask for something like this every year.” You pause when Eddie doesn’t answer, only takes another sip. You ask, a bit incredulously, “Does he?”

Eddie sighs, tilts his head back, his grey eyes staring holes into the bottles behind the bar. “It’s not a big deal for us.” His fingers spin the tumbler in his hand, the liquid sloshing around the glass. “It’s… a pretty big deal to the rest of the house. Holly,” he nods at the banner, “Mitchell,” at the white box, “Stefan. Winnie. Mayor Celia.” He shrugs his shoulders, shuffles his weight on his feet. “It means a lot to them, I guess, having someone in the house that was actually… born.”

You blink, the connotation his words registering, aware of the silence that’s growing between you and Eddie, but he seems to pay it no mind, taking small sips of his drinks. Your brows furrow, and you turn your body to face his, steady yourself with one hand on the bar, before you finally ask, “Volt’s… the only one with a birthday.”

It comes out a bit more like a statement than a question, but Eddie nods all the same. “Yeah. Birthday, ‘sparked into existence’ day, whatever you wanna call it.” He puts a hand out in front of him. “There was a time before Volt.” He makes a sweeping arch with the hand. “And then, Volt was here.” Finally, he turns his gaze to yours, his lightning brows arched on his forehead. “That’s as close as we can get, I guess.”

“But what about -”

“Days they joined the house? Dates of manufacturing lots?” Eddie cocks his head, and you can’t quite read the look in his grey eyes, though it almost seems amused. “That doesn’t apply to all of us.”

Us?

Your lips fall open, words stuck on your tongue, and now you’re really, really studying Eddie’s face. “Eddie,” you finally manage, and his brows raise even more, expectantly. “How old are you?”

He chuckles, softly, and raises the glasses to his lips as he asks, “How old’s the house?”

“I… don’t know.”

He nods, the smallest of smirks on the corners of his lips. “Then, I don’t know. Like I said, it’s not so simple for all of us. You wanna ask River how old she is? She’s fucking water, live wire.”

Huh, you think. Guess that was true.

He finishes his drink, sets it on the bar, and crosses his arms as he turns to face you. “Like I said. He and I would be more than happy to treat it like any other day. Well, maybe me more than him. But the others like…” he pauses, and you can see the wires connect in his mind as he finds the right phrase, “they like the idea that, we could create something. Create life.”

You nod. “But,” you ask, quietly, “can they?”

Eddie inhales deeply, his chest rising before letting it out, heavy through his nose. His own voice is quiet now too. “I don’t know that either.”

You’ve never asked about where Volt really came from, outside of the cursory explanation Eddie had given the night of the reset. That Eddie had split himself, made Volt out of necessity, their very essence comprised of something that powered both of them. “Sparked into existence,” was how they always phrased it, and they never offered more than that.

“But you did.”

Eddie’s quiet at that, but he nods. “Yeah. I did.”

“How?”

Eddie groans, and he rolls his eyes, exaggerates it, before running a hand through the coils of his hair. “I knew one day you’d ask me that. And live wire, I’ll tell you what I tell everyone else.” He points a finger at you, a sparkle in his eye. “That I. Don’t. Know.”

You blink, immediately confused, feeling the gears in your brain try to process. “What?”

“I don’t know how I did it.” He throws his hands up in surrender before dropping them to the bar, leaning against the cold, curved wood. A small veil of something falls over his face, almost always, stoic face, making him look more… contemplative. Yeah, that’s the right word, you decide. “I just… remember the pain. How frayed I was, a fucking dead man walking. And I thought, if I could just,” he gestures with his hands, like tearing a paper, “rip it out of me, split myself off from what was holding me back from doing my literal fucking job…” his hands turn to fists, and he studies them for a moment before dropping them. “I remember wanting, needing that with every electron inside me. And then, there was just this flash of white light. And I woke up,” he nods his head towards the back room, “to a white eyes staring at me.”

You’re quiet, a bit unsure what to say, and waiting to see if he speaks again. You reach out to touch his arm, wanting to be near him, and he settles into your touch, grey eyes finding yours, and a soft smile on his lips.

“Sorry it’s a bit anticlimactic,” he says with a small laugh. “But I’m not harboring any secrets on how household objects can procreate under my sleeves.”

You smile too, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You hear, in the back of your mind, something else they’d said that night - “we’re not one thing, but we’re not two things, either.”

You turn the memory over in your mind, working out how to phrase your next question. You swallow, purse your lips, then say, “Eddie, I don’t want you to be freaked out by what I’m gonna ask.”

He cocks a brow, and a corner of his mouth twitches up, and you see a flash of his canines. “Alright.”

You steel yourself for whatever answer he gives. “What is Volt, to you?”

Eddie licks his lips and studies your face. You see him catch your implication, and he takes a deep breath. “I can tell you what he’s not. He’s not my brother, and he’s not my kid, if that’s what’s suddenly worrying you. Though your timing is a little late in asking that.”

You fight how your eyes want to roll. “But he’s something.”

His eyes soften, and he worries his bottom lip with his teeth before saying, in perhaps the smallest voice you’ve ever heard from him, “I think… I think he’s my soul.” He must notice how wide your eyes get, how high your brows shoot, because he adds, quickly, “Most, or part, of it, at least. I don’t,” he runs a hand through hair again, tugging slightly at the frayed ends, “I don’t know. But, what I feel, what we feel, it’s… deep. Cut from the same thing. So, that’s my best guess.”

The look in Eddie’s eyes makes your heart swell - it threatens to rip itself out of your chest and throw itself at his feet. It’s a look of pure, electric, love, and you, not for the first time, cannot believe that you are lucky enough to be loved by him. By both of them. Because maybe you knew, deep down, that that would be Eddie’s answer, that there was no other explanation for how they literally completed each other.

And what a privilege, what a wonder, that they thought you completed them.

You bring your hands up to his chest, press yourself against him, needing him, his touch, and he brings his hands to your face without a word, the two of you fitting together with ease. His thumbs run over your cheeks, hot under his touch, and he asks in a teasing voice, “Did that answer your question?”

“Yes,” you admit, your voice full of more emotion than you were expecting. “I love you. I love you both, Eddie.”

He hums as he smiles. “Yeah? Well, we love you too. And I didn’t even have to make you in a blind fury to ease my suffering.”

You try to smack his chest, but he’s too quick, and his lips are on yours before you can retort. He’s warm, always so warm, and you wonder if he’ll truly make you melt one day.

“Kissing our partner before me, live wire? On my own birthday?”

You break away at Volt’s voice, echoing in the unusually empty club, and your breath catches at the sight of him. His usual vest and wired coat have been traded for a stunning black suit, adorned with golden lightning bolts across the shoulders, and his usual copper cuffs replaced with a few gold bangles. He looks lush, expensive, gorgeous, and so fucking hot.

He chuckles at the look on your face, your slack jaw, as he steps to meet you and Eddie. “See something you like, darling?”

“Hell yes,” you say, at the same time that Eddie says, “Fuck you.”

Volt’s grin is devilish, charming, electrifying. “Later, Eddie dear. We have to entertain before I can open my presents.” As he says it, his white eyes rake over your body, taking in every inch of the glam ensemble you’d thrown on for the party, and he licks his lips. “And I think I’ll take my time unwrapping them.”

“Uh huh,” Eddie grumbles, though his eyes sparkle, and he pecks your forehead. “Now I gotta get changed, everyone’ll be here soon.”

He takes a step to leave, but Volt shoots him a teasing look as he blocks him with a hand. “Ah ah, as I said, the birthday boy is lacking in kisses.”

“The ones I give your dick this morning not count?”

You can’t contain your laugh as, shocked, Volt lets him pass, Eddie not even giving him a glance back. But you stop, immediately, when he turns his attention back to you, and the look on his face is both terrifying and exciting as fuck.

“Fine,” he purrs. “I’ll just have to get my fill from you, then.”

When Eddie comes back downstairs, he has to tear him off you, has to repeat over and over to Volt that no, just because it was his birthday, he still could not eat you out on the bar.

You’ve never seen the Breaker Box as full as it is for Volt’s party. Nearly everyone is here, packed together around the tables, sitting on the edge of the stage, primed with champagne and a charge of excitement you’ve not seen them buzz with before. Volt greets them all with ease, like he was made to mingle - you wonder, actually, if he was. You help Eddie behind the bar, knowing this sort of thing isn’t his forte, though he doesn’t look as fatigued as you expected, even as he serves cocktail after cocktail, as Mitchell grills him on the origin of their citrus, or as Barry talks a mile a minute.

Mayor Celia makes a small toast, tells a story about how everyone remembers the shock (she gets laughter at that) of Volt’s arrival, and how he truly brings a warmth, an ease, to the house. You and Eddie are with him as she speaks, and after the Cheers!, he kisses you, then Eddie, to whoops and hollers, before pulling both of you onto the dance floor.

It’s late when the crowd finally thins out, and you’re playing some incomprehensible drinking game with Parker and Rainey when Eddie announces last call. Volt’s with him behind the bar, chatting with him while he has yet another slice of cake, and your heart swells again when you glance over at them, in awe of how easy and how right everything is. Volt, ever observant, must feel you looking, and he throws a wink over at you that makes you blush.

When finally, finally, the club is empty again, the three of you are sat at the bar, your bare feet thrown over Volt’s lap, your head resting on Eddie’s shoulder. Connected. Together.

“Volt,” you say, your voice tired, and he hums as he looks up at you. “Did you have fun?”

He smiles, runs a hand over your leg. “Always, little spark. But,” his touch creeps higher up your calf, “don’t I still have my presents to open?”

You’re all up the stairs in a flash, a trail of your clothes on the steps, all of you a mess of hands, lips, teeth, pulling and petting and just wanting to feel each other, and it’s only because you know them so well that you can feel the difference of their skin on yours - Eddie’s, that hums like a current, and Volt’s, that buzzes with power. You melt under their hands, and suddenly, you’re on the bed, watching them kiss, watching them pull each other’s coats off without even parting.

When Volt’s lips move to Eddie’s neck, Eddie’s steel eyes find yours, and he keeps your gaze as he wraps a hand in Volt’s hair and says into his ear, “Hey birthday boy, you gonna tell ‘em what you want?”

You hear Volt’s chuckle, muffled against Eddie’s skin, before he stands back up and turns to you, his hand hanging off Eddie’s neck. “Mm, I suppose I should.”

Before you can blink, he’s above you, hands on either side of you, and you shudder at his white hot eyes when he says, in a voice smooth as silk, “I would rather love to fuck you, my live wire.”

Okay, that wasn’t too wei--

“While our Eddie fucks me.”

Oh, fuck.

“Oh, fuuuck,” you moan, your cunt clenching at the thought, the anticipation, and you press your legs together as tight as you can. Volt’s resulting chuckle only makes it worse.

“Do you think we can do that for me, my darling?” He coos, dipping his head to your ear, the ends of his hair shocking your skin where it tickles your neck. “For my birthday, hm?”

You moan again at this voice, his lips, his fucking everything, a shiver enveloping your body pinned beneath him, and it takes every ounce of your resolve to nod, to moan a, “yes, yes, please.”

Volt’s tongue licks your ear, and you throw your hands up to claw at his chest as your back arches off the bed. “Very good, little spark. How about,” another lick, another plea from your lips, “I finish what we started at the bar? While Eddie gets me ready for him?”

You nod, but then quickly whimper a yes, knowing you’d get a shock to your skin if you didn’t, and he leans up, finds your waist with his hands, and pushes you up the bed. You curse when he spreads your legs, settles on his stomach, and his eyes glimmer at the sight of you, wet and aching for touch.

You see him bite his lip, and there’s a shock to your clit as his fingers find your folds, and you hear him mutter, in a quiet voice, “Happy birthday to me,” and then you scream, because he feasts.

Your back shoots off the bed, your fingers claw at their sheets, and your ankles lock around Volt’s neck as his tongue works you, expertly, knowingly, and the warmth, the current he creates within you travels to every inch of your body. When you feel his fingers press inside you, your eyes open, needing to see him, but it’s then you notice Eddie’s dark hair at the end of the bed, settled between Volt’s legs, having a feast for himself.

You think it might be the fastest you’ve ever cum, screaming their names, and you hear both of them hum as the legs shake, lightning flashing behind your eyes.

But Volt doesn’t let up, doesn’t slow his fingers, and you feel his breath against your throbbing clit as he pulls away, says, “let’s have another, my darling, as a present, hm?” and your throat is raw as he goes right back to giving you long, slow licks, before his tongue practically starts vibrating around you.

You hear him groan after a minute, and through heavy lids, you watch Eddie lift himself up, run his hands over Volt’s ass, before you watch his fingers slide inside, and Volt’s resulting moan sends shockwaves through your belly.

Eddie’s titanium eyes pin yours down, and his free hand finds the small of Volt’s back, pressing him down when he starts to arch. You know he can see the tears that are pooling at the edge of your eyes, the uncontrollable shake of your leg, and he fucking smiles - you think you hate him, hate both of them, as you feel Volt’s teeth scrape against you.

“They’re close, Volt,” Eddie hums, his grin showing his teeth. “You gonna make them gush for us, birthday boy?”

Volt’s tongue finds a truly brutal pace, his fingers slipping in and out of you with quick, slick sounds, and he does just that. The lightning flashes again, stealing your breath, and your body goes slack as your orgasm rips through every electrified cell in your body.

When you blink, a moment later, Volt is above you again, peppering small kisses to your collarbones, your shoulder. He feels you stir, and white eyes dart to yours. “You, our spark, are the most delectable birthday treat.” A kiss to your cheek. “Now, tell me. How would you like me fuck you? Like this? Or on your stomach?”

Both are equally appealing, you think, but the thought of him plowing your ass into the mattress does reignite the sparks that the orgasms threatened to drain, so you tell him, with a hoarse voice, “stomach, please.”

You’re flipped by four hands in a flash, and your hips are being lifted, just enough for Volt’s hot, aching cock to find the right angle to your entrance, and he slips inside with ease, coating himself with your own climax as he fills you in one sweet thrust. You both gasp at the feeling, the shock of his skin against you. He steadies himself when his hands grasp your waist, and his lips kiss your shoulder blade when he moans.

You feel, a moment later, his arms quiver, and a curse hisses through his teeth, and you know that Eddie must be fulfilling his end of the deal. Volt rocks his hips into you, groans Eddie’s name, and fuck, maybe the stomach was the wrong call, because you wish you could see.

Somewhere, deep in your mind, a little voice tells you that you can, and you remember the mirror on the armoire across the room, and flip your head.

Thank the fucking stars, it’s the perfect angle.

Eddie has one hand on Volt’s waist, and the other encircles his neck, his face hungry, powerful, savoring every little sound the two of you make, and he thrusts inside of Volt, sending Volt deeper inside of you.

One day, these men would be the death of you.

You watch, transfixed, as Eddie finds his pace, languid strokes combined with harsh thrusts, each in turn making Volt’s cock throb inside you, trying as much as he can to set his own pace, but Eddie’s hold on him not allowing for such freedom.

As Eddie moves faster, Volt loses his grip on your waist, his hands falling to the mattress beside your skin, his muscles trembling with the effort to keep himself up, to keep rocking inside you. The room is filled with moans, curses, and the sounds of skin on skin, brutal, relentless, and you wish it could be this way always.

“F-fuck, Eddie, yes, more,” Volt’s usual collected voice is anything but, he’s burning, greedy, and barely hanging on to his composure, and a silent scream leaves your lips when Eddie complies, your body being thrust further and further into the mattress, and you feel drool spill from your lips on the sheets.

Shocks light up your back, and now Volt speaks to you, nearly pleading, “Give me one more, live wire, give you j-just one, fuck, more.”

And it is his birthday, after all.

It’s Eddie’s tell-tale groans that make the spring inside you start to tighten, but it’s Volt’s whimpers, his pleas, and you feel him pump erratically inside you, that bring you to the peak once again, your walls clamping like a vice around Volt as tears from your mix mix with the puddle of drool beneath your cheek.

Like a tripped circuit, Volt is next - he nearly collapses above your back as he fills you, one of his hands finding your arm and holding on for dear life, and you wouldn’t be surprised to find a hand-shaped burn in the morning (maybe, in fact, you’d welcome it). His whole body shudders as Eddie groans his name, how good he is, what a sweet birthday boy, until finally, he stills too, coming with Volt’s name on his lips.

When, finally, you’re free from the pile of bodies you all created, one of them (you’re not quite cognizant to register which) pulls you to their bathroom, and again, in the shower, you’re between their bodies, each of you helping to rinse off each other between quiet, slow kisses.

Clean in the bed, a new blanket over you, Volt holds you nearly atop his chest, Eddie on his side as he leans over the both of you, and your heart sings at their touches.

But, there’s one thing on your mind.

“It’s not fair,” you say in a small voice, sleep desperately wanting to overtake you.

Volt stills his hand on your back. “What’s not, darling?”

“Eddie’s the only one of us without a birthday.”

They glance at each other, as if it were the first time they realized it - maybe it is, in their world, Volt is the exception - before steel and white eyes find yours, and Eddie says simply, “Then pick a day.”

You raise your head, flick your eyes between them. “Really?”

“Why not,” he says, and you see the hints of a smirk he’s trying to hide. “If tonight was any indication, they certainly have their benefits.”

You smile, knowing without a doubt that you are the luckiest person in this house. “Okay. Um. Do you have a favorite month?”

Eddie chuckles, love and amusement both swimming in his eyes. “Not at all.”

“Well you’re a big help.” You turn to Volt, that same mixture in his eyes. “Volt, pick a month.”

“November.”

“Why November?’ Eddie asks.

“It’s got a V in it, of course.” He winks, and grey eyes roll.

“Alright, November… third,” you decide. “Cuz there’s three of us.”

Both pairs of eyes soften, their faces beaming.

“Then that’s my birthday,” Eddie hums, his voice laced with devotion, adoration, pride.

Volt cups his cheek and strokes his stubble with his thumb. “I can’t wait, then.” He smiles softly, looks at you both. “Because I thoroughly enjoyed mine, my darlings.”

He kisses you both, and you settle in together, exhausted, but now, you dream of November thirds to come as well.

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