#hey god it's me again 🧎🏽‍♀️ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

socially-awkward-eliza · 2 years ago

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🧎🏽‍♀️

hey god it’s me again…

𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 \\ eddie munson x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 \\ eddie's a little surprised when you ask him to come over to platonically stay the night, but he's happy to try to make you feel better however he can.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 \\ 6.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 \\ SMUT (18+ ONLY), unprotected sex, mentions/discussions of a break-in, mentions of drug use, there was only one bed, fluff, kinda hurt/comfort (but less hurt more comfort)

"Thanks," you whimpered, sounding just as weak as you looked right now— your eyes were heavy and sunken in, your lips chapped, shoulders slumped. "I just feel safer with someone here."

Not that Eddie was in any place to judge your appearance. He'd walked here in the rain and probably looked a mess. "Of course!" he offered as he stepped inside and you shut your door behind him. He slipped off his jacket and tossed it on the couch, shaking the rain off his hair in a way not dissimilar to a dog after a bath. "Wow, storm's been pretty relentless, huh?"

"Yeah," you agreed quietly, reaching up to cross your arm over your chest and clutch your opposite elbow. "The cops said that's why they couldn't catch the guy— rain washed away fingerprints, and mud filled footprints, so…"

He nodded, looking down nervously at his shoes on top of your pale blue linoleum. "Can't believe some asshole's breaking into trailers. What valuables does he think you have in here?"

"Well, they said he might have been looking for me…"

Eddie instantly regretted mentioning it. He hadn't even thought of it like that, and it made a surge of emotions hit him when he did; most of all, a strange instinct to make sure you were safe. "Do they think he might come back?"

You bit your lip, glancing down too with a shrug.

"Well, nobody's gonna try and mess with you once they get a glimpse of Smith & Wesson," he added jokingly, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Eddie!" you gasped. "Did you bring a gun?"

You said it like it was a dirty word, even though he knew you had a revolver in here at some point. "No, no," he assured, "those are my biceps: Smith—" he flexed one arm— "and Wesson." He bit his lip as he flexed the other, raising and dropping his eyebrows quickly. You laughed, covering your nose and mouth with your hand as you snorted.

He was quite proud of himself for amusing you, and even slightly hopeful that the tank top he was wearing (which he'd made by slicing the sleeves off of an old Zeppelin shirt) actually made him look muscular.

"So… I'll set up on the couch?" he assumed.

"Oh," you mumbled, seeming shy again. "I mean, if you want…"

"What's the other option?" he wondered.

"Well," you said quietly, crossing your arms— damn it, he'd made you uncomfortable somehow. Eddie was perceptive enough to read your demeanor, but too oblivious to understand what he'd done to make you shut down. "The couch is fine."

He sighed, stepping closer to you. "You said over the phone that it would make you feel better if I came over. That's literally what I came for. So, tell me what I can do. I can stay up all night— or I can sleep outside on the porch if you want!"

"No!" you refused, starting to smile again. "If it's not too weird, I thought you could be in my room with me. I just…"

You sighed and began again, while Eddie's heart sped up a bit.

"If something happened, I wouldn't want you all the way across the house."

He looked to the bedroom door, to the couch, and back again. "Sweets, it's a trailer," he announced with a sarcastic tone and a raised eyebrow. "It's, like, five steps across."

"Come on," you rolled your eyes, "you know what I mean!"

"I do," he relented, "and it's fine. I can be in your room if you want."

You smiled bashfully, looking down and pulling your shoulders up to your ears. "Thanks," you breathed.

He hadn't asked the obvious question yet because he didn't want to seem too forward— maybe he'd walk in to your bedroom with you and see a pallet on the floor by the bed already; or, maybe he'd walk in and see a typical trailer bedroom which takes its name quite seriously and barely has room for anything but the bed.

When you guided him down the hall, he swallowed as he realized it was indeed the second. "Sorry, it's kinda messy in here," you offered as you quickly kicked some trash aside, straightening out your bedspread a bit. "I'm not usually this much of a slob, I swear—"

"No, it's okay, I'm in no place to judge," he promised, "and it's been clean when I've been here before."

He hadn't come over that many times, especially after you stopped smoking pot for your job so he didn't sell to you anymore. He considered offering to toke up with you now, he thought it might call your nerves (which is why he brought some in his jacket pocket just in case), but it never really came up— you just seemed excited for a chance to get some sleep, considering you clearly hadn't been resting well.

"I'll stay on top of the sheets," he decided suddenly. "For your modesty."

You nodded but started to pull down your pants a second later; he suddenly found the farthest corner of your ceiling quite fascinating and stared at it intently. So much for modesty. "I never sleep with pants," you explained as you crawled into the bed in just your loose t-shirt and white cotton panties.

"Lucky for you, I always keep mine on," he offered with a weak laugh. Normally he would lose his shirt first, though, but it wasn't restrictive anyways, so he just laid on top of the bed carefully. He sighed as he found a semi-comfortable position on his back, interlacing his fingers and resting the joined hands on his stomach.

"Don't tell me you actually sleep like that," you noticed with a smirk, and he looked at your face where it was peeking out from under the puffy quilt.

"Normally I sleep hanging upside down in the closet with my arms crossed," he joked, demonstrating the classic vampire-sleeping-in-coffin pose, and you laughed.

"You always struck me as a stomach sleeper," you informed him. Wait, she's thought about that?

"I usually go for the left side," he corrected. “You?”

“Lately I’ve just been curled up in a ball,” you admitted, “but I move around a lot— and you can wake me up if I’m snoring!”

“No, it’s fine,” he promised.

“Okay, well, goodnight,” you decided, reaching up to your bedside lamp. Eddie began to turn onto his left side, which meant he was facing you, and adjusted the pillow under his head carefully. He could tell you normally used this pillow because it smelled like your hair— was that why his heart was racing each time he took a breath in?

You flipped off the light, plunging the room into near-total darkness except for the distant yellow glow of another trailer’s porch light peeking through your blinds. "It's okay if I sleep, right?" he whispered. "You don't want me to stay up in case something—?"

"It's fine, I just want someone here," you explained. Your voice got softer as you admitted, "I've never liked sleeping alone."

"That… explains a lot."

"Hey!" you yelped defensively, and he heard you turn under the blanket to face him. "Are you calling me a slut?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Are you denying it?"

You harrumphed. "I know you can see my door from your window, but you've gotta stop spying, Ed— it's creepy. And it's none of your business if guys are coming over."

"I know! That's why I don't look— which is why you don't have a handy eyewitness for your B&E."

"I don't have an eyewitness because you were dead asleep," you corrected, "and so was everyone else. I'm guessing that was his motive for trying to get in at four in the morning."

There was a weighty pause. "I don't spy on you," he insisted again.

"Okay, sure," you agreed, "not anymore."

"I never did!"

"Right,” you said, and he could hear your smirk even if he couldn’t see it. He sighed, relenting to your depiction of him as a creep who watches you from his window— until the silence got longer and longer, and he just couldn’t help himself.

“I just wanted to make sure nobody shifty was coming around,” he blurted out, hearing you let out a quiet laugh.

“Eddie, they were all shifty,” you sighed. He didn’t say anything, because he was afraid if he agreed too quickly it would offend you. “Goodnight,” you offered again.

“Goodnight,” he returned quietly.

There was another long silence, almost long enough that he really thought you would fall asleep— personally, he was wired and would probably spend a few hours listening to you breathe before he drifted off— until you spoke again just a bit later. "You're not cold, are you?" you whispered.

"Huh? No, no," he denied. Yes.

"You can get under the covers…"

God, he wanted to. And he figured he'd be able to control himself and everything— but he hesitated. It wasn't too far, right? Friends can share beds… even if he really didn't think until now that you and him actually were that kind of friends. It's not like you were ever especially close, you just talked sometimes, even less now that you weren't a customer. He was pretty surprised when you called him to ask for this.

And in the dark, Eddie got a little braver.

"Why did you ask me to come here?" he suddenly interrogated, until he heard how sleazy that question sounded. "Uh, I mean, not why did you ask me to come here, but… why did you ask me?"

"Because I trust you," you answered simply. "You always made me feel safe. There aren't a lot of guys in this trailer park that I want here to try to defend me if it comes down to it— I mean, fuck, one of them is probably the guy who tried to break in that night!"

He nodded, already trying to imagine which of those lowlifes might try to hurt you— and wondering if he could take them. He sighed when he realized that he didn't have much chance fighting any of the men here. Unless it was Ricky Lupowski, Eddie had no shot— but even then, he didn't exactly want to beat up a twelve-year-old. Hell, you could take Ricky if he was giving you any trouble, Eddie knew you were pretty tough: that was part of why it was so jarring to see you this vulnerable. "I'm not the toughest guy you could call, though," he reminded you. "I know people think I look kinda scary, but—"

"I know," you agreed. "You're not the toughest guy, but… you're the safest."

Suddenly he wanted to switch his story— me, safe? Nah, babe, danger's my middle name! Hardened criminal, metal guitarist, occasionally maker of an illegal U-turn—

"That's why I wanted you to come," you finished, "and it's why I don't care if you get under the covers if you're cold up there."

From the looks of the guys he'd seen coming to your door when he definitely wasn't spying, it seemed like danger was usually what you wanted between your sheets. And sure, Eddie wasn't exactly the valedictorian in khakis that he assumed every girl wants to bring home to mom— but he knew he wasn't like your usual fare either: no motorcycle, no neck or face tattoos, no prison time (yet).

“B-but don’t feel like you have to,” you suddenly mitigated.

“No, it’s cool,” he decided as he curled his legs up to his chest so he could slip under the blanket and top sheet. “They, uh, feel nice…”

“Thanks,” you mumbled.

“Are they expensive or something?” he wondered as he adjusted himself in them— you were still a few inches away from him, but somehow it was like he could feel your body heat from all the way over here.

“No, they’re just clean,” you explained.

“Right…” he trailed off. “Anyways, I’m glad you trust me— not just ‘cause it means I get to sleep under the covers.”

You snorted. “Sure,” you shrugged.

“I mean it— if I can make you feel safer, that’s good,” he announced. He was, in part, trying to convince himself; because in a certain way, it did sting. You invited him here specifically because you knew he wouldn’t try anything, and you were right, but he sort of wished sometimes that he was the kind of guy you’d invite over for some comfort of the non-platonic variety. But, he still really enjoyed being the guy that made you laugh, and the guy that made you feel safe, and the guy that got to be here with you right now.

"Actually, I thought if Wayne answered the phone, I might ask him to come,” you admitted. “He told me when I first moved in to let him know if anybody here gave me any trouble— including but not limited to you.”

Sounds like Wayne.

“But I figured he'd turn it down— like, he'd say something about how I'm an unmarried young lady and he wouldn't wanna 'disrespect' me," you chuckled.

"Yeah, he's pretty old school," Eddie agreed, "but he'd keep you safe for sure. He actually would have brought a gun. If he decided to come in the damn trailer at all."

“Yeah,” you laughed, “old people are weird. Like, apparently they think if you spend the night here that’s the same as us having sex?”

He laughed too. “Yeah, that’s so crazy. ‘Cause obviously we’re not…”

“Of course!” you agreed emphatically. “You’re just doing me a favor. Which I really appreciate— I know it’s probably harder for you to sleep here.”

“No, it’s great, actually,” he blurted out— realizing it sounded sort of weird once it was out of his mouth. “For Wayne, I mean. He got to upgrade from the fold-out bed tonight.”

“Oh, that’s good,” you hummed, but his eyebrows furrowed when he felt you shake. It happened again, and he realized: “Sweets, are you shivering?”

“Y-yeah, but the sheets are just cold still,” you explained.

“You took off your pants!” he remembered.

“Well, I can’t sleep with them on!”

“Yeah, but you can’t sleep if you’re freezing, either,” he sighed. “Did you ever get your heater fixed?”

“Um…”

He frowned. “Didn’t that break like two months ago?”

“Y-yeah, but who needs a heater in August?”

“It’s not August,” he reminded you.

“But it was when it broke.”

He rolled his eyes, but then you shivered again. “It dropped, like, twenty degrees when this rain came in,” he reminded you.

“Yeah, I noticed,” you replied.

The next time you shivered, he heard your teeth chattering, and he instinctively scooted closer to you. “Is there another blanket I can get you?” he asked.

“No, but—” you began, and his breath caught when he felt your hand— your ice cold hand— reach out and touch his shoulder. “You can just—”

You moved closer to him and he started to move back. “I don’t think I should—”

"Just, hold me?” you pleaded in a quiet, meek voice. “So I can get warm enough to fall asleep?"

God, he was so completely powerless to you asking that, even if he knew it was a bad idea. He wanted to help you so badly— and he knew it was more than your temperature that made you ask him for that. He’d never seen you like this: scared and weak and worried. “O-okay,” he agreed quietly, reaching his arms out and letting you settle between them.

Your face pressed to his chest, your nose poking his skin that was left exposed by the low and jagged cut— and the tip of that was cold too, he could just imagine giving it a little kiss.

“Is this okay?” he asked, and he felt you nod. Carefully, he let his arm rest so it draped around you— but he didn’t let his hand touch anything but the sheets on the other side.

You hummed as you pressed yourself against him even more, your legs tangling with his, your tits— oh god, he couldn’t even think about your tits right now, because if he did he would remember that they were squished up on his torso and he’d wonder if being so cold meant your nipples were hard—

He cleared his throat, knowing that through his sweatpants, his dick was pressed to your tummy. He willed it to somehow not get hard from this, putting all his energy into not moving or reacting at all.

“Thanks,” you whispered. “This helps a lot.”

“Of course,” he breathed in return. “Wh-whatever helps…”

He felt you take a deep breath against his skin, the softest fan of warm air hitting him when you exhaled. Your arm was around him, but he hissed when you slid your hand up and the cold skin made contact with his bare back. “Sorry,” you reacted instantly.

“No, it’s okay— you’ll warm up soon,” he promised.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “why are you so warm?”

Now he understood why the phrase ‘you make me hot’ meant that you were attracted to someone. He nearly said it out loud, guess I’m just hot for you, but amazingly he caught himself. Instead he only shrugged.

“I’m glad you came over,” you told him, and he could hear your voice getting a little more slurred— you were so tired, poor thing, you’d mentioned over the phone that you hadn’t really been sleeping.

“Can you really fall asleep like this?” he asked quietly. Cause I sure can’t.

“No, I was just gonna get warm,” you admitted, “I’ll turn the other way when it’s time to sleep.”

Turn the other way… wait, she doesn’t mean—

Yeah, you did. A few minutes later you flipped yourself around with a sleepy mumble of ‘g’night, Ed’ and made him into your unwilling big spoon.

Okay, not totally unwilling, but completely in over his head. His problem wasn’t with the cuddling, it was with knowing it was all just supposed to be friendly, it was with wondering if you were coming onto him (unlikely) or just stupid (also unlikely), it was with trying not to get a horribly-timed but perfectly-warranted boner.

It was just these stupid sweatpants and your little white panties between him and your ass— he could feel the shape of it, even the warmth of your skin, through everything and he was going to lose his goddamn mind.

You did move around in your sleep, like you warned him that you would, but you hadn’t warned him about those pretty sighs, the soft little hums, the way you’d stretch a bit and arch your back…

For the first hour, he just held you, and listened to you, and drank it all in.

You warmed up quick while he was holding you, you felt so nice to hold— he wanted to hold you tighter and pull you closer and kiss your cheek or your ear or your shoulder, but he couldn’t. He almost wondered if he could, without waking you up, as he started to get sleepier himself and his logic began to slip.

He fell asleep in that way where he didn’t even realize he’d been asleep when he woke up, if you’d asked him he would’ve denied it— but you weren’t asking him, you were holding his arm close to your chest, pressing back against him, rubbing against him.

Oh god, he was hard, he was fucking throbbing, and you were breathing heavier as you grinded up on him.

When he opened his mouth, he fully intended on asking you what you were doing, or maybe apologizing for his boner, but then you arched your back harder, and he realized two things: one, you knew exactly what you were doing; and two, he didn’t need to apologize. So, instead, he let a low groan fall from his lips, and you moaned a bit in reply.

He rocked his hips, pushing his cock right between where your panties were riding up and hugging your ass; you moaned again, still shaky but a bit more confident, and he wondered if maybe he was dreaming. It wouldn’t be the first time he dreamt about this.

His hand was already on your chest, so he only had to move his hand down a bit to slip his fingers inside your tight t-shirt and feel your tits. He groaned as soon as he felt how soft your skin was, how hard and excited your nipples were. Your hips gyrated when he played with them, and feeling the control he had over you from such a simple action— just one slight curl of his finger and you gasped and arched your back deeper, your whole body under his command— made his cock twitch and weep inside his sweats.

When he took his hand out of your shirt and moved down to hold your hip tightly instead, you whimpered quietly. “Eddie,” you moaned under your breath, instantly bringing him back to reality; this was actually happening.

Guilt twisted in his chest, but need still controlled his mind. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked quickly.

“N-no!” you whimpered. “I like it.”

He sighed and kept going with your blessing, securing his grip on your hips and letting his fingertips toy with the elastic holding up your panties. When he thrusted again, a long drag of his cock against you that let you both feel every detail of each other, your head fell back and your neck was right there for the taking.

He leaned down and latched his lips onto it, kissing all along your pulse, and you moaned louder. "You can fuck me if you want."

That should've been hot— and it sort of was, especially in your whispered voice— but it hurt his heart a little bit and he stopped kissing you. "If I want?" he repeated, feeling you nod against his shoulder. "What do you want, sweets?"

"I… I want you to," you answered.

"Baby," he whispered, feeling you shiver in his arms when he said it— in a different way than before. "I— I know you're feeling vulnerable right now… I wouldn't wanna take advantage."

"You wouldn't be."

"You don't need to do this to make me stay."

"You don't need to do this to make me want you here," you replied. "But I want you. Please, Ed."

He hadn't been trying to make you beg, he almost felt guilty for it— making this poor girl plead with him for some affection when she's scared and alone. But he was too busy feeling turned on like crazy to feel really guilty; because he never thought he'd hear you beg for him like that, and it was beautiful. Sexy, yes, and erotic, but most of all beautiful.

Rolling you onto your back, he climbed up over you and felt your legs spread instantly— god, that was just too perfect.

In the dark, he still couldn’t see much, but there was just enough light to see your eyes blinking up at him. It reminded him why he called you sweets as much as he could get away with it: because you were just so sweet, the sweetest eyes, the sweetest smile, the sweetest lips that he wanted to kiss until they were swollen and wet—

He grabbed your panties at the seam on your hip and snapped them in two; you gasped as he tossed them away, wiggling under him excitedly. When he laid his body on top of yours now, he could feel your pussy through his pajamas. Speaking of swollen and wet…

“Oh my god,” you breathed, reaching up to hold onto his bicep— Wesson, specifically. “Eddie, you’re— fuck, get these off…”

Your free hand started tugging on the waistband of his pants, and just your fingers ghosting over his hip was enough to make him moan. He grabbed where the gray fabric gathered, about to help you pull them down, until he remembered. "Shit, I, uh," he choked, "I didn't bring any condoms."

Obviously. Because what kind of creep brings condoms when his friend asks for help? But now he was kicking himself wishing he'd had the foresight somehow.

"I could go back and—"

"No," you interrupted, clutching at his tank top. "Don't leave, you don't need to wear one anyways."

Oh, dangerous territory. Compulsory, cautionary health class videos flashing through his mind…

"I mean, you're clean, right?" you assumed.

"Yeah, I've never— well, I've never actually done it without protection before, so—"

"Me either," you explained, "and I'm on the pill— and I… I wanna feel you."

"That's… hot," he admitted with a tilted grin. "Shit, really?"

You bit your lip as you nodded, and he growled playfully at you as he leaned in and kissed your neck. You writhed beneath him happily, your plump little mound rubbing on him through his sweats— and he would give you anything you wanted after you did that.

"Y'wanna feel me, sweets?" he taunted lowly. "Wanna feel my cock stretching you out? We can do that. Gonna fuck you raw."

You whined and arched your back. "Please, Eddie— that's what I want."

"Shh," he soothed, reaching down to push the stretchy waistband over his hips to his thighs. His cock sprang free and brushed on the inside of your leg for a moment, making you move your hips again— so he held them down with one hand. "Baby, I'm gonna give it to you, okay? Calm down."

"I just need you," you whispered, tugging on his shirt again. "Eddie, I just need you inside me—"

He moved his head between your lips, groaning at how warm you were already— god, you must be like an oven inside.

When he found your opening, he didn't waste much time before pressing forward and sliding himself in. It was a specific feeling— overwhelming, yet irresistible. It was nearly too much for both of you and yet he had to keep going, had to fill more of you until his pelvis was grinding on your clit and the tip of his cock was reaching right to the end of you.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned the second he was buried inside— not just because it felt good, but because he knew instantly he couldn't go back now. Feeling you bare, getting drenched by your sticky, hot walls… how was he supposed to be satisfied with anything else again? Or maybe it wasn't the lack of a barrier that made it so good— maybe that was just you.

Either way, he didn't want to go back: to condoms, to other girls, to any of it. He didn't want anything but this.

"Baby," he said again, holding you a little tighter. "Is this how you want it? Deep and slow?"

You whined quietly, clutching at his back. "Y-you can go a little faster," you offered.

"Mm," he moaned as he rocked his hips more quickly, your heat gripping him so well he struggled to control himself. "Like this?"

"Yes," you praised, "oh, Eddie, just like that— fuck me like that."

Christ. You were gonna make him lose it too fast, talking like that and feeling so damn good. You were like heaven inside— cozy and warm like a living room on a Christmas card. Which, yes, he was well aware was a bizarre thing to compare a vagina to, but he wasn't gonna say it out loud or anything! Babe, your pussy's like a Norman Rockwell painting might not even be Eddie's worst attempt at dirty talk in his life, to be honest.

"Ah, fuck," you panted, arching your back as he gave you a little more force with his thrusts. "Did you ever… did you think about this?"

"Yeah," he admitted instantly. "I mean, a few times. It's hard not to…"

"Did you hope something would happen tonight?" you pressed, voice all wavery and breathless.

At best, he had hoped the way you hope you're gonna win the lottery or that a unicorn will appear in your yard. "I didn't think about it like that," he assured, "I knew you were scared, I just—" he hissed as he struggled to focus on this conversation with everything he was feeling— "wanted to protect you."

Then the thought hit him, and he had to ask.

"Did you know something would happen tonight?" he returned.

"I told myself I wouldn't," you breathed, "but you… smell really nice."

Holy shit, I owe Wayne my life for getting me this cologne for my birthday last year.

"And you're so sweet," you added with a pant, "and honestly I've wanted you since—"

"Don't tell me," he interrupted, "I don't wanna know— unless you're about to say since you walked in the door, I'll drive myself crazy knowing I could've had you sooner, that we could've been doing this for months."

You sighed in agreement; it seemed like you were getting even wetter the longer he went on, and he groaned as he heard the beautifully filthy noise of his cock churning inside your walls— and it felt even better than it sounded.

"Feels so good," he blurted out, resting his forehead on the pillow just beside yours.

"You too," you sighed. "S'big, Eddie, and without anything I can feel how warm you are…"

"Warm, me?" he laughed thinly. "Shit, you feel so hot inside I figured I felt like a popsicle to you."

You giggled, and god, what a beautiful sound. Making you laugh was an honor enough— if he could make you come, too, he'd be king of the world.

In the spirit of that goal, he started fucking you a little faster, pressing in all the way with every thrust.

"Oh god, Eddie, so deep, you're so deep," you groaned. "Fuck!”

He grinned proudly, reaching under you to move your hips— he lifted them just how he wanted them, forcing his cock even deeper inside you the next time he thrusted, and he got to grope your ass a bit so it was really a win-win.

He saw your eyes roll back and it just made him want to fuck you even harder.

“Tell me what you need,” he asked. “Tell me how to help you, sweets.”

“I— I just need you to touch me,” you returned, your voice sounding a little hoarse.

“Where?”

“Anywhere,” you choked, “everywhere… your hands feel good.” He groped your tits first— easy choice— and heard you mewl happily. “Fuck,” you breathed when he pinched a tender nipple, and he felt your walls bare down on him for a moment— so he did it again.

“You’re so sensitive,” he noticed proudly, beginning to drag his hand down over your abdomen as he watched the anticipation build on your face. “How about your little button, s’it sensitive too?”

“Yeah, fuck,” you encouraged, moaning and dropping your head back onto the pillow as he gently pressed his thumb to your bud. He’d barely started rubbing in circles before your moans got louder and higher-pitched; maybe it was a stupid comparison, but it reminded him of playing his beloved guitar— the other lady in his life. He wanted to play your body like his instrument, he wanted to make music even more beautiful come out of you.

So he rubbed harder, and picked up his pace again— he had to flex his gut and keep it tight to try to stave off his own orgasm, his balls were already tightening up a bit as he got closer, but he knew he could hold off as long as it was to keep you satisfied.

“So good,” you praised, “it feels— fuck, I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he cooed. “I know, you can come, sweets— I wanna feel you come around me. Just tell me what you need.”

“Jus’ don’t stop,” you begged, “don’t stop, Eddie, just like— fuck! Right there, oh my god—”

Is it just me, or is she liking this a lot more than the other girls did? Did I get awesome at sex sometime in the last few weeks?

But really, he knew it was just that it was you and him together— it felt like you were made for each other, like he fit inside you perfectly. He rubbed your clit even harder, technically disobeying your command of just like that, but it went over okay since you nearly screamed at the feeling. "Eddie, I'm coming, I'm coming!" you kept saying, voice thin and strained, tightening up around him so hard he nearly struggled to pull back so he could keep up his pace.

"That's my girl," he praised, loving the way it felt to call you that— so he kept doing it. "My girl, my girl," he chanted with each thrust into your flexing channel.

“Oh god,” you sobbed, pushing his hand away from your clit; it must have become too sensitive right after coming. Your hands reached up and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him down to lay more of his weight on you. “Eddie, I— f-fuck, it’s so—”

“Shh,” he cooed, “it’s okay— it’s not too much is it?”

“Almost,” you whimpered, “b-but I don’t want you to stop.”

He fucked you faster, feeling you quiver under and around him; he wrapped you up in his arms tightly, keeping you still so he could slam everything into you at once, letting your somehow-even-tighter-now walls massage his throbbing cock. "I-I don't know how much more of this I can take," he grunted, "you feel so—"

"I want you to come," you encouraged.

“Where?” he asked roughly, lips by your ear as he laid his head next to yours on the pillow.

You hesitated, and he could almost hear the gears in your head turning. He knew you were considering it, and it made him groan just realizing that you wanted to let him fill you.

“You want it inside, baby?” he asked in a rough whisper, and you nodded with a quiet moan.

“Yeah,” you admitted, hands holding onto him tighter until he felt your nails bite his flushed skin. “Yeah, fuck, that’s hot.”

He fucked you faster with a groan; his balls were starting to get sore from trying to hold back, but he didn’t want it to end yet— he couldn’t even be sure you would wanna do it again. He couldn’t let this moment be over so soon—

“Eddie, I’m yours, make me yours,” you pleaded. Nevermind, he could let this moment be over, because god damn hearing you talk like that didn’t leave him any other option but to come right fucking now.

"You're sure it's okay to come inside?" he breathed. "I can pull out—"

"It's more than okay," you insisted, "Eddie, I want it so bad, please—"

"Don't say please," he instructed, "I was just checking— I'm gonna give you whatever you want, okay? You want me to fill you with my come, I will. You don't have to beg me for anything, it's all yours."

"Oh," you moaned, "say that again."

"All yours, it's all yours, sweets," he promised. "Whatever you want from me. Which, right now, is all this fuckin' come in your cute little pussy, right?"

"Yes," you sighed.

"I'll give you everything," he assured as he fucked you faster. "Every drop, all this come is for you, baby."

“Oh god,” you hissed, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

“You really mine, sweets?” he whispered— you wouldn’t be able to hear him over the slamming of his hips on yours if he wasn’t speaking right by your ear.

“Yeah,” you answered breathlessly.

“Promise,” he demanded.

“Yours,” you insisted, “m’yours, Eddie, had such a big, stupid crush on you—”

“Fuck!” he spat, digging his fingers into your soft thighs as the first ropes of come sprayed from his cock; it felt so different, knowing it wasn’t just filling a latex reservoir but filling you, your perfect body, your warm pussy—

You sighed out his name one more time, tightening your arms and legs around him, keeping him close and whimpering with each soft breath; you sounded so beautiful, he almost felt guilty for dirtying you this way, but it was worth it… and you seemed to be enjoying yourself too.

He let out a long, hot breath as he stilled, feeling the last few drops of his come dribble out and into you; “Shit,” he hissed, “that— fuck.”

You laughed quietly in agreement. “Yeah.”

He started to try to pull out, but you whined and hugged him again. “Don’t go yet,” you begged.

“Okay,” he relented, relaxing on top of you. “Am I crushing you?”

“No,” you laughed, “you’re not that heavy.”

“Good,” he mumbled as he planted a quick kiss on your temple.

You moved a little bit and he hissed, having to hold you still by your hips.

“D-don’t,” he choked, “I’m still— it’s really sensitive…”

“Oh, really?” you grinned, clenching on him on purpose to make him grunt and laugh quietly.

“Fuck,” he warned, “you’re tryin’ to drive me crazy, huh?”

“A li’l bit,” you admitted mischievously.

“Can you… feel it?” he wondered. “Like, without a condom, can you feel my, uh, come?”

You considered it for a second. “Not really, m’all, like, numb right now,” you admitted with a little giggle. “But I could feel your cock, like… moving. Even when you weren’t moving. I dunno if that makes sense…”

“No, it does,” he nodded.

“What did it… feel like for you?” you asked, sounding almost nervous and shy again. How could you act shy after that?

“Uh, fuckin’ amazing,” he laughed. “You’re incredible. Did you really mean what you said? About, um… being mine?”

He felt your breath catch, and he reached up to pet your head for a second, moving some stray hair out of your face.

“Listen, it’s okay if you were just caught up in the moment,” he offered. “I understand.”

“Do you understand because you just wanna be friends after this?” you asked. “Or do you understand because you’re super sweet and don’t want me to feel pressured to sleep with you again?”

“Um… guess it’s the second one,” he decided, face getting warm. “I mean, I’m okay being friends after this. I’m extra okay being friends with benefits. But if I’m being honest, sweets, I wanna be your boyfriend.”

“Yeah?” you encouraged, the smile in your voice making his heart twist.

“Yeah,” he answered.

You held his face and kissed him— soft, gentle, sweet just like you. He kissed you back, lifting his head and deepening it as much as he could get away with; you moaned against his lips, and it was so sexy he almost wondered if he could give you another load inside without even having to pull out—

But you broke away and looked up at him with heavy eyes, and he realized how tired you really were. “We can talk in the morning,” he decided, “you just need to get some rest, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed. He carefully pulled out, trying not to overstimulate his softened cock, and laid behind you to be your big spoon again. “This feels nice,” you hummed. “I mean, m’kinda sticky and gross and all, but I feel safe.”

“Mm,” he agreed, fluttering his eyes shut— he was more tired than he realized, and the dark was already pulling him deeper as he held you. “Me too, actually.”

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