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xmunsonlovex · 9 days ago

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after skinny dipping at a lover’s lake alone, eddie is shocked to see someone else was there all along (reader) 🫶🏻

thank u for requesting anon! this prompt literally drove me insane! (in a good way)! — eddie falls in love with the weirdest stranger he's ever met in his life (wednesdayaddams!reader-esque, mentions of being naked, 18+ | 1.2k)

The edge of Lover’s Lake sits right outside Eddie’s trailer, partially visible through a thin treeline of bright orange oaks. He stumbles through it on graceless, lanky legs — high out of his mind, which is filled now with racing thoughts of boyish rage.

He’s failing English (again), for one. For another, Corroded Coffin’s been bumped to Tuesday night shows instead of Friday nights (a death sentence if he ever saw one). And ever since then, Wayne’s been on his ass about working with him at the car shop (‘cause moonlight as a rockstar isn’t a real job, apparently.)

Eddie gets angrier the more he thinks about it — which is perpetually and without mercy. It makes his pale skin feel red hot, boiling to the touch, practically repelling every wisp of autumn breeze that threatens to cool him down. He wonders, briefly, if it could be the weed fucking with him. ‘Cause everything else has been today.

He stands on the grassy bank of the moonlit lake and strips off his clothes to find out. He stumbles trying to get his pants off, right after his chin gets stuck in the neck of his t-shirt. He doesn’t think to check if anyone’s around until he’s left only in his thin, navy plaid boxers.

“Free show?” a feminine, unfamiliar voice calls from the center of the pitch-black lake.

Eddie practically jumps out of his buzzing skin. His heart lurches into his throat as his palms hurry to cover his still-clothed crotch. “Shit!” he shouts, voice echoing over the empty clearing.

You don’t flinch at the volume of the voice. He can’t even tell if you’re blinking from here. You just remain in the middle of the rippling, silver water, only visible from the tops of your bare collarbones.

Eddie swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing, and tries to catch his breath. “Sorry. I— I didn’t know anyone else was out here…”

“Don’t stop on my account,” you tell him, flirtatious words that sound strangely deadpan falling from your lips. “Lover’s Lake is big enough for the both of us.”

Eddie squints into the darkness, dark eyes flitting across the water. “You’re alone?” he concludes after a few moments.

“Usually…” you hum, lifting a naked shoulder in a lazy shrug. “…Are you?”

“Usually.”

“Want some company?” you offer, still strikingly monotoned. The strange boy with the wild hair and pale legs stammers for a response. You tilt your chin to your chest and look cautiously at him through your lashes. “…Or should I go?”

“No!” Eddie blurts, then clears his throat with a red face. Quieter, he adds, “No, it’s not that. You don’t have to go.”

A smile quirks at the edges of your lips. So faint Eddie can hardly tell it’s there. But still, it sparkles in your eyes like the moonlight does. “Just act like I’m not here,” you lilt, disappearing back into the water before Eddie can blink.

He’s not so sure how possible that is, but he gets into the water with you, anyway.

The fall season has turned the lake into silk. It’s cool and soft against his burning skin as he slowly submerges himself within its void. Eddie’s wide, attentive eyes never leave the water as he searches for your body beneath it. He follows the faint, silver ripples until they disappear completely — until he starts to worry if you’ll ever come back up again — until he starts to convince himself you were never there at all.

There’s a loud and sudden splash before him. He blinks, and your face is inches away from his own. An almost uncomfortable proximity between two strangers. “Jesus!” Eddie blurts, flailing awkwardly in fear.

“Did I scare you?” you squint, like it wasn’t totally obvious.

The boy exhales a wavering breath. “Yeah… Yeah, a little bit.”

“Sorry. Won’t happen again,” you promise with a faint smirk that tells him otherwise, as you swim slightly back from the boy ahead of you. The dark waves rise and valley at your bare chest. Eddie’s boyish mind immediately wonders exactly how bare you are underneath them.

“Actually, it might,” you continue. “But it’ll be an accident… Probably.”

Eddie struggles to tell if you’re joking or not — if you’re playing games with him, or if you’re just too aloof to know what you’re doing to him.

“You’re a strange… strange person,” he tells you, a half-compliment and a half-something-else, as the words tumble from his lips before he can think about them. His chocolate eyes narrow into thin slits at you. “Did you know that?”

The question’s mostly rhetorical, but you nod rapidly in response anyway.

“It’s ‘cause I’m not a person,” you confess, eyes wide and glittering with sincerity. “I’m a mermaid trapped in human form.”

“Aren’t mermaids already half-human?”

A contented noise sounds in your throat.

“Hm… Guess I’m already halfway there, then.”

Eddie forgets to respond, and the conversation lulls. It makes the rest of the world seem terribly loud. Wind whistles through trees. Frogs croak in the tall grass. Water sloshes softly around your bodies. He gets lost in the serenity surrounding him and drowns in the chaos in your eyes.

“You have a staring problem,” you blurt. “Did you know that?”

The boy blinks rapidly to clear the haze from his glazed-over eyes. “Sorry. Sorry, I’m just—” Eddie clears his throat and shakes his head, hair damp at the edges and sticking to his freckled shoulders. “I’m just trying to figure out if you’re real, or if I just… made you up in my head or something?”

Something about that seems to please you.

A mischievous smirk pulls slowly at the edges of your mouth — into a smile brighter than Eddie thought you were capable of. You float towards him with little effort, like two distant planets now threatening to collide. He doesn’t realize how close you are until your breath fans warm across his jaw.

“How’s this for real?” you hum quietly, leaning in like you plan to kiss him.

Eddie’s stunned still. He forgets how to breathe as his heavy eyes fall to your lips. He moves closer to you on instinct, mouth gravitating to yours despite himself — like you’re some kinda siren controlling his mind with a song he’s too far gone to hear.

Through the mist in his vision, he watches your mouth curl into a cheeky half-smirk. You look on at him, at this puddle of a boy, like you’ve got him in the palm of your hand.

“You are a strange… strange boy, Eddie Munson,” you hum quietly.

Eddie shakes his head as he descends (face-plants, more like) back into reality. The water ripples faintly around you as you swim away from him. He stammers for words while you head back towards the bank. “Wait— How— How do you know my name?” the boy gapes.

Your body ascends from the silver lake, naked as the day you were born, and shining beneath the full moon.

Water drips from your skin like diamonds as you crouch to grab your clothes, lying in a discarded pile beside the dock. The sight of your bare ass would make Eddie implode if he wasn’t already reeling.

“Sorry!” you call to him over your shoulder, with your all-black clothes balled at your chest. “Can’t hear you all the way over there!”

You never cease your stride back towards the pitch-black treeline. Eddie shouts at the back of you anyway, “How do you know my name?!”

He never gets an answer.

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xmunsonlovex · 24 days ago

Text

pretty white jaws

onerandomperson asked: You know what I'm here for 🥰 Of course, I know it's Corroded Coffin Fest so if you do end up doing this ask, do it whenever you have time! I don't mind waiting. <3 So basically I'm really asking for either Gareth or Eddie. Perhaps the reader has been going through a really tough time with self love, and then (G/E) shows the reader just how much they think she's pretty and love the way she looks. Fluff with Smut obv. 😊

CW: Body dysmorphia, negative self-talk, insecurity regarding physical characteristics - especially reader's weight (though no specific body shape or weight is mentioned), angst with a (very) happy ending, oral (f receiving), face sitting, unprotected p in v sex, mentions of children (2, to be exact), pet names and good communication (eventually 🤭), not heavily proofread so just ignore mistakes cause I'm too tired to fix 'em

Pairings: older!eddie munson x older!fem!reader, husband!eddie x wife!reader, dad!eddie x mom!reader, eddie x insecure!fem!reader

WC: 5.8K

Summary: Your 20th high school reunion invitation goes ignored, until it doesn't - and your rockstar husband doesn't understand why... and then when he does? He's there to pick up the pieces.

A/N: basically listened to sleep token's jaws the entire time i wrote this. this one's a little raw and angsty, but i set out to make it relatable, no matter who you are and where you are in life. granted, this particular x reader is married with kids, but the intent is to be able to see her in all of us... and to have eddie's message resonate. i love you. you're so, so beautiful, just as you are.

“Holy fucking shit.”

The porch swing wobbles out of rhythm, its gentle back and forth sway interrupted by how you bolt upright, gaping at the familiar white and blue banner on your phone. A notification for an app you forgot that you even had bears the name you haven’t thought of in years, one that sponsors a trickle of dread to drip in frigid drops down your spine.

Just like she used to, twenty years ago.

Against your better judgment, you swipe across the screen, and you can’t help the massive eyeroll that accompanies the groan as you read.

Hey chick!Oh my gosh, how are you? It’s been so long, I haven't heard much from you! So, as you know, it’s our 20th high school reunion this year (I mean, how are we that old?!), and a bunch of us were talking over girl’s night the other night. We think it would be really amazing if Corroded Coffin would come play for our afterparty following the football game! Wouldn’t that be great?? I know their music isn’t everyone’s favorite, so if you could have him tone down the screaming parts or even play some covers of some of the more popular songs we listened to in high school, that would probably work better with our vibe. Reunion is in October, more info to come.

We’d love to see that rockstar hubby of yours! ;) Just let me know the deets, k?

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you mutter, swiping a hand down your face like it’ll wipe the scowl that settled there.

You knew this was coming. You’ve been busy, sure – between work and kids and touring and fuck, just life in general – but not nearly busy enough to make you forget what loomed on the horizon this year.

Your 20th high school reunion.

Somehow, you were able to sneak under the radar with the first one at five years. Or was it ten? Doesn’t matter – you didn’t go, and quite frankly, you wouldn’t be caught dead in the company of those stuck-up assholes ever again if you could help it. Those four years were tortuous enough, did enough damage to your self-worth and self-confidence that it took years to overcome. No need to ever revisit the people who made it that way, and so you were more than content to skip this one, too.

Until they had to go and bring Eddie into it.

Maybe it’s wrong, but you swipe left and delete the message. You’re not going, so there’s no reason to even bring this up to him. He’d support you, anyway – if you didn’t wanna go, you wouldn’t go. Simple as that.

A small smile plays on your lips as you tuck your phone back in your Corroded Coffin sweatshirt. Leave that bitch on read, just as she deserves.

Two months later

“You’ll never guess who I talked to today.”

You feign contemplation at the counter, pausing your chopping of a bright summer squash fresh picked from your garden. “Hmm. Dave Mustane?”

Eddie’s shoulders pitch forward as he snorts, muttering a vehement shit as more paprika than intended covers the chicken thighs. “No,” he muses as he attempts to remove the excess with his hands, “not Dave. He’s still pissed that I wore the Ask Me About My Boyfriend" shirt in Atlanta two years ago.”

That has you barking a laugh. “The one with James Hetfield’s face on it?”

Eddie grins. “That’s the one.”

“Well, I for one am not pissed about that,” you jest with a playful elbow to his side. “Who’d you talk to?”

“That chick – uhh, I think she was the president from your high school class. She messaged the band’s page on Instagram.”

The knife slips, nearly slicing a gash in your middle finger. “What?”

“Yeah,” Eddie confirms with all the nonchalance in the world. He maneuvers behind you, purposefully grazing your backside with his front as he ambles to the sink. “She wants the band to play at your reunion this year. I feel bad, Sweetheart. I forgot all about it.”

Heart thudding in your ears, you fight to keep your voice even… though you’re sure you know what he’s going to say before you’ve even asked it. “What did you tell her?”

Switching the water off with the back of his hand, he snatches the towel from your shoulder and wrings it through his fingers. “Told her yes.” Eddie must register the way your eyes bug out of your head, and he’s quick to assure you, “but we’re only gonna play for like, an hour tops, I swear. I wanna be mingling with you, anyway.”

“You said yes?”

There’s an edge to your tone that makes your husband freeze. “I did,” he answers warily. “Did you not want me to?”

A curious blend of shame and ire lick like flames at your skin, heating it from the inside out. A million and one thoughts race through your mind, none of which you can grab onto long enough to form a coherent thought. Turning away, all you can muster is a shrug.

Not the best way to deal with the situation, but confrontation tends to steal the words right from your mouth. The harder you try to eloquently convey your point, the more jumbled you actually become.

Sometimes, it’s easier to just stay silent.

Whiskey-brown doe eyes widen, really playing up that deer-in-the-headlights look he’s got plastered to his handsome face. “Wh - wait – baby, I figured we were going.” He guides your shoulders back to face him just as tears well up along your lashline. Eddie loses his breath. “Shit, baby – what’s wrong?”

Blinking rapidly, you clear your throat and try to articulate something. Anything that would have him understand the turmoil that rages in your belly at the mere thought of being in the same vicinity as your former classmates.

It doesn’t come, and so you turn away, chopping at the squash with a little more gusto. “Nothing. It’s fine.” You huff a sigh that does nothing to clear the tacky grime of dread that cakes to your ribs. You jerk your head over your shoulder. “Just get those on the grill – kids’ll be home soon and I’m sure they’ll be hungry.”

After thirteen years of marriage – Eddie knows when he’s being dismissed. “Okay… we’ll talk about this later?”

Another half-hearted shrug is all he gets, and he slips out the kitchen door, wisely leaving it alone.

Tiny rivulets run wild from the tips of your hair, winding down, down, down your naked body. Blazing a trail over new curves and dimples, over different bumps and scars. All earned. You watch them cascade over your skin with a frown, eyeing those imperfections with disdain.

With shame.

With embarrassment… for even feeling this way at all.

Reasoning with yourself is futile, not when your mind is so far lost in the depths of self-deprecating despair. You should know that it’s okay that bodies change – that life happens in between graduating high school and stupid class reunions, but it’s not. You don’t. There’s no acceptance for the way you’ve filled out over the years, though that sweet little voice in the back of your head reminds you that you’ve had children – two of them, in fact. You have a full-time job. You co-run a heavy metal band with Gareth’s wife and contrary to what you initially thought, it’s a hell of a lot more time consuming than expected.

And you’re pretty sure she picks up most of your slack.

That kindness wraps you in her arms, tells you it’s okay that you don’t make time for the gym, that you don’t eat as well as you used to, that you can’t zip up last summer’s shorts. It’s meant to be a comfort, but all you feel is the weight of that embrace, heavy with guilt and disappointment.

How could you let yourself go like this?

More importantly, how in the fuck would you be able to face all of those people?

Christ. You thought they made your life miserable then, it would be nothing compared to the judgment you’d get if you showed up on Eddie’s arm.

Too fat.

Too ugly.

Too pathetic.

How in the hell he is married to her?

Wrapping the towel over your torso, you tear your scrutinizing stare away from saggy skin and square your shoulders, preparing yourself for the fifth-degree from your husband. He watched you all night, you felt the sharpness from those chocolate depths pierce the mask of indifference at dinner. He saw through every fake smile, every overenthusiastic question directed at your kids. You know he’s going to be all over this, trying to get to the bottom of your sudden sullen change in demeanor.

More than likely, he thinks you’re mad because he didn’t discuss the decision with you – and in a way, you are.

But it’s more than that.

He knows you hated high school, or at least, he should. You told him so dozens of times. It’s what helped bond you initially, his incorrect assumption that you were the prettiest, most popular lady of the realm not only made you cackle, but it offered a surprising connection with the gorgeous metalhead you met through mutual friends.

But that was then.

And now, he proves you right. He’s waiting for you at the edge of the bed, body angled toward the ensuite bathroom like he was waiting for the exact moment you decided to emerge.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you,” he starts, his dark-honey timbre warm with sincerity. He chuffs a flat half-laugh. “Really thought we talked about it. Like we were gonna go. I didn’t think anything of that girl’s offer and I just said yes without running it by you.”

Your brows furrow as you rummage through your underwear drawer. “We never talked about going, Ed.”

“No, I know.” He rubs a hand over his stubble. “Do you wanna talk about it now?”

You grit your teeth against the frustration racing through your veins. “You’re not really giving me much of a choice.”

He recoils at your vitriol. “Uh, yes I am. I’m asking you if you wanna talk about why you didn’t say a word about how your reunion committee reached out to you months ago about us playing. She said her message went unanswered, actually, and –”

“Oh,” you whip around, plain cotton panties fisted in your hand, “so it’s my fault that I’m mad you accepted an invitation for my class reunion?”

If what you just said was a little too harsh, Eddie barrels on as if it wasn’t. “No! I just want you to know where I’m coming from!”

“Well, how about I tell you where I’m coming from,” you seethe, surprised and a little shocked your words are flowing effortlessly. “High school was hell. I was bullied relentlessly for reasons I have yet to understand. I wasn’t mean to anyone. I was kind and caring and sweet and involved in like, everything. Like I thought you were supposed to be.”

Eddie’s gaze doesn’t falter as you barrel on. “I was no one’s best friend, no one’s first phone call, no one’s person. In fact, I never got the calls, never was included. And when I tried harder? Figured it was my fault that I was being left out and took it upon myself to make more of an effort?” A harsh sneer curls your upper lip. “I ended up making it worse.

“So, forgive me, dear husband, for not wanting to give them more ammunition because I know as soon as we walk in there together, the whispering will start. They’ll all look at you – this tall, dark-eyed, sex-on-a-stick rockstar with his frumpy, fat-ass wife and they’ll wonder what in the fuck you’re still doing with me.”

Eddie’s jaw swings open, and it isn’t until you’ve taken a breath that you’ve realized what you’ve just said. Mortification sears through your veins, accelerating your heart to thud a regretful rhythm in your chest.

“Baby…”

For once, you’ve rendered him speechless. He stares at you slack-jawed while you brush away the tears that slip down your cheeks.

“I don’t want them to judge me,” your honesty tumbles over your trembling lips. “And I know they would. And maybe they should.” You heave a self-deprecating sigh. “I’m a fucking mess compared to what I was then. I’ve changed so much, gained so much weight it’s disgusting –”

“Stop.”

The force behind how he says that one singular word steals the rest of yours straight off your tongue. Your husband stands, rounding your king size bed to crowd into your space. The height difference feels vast with how his espresso depths glower with a sultry blend of ire and hunger.

You squeak as your backside hits your dresser, and Eddie takes this opportunity to press you firmly against the antique wood. “My wife,” he says lowly, “is not disgus –” he shakes his head, eyes pinched tight like it pains him to even say the word. “Christ, you are not disgusting. Do you hear me?”

Oh, how you want to. That sandpaper rasp in his tone is convincing, but not enough to undo years of truly believing the opposite. In lieu of an answer, you worry your lower lip between your teeth, and Eddie’s features soften.

“Sweetheart, I –” he runs his hands over your bare shoulders, the warmth in his palms send goosebumps over your flesh. “You are so hard on yourself and it breaks my fucking heart.” Another wave of fresh tears spill over your lids, and he’s quick to lean down to kiss them away. His tone oozes with sincerity. “You’re not frumpy, or fat, or anything else that might be rattling around in your brain right now.” Your gaze drifts to the floor and he’s quick to tilt your chin up, back to his face. “You’re my wife, you’re breathtaking and beautiful and I love you, baby. I love you.”

You huff a watery laugh. “You’re supposed to love me, though. You’re my husband.”

The muscles in his jaw work as he heaves a heavy sigh. “All right,” he barks, winding those lithe arms made strong by years of lugging equipment around your body to haul you onto the bed, “get up here.”

A grunt of protest tumbles out of your mouth, pitching higher as you lose your grip on your towel. “Eddie –”

“Nah, don’t you Eddie me,” he jests in faux condescension, dark honey eyes roving over your naked frame. He shoves himself against your plethora of pillows at the head of the bed. “I’m gonna need you to come up here and sit.”

You’ll admit, the way he commands you to straddle his hips is nearly enough to ignite that pilot light of desire into a true flame. It’ll be a tough go, stoking that baby ember into a rip-roaring fire – you aren’t as young as you once were and you can’t just flip a switch and go from sullen to sopping we –

“Not there.” The way Eddie practically growls your name snaps you out of your spiral. “I want you to sit on my face.”

Well, now the flame’s in danger of being completely snuffed out. “Babe,” your shoulders slump in defeat, “I can’t. We – we haven’t done that since before the kids, and –”

“All the more reason for us to do it now,” he argues smoothly.

Is he trying to rub salt in the wound? “I – no, I can’t.”

Digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs, he tries to tug your body north. “Oh, you most certainly can.”

“No,” you plant your ass firmly on a very surprisingly mature erection, lids flaring in alarm as you feel it nestle between your cheeks, “I’m too heavy now, Ed. I’m not gonna suffocate my husband before he has a chance to woo all those bitches from my class.”

He narrows his eyes. “How about I decide what I can and can’t handle? Because you and this fucking beautiful body? Oh, I can handle her.” Eddie leans up on his elbows, bringing his face inches from yours. “What I can’t handle is all this shit-talkin’ you’re spouting about my wife. Baby, listen to me.”

Ever so gently, Eddie circles his arms around your torso and guides your frame to mold into his. Shivering as wandering hands roam, he ensures he has your attention while his palms map every inch of your exposed skin.

“You are too hard on yourself. None of what you’re saying is true. You are seeing things about yourself that flat-out just don’t exist.” You open your mouth to protest when he presses a finger over your lips. “Ah, ah – I’m not done. I know you feel as if your body’s changed, and I can agree with you there, it has. It changed in the most beautiful way because honey, you gave me our kids.” His tone drops to a roughened husk, thick with emotion. “Your body now is more beautiful and powerful to me than it ever was. Every time I look at you I’m reminded what a fucking miracle you are, carrying and delivering those two babies safe and sound. And to top it off? You’re a phenomenal mother, you’re an amazing asset to your office, you’re an unbelievably kind and supportive friend. Plus, you keep me and the guys in line and that definitely counts for something.”

A tearstained laugh bursts right out of your chest. “I guess it does.”

“Sweetheart, you do all of that in this body.” He grips the ample flesh at your hips to drive home his point. “Be kind to her, please. She does so fucking much and Christ, I wouldn’t change a thing about you. Not one fucking thing.”

Your chin drops to your chest to hide the grateful sob that wracks your shoulders. “I know you’re right. I do. It’s just hard.”

Eddie chuckles, a devilish vibration that’s all too familiar. “Damn right, it’s hard. I don’t think you realize how much I love how you look. Fuck,” his hands being their journey again, tracing every curve and dimple and roll they can reach, “the way you can fill out a pair of jeans, especially when you tuck those t–shirts in? How your clothes hugs your waist and your thighs and your belly –”

You snort in surprise, not daring to believe him. “My belly?”

Eddie groans, lifting his hips off the mattress to rut along the swell of your behind. “Fuck yes, your belly. I love that lower part that I know you think shouldn’t be there, but when you wear things that don’t hide it…” He can’t help himself; strong hands push you to sit upright so he can drag his fingers along that softness around your middle, “I just – god, woman… you have the sexiest fuckin’ curves…”

You hear every bit of the genuine adoration and the wanton lust practically drips from his tongue, and suddenly, you’re not so against maneuvering where he wants you. Especially when your brain aggressively reminds you what that tongue is capable of doing.

“You really want to?” you whisper softly, still fighting the heavy uncertainty fluttering in your chest. “You want me – uh, up here?”

Your husband grins so wide it pops the dimples in his cheeks. “Do I want you to sit on my face and devour that pretty pussy?” He wiggles his eyebrows and you can’t help but giggle. “Hell yes I do. C’mon, wife,” he guides your knees to either side of his head, “lemme worship this body.”

Despite all his assurances, nerves still thrum like a livewire under your skin, especially as he guides your core over his mouth. Slowly and oh so carefully, you let him guide you down, your head dropping back against your shoulders as his mouth makes contact with your folds. A gasp is wrenched from your throat as Eddie licks a wide stripe from entrance to clit, swirling once before giving your waist a forceful jerk.

“‘S okay, sweetheart. Sit down and get comfortable.”

“Okay,” you breathe, screwing your eyes shut and lowering yourself the rest of the way.

You’re immediately treated to a wanton rumble of pleasure drawn from the deepest parts of your husband. His sounds are muffled, lost into the most intimate parts of you.

He wastes no time before he’s thrusting his tongue through your heat, licking and sucking with the lewdest of smacking sounds, making good on his promise to devour you whole.

“Oh, shit,” you cry out, slapping one hand against the headboard and the other over your mouth to silence the whine sponsored by a very deft flick of Eddie’s tongue. “Oh fuck yeah, Ed, that’s… that’s so good…”

An appreciative grunt is all you get before he turns up the intensity, alternating from languid strokes that breach your entrance and subtle flicks and gentle sucks of pursed lips at your clit. The sensations are dizzying, gripping and clawing at your insides as your muscles wind tighter in preparation for your release. You’re lost to it, every sinful swipe and nip and suckle sponsors the way your hips start moving of their own accord, back and forth over his mouth that expertly works you over as only one who’s known you for over a decade and a half can.

One well-placed thrust of his tongue into your cunt has you gasping his name. “God yeah –”

He does it again, tilting his chin as much as he can to delve deeper inside you, twisting and dragging the thick muscle against your walls with enviable dexterity. Your hand winds through his curls, aiding the undulation of your hips over his face. A gentle drag of your pussy over his mouth, and then a little more finally gets you that friction you crave against your clit. The bulb of Eddie’s nose bumps that sensitive nub once, twice before you’re being guided by his hands to properly rock on his face.

His steady palms keep you anchored, guiding you back into place when your thighs clench and threaten to lift you from your seated position. Defying all logic, your man wiggles a hand beneath your core, and the delicious intrusion of his longest finger replaces his tongue just as he sneaks north to seal his lips around your clit.

The duality of sensations has you seeing stars. “Ahh, ahh – Ed, ohmygod, p-please, yes – yes –”

You think you feel him smile against your skin, twisting his finger deep in your pussy to stimulate that spot only he can reach. Your back arches, and he knows he’s got you as soon as his tongue flutters on the underside of your clit.

The pressure builds rapidly, stuttering your hips to a halt as your core winds tight. Higher and higher you climb, practically sobbing as he keeps up his expert ministrations. A crook of his finger here, the repetitive flick of his tongue there, and as soon as he hollows his cheeks and sucks, you skyrocket near completion.

“Ed, ba-baby, yes, just like that, just – yes, yes!”

Your knuckles turn white as you grip the headboard, thighs clenching as your orgasm wrings the muscles low in your belly tight before abruptly releasing its hold. You come with a shout of his name, writhing through the waves of pleasure that slam again and again through your low belly. Eddie doesn’t let up, not for a second, plunging that finger deep in your cunt as it pulses and clenches around him like a lifeline. The heat from your climax never recedes, not when Eddie’s still got such a tight seal on your clit, and before you can suck in a breath and tell him to stop, he winds you up again, the sheer force of the promise of another orgasm steals the air from your lungs.

All you can do is hold on tight – your white-knuckling a beautiful contrast to your hunter green headboard and his midnight curls. Eddie gives his head a filthy shake, maximizing the suction against your clit to your breaking point. The coil winds swiftly, detonating as soon as your husband hums out an elongated groan. The vibrations shove you over the edge with a bawling cry of his name. It occurs to you that you should be quieter, but all control has been lost.

Eddie pops off your overstimulated bundle of nerves, his mouth replaces his finger as he laps up your release that leaks from your pussy in a slow, pulsing gush. You’re a panting mess, fingers still entwined in his strands as he savors every last drop.

“Fuck,” you wheeze, lifting yourself from your husband’s face. “Oh, my god.”

Eddie peels his eyelids open, the black of his pupils completely engulfing the brown of his irises. “Yeah? That good?”

You collapse in a heap on top of him, clinging to his shoulders like you might wobble right off the bed. “I haven’t come like that in a long time.”

Eddie snickers. “I know. Two in a row.” His tone drops to a suggestive rasp. “We used to do that all the time, remember?”

Like you could forget. Summoning the strength, you slam your mouth against his, pushing your tongue past his lips to savor your combined flavors on his tongue. He rolls you onto your back, careful not to break the kiss as he works himself out of his sweats.

“Y’got one more in you, pretty girl?” he asks, lips and chin still smeared with your arousal. You nod furiously as he lines his tip with your center that still weeps for more. “Fuck,” he groans, “y’so wet, baby.”

“Uh yeah,” you muse suggestively, pressing a trail of heady kisses along the column of his throat, “your fault, really.”

He smothers a whine behind lips pressed tight. “Normally I wouldn’t complain, but shit, y’feel so good.” Eddie pitches his hips forward with otherworldly control, sheathing the full length of his cock agonizingly slow until he’s seated fully inside. You both lose your breath at the feeling – the satisfying stretch around his girth and your sultry heat that envelops his cock. “Probably won’t last long.”

Your legs clamp over his slender waist, pinning his body against yours. “I don’t care, it’s okay,” you soothe, meeting his first thrust with a gentle press of your pelvis, “just want you to move baby, please.”

Eddie wraps his arms around your body, cinching you so tightly together it’s impossible to know where one of you ends and the other begins. You move with him in perfect sync this way, his breathy groans and your hitching sighs the only soundtrack to your passionate lovemaking. At the apex of every thrust, he rolls his hips and grinds over your pubic bone, coaxing your clit out of oversensitivity and into the realm of pleasure. Eddie captures your lips, swallowing every moan and whimper, melding your lips together as he keeps his languid pace steady.

A slow burn. A careful coiling of sensations, deep and heated and patient. Then there’s a moment amongst those peppered throughout where Eddie’s lips release, nose bumping against yours as he holds your stare, and you see it.

Every last ounce of his love.

It’s so intense you almost look away, you almost can’t handle the raw emotion that emanates from those endless brown eyes.

But you don’t.

You let yourself fall, drowning in adoration freely given by your husband, and all at once, you’re thrust to the precipice of your release. Eddie recognizes it, switching from the sweet pull and drag of his cock through your core to more shallow, forceful thrusts – the ones that drive his thick cockhead against that sweet spot situated along your front wall. It’s the recipe for your unraveling, and he knows it well – the final push to completion comes immediately after his hand snakes between your sweaty bodies, gently circling his thumb over the hood of your clit.

Your jaw drops in ecstasy, your orgasm rushing up to overwhelm your senses. It’s different, originating from a place deep and low in your pelvis, a gentle but steep crescendo that culminates with rhythmic spasms of your cunt around his cock.

Eddie holds off the instinct as long as he can, and when he’s sure he’s milked every ounce of pleasure out of you, he drives his cock back into your heat, hard and fast thrusts that has him reaching to the deepest parts of you.

He comes with your name on his lips, shuddering through his climax while your arms keep him close. Basking in the afterglow, he smothers you in kisses before breaking the spell.

“I didn’t know you in high school,” he pants, lips searing the slope of your neck as he presses kiss after kiss over your dewy skin. “But the woman I met back when? Sweetheart, that’s still you.”

Your stomach swoops, and the tears come unbidden. “No it’s not,” you argue thickly. “I’m not the same person.” Refusing to pick at an old wound, you open a new one. “I’m not nearly as diligent as I was, making sure I was eating right and working out and just fucking –” your breath hitches as it tangles on a sob, “– taking care of myself. I’ve let that all go. I’m tired and stressed and unmotivated and I’ve changed.” You hiccup an inhale as you bare your soul. “Sometimes I don’t even recognize the person in the mirror anymore.”

A mess of curls lifts from where he’s buried in your neck, face crumpling at your admission. “Sweet girl, is that really what you think?”

The tremble in your chin is too much to answer; all you can muster is a dip of your chin.

“Okay,” he nods more to himself than to you, “okay. If you want to work out? That’s fine. That’s great, actually. I know you love it and,” a corner of his mouth ticks up in a grin, “I know it helps with stress, especially with work.”

You match his grin with a demure one of your own. “It does.”

“But I don’t want you to do it to lose weight, okay? I don’t. Work out because it makes you happy. If it makes you feel well.” He whips off the shirt he’s still wearing, bunching the fabric with one hand between his shoulder blades to drag it over his head. Rising to his knees, the shift regrettably has him slipping out of you, making you whine at the loss. Eddie grapples at the soft slope of skin that now adorns his lower belly, a miniscule fullness that wasn’t there two years ago. “I could use it too, honestly. We could eat better with you, baby. We know our kids need to eat better than chicken nuggets and mac and cheese every goddamn night.”

You’re outright grinning, now. “I can’t argue with that.”

“I eat like shit while I’m on the road, and I don’t lug around equipment as much as I used to, because we have all those roadies to do it for us. I feel bad sometimes about having this extra pooch here, too.”

Your brow tents in bewilderment above your nose, your gaze searching for this nonexistent fullness he speaks of. “What? What are you talking about?”

“This,” he answers, squeezing his low belly and wiggling the subtle pudge that’s only there if he practically folds himself in half.

It almost makes you want to roll your eyes. “Eddie, there’s nothing there.” He cocks a dubious brow, and this time, you do treat him to an eyeroll. “It’s hardly noticeable. You still look exactly the same.”

“I disagree. I’m a little softer, a little fuller than I used to be.”

You squirm beneath him, eager to have him close. You miss his warmth. “Are you, though?”

The thought of it is ridiculous – this man hasn’t changed a bit in the fifteen years you’ve spent together.

Has he?

“Of course I am.” Eddie takes your hand to run along the alleged swell of skin, and you rake your nails through the thick thatch of hair beneath his navel. “Right here. There’s a little more of me to love, right here.” He drops his tone as he whispers in your ear. “My pant size has changed too, you know.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I didn’t notice,” your admission is powder soft. “Seriously, I didn’t. I mean – so what if you went up a pant size? You’re fine as hell, Eds. It’s kinda unfair how gracefully you’re aging.”

And leaving me to wither in the dust, an unkind voice from the recesses of your mind reminds you.

That voice, it seems, will always be there in some way, a brand on your brain. But tonight, it’s a little easier to tame, to shove it down, to ignore it and focus on what you have right in front of you.

And so you do. “If anything, it makes me love you more, this part of you. I didn’t notice, didn’t give it a second thought because…” a small smile plays on your lips, “I’m the one who gets to see you. And touch you.” Your hands rake over his chest, eliciting an approving rumble from the back of Eddie’s throat. Your lids slip to half mast as you feel his cock fill out against your thigh. “And kiss you.” Wrapping your hands behind his neck, you guide him back to lie flush with your body, humming contentedly when he presses his lips to yours. “I’m the one that gets to grow old with you.”

Eddie sighs, like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He rises on his forearm, hovering a fractional distance as a grin stretches his lips wide, as if you’ve unlocked the very secret he keeps held close to his heart.

“Then you know exactly what I mean.”

Your breath catches. “Oh.”

And suddenly, you do know, better than you ever have before. It has your heart skittering an erratic rhythm, pulsing love and desire for this heaven-sent man through your veins. Running your tongue along your lower lip, you allow yourself this tiny concession with an even tinier nod of your head.

Eddie’s features darken, his smile turns wicked when his impressive length hardens once again. Two thick, dark eyebrows rise in subtle query, relaxing as your permission comes with how coyly your teeth sink into your bottom lip. He paws at your leg, hiking your knee near your chest to slide home in one swift stroke.

“Ohh,” you gasp, barely given a moment to adjust before his hips set a deliciously brutal pace.

“Damn right, oh.” His tone rolls hot with love-drenched lust, elevated by the sole fact that you’re his devastatingly beautiful wife. His to have and to hold and remind you how much he loves you – and loves to fuck you silly into your mattress, again and again.

And he wouldn’t change a thing.

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