#eddie munson x femme coded Reader

[briarberrythornedhart]

Sitting in his lap Part 2

Can be read alone I think. Fluff with a happy ending

CW: cursing/strong language, angst, yelling, lustful thoughts, backwash in soda (ew)

You cocked your eyebrow at him.

Eddie didn't…couldn’t … SURELY MUSN’T know what he was offering - what it would feel like to you? Maybe he just didn’t want to move his ass out of the throne for one minute? That would be a new level of lazy for Mr. ants in the pants.

“I’m serious.” He said, “ Sit down in my lap and see what it’s like- the view from here. Being in charge.” Eddie scooted backward to give you the most lap to sit on, spread his knees armrest to armrest wide and rolled his shoulders back. “Be their benevolent ruler... their peace-loving goddess.”

Okay. As if ignoring Eddie was possible, especially if he was close. As if you hadn’t dreamt of being on his lap.

“C’mon - Pretend I’m like your…grand vizier. Whispering evil advice in your ear but you can ignore me all you like because clever-you always finds the peaceful solutions which are probably smarter or whatever…” he trailed off, which was good because he was starting to sound a little sullen for some reason.

Only — in your dreams the guys weren’t nearby fighting over pizza like rabid raccoons and in your dreams Eddie was near-to-full naked and in your dreams he was removing your clothes… anyway… here you were with your friendly DM who didn’t intend this as a prelude to seducing you.

You ached with unshed tears inside. Hidden from anyone’s view. No one could know how Eddie made you feel, that would make it worse.

You settled yourself down on his thighs. Resigned to torture. You could cope with torture.

He felt too good.

He spoke low in your ear and it sent a shiver up your spine “Imagine.” His voice a purr. “All their eyes on you, hanging on your every word. Waiting for your planned session to unfold.” He moved a lock of your hair over your ear gently and your breath caught - hopefully he didn’t notice. “Heady stuff.”

“I know why you enjoy it, but I don’t think I would. Also, kinda doubt I could command the respect you get. I can’t do the voices and accents you do and all you have to do is clear your throat and we all snap to attention - which you LOVE.”

Eddie chuckled, “I do love that. I could coach you... give you tips, I’m just saying try it once, like... pineapple on pizza. Might develop a taste for it and It can’t hurt you.”

“Unless you’re allergic to pineapple.” You added. Making him snort. You turned towards him and looked (unwisely) at his lips. Gawd his lips. Then his eyes, back again to his lips. You could just lean in and taste them and ruin everything.

“Princess,” he was serious now. His voice pitched even lower. Eddie had called you ‘princess’ 3 times since you met and it was always very serious.

1 - ‘Princess, Chance Peterson was about to knock your ass right over, I had to scoop you out of the way.”

2 - ‘You know if you keep arguing with me at my locker, Princess, you’ll be late to Mrs. Guise’s class and she gives out detentions like she’s got a quota.’

3- ‘I don’t care if you saw a pretty wildflower out there, that part of the woods by Lover’s lake is rife with poison oak, gawd!! Princess, just... I’ll find you a pretty-ass flower, okay, just get out of the bushes, please?? You’re gonna ruin our Hellfire trip to the lake by making us all drive you home covered in a rash!’

Oh no. It was probably ‘I feel you squirming in my lap and caught you looking at my mouth but it’s not doing anything for me - we are just friends.’ or something dreadful along those lines. Cause you felt heat and pressure under your bottom, but it was probably not him getting an erection - like - wouldn’t his face show some sign... wouldn’t he grip your thighs and grind up against you and say your name in your ear...

You were saved by (your favorite, your self-adopted baby brother) Dustin returning to the gaming table. “Hey guys!” Making you both jump up - you personally feeling oddly guilty. “…there’s not going to be enough pizza for you if you don’t get over there. I know Eddie did the pizza math but I don’t think he reckoned on the bottomless pit of Gareth the Great’s stomach.”

“You had 4 pieces yourself, dingus!!” Gareth yelled.

“Only after I saw you go back for seconds!” Dustin threw his arms out pleading for justice to Eddie.

Eddie moved behind you, stage whispering “Talk to them, they need your divine guidance with resolving petty conflicts nonviolently.”

“Cease bickering.” You demanded. “There’s plenty of pizza left. Eddie’s pizza math is infallible.”

“Okaaaay ‘Mom’ don’t go and ground us...” Gareth started out with heavy sass. But he looked over your shoulder at Eddie and suddenly buttoned his beak.

You continued. “Dustin, go make a plate for Eddie. Three slices of pepperoni. And bring over that bottle of Dr. Pepper to refill his chalice before all that’s left is backwash.” You knew Eddie’s favorites. Of course.

“Ew. Backwash?? Gross.” Dustin shuddered but complied.

“Gareth, go get her Majesty three pieces of plain cheese. And the pepper flakes and the Parmesan flakes and one of the red cups with RC Cola and mostly ice.” Eddie ordered. Maybe he just guessed at your very favorite pizza night choices??

Your attention was fully back on Eddie. He nudged you in the arm with his shoulder. “So... before we were so rudely interrupted... I was trying to suggest thaaa....”

“We are out of cups.” Gareth interrupted with a grimace, bringing back a plate for you..

“Whaddaya mean we are ‘out’? I bought two sleeves of them at the beginning of the year... There were only 6 of you until the gals joined us. There should be plenty!” Eddie was more upset than you thought he should be.

“Yeah - I dunno - but Jeff just took the last one.” Gareth shrugged

You took the plate and made a ‘calm down’ gesture. “It’s fine - Don’t throw Jeff under the bus - I’ll be just fine. I’m more hungry than thirsty - it’s cool. ‘We’re all fine here... now’” You did your best Han Solo to try and diffuse the tension. But - It was mediocre at best. Not like Eddie’s.

“We can share.” Eddie made this a challenge, handing you his hellfire goblet- it must be said - very theatrically. His right hand was wrapped around the bowl of the chalice instead of the stem - rather like you wished he’d wrap those fingers around your.... Well.... suffice it to say you both had watched a lot of fantasy movies of one type or another. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not tainted by my lips touching it or something. Or are you worried about backwash or whatever.”

“I’m not .... worried... just give it here.” You took the jeweled cup and tried not to react to the feel of his hand and yours touching. Even the littlest things involving Eddie got you worked up. You took a long sip while he watched you with his dark eyes - and then you handed it back. “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome.” There was a touch of something.... Sarcasm? In his voice. “See we can share and nothing bad happens. You don’t sink down to my level or anything.”

That was out of left field... or some other sports metaphor you didn’t fully grok, “What?? are you even talking about??”

“I know I know, I’m beneath you and everything, but it wouldn’t diminish you to, like, spend time with me outside of Hellfire club. I wouldn’t endanger your reputation, we could keep it secret. Like, you know, your other ‘normie’ girl friends probably think I’m trash, but I’m just a guy, j-just a normal guy...we could plan a one-shot, or... hang out like watch a movie or something.”

“First off - if any of my gal-friends - who are not ‘normal’ by the way - said you were trash I’d tell them what for. Secondly - I’ve asked you to hang out multiple times and you’ve oh so politely declined.”

“You asked me if I wanted to hang out with you and Dustin and Lucas... to go thrift shopping and do errands. I told you you could borrow my van if you needed it.”

“I didn’t want to borrow your van. I wanted to hang out with you. And I thought with them along, you wouldn’t say no - like - it’d be casual and safe.”

“Because you didn’t want me to get ideas.” he spat.

“No - just because you might be afraid I’d try and jump your bones, if it was just us two.”

“Jump my....Why would I think you’d ... jump my bones, you can barely stand me! You always run outta here after Hellfire!”

“I go right home so I don’t have to hear about you and your perfect pretty runway model Chrissy!!”

“I’m NOT with Chrissy!! She just buys from me, goddamnit! You are the one who keeps going out with the bland guy of the week!!”

“I have no control over the only guys asking me out being BORING as SHIT! And I haven’t been on a date in TWO MONTHS actually!! I’d rather not date than be bored!!”

“Then ::fuck:: WHy are WE Yelling!??!”

“Because I ADORE you, You DUMBASS!!” You blurted out. “You can’t just pull me into your lap and make me fuckin melt and play with me like a puppet and wonder why I’m upset??! yOU CAN’T BE that oBLIVIOUS!!”

Shit. See this - this right here - is why you avoid conflict like the plague. You know you are one second away from truth bombs that will blow up your life and You DIDN’T need Eddie feeling Sorry for you!! Or all the boys feeling sorry for you - all their eyes were on you for a bad reason and - only Erica wasn’t giving you a look like you were a pitiable creature. She was absolutely about to laugh at your ass, though.

“I failed.” Eddie bit his lips together, he reached out to take your hand and wove his fingers with yours. “I totally failed to pick up on that. Wow. Just crit fail on that perception check that you might ever like me back... But... um... I’m crazy about you... so... forgive me??” He closed the distance between you. He pulled your hand up to his mouth to kiss the back of it.

You were quiet - processing - did he just say he was crazy about... you?? Detect trap?? Retreat to safety?? Join a convent and abjure forever the company of men??

He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head slightly, waiting.

“I’m not mad at you.” You whispered.

“Let’s do errands sometime, but just us two. And - uh - I prefer to be called ‘smartass’ than ‘dumbass’, you know, in general.” He grinned the grin you recognized from when he made a particularly good roll of the dice.

“Fuckin finally.” You heard Jeff mutter. “Mom and Dad can stop fighting.”

“Yeah - just get it over with and real quickly kiss and make up, ya idjits!” Erica demanded. “We want to get back to kicking ass in the GAME.”

Eddie leaned in to say deep and sweet in your ear. “The first time we kiss-- it isn’t gonna be over with quickly.”

[bettyfrommars]

I'm on Fire//older!biker!Eddie Munson x artist!fem!Reader//90's au//Part 8

🚨18+Only, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, angst, biker!Eddie, biker!Steve, sexual innuendos, alcohol consumption, mention of financial troubles, falling in love, heartache, talk of commitment, talk of monogamy, casual sex, implied cheating, sex with someone other than reader, betrayal, having a stalker, biker gang, swearing, exotic dancers, reader wears dress and heels, reader wears red lipstick. Word count: 9.5k

Summary: In part 8, you start your new job as a cocktail server at the Velvet Hammer, and a few new characters are introduced. You and Eddie are officially falling for each other, while Eddie recalls a relationship from his past that left him shattered. A jealous ex-lover continues to try and rip the two of you apart, and this time, she might have succeeded. 90's playlist here

Series Masterlist

A/N: I'm not sure if it's that time of the month or what, but I cried twice while writing this🙃and not during the parts you might think. Rest assured that biker!Eddie and Reader are endgame. I love being in this world with y'all, and I always look forward to hearing from you! xoxox

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I'm on Fire//Part 8: From Here to Eternity

Day 3 of not hearing from Eddie, and you found yourself staring off into space, trying to calculate what could have possibly gone wrong. The idea that this was the kind of man that he was, that he would just ghost you without a word made your stomach sick. You thought you had developed better radar than that. You’d been listening to way too much Fiona Apple over the past 12 hours, but nevertheless---it was Thursday and you had to get ready for your first shift at your new job.

Shana, the hiring manager at the Velvet Hammer, let you know the dress code and a few ideas for what you should wear. It had to be skimpy and sexy and classy all at once, and at first you worried you might need to go shopping, but then Katie pulled this black latex halter top dress with a zipper down the front out of nowhere, and it didn’t fit her, so she assumed it belonged to her ex. Sure, it was not your signature style, but it gave you a certain Femme Fatale air of confidence that you hadn’t possessed before you put it on. Some of the servers got all decked out in creative makeup and wigs, but you decided to tackle your first day with caution.

You went over and checked the message machine in the living room again on your way out, just in case a call came through in the past 20 minutes that you miraculously did not hear, but the digital red number blinked a big, fat “0”.

Training at the Velvet Hammer was only about an hour long, and you met Jackie, the cocktail server you would be shadowing that night. She raised her eyebrow and gave you a bored look as she chewed her gum, hooking one of her long fingernails into the zipper of your latex dress to pull it down, exposing more of your skin. “That’s better,” she gave an extended wink. “We need those good tips tonight.”

-------

Meanwhile, Eddie spent the morning introducing the new office assistant around that he hired from a temp service, but then he had to leave to run a tow while Wayne showed her the ropes. The old man hated the suggestion that he needed help, but Eddie basically told him he had no choice. From Here to Eternity by Iron Maiden came on while he was en route back to the garage and his chest clenched, because for some reason, it made him think about you.

He never stopped thinking about you, really. But, if he kept busy with work, and drowned out the voices in his head with loud music and distractions, he could push aside the knowledge that he was already falling for you, and simultaneously come to terms with the fact that he was no good for you, and that you would be better off without him. The nights were the worst. He was back to getting only 3 or 4 hours of sleep, feeling like he had been spoiled on those occasions over the phone when he was lulled to dreamland by the sound of your sweet voice.

He knew in his gut that he was doing the wrong thing by not saying anything to you, but his denial was overshadowing his logic.

The suspension on the tow truck, or lack thereof, made him bounce as he came up onto the sidewalk lip to the driveway of the garage, and it somehow jarred his memory to the fact that your first day at the Velvet Hammer was tonight. He almost barreled right into the back of a car pulling out from one of the parking spots and had to slam on his breaks; he was becoming a hazard to everyone’s health, especially his own.

He needed to get his head on straight.

Fuck it, he needed to see you again.

------------

You were bummed to find out that Steve was tattooing at the shop, and not working the door that night, but the bouncer replacing him was also a biker who went by the nickname Thumper. He was stocky with big arms, a bald head, and a beard down to his chest. He called you darlin’ when he introduced himself to you.

“I’ll keep my eye on you girls,” Thumper reminded you and Jackie. “But be sure to come and get me if anyone give you any trouble.”

Tall, curvaceous Jackie rested her elbow on Thumper’s shoulder and leaned against him. “Thumper here tossed a guy out in the street for staring at me for too long once. He doesn’t play.”

“Ogling,” Thumper corrected. “The dude was ogling you, and if they’re gonna sit and get a free show to jerk off to later, they better be leaving decent tips for you ladies.”

Outside, there came the unmistakable growl of a gang of choppers coming up the street, and you excused yourself from the conversation to peek around the doorway. A group of Coffin Kings slowed down in front of the Velvet Hammer to acknowledge Thumper with a lift of their chins before speeding along to their destination, but none of them were Eddie.

The DJ played Thunder Kiss ‘65 by White Zombie an hour or so later as a purple and orange sunset blossomed over the mountains and the place started to fill up. A beautiful girl with a baby pink bob of hair got up on one of the stages with a pole and stated to work her magic while you carried a tray of drinks over to a table of four. The Velvet Hammer dancers never went completely topless, but they did strip down to tiny bikini sets that were plenty revealing, and their dance moves were seductively choreographed. The one with the pink bob had on finger-less, fishnet gloves, and a big tattoo on her thigh that you couldn’t quite make out.

You walked away as soon as you set the drinks down for the table, and Jackie snatched your arm.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She asked with a forced smile, talking without moving her lips.

You were genuinely confused, wondering if you somehow messed up on the drink order. “Um, nowhere, just--” you figured you’d get busy filling napkins and straws or something while you waited for more customers to come in.

Jackie pulled you to the side, bending close to your ear so that she wouldn’t have to shout over the music. “Part of the job is to socialize with the customers, honey, make them feel relaxed. Flirt with them, laugh at their jokes even when they are lame as hell,” she checked over her shoulder and smiled at the men at the table in question. “The more they think you’re actually interested, the bigger the tip, usually.”

You were nodding, taking the information in, wanting to do your job correctly. You’d been working in customer service in one way or another since you were a teenager, but, damn, you were horrible at faking interested or forcing conversation with guys you didn’t want to talk to. You hoped it was a skill that you could pick up from Jackie, because she was a magician at it.

You followed her back to the table so that she could introduce you to the group. It was four men, all in business suits, loosening their ties as they greeted you. They were a little older, ages ranging from 35 to 50, and the one who looked like he might be the oldest with a thick head of salt n’ pepper hair made eye contact with you and said he recognized you from somewhere.

God, the last thing you wanted was for a patron to recognize you from the gallery, that would be the worst.

“Probably from here?” You said with a lilt in your voice, trying to mask your bluff, hoping Jackie wouldn’t blurt out that it was your first day.

“No, I don’t think so,” he squinted, sitting back in his chair as he palmed his drink. “I’ve never been here before, so it couldn’t be that. But, I’m really good with faces, especially when one is as beautiful as yours.”

The forward compliment made you uncomfortable and you tucked your chin. He was a handsome older man, you couldn’t deny that. His eyes were such an intense blue, they were almost white, and you could tell from the way his shoulders fit in this suit jacket that he was in good shape and took care of himself. His friends were looking you up and down, and you could almost hear their internal lewd thoughts, but the older man—his name was John—kept polite eye contact with you as you talked. The watch he had on alone was worth at least a couple grand, and they all smelled like they were made of money.

But, none of them were Eddie, and so your banter felt particularly forced.

Thankfully, another group of customers came in and you excused yourself to follow Jackie over to the next table, wobbling for a moment in your heels before recovering quickly by bracing your hand on the back of a chair.

Later, just as John was leaving, a guy celebrating his 21st birthday had one too many tequila shots and tried to climb onto the stage, but his migration was interrupted by Thumper, who charged over to clam a big, meaty hand on his shoulder and remind him of the rules in a way that made the guys face go pale as he plopped back down into his seat.

You were standing at the bar with your back to John, but he came up behind you and touched your elbow. When you turned around to meet his gaze, he pressed some cash into your palm and said, “this is for you,” with a dimple and a wink, before heading out.

The rest of the group collectively left just as much of a tip on the table for Jackie. “A c-note tip on your first day?” She said with a shake of her head and a snort. “Sorry, but I kinda hate you right now.”

“Who was that John guy?” You whispered across the table to her as the two of you bussed the empty glasses.

“I have no idea,” Jackie shrugged. “His friends come in once in a while, but I’ve never seen that sexy DILF before. He had on a wedding ring, but most of the dudes who come in here do. It never keeps them from making a play.”

As the night progressed, there were eventually two girls dancing, one on each stage at opposite ends of the room. Jackie took her 15 minute break to go out into the alley for a smoke while you kept an eye on your tables. The dancers started a routine to Symphony of Destruction by Megadeth, and just when you had managed to get in a decent five minutes without Eddie on the brain, that song brought it all crashing back. You were at the far end of the bar, and when you glanced up to see who was coming in the front door---there he stood in the flesh, as if on cue: Edward Munson.

You blinked a few times, certain that your eyes were playing tricks on you and it was just someone who merely resembled Eddie, like a mirage appearing in the desert after you hadn’t had a sip of water in days. His muscular frame took up space in the doorway, wearing his black leather jacket, and his hair tied back to expose the two small silver hoops in his ear. He finished shaking Thumper’s hand, and then his eyes found yours, and the hint of a smile quivered on his lips. His gaze shifted around the room, taking in everyone in your vicinity, before they returned to you and hovered there.

A giddy breath hitched in your chest as you mirrored his reflexive grin, wholly unable to mask how happy you were to see him. But then, you remembered that this gorgeous dickhead is the one who selfishly left you in the wind for the past 3 days, and with a dramatic flourish of the tray in your hand, you spun on your heel to head in the other direction to check on some patrons near the stage.

---------

Eddie sat on his chopper with his boots planted wide on the pavement while he smoked a cigarette and stared at the red neon above the door to the Velvet Hammer. The decision to stay away had been to keep you out of Charlene’s cross hairs; to keep you from taking the brunt of this dark, underbelly of a life he had established for himself. As it turns out, staying away from you was too much torture for his raggedy old heart to bear, and that was saying a lot, considering the amount of shit he’d gone through in his life.

He indulged in long drags, sucking in his cheeks, watching people come and go out of the bar, wondering how you would react to him just popping in after days of silence. You knew he didn’t like talking on the phone, and besides---he needed to see your face. There was so much emotion a blind phone conversation could never capture; a lowering of the eyes or a worried brow. He needed to smell you, touch you, and taste your lips; he craved it in the deep corners of his cobwebbed soul.

If there was one thing about Eddie, he was patient when it came to matters of the heart. Matters of his dick were a different story, clearly, but when it came to those rare times in his life when he saw someone as a potential partner, he couldn't just dive in with reckless abandon; he wasn’t Steve. When Eddie loved someone, he handed over his entire heart: all of his loyalty, all of his trust, everything he owned---and that kind of vulnerability was not something he’d been open to feeling for what felt like an eternity.

There had been a woman who was very special to him once, years before you, and it ended with Eddie being hauled off to jail for beating the guy she was cheating on him with to a pulp. He bought a house and moved her in with him; he had a whole lifetime together with her planned in his head. But, there had been clear signs that it was never going to work, including the tiny detail that she never really loved him. Sure, she loved his image, the fact that he was in a band, the way he protected her, but he never felt like he could really be himself around her. He always felt tense and worried, like everything he did would never be enough.

He’d asked himself a million times since then what made him fall in love with her, and the most obvious answer what that he didn’t really know how love was supposed to feel at the time. His whole life, it felt like people were always leaving him, like he was always begging to be noticed and loved, and so her often cold disregard of him felt like familiar territory. Then, one day he comes home early from an overnight run with the Kings to find her taking it doggy style in their bed from this guitarist that Eddie had always considered a friend.

For months, she begged to come back, for him to forgive her, but once Eddie shuts a door, it locks forever. He knew he could never trust her again, which was the most important thing to him, and the pain of that betrayal still lingered like a permanent scar on his heart. In an effort to distract himself, he joined the Coffin Kings charter in Chicago and moved there for a year, fought in an underground bare knuckle ring, and did everything he could to numb himself. That was around the time Steve found out he was a father by way of Oliver basically being dumped at his doorstep, and Eddie realized he didn’t want to miss any more of his honorary nephew’s life.

All of the women he’d been with since then were just futile efforts to fill the void, until you.

So, what are you going to do about it, then, Munson? Just lurk out here on the street all night like a little kid at the fair who’s afraid of the big rides?

He dismounted the bike and stomped out his cigarette nub with the toe of his boot, adjusting the sleeves of his leather. Something made his defenses spike and he looked around the street to see if someone might be sitting in their car, watching him. At this point, he was almost certain that Charlene had paid someone to watch him, because for two days in a row, he’d noticed the same dark red Chevy Cavalier tailing him, staying at least one or two cars back. He didn’t see a car that fit the description parked anywhere near, but whoever it was could be anywhere, maybe even in the building across the street.

Charlene’s unhealthy obsession with him had to run it’s course eventually, she had to get bored and give up at one point. He hoped so, anyway. He couldn’t imagine her dragging this out for much longer, but he also never expected these threats from her in the first place, so he rightfully had his concerns. He thought maybe if he held out a few more weeks, she’d be off on one of her exotic vacations, and she could move on to ruining someone else’s life. But, he couldn’t wait that long to see you, to touch you. Hell, in a couple weeks you might not even want him anymore, and it was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.

There was a chance you might not want him now. There was a chance he’d already fucked everything up.

Thumper was a longtime friend, and he’d been with the Coffin Kings ever since back in the day when Wayne was a patched member. The two smacked their hands together in a signature grip as Eddie crossed the threshold onto the burgundy carpet. Inside the Velvet Hammer was buzzing with music and people and dancers wearing next to nothing on the back stages, people sitting shoulder to shoulder at the bar.

You might as well have been the only one there, though, because you were all he could see: simultaneously loving and hating the fact that you were dressed to kill. He’d never seen you in that color of lipstick before; it was a deep red and he ached to part them with his tongue.

He swore you were about to smile when your eyes met, he caught that adorable glimmer pass over your face and it made his heart still for a beat. But, then it faded just as quickly and you turned away to continue on with what you were doing, giving him the cold shoulder.

This was the first time you hadn’t rushed into his arms since this whole thing started, and it wrecked him. But, he also knew he kind of deserved it.

-----------

Your mouth was moving and sounds were coming out, but you couldn’t remember a word you’d said to the guys at the table in the corner who were still nursing their beers. Your ears were ringing and your adrenaline was surging, flushing a hot wave over your chest. Had Eddie come there to see you? Or was he just there to casually have a drink and get turned on like everyone else?

If he wasn’t there to see you, and he planned on just coming by to hang out once in a while, you’d have to quit. There’s no way you could keep seeing him on a regular basis if this was how he chose to treat you, it would hurt too damn much, and no job was worth that. You had this overwhelming urge to run and hide somewhere, but you couldn’t duck out until Jackie came back, and so you straightened your shoulders and turned to face the music like a big girl.

And there he was: standing at the bar with both elbows hooked on the ledge behind him, boots crossed at the ankles, waiting for you. You could tell that he had just been checking out your ass because of the way his gaze flicked up to your eyes with incriminating speed. His expression was unreadable, but that was nothing new.

Reluctantly, but also, with excitement bubbling in your veins, you made your way over to him, pausing briefly as one of the other servers walked out of the hallway where the bathrooms were. Another song started up, this time it was #1 Crush by Garbage.

“Do you have a break soon?” Eddie swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry at how hot you looked in that strange zipper dress. “Or, I can come back?” His mind couldn’t help but jump straight to the fact that every single dude in the place was thinking dirty thoughts about you, and it made his back teeth clench.

He was there to see you, you thought, your heart soaring. But in almost the same second you realized that he could be there to tell you that this wasn’t working out, that he didn’t want to see you anymore, that he met someone else, that he was moving to Brazil: all of which would be awful, but then at least you could start the process of moving on instead of hanging in limbo. Moving on from Eddie…that sounded like it was easier said than done.

Just then, as your mouth was open about so answer him, Jackie came out adjusting her belt, chewing gum. “Your turn,” she said as she walked between the two of you. “Take a fifteen. Oh, hey Munson,” she added passively at the end, patting him on the arm as she continued around the bar.

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At the far end of the hallway there was a heavy metal door that locked from the outside automatically when it shut, and there was a little wood wedge out in the alley to keep it open a crack. You bent down to push the wedge into place while Eddie put his hands on his hips and stared at the brick of the building across the way so that he wouldn’t get an erection at the sight of your perfect ass up in the air.

On one side of you squatted a big, metal dumpster, and on the other side were a few square crates where employees sat during their breaks, the pavement between them littered with cigarette butts. It was dark, and the only illumination came from a bulb over the door across the way and a streetlamp further down where the alley met with the sidewalk.

Eddie could tell things were different, he could tell you were upset, probably even hurt and disappointed, and he hated that he had something to do with that. All he wanted to do was put his arms around you, but your energy was telling him that you weren’t ready for that.

“I’m sorry…” He hesitated. What was he sorry for? Lots of things. “...for breaking our date and not calling.”

Your tight stomach softened, and your gaze flicked to his after not being able to make eye contact since stepping out of the building.

Eddie hooked his thumbs into his belt loops and looked down at the ground, shuffling his foot. “I had some shit to take care of and I got overwhelmed. But I should’ve said something to you.”

This was starting to be a pattern with him, but you believed that he was telling the truth. It sounded like there was a lot more to the story, but a sincere apology was worth it’s weight in gold to you. You could also tell that he was nervous to be in front of you right then, like maybe you wouldn’t forgive him.

He opened his mouth to say something else and you reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it, making his gaze jump to yours. “Hey, it’s okay,” you told him as he unhooked his thumb from his belt loop and took your hand. “I missed your stupid face, that’s all.”

He gave a soft snort, a sparkle returning to his eyes.

You leaned in, resting your other hand on his chest, relishing the direction this conversation had gone and how safe and whole you felt in his presence. You searched his eyes. “You need to communicate with me if this is ever going to work, okay? I don’t want you to feel like you can’t tell me things. Really, there’s nothing you could ever share with me about your life that I wouldn’t be able to handle.”

He really, really wanted to believe that was true, but the cynical part of him, the part that had learned to keep secrets as a way of life, doubted that anyone was that understanding.

“Come here,” he breathed on the curve of a smile, cupping your neck, and pulling your mouth to his. There were a few tender, sweet kisses, no tongue, and then he brushed his nose across yours a few times, lips brushing yours as he spoke. “I missed this.”

You kissed his bottom lip, and then his top lip, savoring their plump, perfect shape, before resting your head below his shoulder and wrapping your arms around him in a hug, his leather squeaking at your embrace.

You released a long, heavy breath. “I thought you came here to tell me you didn’t like me anymore.”

He kissed your temple. “I never said I liked you,” he mumbled, to which you dug your fingers into his ribs in an effort to tickle him, simultaneously trying to pull away. But, he held you tightly in place, deep chuckles rumbling in his chest. “It’s much more than that.”

At those words, you settled, smile pressed up against him, swooning so hard you felt like you were drunk.

What he had with you was special, and now, in his thirties, Eddie knew how rare this kind of chemistry was. You were the drug he wanted to be strung out on.

This...this was his, and he wouldn’t let anyone, especially Charlene, take it away from him.

--------------

There was a pep in your step when you returned to work, enough so that Jackie commented on it, giving you a side eye. “Who the hell got you off on your break?” she asked rhetorically.

Truly, your break had felt like it was over in a blink, like you and Eddie had only been standing out in the alleyway for a second before you checked your Swatch and had to scramble back inside. He asked if he could wait for you and walk you back to your car when your shift was over, and you were fine with that, but you let him know it would be another hour or so, and he didn’t seem to mind.

Eddie knew a lot of the people who worked at the Velvet Hammer. Or, more precisely, the people who worked there knew Eddie. The bartender that night was a guy who looked like Kurt Cobain and he ignored everyone else to make sure Eddie got what he wanted the second he sat down at the bar. The place was packed by then, but every chance you got, you would walk by and run your hand across Eddie’s back and give him a flirty glance over your shoulder as you schlepped drinks around.

Thumper came over and sat next to Eddie when the night got slow and had a beer with him, and the two went out front to have a smoke and chat about the good ‘ol days.

“Is that new server your old lady?” Thumper asked after a drag on his cigarette. He flicked the ashes to the sidewalk and cocked his head.

Eddie propped his foot up behind him, against the building, wallet chain hanging down his thigh, thoughtfully exhaling gray smoke into the night. “Maybe, if I don’t fuck everything up,” he coughed.

Thumper wheezed in a laughing spasm. “You still sticking it to that rich bitch, what’s her name?”

Eddie stiffened. “That’s been over for a while. Bitch got all Fatal Attraction on me,” Eddie’s vernacular took a turn when he was around the older charter members, it was second nature.

“Man, I wish I was 20 years younger,” Thumper sucked in the tuft of graying hair that was under his lip. “Those were the days.”

Eddie was eager to change the subject. “How is the fourth marriage working out for you?”

“Fifth,” Thumper corrected with a nod. “Divorced Jeanie last spring, married Lorraine a few months ago. No kids this time, I got the snip. One more baby momma would break me.”

As bleak as the conversation topic was, Eddie had an inner warmth radiating through his body, healing him, now that he knew the two of you were back in a good place. He didn’t know if a traditional wedding or kids were things that you wanted, but he saw himself making coffee for you in the morning and bringing it to you in your studio while you worked on a painting. He could see you running out the door to hug him as he dragged himself home after a long day at work. A life together with a porch swing and a view of the sunset, maybe a cat and a dog and some chickens. A big garage for his bike and whatever classic car he was working on at the time.

God, he was getting a head of himself. Did you even like dogs?

-----------

Back in the dressing room at the end of your shift, you and Jackie were both changing out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable when Jackie whipped around in only her bra and panties, startling you as you pulled your shirt on over your head.

“Hold up, you never told me you were Eddie Munson’s girl,” she hushed, giving you a sustained look of awe. “The stories I’ve heard about that cock are legendary.”

The way she sounded when she said it suggested that you should’ve been proud, but the declaration only succeeded in activating your anxiety. You tried not to think of all of the women in town he’d given orgasms to as you tied the laces on your shoes. As long as he was faithful to you, none of that other business should matter. But still, somehow it did. That reminded you, maybe it was time to lay the cards out on the table and have that monogamy talk before you got more invested than you already were.

There were still a few customers hunched over their drinks as you walked out, but the dancers were done, and you said goodbye to Jesse, the bartender, thanking him for all of his help. Jackie gave you a high five, and hugged Thumper before she headed off down the opposite side of the street, high ponytail bobbing.

You smiled up at Eddie who was standing there with his arm out, waiting for you to curl against him so he could wrap it around your shoulders.

“I thought for sure you would’ve ditched me by now,” you told him, slipping one of your hands into his back pocket.

“Nah, you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Eddie joked, lifting his hand in a wave to Thumper as the two of you headed off down the street.

“Take care of that one,” Thumper shouted. “She’s a good girl.”

------------

“Are you?” Eddie asked as the two of you approached your car that was parked a block away.

“Am I what?” You asked, stopping to turn and gaze up into his face.

Eddie lifted his chin with a smirk, exposing the tattoo lines that peeked out of the collar of his shirt across his throat. “A good girl?”

You wet your bottom lip with the tip of your tongue and tilted your head. “Depends on who wants to know.”

He pulled took you into his arms for another kiss, eager tongues this time, moans in the back of throats, cock jumping in his jeans.

Your lips came away just enough to speak, your hand cupping his face, the stubble around his jaw prickling your palm. “What about you? Are you a good boy?”

There was a shiver of hesitation on his breath before he answered. “Only for you.”

The two of you were locked in a moment, you could’ve been on the sidewalk, you could’ve been standing on the moon---nothing mattered and you had no concept of time.

But then Eddie spoke up again. “Do you wanna get out of here? Go for a ride? I want to show you something.”

You didn’t have to be back at the Velvet Hammer until Saturday, and the thought of getting on Eddie’s bike again gave you excited goosebumps.

Eddie started opening the strap on one of the black leather saddlebags on the back of his chopper once the two of you arrived, and you stood back and watched as he pulled out a second bare bones helmet, the top shiny like the round edge of a bowling ball.

“I got this for you,” Eddie said, passing it over. “It should fit better than mine.”

You were speechless for a moment, looking down at it, touched by the thoughtful gift. “Thank you, I love it,” you whispered. He placed it on your head and adjusted the strap under your chin, diligently making sure it fit correctly.

“Is it too tight?” He asked, making sure the sides weren’t pinning your ears.

“It’s perfect,” you nodded.

He straddled the bike. “Do you remember how to get on?”

But you were already grabbing onto the back of his jacket and swinging your leg over. You’d been practicing getting on the back of Eddie’s bike in your dreams.

-------------

You clung to him as the two of you sped along in the dark, your fingertips meeting at his stomach, chest glued to his back, core locked to his tailbone. He had on a pair of clear, protective glasses to keep the bugs from blinding him, and every so often, he would reach one hand down and put it over yours as the bike wound up the hill. You’d kiss the exposed skin on the back of his neck between his hairline and the collar of his leather, and he’d squeeze your thigh.

The spot he wanted to you to was a grass ledge near a line of cherry blossom trees that overlooked the city. He pulled out a thin blanket from one of his saddlebags and stretched it out over the grass. Lights down below twinkled like stars and you took your new helmet off to get comfortable next to him.

“Yep, it’s ugly,” you joked, referring to the spectacular view.

Eddie stretched his legs out in front of him and braced himself on his hands. “I knew you’d hate it just as much as I do,” but then there was a sliver of hesitation, his foot moving back and forth as he considered if he should say it or not. “I’ve never taken anyone up here before.”

Summer was fast approaching as far as the temperature went, but the nights were still chilly, and you had a sweatshirt on, but his proximity and the tone of his voice was rapidly throwing coals on the fire in your circulatory system.

Things progressed quickly. One second, you were laughing at a joke he made, and the next---your lips were on each other, hands roaming over each other’s bodies, heat throbbing between your legs. You were trying to push his jacket off, but Eddie sat up and removed it in a flash, tossing it on the bike with a twist of his wrist.

You rutted your hips against him a few times, but you could sense the hesitancy he had for whatever reason, and you took hold of his hand to move it down to your core, enjoying the growl he let out when he latched on to the wet heat already permeating through your jeans. You clung to his neck as he unzipped them, and you wiggled your hips out so he could slide his hand in. He paused only to take his rings off of his H-E-L-L-F-I-R-E knuckles, and then his fingers dipped back down to curl inside your underwear, slipping into the gushing arousal he found there, groaning against your mouth.

His thick fingers rolled in circles over your anxious nub. “Is this mine?” He asked in a throaty whisper, pressing his forehead to yours, waiting for you to answer.

Saliva got stuck in your throat but you whimpered a yes. He starts to slip his fingers down through your folds and you quiver as he travels deeper, aching to penetrate you, but you catch his wrist, stopping him from going any further.

“I have to...to say something,” you breathed.

Eddie pulled his hand out and rested it on your thigh, and brought his face back so he could see your eyes as you blinked at him under the moonlight. “You can tell me anything, baby.”

You planted a kiss on his chin, feeling nervous for some reason when it came to setting your boundaries. “I can’t be intimate with you if you’re also doing this with other women. I need to know that we’re…” you struggled with how to word that. Demanding some large scale commitment from him might come off as getting ahead of yourself. “I need to know that you and I are something special and there’s no one else,” you paused to lick your lips, eyes lowered to the neckline of his shirt.

Nothing you said could’ve pleased Eddie more, and his attraction to you intensified ten fold in that moment. He used the crook of his finger to tilt your chin up, encouraging you to meet his eyes. “There’s no one else. There hasn’t been anyone else since the barbecue at Robin’s house.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to add, “if you’re my girl, there will never be anyone else,” but he didn’t want to come off as smothering, or make you feel uncomfortable with the intensity in which he was capable of devoting to you.

Relieved, you brushed his cheek with your thumb. “Trust and monogamy are really important to me, I need to know I can trust you,” your eyes met, searching deep, and he pulled your hand to his chest. “You’re the only one I want to be with, and I think we could---”

But Eddie’s lips found yours with a new level of need as he wholeheartedly agreed, so caught up in his growing feelings for you that he didn’t have the words to express them. He could ramble on about cars and music and bikes all day long, but when it came to feelings like this? He was struck dumb.

“I want to taste my girl,” he choked out, helping to work your jeans down with his hand as you kicked them down and off, keeping your mouth on his while your hand clutched his hair that had fallen from the tie and was loose around his shoulders.

“I want to be in your mouth, baby,” you gasped as he met your eyes and then made his way down, lifting your shirt to kiss your stomach, tongue darting out to tease your flesh, face stubble tickling.

A purr escaped his throat as his mouth found its destination and he planted kisses on the outside of your soaked underwear, down your slit, and then he peeled them to the side with his finger, darting his tongue in just enough to make you writhe.

“You can...take those off…” you breathed.

He kissed your inner thigh. “You let me take care of it,” he told you in a deep voice, as he continued on with his business.

His tongue dove in to penetrate you a few times, swallowing, groaning, “fuck, you taste so good,” his hot breath fanned against you as his cock begged for release, his hips rocking against the ground.

The need to be inside of you was overwhelming; painful, even, but he hadn’t brought any condoms with him, and he didn’t know how you would feel about being that close to him this soon in the game. The thought of getting you to cum in his mouth already had his cock leaking.

For some reason, the way he pulled your underwear to the side was turning you on even more? He sucked your clit in and flicked it with his tongue, moaning against you, and it made you arch your chest, exposing your throat to the cherry blossoms above as you cursed. He drew a few long licks along your slit, and then you felt a finger go in just as your fingers dug into the grass on either side of the blanket.

“Are you mine?” Eddie asked between sucks, sinking another finger in.

Crickets made their music all around as the soft hush of the town life below drifted up in the darkness.

“I’m-I’m all yours, baby,” you stammered, forehead clenched.

Eddie’s fingers found a rhythm, moving long and deep in fast strokes as his mouth found the perfect spot that made you hiss, “right there right there,” and he kept working until he could feel your tight walls start to clench around his fingers.

“You’re so good, baby,” you were mumbling, barely coherent now as a strangled cry escaped your lips and your hips fucked into his hand and Eddie’s pelvis fucked the ground, and your eyes started to roll back in your head.

“Eddie, Eddie, cum-cum-cumming,” you jerked as the velvet walls crashed around you, limbs popping spasmodically, whimpering his name.

Eddie pressed his mouth against your core, one hand around your thigh to pin you against his tongue so that he could drink every last drop, riding the high with you until he knew your nub would be too sensitive, and then his tongue returned to your hole a few times, moaning with pleasure at the sweet nectar of your release.

And then you were pulling him up, coaxing him into your arms, your mouth eager to find his and taste your spend on his lips. He wrapped the side of the blanket around you to keep you warm as you rolled against him, both lost in an oxytocin high, muttering words of affection to each other.

Both falling hard under the adoring pink eyes of the cherry blossoms.

------------

The next day, someone knocked on the door to the women’s restroom at the Velvet Hammer because it was locked, and Steve’s head sprang up from between the thighs of the woman he had propped up on the sink counter.

“Ocupado!” he yelled in Spanish, lips and chin glistening in the dim red light.

The woman with the short skirt shoved up around her waist and her feet planted on his shoulders whined, “Don’t stop, Stevie, I’m close,” which made Steve’s mouth lunge forward again with unbridled enthusiasm.

About a minute later, she came, while grabbing his hair and telling him no one ever made her cum that hard. She was a yoga instructor, and they’d only met up a few times so far, but he was already thinking about getting her name tattooed somewhere on his body.

As they were cleaning up, there was another knock at the door, this time it was more of an aggressive pounding, followed by the voice of Jackie, one of the servers. “Telephone call for you, Casanova!” She swatted the door a few more times with the palm of her hand.

Steve let Mary the yoga instructor go out first, and then he followed after a ten count, tucking his shirt in and slicking his hair back as he went. Mary went to the bar to wait for him. It was almost 9:30 and he was getting off early that night because there was another bouncer there, and it was slow for a Friday.

Steve ducked in behind the bar and yanked the receiver to his ear. “Yeah, this is Steve? Whadda ya want?”

It was you, and by the sound of the gentle sucking in of breath and tremor in your voice, you had been crying. Your voice was a tiny mew. “Steve? Have you seen Eddie tonight?”

At the dire tone of your voice, Steve curled into the corner of the bar and put a finger in his other ear so that he could hear you more clearly. “I haven’t, but I should put an ankle monitor on him. Are you okay? Are Oliver and the girls okay?”

You cleared your throat, about to try and explain, but then just said, “Everyone is fine. I’m sorry to bother you. I have to go,” and then you hung up on him, sobs jerking in your chest.

-----------

Earlier that same evening, Robin and Oliver came over to have a pizza night with you and Katie at your place, and then Robin and Katie cuddled in front of the TV while you and Oliver spread out at the kitchen table to make some art.

You had been messing around with some watercolor pencil sketches when they first arrived, and Oliver was mesmerized. He sat as close as he could to you and asked if he could help. You brought out a bunch of markers and crayons and brushes from your studio, and the two of you worked in silence for periods of time, just enjoying the craft. He was a creative, intelligent little boy, and the latent motherhood genes in your DNA made you feel very protective of him. Mess with you? Fine. Mess with Oliver? I will end you.

His concentration reminded you of a younger you, honestly, and a couple times he mentioned his Uncle Eddie and your heart swelled.

Speaking of Eddie---last night, after he made you cum like a banshee, you got dressed so he could take you back down the hill to your car. You called him once you got home, like he asked you to, but you hadn’t heard from him since. Fridays were always busy for him at work, never mind the rest of the shit he had to deal with, so you weren’t too worried about it. He’d probably call you later when he was in bed. There had been a palpable shift, and things were different between the two of you now. You were both on the same page, each committed to a mutual respect for each other.

By the end of the evening, when there was only a few crusts of pizza left in the box, Oliver gathered the handful of artwork he’d created on your sketchbook paper, and slid them over to you as if he was making a business deal.

“Can you sell these in your gallery?” he asked, bending one of his small fingers into the stack. “That way I can help my mom pay some bills.”

For more reasons that one, you started to tear up. You turned your head away to sniff and ran your finger under your eyes, blinking as wide as you could to keep the waterworks at bay.

“Ollie,” Robin said softly. She had just been coming up behind him when he said that, and her eyes met yours. “Things have been a bit stressful lately, but I never told him to---”

“I wish I could,” you nodded, composing yourself, turning to smile at Oliver. “These drawings are worth way too much, though, our gallery could never afford them.”

He looked thoughtfully down at the stack and shuffled them, smiling to himself, and then he pulled one out and passed hit to you. “This one is you and uncle Eddie. You can keep it.”

You were suddenly so emotional. Was your period close? Was someone cutting onions?

The picture he drew with watercolor pencils and charcoal and crayons was a tall stick figure with long, wavy dark hair holding hands with a big pink heart with arms and legs, but no hair or other defining characteristics. An orange oval with legs and a round head to represent your cat Charlie, and there were “m” shaped birds and a sun in the sky.

You thanked Oliver, swallowing back a hitch in your chest, and immediately went over to put his artwork on the fridge, wiping your wet cheeks.

-------

Robin and Oliver had been gone for 20 minutes or so, and you and Katie were wrapped up on opposite ends of the couch watching a horror movie in the dark, candles burning on the coffee table, when the doorbell rang.

It didn’t just ding once: whoever it was blasted their finger onto the button a good 6 or 7 times before they let up.

“What the hell,” you murmured, pausing the tape as you got up, prancing to the door, hoping that it might be Eddie.

You peaked through the peephole and was confused to see no one there. Your eyeball was scanning around for other signs of life when it landed on a manila envelope on the doormat.

“Where you expecting some mail?” You called to Katie, and she got so curious, she jumped up from the couch to come down the hall and see what made you ask that.

She checked the peephole to take a look at the envelope and the surrounding area. Down the street, you heard a car engine start up.

You backed up, worry creasing your brow. “Leave it. I have a bad feeling.”

Katie threw you a look over her shoulder before she unlocked the door and swiftly bent down to snatch the envelope before reeling back inside and clamping the locks down again.

“It has your name on it,” she said, handing it to you.

Sure enough, on the front was your full name in block letters, and on the other side was a sealed lip held in place by an aluminum tab.

Just then, a dark red Chevy Cavalier crept down the street without its headlights and eased onto the main road, out of sight.

-----------

Eddie was at the garage finishing up until 6, and then he had a beer with Bones, who was also a Coffin King and one of his mechanics, and then he went over to Wayne’s to help him install a new cabinet in his bathroom. He made them both some tomato soup and grilled cheese for dinner, and it got him wondering if you would like it if he made it for you.

It was getting late, and he almost called you from Wayne’s, but decided it would feel good to take his boots off and lay down first. He’d let you know the night before that you might not hear from him until late; he was determined to be a better communicator and not let you down again.

He yawned as he entered his apartment, locking the door behind him and throwing his leather on the back of the sofa.

The new answering machine that he had picked up from Radio Shack on his lunch break, and set up at your request, was blinking that he had 2 new messages, but it wasn’t something he was used to checking, so he cracked open a beer and hopped in the shower first.

------------

Once you saw what was in the envelope, denial was the first stage you jumped to.

“But, what are these?” You spread them out on the kitchen island, shock clamping down on your brain so that it refused to process the information in front of you.

They were 8x10 photos, taken with some type of high-powered camera...of Eddie. In his apartment. With two different women on separate occasions. All taken within the past couple days.

How did you know that they were taken within the last couple days? Whoever took them didn’t want to leave you with any room for doubt, and so they were holding up the front page of the paper for that day to mark each incident.

But, you knew Eddie so well, that detail would not have been necessary.

In the ones where he was in nothing but his boxers, kissing Erica in the hallway, you could see the markings from the love bite on his neck that you had accidentally given him over the weekend when he came to pick you up at the gallery.

In the second set of photos, where a tattooed redhead you didn’t recognize was behind him on the bed with her arms wrapped around him---he was in the exact same t-shirt he’d worn last night with a smudge of your red lipstick on the white collar. From when you were both under the cherry blossoms. When he promised that you could trust him and there was no one else. After you opened yourself up to him and let him take a piece of you.

“Who would do this?” Katie said in a hush, almost to herself, picking up each one to look at it closer. “Why would someone do this?”

“There must be a mistake,” you mumbled, your nervous system crashing, feeling lightheaded.

Katie swallowed and put down the photo she was holding, giving you a look that was full of sadness and concern. “How could it be a mistake, though? That is definitely Eddie.”

Feeling yourself about to lose it, you scrambled to pull all of the photos together and hurried down the hall to lock yourself in your room. Once inside, you clutched the photos to your chest and slid down the door until you were on the ground, shaking, choking on tears.

-----------

The older man with the salt n’ pepper hair and crystal blue eyes returned to the Velvet Hammer on Friday evening just to see if you were working. He had a whiskey sour at the bar and asked after you, but was told you didn’t have a shift that evening. Steve overheard the conversation he was having with the bartender and went over to him.

“She’s a friend of mine,” Steve raised an eyebrow, rolling a toothpick between his lips. “Why are you asking about her?”

John turned on his bar stool and shook Steve’s hand, white teeth brilliant against his tan skin.

“She waited on our table the other day, and, it took me a while, but I finally realized where I knew her from.” He paused to extend his hand and ask Steve if he could buy him a drink, but Steve declined.

John opened his wallet to pull a business card out. “I bought some original art from her at an outdoor market a few years ago. She’s a brilliant painter," he met Steve’s bored gaze, seemingly unaffected by the intimidation factor that he usually had on people.

He handed Steve his card. “I’d love to commission another piece from her, if she’s willing. Do you think you could have her call my office?”

Steve inspected the card, turning it over.

“I wrote my personal line on the back,” he continued. “I’m usually at work, but my secretary always knows where to find me.”

Steve knew that you’d be glad for the extra cash, so he slipped the guys card in his back pocket instead of throwing it away like he normally would.

“I didn’t catch your name?” John asked Steve.

“That’s because I never threw it,” Steve returned, introducing himself.

“Good to meet you, Steve,” he nodded sincerely. “My name is John. John Gregson.”

Steve had already read his name on the business card and was still trying to figure out why it sounded so familiar as he watched him get into a black Mercedes across the street.

----------

Eddie was in his gray sweats, drying his hair with a towel when he finally noticed the number 2 flashing on the machine. He pushed play absently as he went to sit on the bed.

The first message sounded like a strangled gasp and then a sniffle, and it made his head snap up, both hands holding onto the blue towel around his neck.

“...Eddie…” it was you, and he could tell you were in distress, and you’d been crying. He leaned forward to hover over the machine, his brow clenched. There was a stretch of time where you were struggling to speak and only managed to swallow a few times. “….why would you do this to me?” Then another pause when it sounded like you were whispering whywhywhy over and over under your breath.

You finished with, “This hurts so bad...." And then there was a click and the message abruptly stopped.

Eddie’s head was reeling, fear and worry jack-hammering in his veins.

His eyes wide and frantic, he picked up the receiver to call you, but then the second message clicked on.

The sound of Charlene’s voice spiked with amused laughter sent a dagger into his gut:

“I warned you.”

--------

Part 9

-------

Taglist for my loves: @hideoutside @leilalaufeyson02 @lilpotatobean2 @dandelionnfluff @sidthedollface2

@munsons-mayhem28 @eddiemunson95 @kelsiegrin

@ireidsmut @stylesxmunson @nope-thanks @lofaewrites @corrodedcoffinsmut @seventhlevelofhell @whatwedontdointheshadows @falling-solar-system @kurdtbean

@emxcast @bexreadstoomuch @micheledawn1975 @ms1oftheboys

@hellv1ra @dream-a-little-nightmare @etherealglimmer @manicmagicmayhem @layla-loves-ed @aysheashea @unfocused81 @notsobubblybaby @truffleshuffle12

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

Masterlist

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summary: This is the sequel to New Kid, taking place in 1992, six years after you and Eddie graduate from Hawkins High. You’re the vocalist and songwriter for Death Dance Approximately, a punk band of femmes taking the scene by storm. Eddie and Corroded Coffin have blown up in the last few years, and are pretty much a household name. In the Spring, you’re given news of who you’re touring with this year: your ex boyfriend’s band. You haven’t seen Eddie since 1989, and seeing him in this environment has stirred up a lot of old feelings.

warnings/tags: rockstar!gn!afab!reader x rockstar!eddie munson, ANGST, adult themes (drugs, sex, and rock and roll baby) 18+ minors dni, smut will be tagged in each chapter. estranged lovers, mutual pining, mutual heartbreak. this work is in progress

disclaimer: you don’t need to have read NK to understand this one, but it would mean the world if you did! i do not give permission for my work to be posted on other sites. Please inform me if you see my writing posted anywhere besides my own blog (unless otherwise stated.) Reblog to support the author!

this fic is very lgbt coded in many aspects, reader is gender non conforming, has dated both men & women. i ask you be respectful of my choices, it’s fine to read even if you yourself aren’t lgbt, but don’t give my shit for making a character gay/gnc etc, just don’t read it if it’s not for you. thank you!🫶

taglist: keeping the taglist for NK, please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed! @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @lilpotatobean2 @poisonedluv @kellsck @m-chmcl-rmnc

Prologue

Chapter I: Everybody Get Together

Chapter II: Like A Lover, Not A Dancer

Chapter III: Bleed the Freak

Chapter IV: All The Love Gone Bad

Chapter V: Why Are You So Far Away?

Chapter VI: You’ll Take My Soul Away

Chapter VII: Soft But Estranged

Chapter VIII: It’s Enough To Startle Us

Chapter IX: In The Morning You’ll Be Gone

Chapter X: It’s All Hate And Money

Chapter XI: Consider This The Slip

Chapter XII: I’ll Call You Beautiful, If I Call At All

Chapter XIII: Home Again

Chapter XIV: Away to Nowhere Plains

Chapter XV: Oh, Sweet Oblivion

Chapter XVI: You’ll Cry But You’ll Never Fall

Chapter XVII: Something In The Way

Chapter XVIII: I Gave My Life Away

Chapter XIX: Time Marches On

Chapter XX: A Fine Line Between Hope and Despair

Chapter XXI: Baby, What Did You Expect?

Chapter XXII: Blood Sugar Sex Magik

Chapter XXIII: I Just Might Give My Heart

Chapter XXIV: I’m Not Gonna Crack OUT NOW

Chapter XXV: Just Once, He Talked Back coming Friday, Oct 18 @ 6pm est

[starlightsearches]

Just saw your post for kinky prompts 👀 what do we think about hate-fucking Eddie 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Payback

Kinky Prompts

My friend, we think veeeeerrrry favorably about being hate-fucked by Eddie! Thank you for sending this in 💖 Requests are open; comments, likes and reblogs make me soooooooooooooooo happy!

Eddie Munson x Virgin! Femme! Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, PIV sex, protected sex, spanking, virginity kink (kind of), corruption kink (kind of), fingering (f), orgasm delay (f), clothed sex, crying during sex, a little tender for hate-fucking whoops but i contain multitudes, mentions of canon-typical violence, language, season 4 volume 1 spoilers!

"You know you don't have to babysit me, right?"

Eddie pops around the corner from one of the bedrooms, awake from his third nap of the day and scratching at his skin under the collar of his hellfire shirt. The movement puts the top of a tattoo on display, but you can't identify it from this angle, not without catching the black collar in your finger and pulling it down a few more inches.

You tear your eyes from him, glancing at the windows out of habit, letting out a sharp breath through your nose. The curtains are still closed—just like the last time you checked—but his shadow could still be visible to someone passing by.

"It was Nancy's idea. Will you sit the fuck down?"

Eddie rolls his big dumb eyes, plopping down on the floor beside you. He keeps his long legs bent, pale knees poking from the rips in his jeans.

"Well at least you're not cranky about being stuck with me, princess. Because that would make my exile totally unbearable."

You meet his eyes, catch his mocking smile, and shift an inch to the side.

"First off, don't call me princess. Second, you smell like shit. When's the last time you showered?"

He huffs, pretending to think, chin cupped in his hand. "Probably around the last time you slept. If those bags under your eyes get any bigger they're gonna need their own zip code."

You just flash him your middle finger, resting your head against the cupboard and trying to ignore the throbbing pain in your eyes. It's not like you've been trying to stay awake, but stress could do that to you. Every time you closed your eyes, your brain went into overdrive—imagining the yawning horror you'd feel finding your friends' bodies with their arms bent at odd angles and their eyes gouged out.

Eddie nudges you with his knee just as a shiver travels through you, denim he wears brushing against your bare thigh, repeating the movement over and over again until you look at him. He ignores the glare you give him.

"Seriously though, how long have you been awake? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I can manage not to burn the house down for a couple of hours without your constant supervision."

"Right," you scoff, "and when Jason and his friends show up to beat your ass, you can annoy them to death."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

The sun's just starting to set beyond the windows—his cue to stand without you yelling at him again—and he does, navigating the darkening kitchen with ease and grabbing a cereal box from the counter. "Out of curiosity, how are you planning on protecting me? Besides batting your eyelashes and bending over in that little skirt?"

"Something along those lines, yeah."

Eddie still doesn't know about the baseball bat you borrowed from Steve, hidden under the couch. As far as you're concerned, he doesn't need to.

"Good to know they'll all be rock hard when they kill me. Wouldn't have it any other way."

You make a face—maybe just to hide the way your eyes go wide at the idea of anybody being rock hard. "You're disgusting."

"So I've been told," he says, spraying a mouthful of honey comb, "by you, actually."

You just stare at him blankly, watching him chew as you replay the last few days. A lot had happened since you'd saw him threaten Steve with that busted bottle, and you'd called plenty of names during that time, but disgusting wasn't one of them. "No I haven't!"

He's not looking at you, admiring the silver glint of his rings, fingers splayed.

"You're friends did though," he says, quiet enough that you have to stand just to hear him, "and I don't remember you going out of your way to shut them up."

Oh. He's not talking about your friends—Steve and Dustin and the others. He's talking about your friends, the ones from before—the little clique of girls you ate lunch with every day for four years without really knowing each other at all.

"Whatever," you shrug, trying to brush off the accusation, sorting through the food Dustin had picked out to keep your hands busy, "that was high school."

He's unimpressed with your defense. "Okay, well you were a bitch in high school."

It hasn't even been a year since your graduation, but the person you were then isn't someone you'd recognize anymore. Hearing him say that about you makes your stomach sink—remembering all the times you had been a bitch to Eddie and people like him. You'd never be able to take those moments back, no matter how often you and your new friends saved the world.

You do your best to hide the hurt, reaching for a handful of M&Ms. If defense wouldn't work, you'd have to go offensive.

"If we're gonna bring up high school, you fucking started it."

Eddie leans in close under the guise of snatching some of the chocolate from your hand, warm fingers dancing over the skin of your palm.

"How'd I do that?" he asks with mock sincerity. Your heart races watching the movement of his dark pink lips.

"You know . . . you were always kicking my chair in Mrs. Click's class, and sticking chewed gum in my notebook when I turned to talk with Jared or Ashley, and- and whatever."

You can't look at him and talk at the same time. Not when he's got a few strands of hair caught up in his ridiculously long eyelashes, luring you into the warm center of his gaze, trying to trap you there.

He brushes some of the hair out of his eyes, sliding a little closer, chest pressed up against your shoulder. His skin is warm enough you can feel it through his shirt. His voice gets throatier when he whispers.

"How else was I guy like me supposed to get your attention?"

The M&Ms are turning to mush in your palm, crunching a little when your fist tightens involuntarily. You drop the chocolatey glob on the table, sliding away from him and facing the sink, hoping he couldn't feel the heat in your cheeks.

"You've made funnier jokes, Munson."

He just keeps talking, even with your back turned to him, spewing out shit that makes your whole body tense.

"Not a joke, babe. I've always had a thing for pretty girls with sticks up their asses. Figured somebody needed to fuck that attitude out of you."

You've got a death grip on the towel beside the sink, dripping little puddles all over the counter.

"I don't have anything up my ass," you mutter under your breath, as if a weak attempt like that would stop him when he's just getting started.

"—and I figured I could do the job, since those dickheads always drooling around you looked too stupid to fuck their way out of a paper bag—"

You just scrunch your nose, talking to yourself, "like I would know anything about that."

You're sure he won't notice your mumbled response, not when he's having such a good time talking to himself. And you're busy—in your own way—thinking about how many of those same dickheads had left you drunk in party bathrooms or alone in the woods on moonless nights when you'd shoved their hands away from your hemline one too many times.

"What?"

Eddie heard you, somehow—the one time you didn't want him to. Shaking the thoughts from your head, you do your best to change the subject. "Nothing. We really should talk about something else—"

"Wait, are you—?"—Eddie's sidled right beside you at the counter, leaning forward on both arms, smiling so fucking wide your hand itches to slap the smug look from his face— "Holy shit, are you a virgin?"

Fuck.

"I said I didn't want to talk about it!"

You throw the towel at him, but it just smacks against his chest with a disappointing thud, doing nothing to tone down your anger or the stinging embarrassment. "God, don't you ever shut up?"

He's totally immune to your little tantrum, taking one of your hands in his own, bringing it close to him, playing with your fingers.

He's got big hands. They practically swallow your own with no effort, the boar's head ring smiling up at you. You don't want to think about what they'd feel like touching you elsewhere, his huge, hot palms cupping your ass, spreading you apart with his ring-heavy fingers.

"Aw, baby," he coos, "if you wanted me to be your first, you could've just asked."

"Don't be delusional, Munson," you say, yanking your hand from his grip. It tingles a little where he's touched you, nerves deadened when they're not feeling him.

It's not like you cared that much about who was your first; it was always more about how. All those other losers had been fine with a quick fuck in the back of a car and you weren't about that. It's not like you expected candles and rose petals and shit—just a guy who'd at least try to get you off.

With the way he's looking at you now, Eddie's seeming more and more like the perfect candidate.

"Yeah, delusional, okay," Eddie's tone is sarcastic as he rolls his eyes, coming in close, seeing right through you like a piece of glass. His hair is brushing against your cheeks, hot breath on your neck, and your whole body responds, thighs pressing together, a thick swallow in your throat. He smells like cigarettes, with the faintest faded whiff cologne underneath the sharp sting of sweat. The more you have of it, the more you want.

There's something sinful reflected in his eyes when you look at him; it takes a second for you to recognize it's your own expression.

"Five bucks says you're wet for me right now."

He's surprised the sarcasm right out of you, reading you like that—leaving your voice weak and breathless, without your usual bite. "In your dreams, maybe."

"Oh yeah, all the time,—" the tips of his fingers brush against the outside of your thigh, "—but that's not what we're talking about here."

His palm is like a brand, pressed just above your knee, thick thumb stroking across your bare skin.

"Stop that," you whisper. Your throat burns with the smell of him.

He just cocks a brow. "You want me to?"

No. You won't say it—swallowing the word down and staring at him in silence—but you can't say yes, even if you don't mean it. He's the kind of guy who would actually stop if you did.

And you can't have him stop.

His hand curls into a fist against your skin until you lose contact with the cool metal of his rings. Eddie's expression is almost stern.

"I'm gonna need to hear you say it, princess."

The nickname doesn't bother you this time, stoking the heat at your core enough to loosen your tongue, just in case he might say it again. "No. I don't want you to stop."

The smile he gives you is worth your pride a hundred times over.

"Good girl."

Eddie's hand moves painfully slow, tips of his fingers brushing over goosebumps like he's trying to read braille, doe eyes staring down at you, gaze flickering towards your lips. It could be ironic that the one time you were desperate for a guy to rush through this part, the guy in question is determined to take his time.

It could be ironic, if it wasn't so fucking infuriating.

"Eddie," you say—way too desperate—but he just smiles at the shift of your hips as you take the last inch between his fingers and the soaked fabric of your panties by force.

Fuck, he feels good between your thighs—even just this part of him. He strokes his fingers back and forth, pinching a little at your covered pussy, laughing at the gasping sound you make when one of his rings catches against your clit.

You don't even care that it was this easy for him. You couldn't give less of a fuck.

He's got dimples in his cheeks from the grin he wears. "I'm flattered, sweetheart. This all for me?"

He's still stroking you, a smooth back and forth with his long, beautiful fingers. It's hard to form words anymore.

"Sh- shut up."

"About this?" His hips are harsh against yours, "uh-uh, never. I'm never gonna shut up about this wet. fucking. pussy."

He's breathing hard, gripping roughly at your cunt, punctuating each word with a brush against your clit, the tip of one finger past your lips and stroking along your entrance. Even through the cotton it makes you squirm, the feel of the soft, wet fabric almost too much for your sensitive cunt.

Your clumsy hands meet at his belt buckle, just resting there, arms jellied by the way he's touching you.

"Eddie."

He's got his ear pressed up against your cheek, a few of his flyaways sticking to the sweat on your temples. It's good he's so close or he might not be able to hear you at all.

"Yeah?" His chest heaves, arm muscles tight where they press against your stomach. When you lean back enough to meet his eyes, he's got his tongue caught between his teeth.

"I don't—fuck—I don't have five dollars."

"What?"

He actually stops his assault on your pussy for just a moment, and you breathe a soft laugh. It's nice to know you're not the only one who can be caught of guard.

"The bet. I owe you five—"

The thrust of his hips cuts off the end of your sentence, alarm bells ringing in your head. He hadn't been carrying anything in his pockets, as far as you knew—no switchblade or flashlight or a fucking cucumber by the feel of it. Which could only mean one thing.

Eddie Munson is rock fucking hard. For you.

His hand still cups your pussy as the other takes you by the neck, palm easily spanning your entire jaw and there's no chance you'd even think about fighting him when he guides you closer to his lips.

"I think we can work something out."

Eddie's kisses are intoxicating—hot and wet and strong, putting a burn in your throat from the power behind it—body aching at the way he bends you, his jaw pressed tight against yours, guiding your body with every shift of his head. He's got his tongue past your open lips, tasting like cigarettes and sugary breakfast cereal and stale sleep and it's still got you weak at the knees.

Kissing Eddie is everything.

He's making little moaning noises against your lips, the pressure behind his hips denting your back against the counter, digging into you enough there might be print of his dick on your thigh when he pulls away. His hand has gone still as he's caught up in this kiss, and grinding down against his fingers isn't enough anymore for the gnawing heat in your cunt.

You pull back, turning your head a little to the side when he chases after your lips.

"Fuck me, Eddie."

Even in the fading light, you can see how dark Eddie's eyes have become—already deep irises swallowed by black pupils.

"Really?"

His adam's apple bobs with a harsh swallow, like he didn't even think it would get to this point. You don't have time to worry about the statistical likelihood of a situation where you'd be begging Eddie Munson to fuck you—not with the way your pussy is throbbing.

"God, Eddie. Yes."

The muscles in his throat tense, thin blue veins distended, and if he's nervous taking control, he doesn't show it. You, on the other hand, are shaking like a fucking leaf.

"Bend over," he tells you, and you comply without comment—just grateful you don't have to make any of these decisions yourself—stretching out long, arms at an angle against the wall and chest flat against the table top.

There's the heat of his body against your thighs as Eddie steps closer, hips looming behind you, just out of reach. The fabric of your skirt is shifted out of the way, bunched up around your waist, and then Eddie's broad palm cups your ass, thumb achingly close to your core again, whispered touch moving closer, closer, the flat of his thumb pressed against your dripping hole. His other hand reaches for the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down roughly over your hips with the scrape of his rings until they fall to your ankles, leaving you totally bare.

And then you feel the harsh smack of his hand against the swell of your cheek, hips forced into the counter and a low moan on your lips.

You're still reeling when you turn back to look at him.

"Jesus Christ, Eddie!"

"Sorry, baby, but I had to," he laughs, untouched by your anger as always, looking a little endeared by the glare you send over your shoulder.

"You could warn me first," you grumble. Then maybe you could have done something about the mortifying sound you'd just made.

His fingers rub gently at the mark he must have left against your ass cheek, soothing the ache as he presses his chest against your back. "Where's the fun in that?"

He grins—face framed by wild hair, big eyes shining—and it mollifies you, but only slightly.

"Are you gonna fuck me or not?"

"Patience, baby," —he leans off you, reaching into his back pocket for a little silver-foiled packet—"safety first."

A fucking condom. You roll your eyes. "How long have you had that on you?"

"Since you told me you were staying. Rick keeps a bunch lying around—figured it couldn't hurt to be prepared."

So he's been thinking about fucking you for the past two days. You're not sure if that makes you more desperate or more annoyed.

You lay your head back down, rolling your eyes even though he can't see them at this angle. "You're an ass, Eddie Munson."

Not that you care, not with the sound of his zipper and the clink of his belt—which definitely make you hornier—the crinkle of the condom wrapper and the way you hear him spit a piece of the shiny foil onto the floor after opening it with his teeth.

With your cheek pressed to the table, you can't see what he's doing, shifting your hips side to side as you as you wait to feel him touch you again. It starts with a hand at your hip, pulling you against him, the white-hot pit in your stomach fueled by the feeling of his cock pressed between your ass cheeks, teasing you with a few soft strokes.

"You sure you want this?"

His other hand wraps around your waist, splitting your folds with his fingers, just barely petting across your clit. You can feel your pussy dripping for him.

"God, yes. Pl—"

He cuts you off, the end of the word lost in an ungodly moan as he presses the thick head of his cock past your messy entrance, and the stretch is already unreal—a searing sting that has your eyes rolling back in your head and your nails biting into your palms.

"Christ, baby, you're fucking tight," he says, with a hint of awe in his voice, sliding forward another inch, drunk on your little whimpered sounds.

You can't keep quiet as Eddie thrusts forward again, and again, and again, going until you're sure it would be impossible for him to have any dick left, cunt pulsing around him like its in cardiac arrest.

And then he gives you another inch.

"Fuck," —it's the only word you know anymore, the only thing you can think past the tremors running up and down your entire body, every brain cell you've got focused on the stunning pain stretching out your cunt, so full it's like you can feel the tip of him nudging at your lungs. "Fuck."

Eddie's not saying a word—a first for him—but you can tell he's thinking the same thing you are, can feel the letters F-U-C-K printed against your hip bones on the tips of his fingers. His breathing is loud and messy, shifting his hips just slightly until there's the soft slap of his balls against the backs of your thighs.

"Gotta, Jesus,"—two of Eddie's fingers press down against your clit, and you whine, wiggling a little at the feeling until his other hand tightens against your hips, "gotta loosen you up a little, baby. I'm 'bout to fuckin' bust."

He sandwiches you against the counter as he shifts forward to improve the angle of his fingers, circling your clit steadily. Your legs part, a little wider, hoping to make room for more of the feeling he's giving you.

"That's a good girl," Eddie groans.

You hadn't even noticed the way you'd been rocking your hips back against him, too absorbed by the feeling of his dick nudging at some shining point inside you, setting off fireworks behind your eyes with each brush.

He thrusts into you in earnest, and it's like you can hear the pop of your mind's pyrotechnics, the bass thudding in your chest, coming out of your mouth as long, throaty moans.

And Eddie must like those noises you're making, because it's got him pounding at you faster—slamming his whole dick into you hard enough to make the cupboards shake.

"Gonna ruin this fucking virgin pussy," he says, but you're not sure if you're meant to hear, or if it's a promise he's making to himself, "gonna ruin you for the next asshole who comes along."

"Fuck Eddie, I want you to . . . don't- don't want anybody else."

Jesus, where did that come from? Half an hour ago you were teetering on the edge of throttling him and now you're promising him a life-time unlimited supply of pussy.

If he replies, you can't hear him over your high-pitched whine as he pinches at your clit, strumming at you with his guitar-calloused finger tips.

"Gonna cum," you warn him, lashes fluttering at the way the heat is building in your gut and your pussy and your chest, building higher and higher, ready to take you.

Until he pulls back, totally still with his hands at your hips.

"Edddiiiieeeeeeeeeee."

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. The feeling's gone, and no amount of whining is going to get it back, the opening of your cunt trembling and dripping and empty.

He shushes you, one hand at your neck, ring biting at your throat and the chain at his wrist brushing against your chin as he pulls you close. Fat tears blur your vision until he's one big, brown smudge of hair and pink skin.

"Can't make it too easy for you, honey," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your puffy lips. You blink the tears from your eyes.

"That was mean."

His chest shakes with laughter, and some of your spend smears across your cheek as he brushes a strand of hair back behind ear. "Let's consider it payback, princess. You wanna cum this time?"

I wanted to cum the last time, you think, but don't say it. He's fucked the antagonism right out of you. "Yes, please."

He kisses you, and the angle is awkward with you propped up on your hands, his tongue halfway down your throat as his other hand guides the head of his cock back to your throbbing entrance. He slides inside with ease.

It feels better with him this close, his thrusts shorter and slower but hitting you just right, hips slapping against yours, belt and chains jangling in time with the wet squelch of your cunt. It feels better when you can taste him, running the tip of your tongue along the edge of his teeth.

"You close again, baby?" he asks between sharp breaths. You nod, feeling hot, feeling used, thighs coated with your sticky wet cum, and body trembling in his grasp.

"Eddie," his name is like a cry on your lips, everything else stolen. You can't get the other words out, can't tell him that you feel it looming and it's heavier than the last time and it's strong enough to scare you, can't tell him that you don't know what's going to happen or who you'll be on the other side. "Eddie."

He's unphased, laughing, face mashed up against your cheek. "Tell me about it."

It takes you, fucking swallows you up and spits you out. Your whole body is pulsing, a ten on the Richter scale emanating from your pussy. Total devastation.

He thrusts into a few more times, fucking you through it, short bursts that make you whimper until the quaking stops and he groans, sliding from your cunt.

"God fucking damn," Eddie says, rattling around the kitchen, and you don't have a single brain cell left to wonder what he's doing, "how was that for your first time?"

It's a good question. You shift experimentally, aching in places you didn't know existed and numb everywhere else.

He's back at your side with a wet dish towel in hand. Eddie pets it gently between your legs, cleaning up everything sticky from your skin and your hair. You just hope Rick won't mind finding a towel covered in pussy juice in his house whenever he gets out of prison.

There's a soft look in Eddie's eyes as he cleans you up, tongue caught between his teeth, and it has you gnawing on your lips—a melty feeling in your chest no orgasm could cause.

"So . . . what happens now?"

You're not sure what you're hoping for—if you want him to kiss you, or tell you he'll fuck you whenever, no strings attached, or promise he'd never bring up the way you screamed for him ever again.

Actually, you know you don't want the last one. Beyond that, you're willing to take what you can get.

"Now," Eddie says, cupping your face in his hands, "you finally get some fucking sleep."

Maybe he's being stupid on purpose, saving your question for another time when you've got a little more mental prowess available and he's not being hunted for sport. Eddie leads you to Rick's bedroom, one hand at your waist, and your exhaustion hits you in a wave. You hadn't even realized how hard you'd been working to keep your eyes open.

The rest of you might be on the edge of sleep, but your suspicion is wide awake. "Did you only fuck me to tire me out?"

Eddie chuckles, crawling onto the big mattress and guiding you up with him, his body softer beneath yours in the darkness.

"Not only," he whispers, arms tight around your waist, "but I think it worked out alright."

You're breathing steadier already, having him here. There's no need to listen for him alive outside the door when you've got his heart beat beneath you. You'd never realized how much you worried about him whenever he was out of your sight.

"Eddie?"

He's lit a cigarette—you can see the red orange tip of it glow brighter in the darkness when he takes a drag.

"What, baby?"

"I'm sorry I was a bitch to you in high school."

His chest rises and falls with steady breaths. "Don't worry about it."

And then it's quiet again, your eyelids falling closed and staying that way. Eddie keeps a hand on you—sometimes stroking gently over your arm, or nestled tight at your waist. You would have thought that kind of movement would keep you awake, but you can feel your body grow heavier against him, muscles relaxing under his touch.

"Hey, Eddie?" You don't even bother to open your eyes this time.

"What is it now?"

"Can we do that again," you ask, sentence broken up by a soft yawn, "you know, when I wake up?"

"Sure thing, baby," Eddie promises, "whenever you want."