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saiidahyunie · 5 months

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standing next to you

hirai momo x bodyguard!reader

synopsis: out of all the pairs of hands and eyes that momo had on her, it was yours that she wanted. better hope that you don’t get fired from your assignment after this.

wc: 5.2k

warnings: smut!!!!, cursing, mentions of bruises, violence, bondage, bottom momo, top reader, reader has tattoos ; i think that's it loll

prequel of "don't go insane" (read this first tho ofc)

⋆｡ ˚༘ ♫: standing next to you by jk

a/n: the things that i would do if i was stuck locked in a room with momo....

—

there are three rules that a bodyguard must follow:

rule #1. never let her out of your sight

rule #2. never stray far from her

rule #3. never fall in love with her.

but you broke rule #3, and with good reason; how could you not fall in love?

especially if the person you were assigned to was hirai momo.

—

your agency had a reputation for being the best in the business when it came to protecting well known individuals for numerous occasions.

the event for today was supposed to be a complete cake walk with momo, who was a dancer, rapper, model, social media influencer, and cultural icon that has gained a massive following in the past three years. this led to her getting multiple collaborations from high-profile brands that bumped up their business stock by 300% if her picture was in the store, on the billboard, or wherever there was a place for people to take notice.

so what exactly went wrong?

your boss and momo’s manager arranged for her to make an appearance at a pop up event for the clothing brand chrome hearts in new york city, followed by free time since it was her day off on her solo tour before leaving for chicago tomorrow.

things went smoothly when arriving at the store as the small team you led knew the routine of ensuring momo’s safety as you guided her into the store while she waved at the numerous fans who were waiting to enter. the pop up experience was pretty enjoyable with the numerous jackets, pants, and jewelry that was on display as it was also the kind of clothing you would wear casually outside of your suit, so you leisurely browsed while momo was doing a photo-op.

“how’s everything so far?” your boss nayeon chirps in your left ear-piece as you pick it up with your two left fingers.

“very smoothly.” you reply back as you step aside from the loud music and small crowd in the store to pick up nayeon’s voice a little better, “we’re right on schedule.”

“good! that’s what i like to hear.” she beams on the other end, “you and the others are already getting a bonus for picking this up last minute so i wanted to say thank you again.”

“no need to say thanks ma’am, it’s just what we do.”

nayeon laughs at your statement, “you’re always so reliable y/n. ever thought about taking a vacation?”

“maybe once we’re done with the tour i’ll take your offer into consideration.”

“what would i do without you being team leader?”

“just say that you’ll miss me when that vacation comes.”

“you won’t hear it from me.” nayeon replies back as you lightly laugh at the back and forth banter you and her shared, catching momo’s manager yoona approaching you from the corner of your eye.

“is it time already?” you ask yoona as you point to the watch on your left hand.

“we’re all done over here, momo’s just looking at a few more things before we go.”

“do we have to carry anything?”

“no, no, not this time.” yoona replies, chuckling at your question as she fondly remembers you helping her carry a handful of bags the last time she had a free day to go on a shopping spree.

“good to know, i’ll rally the others.” you say as you follow her out to the store again.

you make eye contact with karina, who was your no.2, standing next to the doorway, signaling to her that it was time to go. no words said as she looks to her right to mingyu, the third person apart of the team as he instantly got the message making his way over to you and karina.

“where’s the new guy?” you ask mingyu as karina immediately touches her earpiece to see if there was anything on the open channel.

you all look in the direction to where you hear the sound of rushed footsteps as the fourth guy stood in front of you, his suit looking disorderly with his hair slightly messy, his ear piece hanging off his suit.

“there’s our answer.” karina says with a bitter tone as mingyu facepalms at the new guy’s stunt he just pulled. you balled your fists as the blood within you boiled at what you just witnessed as you saw one of the store workers walk out soon after, freshening up her appearance that only indicated one thing.

“for fucks sake heechul, you’re leaving your post again on the job!?”

heechul flinches at your pressing question, he knew that you were pissed.

“y/n, i-”

“i leave you to stay close to momo for ten minutes and i see you getting frisky with the store workers? do i need to remind you why you got stuck with me after the shit you pulled the last time?”

“i’m sorry-”

“no, don’t even say that you’re sorry. i don’t know why nayeon convinced me to have you with us when it’s clearly shown you can’t even do the simple task of standing still for momo’s safety! what a fucking joke, i’m done saving your ass. we’re gonna have a discussion about this later when we get back to the hotel.”

heechul keeps his mouth closed as you turn away to find yoona, groaning out in frustration as mingyu and karina’s voices fade out from the loud music.

“what happened with heechul’s last assignment?” you hear mingyu ask karina, “from what i heard, heechul got into a heated altercation with namjoon and yoongi at an afterparty. and since then, heechul might be on the chopping block if he doesn’t clean up his act fast.”

scanning around the store to catch yoona and momo at the register, you walk up to the pair as they are about to finish their transaction as momo’s clothes are put in the bag.

“so you did buy something after all.” you say to momo as she handed her wallet to yoona. “can’t leave here empty handed.” momo subtly says as you exchange smiles with her.

“everything okay over there?” yoona asks you, “sounded like you were almost yelling at your team.”

“yeah, sorry, the new guy is still getting used to his new role. just had to straighten him out for a second.”

“must be a pain dealing with all that.”

“all part of the job.” you reply back as yoona starts to make her way to the front of the store. momo follows right after but stops at you for a second as you walked down.

“you know, i find it attractive when a woman puts a man in their place.” momo says coyly. you shake your head at the dashing compliment you received.

“you and i think alike, we both hate the same guy.” you respond calmly, biting the inside of your cheek as you try to calm yourself.

momo giggles at your little nuance on your face, “when we first met up with you guys, i could already tell that he was bad news.”

you scoffed, “funny, people called me crazy for bringing him with us in the hopes of setting him right and look what he pulls.”

a laugh is shared between the two of you as you reach the door facing toward the street. you glance over at karina and mingyu who took their respective positions on your right and left side, peering over behind you to see heechul fix up his tie before giving you the thumbs up.

“alright momo if you wanna stand outside the store for a bit to meet your fans or even sign a few things, we’ll give you the window to do so.” you say as momo puts on her hood and sunglasses, beaming a smile as she nodded at you. your heart accelerated at the cool beauty that was in front of you as the doors swung open, motioning momo to walk forward as the crowd erupted in excitement.

a lot of people came for this pop up event, the sea of people stretching on both sides of the sidewalk in the soho district as you and your team walked out with your client, scanning the area actively to ensure nothing was out of the ordinary. you then walked up to the back door of the escalade, opening it ready for momo as she took a quick video of the crowd turnout before she went on both sides signing her autograph on different items.

the popularity of this girl was insane, and the power she held left you captivated as she looked like she was enjoying the moment.

that would all change when you saw heechul get up close to one of the people in the crowd against the barrier–arguing as the last thing you saw was his fist flying.

an instant second that caused chaos.

a few more punches were exchanged as the security guards in the store swooped in to stop the fight, peeling heechul away as mingyu grabbed on to him, holding him back before he could do any more damage, but it was too late.

the front row of the crowd was put into a frenzy as the barrier in the back corner toppled over, pooling a few people including the person that heechul punched–making a dead beeline for him, while that was happening behind, you locked on momo and yoona were caught right in the middle of all the action.

shit.

in an instant, you bolted for momo and yoona, shielding them from the pool of people as they surrounded you, karina also came just in time to make a path from the sidewalk to the car. mingyu also followed suit, dragging heechul by the collar of his suit as they made their way to the second escalade parked behind you. guiding momo and yoona inside the car as you motioned karina to take the passenger seat, you hung out the side of the open door, signaling the other driver a massive T with both of your hands, telling him to follow the first car to the hotel as you went inside.

luckily the store’s security team and the small band of police officers were able to hold the crowd back for you and momo’s team to get in the cars as you drove away, the red and blue lights of the police bikes and cruisers escorting you down the street.

“is everyone alright?” you ask, assessing everyone's condition in the car.

“we’re okay, we’re okay.” yoona replies breathlessly as momo tries to calm herself after the scare that just occurred, holding her hand as you were genuinely worried about her well-being.

“what the fuck happened out there?” karina asked as you turned around to check on her as well, slightly flustered but still composed.

“fucking heechul…” you seethed as you grip the nape of your neck trying to register the present situation in your head. “that’s strike two now for him!”

“i didn’t see! what did he do?”

“he launched a fist at someone in the crowd. i don’t know who he punched but they were pissed.”

“is he fucking crazy?.”

“it’s rare that he isn’t.”

“nayeon isn’t gonna be happy when she hears about this.” karina says as you hear a frequent beep in your ear piece.

“this is l/n, come in.”

“y/n! is everyone okay in momo’s car?” you hear mingyu on the other end, his voice still distressed causing a small lisp to appear in his voice.

“we’re all good here, i told your driver to just follow us back to the hotel, we’ll regroup there.”

“you got it.”

“how is he?” you asked mingyu about heechul’s condition.

“pretty banged up with a black eye, but don’t worry i taped his mouth shut. i’m sick with his annoying ass already today.”

“you’re welcome for that suggestion. just sit tight, we’ll talk more when we get back. out here.”

—

“he what?”

“you heard what i said nayeon.”

“jesus, how bad was the situation?”

“we managed to get out before things went south, but momo is still a bit shaken up.”

nayeon sighs through the phone, “ok, it’s good that you were able to handle the whole ordeal before it got worse. i’ll deal with heechul when the tour is over, but i can guarantee you that he’ll be gone.”

“thank the lord. he’s been a pain in the ass since he got dropped.” you reply as you lightly hit your head against the wall in the hallway.

“i already told yoona that there’s been a change in the schedule, she’ll relay the info to you.” nayeon said after she laughed.

“sounds good, i’ll call you if there’s anything else.” you say before exchanging “byes” and ending the phone call.

you walk over the door to momo’s hotel room, knocking it a few times before karina answers, letting you in as she closed it immediately after. you take off your fitted blazer as you place it on the chair, before standing over yoona and momo sitting down as they were drinking water, still shaken up from the events two hours ago.

“change in schedule, momo is gonna be staying here now for the remainder of the day.” you huffed out as yoona nodded at your instruction.

“i’m sorry about heechul, he-”

“what happened earlier with him is more than enough for us.” yoona says, already agreeing before you even said anything.

“we’ll sort him out later once this all blows over, but for now we just have to deal with it.” you add on, “yoona if you want you can come with us to get some drinks at the lobby.”

“i’ll be fine y/n thank you, i think staying with momo would be more-”

“you should go.” momo interrupts her, yoona curls an eyebrow at her. “mo, are you sure?”

“it’s fine, you deserve a small break while you can.”

“are you sure about staying here alone? we can-”

“i want y/n to stay with me.” your eyes widened at her sudden request.

“if that’s what she wants, it’s okay with me.” you assure yoona’s confused expression, “i’ll have mingyu scoop you and karina up to chill down in the lobby. i’ll join right after.”

yoona nods at your proposition as karina waits at the door, exiting shortly after yoona grabbed her handbag, leaving you and momo in the hotel room alone. you then grab a glass of water for yourself as you sit across momo in the open seat that was once occupied by yoona.

“so much for more shopping.” you say, earning a chuckle from momo as you sip your water.

“stardom gets dangerous at times, but that’s nothing new for you is it?” she says, your gaze meeting hers as you dart your tongue against the inside of your cheek.

“not my first rodeo, and it definitely won’t be my last.” you respond, unbuttoning the top two buttons of your dress shirt, rolling up both of your sleeves revealing a small set of tattoos on your left arm.

“have you always had those?” momo inquired as her interest piqued with the ink drawings on your skin as they were newly revealed.

“oh these?” you flash your arm at her, showing that the whole forearm had designs on top of designs, “i got more, but you don’t want to see that.”

“and what if i do?” she asks again, her confidence brimming more and more as she got comfortable with you in the short span of time.

“for someone who’s always alluring on stage, you sure are outgoing with flirting.” you tease as momo sits forward, slapping your thigh as she snorted out loud.

“this is your second time protecting me, no? i remember you.”

“you do?” now intrigued with her observation as she hummed at your question.

“you were so shy and timid when my team worked with yours the last time i had various events across the country, but now look at you. i would be lying if i said i wasn’t attracted.”

“oh?”

you didn’t know that momo had a thing for you since the last time you worked under her.

with this shocking revelation leaving your mouth agape as your heart pounded fervently, your eyes kept getting lost in momo’s beauty features. even if she was bare-faced wearing an oversized white shirt with training shorts under, she still looked good regardless if she was wearing the outfit from earlier or now.

before you could say anything, your eyes picked up on a patch of red with scratches on momo’s right wrist, instantly grabbing it to check. your hand was more rigid and slightly bigger compared to momo’s petite hand as you examined the damage more closely.

“was this from earlier?” you ask with a slight worry in your voice.

“it was from the car door, sorry.” momo responds with a pout as she avoids making eye contact with you.

you quickly glance at her for a second after as you stood up and walked toward the bathroom, grabbing a first aid kit from the bottom of the sink, returning back to the chair as you began treating her small injury by wrapping her wrist with a bandage.

“there’s something about the way your hands move, like they’re always prepared for anything.” momo teases, you look at her as she wore a stupid grin on her face.

“if you want these hands to do something else that you have in mind, i’ll listen.” you respond softly, trying to ignore the flush of warmth spreading across your cheeks. you finish the last of the bandage wrap as you held her hand up to the side, staring at her again prolonging the gentle, intimate moment.

“done.” you say as you let go of her wrist as you wipe your hands together and on your pants, returning your gaze on momo as she leaned in a little bit closer.

“were you serious about your hands doing something for me?” momo asks with a desire churning through your body. you didn’t answer as you were left with your mouth open, still trying to think of a simple answer.

“depends on what you have in mind.”

your mind shelves a cool response but the urges from within your heart only sent one instruction to your head for you to act on one thing and one thing only–as you and momo collided lips.

a slow and rewarding kiss that makes you forget all of the other worries about your job for a second as you draw back, trying to relish in the moment and feeling of momo’s lips with yours.

“this is my way of saying thank you.” momo mutters as you kiss her again, this time with hunger as her hand wraps your head. in just thirty seconds flat, momo’s flirtiness fed your need as the heat between your legs gradually increased.

hands continued to roam around as you shifted around the room to the bed, momo straddles you as you place both of your hands lightly on her ass, squeezing it as she moaned in your mouth at the sudden touch. she pulls away for a second, looking over her shoulder towards where your hands were.

“sorry i–” you say as she returns to face you, hungrily kissing you again as your hands moved their way up on her back. her hands swatting your arms off her body as she grabbed the edge of her shirt as she slipped it off of her flawlessly, noticing that she wasn’t wearing a bra under her oversized shirt.

“holy shit momo....” you say as you pull away as momo’s arms rest on your shoulders, taking in the new territory gained as your eyes widened in astonishment.

nobody else knew of the fact that you had dreams of sleeping with momo-let alone be in the current situation that you're in right now, but my god you kept yourself well composed at the fact momo's body that everyone oogled at some point was right in front of you. correction, on top of you.

“no one else has seen me like this, this is for you only.” momo says as her face meets yours, eyes half lidded as her lust completely takes over you.

“god you look so good.” you sigh out, kissing her chest as momo moaned at the sudden contact in the way you pull her closer as your hands slide up her waist, mumbling a small “fuck” in response.

you took your time indulging momo’s breasts as you alternate between the pair, placing small kisses on each boob, usually switching it up by placing the bud of her nipples in your mouth, occasionally brushing the other with your fingers making her strain her motions a bit which made your cunt throb even more.

“touch me y/n…” momo groans out, “t–touch me more.”

you hummed in response as you stopped to catch your breath from momo’s breasts. momo saw this as an opportunity as she attacked your neck, letting out a harsh groan as the nerve senses spiked at the feeling of momo’s lips nipping away on your skin.

leaning back as momo’s lips are still on your neck, you made the quick movement of flipping her over as you were now on top of her, towering over as she rubbed her thighs together, watching you take off your dress shirt and tossing it off to the side.

“jesus,” momo says, covering half of her face as she bit her lip at the sight of you in your bra.

she sees the remaining parts of your tattoo on your upper left arm as you tied your hair up in a messy bun. your body was built, given the extensive amount of weight training you did in your spare time as there was definition in your arms, shoulders and most notably your abs.

“didn’t know you wanted me that bad huh?” you ask her as you scooched up on the bed, your knee pressing against momo’s soaking core through her shorts, making her breath hitch slightly.

“you wanted my hands? i’ll give you my hands but,” you slide your hands up momo’s waist as she squirmed at your touch, eager to enjoy the feeling more before you grab both of her hands and place them over her head, looking at you as you amusingly smirked at her.

“i don’t want you to use yours.”

fishing for your necktie that you tossed to the side as you joined momo’s hands together, tying them together in a firm knot as you placed her tied hands over her head again.

“keep your hands there and relax, i want to make it up to you for earlier.” you breathed on her neck as she shuddered at the sound of your low, husky voice.

momo nodded, impatiently waiting for your touch as you kissed her neck once more before trailing down to the lower regions of her body. from her breasts, to her chiseled abs, until you finally reach the designated area you’ve held yourself back up till this point.

you continuously work yourself at a graceful pace, making sure to mark up any open spot possible as your fingers slide down to the waistband of her training shorts, making her twitch as you seamlessly slide the shorts off of her in one quick motion, exposing her already leaking flesh as you bite your lip.

shifting yourself lower between her legs as your breath grazes her inner thighs, momo whimpers as she tries to buck her hips forward, trying to force her pussy onto you mouth yourself, you hold her down on her stomach as she whines, toying with her nerves as you latch your lips on her inner thigh harshly leaving another string of marks across her leg.

“y-y/n–fuck, j-just–”

“didn't think you’d be so needy for me to do this.” you tease, “who would’ve thought the hirai momo would have this side of her just for me.”

you give momo’s pussy a longing lick as the surge of pleasure closes her legs reflexively, putting pressure on both sides of your head. before she could literally skull crush you, you bit against her inner thigh, forcing her legs open as she yelped at the quick pain before you latched onto her pussy with your mouth again immediately after.

“so wet for me...i can't wait to ruin you.” you say, running your finger along her sappy folds as momo lets out a needy whine as you dove back into her with more urgency.

momo’s tied hands lock behind your head, ensuring that the contact your mouth was making is never ending as you add your thumb and fingers into the mix. you groan against her core as you nourish yourself with the heavenly elixir that momo was dripping out of her as you made sure to clean up every drop.

“ngh–my g–god” momo cries out as she shakes her head frantically, too fucked to think sensibly as you continue to bombard her with pleasure, pumping your fingers in and out as your tongue lathers her clit for however long you went down on her (it wouldn't matter either way since you're enjoying the contact your mouth and finger was having in her walls.)

“so good, mmf, y/n ‘m gonna fuck-” momo utters as she’s completely lost in the tantalization that you were crafting on her swollen pussy as she feels a slight pressure building up a knot inside her stomach until finally, she lets go, releasing pressure as her walls clench around your curled finger, cumming as you relish in the delicious juice, savoring every last drop.

momo throats out a spent groan, recovering from the orgasm you worked her up so well as you trail back up to momo again, wiping your chin with the last remnants of momo’s slick with your thumb sucking it off cleanly as you work your way back up with kisses.

“was that satisfying for you?” you ask momo as she laid on the mattress, still flushed after being fucked dumb just now.

“better than what i have imagined.” she sighs out as she props her tied hands to her chest, looking at you with her dilated pupils as you cup her cheek, kissing her earnestly as you scratch the side of her hair making her hum with ease.

“since you’ve been a good girl for me all this time,” you started off saying as you reach for her hands, untying them from the necktie, setting them free.

“what do you want to do to me?” you ask momo with a sharp breath as her hands automatically roam around your chest, slipping off your bra and grazing her fingers over your erect nipples.

“i want you to sit on my face.”

you gasp at her sudden request as you happily complied, slipping off your pants and underwear in under three seconds as momo repositions herself flat on the mattress, licking her lips as she prepares herself to return the favor.

hovering your throbbing core over her face, placing your hands on the headboard of the hotel bed, you were caught off guard when momo lifted her head up to latch onto your clit unexpectedly, bucking your legs as you sat down as she began to tongue fuck you, tensing up your abs as the overwhelming wave of pleasure overloaded your senses.

“jesus, mo- fuck!”

you shout out as you adjust yourself as momo places a hand on your breast, circling your nipple as you begin to slightly grind on her face. it didn’t take long for you reach your peak as you kept your pace of overestimating your senses by touching yourself, gaining a moan from momo’s excitement of how you wanted to get yourself off to her as she relentlessly lapped your pussy with her mouth as you rubbed your clit at an excruciatingly fast pace.

“momo m-momo, i- gah!” you uttered out as you came. gripping the hearboard and eventually her head as you ride out your orgasm, breathing heavily, mumbling a string of curses as momo continued to clean you up of the mess you made on her face, hips shivering at the latching of her mouth as she retracts herself with a loud “pop” from your puffy pussy as you topple over momo's face, laying down right beside her, using the last bit of moving strength to shift her over to you as she grabbed the blanket covering you both.

as the cover nestled over the both of you; soft, sensual kisses were shared as the lust was then replaced with tiredness as you and momo’s hand rest on each other’s cheek.

“did you enjoy that?” you ask as a puffed up smile appears on your lips as momo laughs amusingly.

“i did.”

“how long have you–”

“ever since my first outing showcase.” momo answers your question quickly, “i’ve been hoping to get you assigned with me again.”

you laugh as you move your arms for momo to lay her head on your chest, kissing your breast once more as she nestled into you, letting the sleep consume her.

“i’ll make sure your name gets top priority next time you have an event.”

—

you don’t remember how long it’s been since you and momo hooked up, but from what you could assume in the first seconds of waking up to the sunlight beaming through the curtains, it was probably the next day.

trying to shift over as you felt a weight on the right side of your body, you look over to see momo still fast asleep with her face smudged over her shoulder, her arm dressed just under your boobs as her breath tickles your neck.

“morning…” you whisper to her ear as you plant a kiss to her temple, shifting your body facing her as she stirs for a bit.

momo shifts around, letting herself stretch a bit before returning her gaze on you as you prop yourself on your elbow, “hi, y/n.”

you lean forward to give her a soft peck as she basically melts at the touch of your lips, tickling her after by showering more kisses all over her face.

“did you…stay the night?” momo asks you as lay on your side again, feeling the soreness settling between your legs.

“yeah, sorry i should’ve-”

“it’s okay, i didn’t mind.”

“okay good.” you say giving her another kiss as you hear your phone vibrating on the small table next to the bed. you reach over to see who had called you, only to notice the numerous notifications in the team’s group chat as well as a few missed calls from nayeon. you would worry about it, but knowing karina would cover for you due to the impounding stress of your leadership gig as you sigh with discontent as you make a quick phone call.

“it’s y/n. yes. yes i’m aware. okay, i’ll be down shortly.” you said in your brief conversation with karina over the phone as momo slowly sits up, the blanket dropping down to her waist, showcasing all of the present marks on her body, and it wasn’t even all of them…

“you gotta go now?” momo asks you as you start to put on your panties and pants, grabbing your bra and wrapping it around your waist.

“yeah, just a quick meeting with karina and yoona in the lobby.” you reply as you look at the work you did on momo and needless to say, it was hearty work done right.

“you might wanna look at your neck y/n.” momo says with a sultry tone as you walk to the mirror to see the extensive damage and fuck, your neck was bruised.

you scoffed at your reflection, running your fingers over them as momo laughs at you.

“think someone will notice those marks i made on you?

“you’re lucky i packed a few turtlenecks for this tour.”

#saiiidahyunee #twice x reader #kpop x reader #twice smut #twice imagines #kpop smut #twice #hirai momo #twice momo #momo smut #momo x reader #hirai momo x reader #did i also mention smut?

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say-al0e · 2 years

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Looks That Kill

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18! Minors, DNI!

Summary: Eddie’s never stepped foot in your bedroom and that fact has been driving him insane. When you return home for spring break and your parents have to head out of town, Eddie finally gets his chance to see every piece of you. | Ft. Anon Request: “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?” + “I didn’t think you’d notice.” “I notice everything about you.”

Warnings: No spoilers for season 4 outside of Eddie’s existence, college!reader, protected p in v, dom!Eddie (though it’s a little light), mentions of switch!Eddie, a little overstimulation, some mention of bruises left by Eddie, very brief mention. of high school bullies, risqué Polaroids, gratuitous use of pet names, innocent!reader.

Pairing: Eddie x fem!Reader (innocent!reader)

Word Count: 11.8k (...I would apologize but, you know what, I’m not sorry.)

Stranger Things Taglist | Stranger Things Masterlist

It was cliche - the good girl, falling head over heels for the bad boy - and a surprise to everyone who knew you, but you’d been smitten with Eddie Munson from the moment you met. There was something about him, beautiful in a way that was wholly effortless, a gentleman wrapped in a worn leather jacket, heart of gold hidden beneath a layer of protective snark, that captivated you.

Without even trying, Eddie. Had you in the palm of his hand.

The relationship was slow to start, a gentle wade into the muddled waters of a romance you’d never seen coming, with Eddie quick to subvert every expectation others whispered in your ear. Where he was rumored to be mean, brutish and dark with a biting wit and quick temper, you’d seen otherwise. He’d proven himself to be sweet, good and kind in a way you had yet to grow used to - especially from someone who was given nothing and gave everything in return - and made more of an effort than anyone else had ever even tried.

Your list of past partners wasn’t very long - a middle school boyfriend who never made it past the hand-holding stage, a handful of high school dates who’d huffed and puffed when you wouldn’t kiss them on the first date before turning heel and disappearing - but Eddie erased all memory of them, anyway.

Despite what you’d heard - whispers that he was dangerous, that no good could ever come of him - Eddie was a dream come true.

With your lack of experience, you often expected him to grow frustrated, maybe snap or huff, but he remained patient. Eddie smiled, bright and easy, any time you asked a question that had an obvious answer; he slowed, retraced his steps and started from the beginning each time you blinked owlishly at him when he rambled on about this interest of his or that; he altered course without so much as a tick of his jaw any time you froze, a little overwhelmed by his touch or the crude words that sometimes spilled from his lips.

There was no such thing as perfect - especially in Hawkins - but Eddie came excruciatingly close.

Though you’d fallen in love with him quickly, Eddie was a friend before he became your boyfriend and his understanding extended well beyond your romantic inexperience. Eddie saw you, really and truly, and knew you well. He had known for quite a while, confided that your reputation had preceded you; just as you’d heard whispers about him, he’d heard whispers about you.

It was well known that you lacked romantic and social experience, just as it was known that what you lacked in that department, where you blanked on social cues and pop culture references, you more than made up for in academic knowledge. There was a running joke - not a very good one, but one that made your family, and the few friends you’d made, laugh - that you were the dumbest genius anyone knew. It made sense, given that you were the first choice when choosing project partners or the go-to source for homework answers but never one to be included in casual conversation.

Everyone knew it - those who spoke to you swore they didn’t mean any harm, they were just teasing. That didn’t mean it hurt any less.

Eddie marveled once, in the quiet of the woods after a particularly rough day - not long after you became friends but well before you started dating, early enough that you were still figuring one another out - that he couldn’t believe the soon-to-be valedictorian of his (second) senior class knew his name, let alone gave him the time of day. He joked that you’d intimidated him, made him a little nervous with your intelligence, but upon talking to you, he realized there was nothing to be afraid of.

The slight wasn’t intentional - it was supposed to be a compliment; an observation as to how the little hiccups in conversation made you human, someone he could interact with without fear, someone he could befriend - but it still needled at your nerves. That was the first time Eddie saw you upset, frustrated tears prickling at the backs of your eyes, and he was quick to realize that he wasn’t the only one who struggled with how others saw him.

From that moment forward, Eddie made it a point to remind you how he saw you - brilliant, but human; kind, if a little uncertain; wonderful, just slightly misunderstood - and, really, it should’ve been no surprise that you fell head over heels for him.

As a result, conversations with him flowed a little easier than they ever had with others. He was intimidating - beautiful, with his doe eyes and near permanent smile in your presence, and confident in a way you’d never been; quick, loud and excitable in ways that made your skin heat - but, as time wore on, there was little that Eddie didn’t know about you. Even when words failed you, stuck in your throat and threatened to choke you, he was able to make sense of your thoughts.

Eddie understood your brain - and, when he didn’t, he made more of an effort than anyone ever had to try - and never judged the misunderstandings caused by your lack of experience or knowledge. He explained, if desired, or shifted course and kept moving. He also understood your tells, the little tics that told him exactly how you felt even when words failed you, so it made sense that he noticed your nerves the moment he stepped into your home.

It wasn’t as if he’d never visited - he’d come over for dinner, sat with you in the living room and watched movies, worked on campaigns in the backyard as you read - you just tended to spend more time at his uncle’s, mostly unbothered by the presence of familial supervision.

With you in Indianapolis for college and Eddie still in Hawkins, time together was not quite as frequent as either of you would’ve liked. Before you left, you’d spent the entire summer together - a summer in which Eddie took each of your firsts, painstakingly thorough in making sure that you were sated and happy before he let you go - and every school break was spent back in Hawkins, plying Eddie with tales of college and your new job at the record store near campus.

The little alone time you were afforded in the privacy of his uncle’s trailer was nice - mostly spent catching up, whispering admissions you would never share in the presence of anyone other than Eddie - and not something you were given at home. Though your parents knew the nature of your relationship with Eddie, they still liked to pretend within the walls of your home.

Eddie’d never visited unsupervised and wasn’t allowed in your bedroom, a rule he bemoaned but followed readily. Your parents liked him, something that still surprised him, and never questioned it when you told them you were staying with a friend - even if they knew you would be spending the night in his bed. He wasn’t keen on jeopardizing their fondness but when you called on the first night of spring break and informed him that your parents had gone to Indianapolis for a family emergency, he’d jumped at the chance.

The grin on his lips was a little too bright, easily resembling the Cheshire Cat, when you opened the front door and pulled him into the empty house with a little more force than necessary. It only grew brighter, a little more excited and accompanied by a quiet chuckle, as you guided him down the hall into the unexplored territory of your bedroom a few steps too fast.

Upon stepping into your room, you faltered, if only slightly, and released his hand. Eddie lingered a moment in the doorway and arm brown eyes roved your skin rather than the pale pink of your walls, studied the minute changes - the little differences that appeared since he saw you last - before they blinked, fluttered shut, and reopened with a fond warmth you’d missed terribly.

In a few short strides, Eddie entered the space he’d been dying to see - a space he’d begged for a Polaroid of, just because he couldn’t stop imagining what it must look like - without so much as a glance at anything other than you. The realization warmed you from the inside, made your heart pound an unsteady rhythm within your chest, as he stopped a half-step from your still form.

Eddie smiled - something true, sweet and so happy it made your chest ache - when you closed the gap to stand toe to toe. “I missed you, sweetheart.” Large hands lifted, found your cheeks with warm palms and callused fingers, and you leaned into his touch as he tilted his head to study your face. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“It’s been two weeks, Eds.” The reminder was unnecessary - Eddie knew, could likely recount the date of your last meeting better than you, had a running tally of the days you spent apart in his head - but you still uttered it with a fond exasperation. It came out muffled, obscured by the way his hands compressed your cheeks just so, but it only served to make him grin. “Hardly forever.”

He removed one hand to wave it, silver of his rings glinting in the overhead light, and returned it to cradle your jaw before you could miss the warmth. “Do you want me to be cheesy, waxing poetic about how a moment away from you is a lifetime? Because I can. I can go on and on and on and on. And I’ll mean every word,” he promised, feigning being put out by your lack of affection.

There was no doubt that he would, that he could, as he’d done it before. The first time you returned home for a break, the first reunion between the pair of you, began with the most beautiful sentiments you’d ever heard that overwhelmed you at first. Now, the gesture was unnecessary - two weeks or two minutes, Eddie missed you just as you missed him - so you shook your head.

“I believe you would. But, for now, ‘I missed you,’ is more than enough.” Eddie shrugged, as if to say ‘your loss,’ though it did little to hide his relief at having you in his grasp once more. The light in his eyes burned bright, brilliant and content to be back where you both belonged, and you couldn’t help but lift your hand to grasp his bicep. “And, for the record, I missed you, too, Eds.”

The raise of his brows - an exaggerated wag that sent them disappearing beneath his hair - made you laugh as his thumb swiped just beneath your bottom lip. “Even though it’s only been two weeks?”

His tone was teasing, a gentle poke at you missing his cue - the opportunity for you to wax poetic, return his sentiments immediately - though he knew it would fly over your head. The mischievous twinkle in his eyes kept you from being too annoyed as you rolled your own. “Mhm, even though it’s only been two weeks.”

Eddie laughed then, pleased, before leaning in to press his mouth to yours. His lips were slightly chapped and warm, tasting of cigarettes and mint gum as you melted into his embrace. There was no rush, no frenzied flutter of hands tugging at the soft fabric of your skirt - no harsh nips to your bottom lip, no presses of his body to yours - as he stole your breath and swallowed the soft noises that escaped you.

The kiss was soft, slow and sweet as he reacquainted himself with the taste of you, and you were content to allow him this moment. Callused fingers continued brushing at your rapidly heating skin, mapping the curve of your jaw, the apple of your cheek, in a way that saw stars bursting across your eyelids. The way he handled you - firm, but not unkind; eager, but not desperate - made your head dizzy as he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to yours.

“Shit. Maybe you did miss me.”

He grinned at the surprised peal of laughter that filled the silence, a puff of giddy giggles that lightened the mood, and you shook your head. “There should never be any question that I missed you. And that I love you. ‘M sorry I don’t say it as much as I should.”

Eddie’s gaze softened, melted into something sugary warm, as he tipped his head to bump your nose. “Hey, I know you missed me, sweetheart, and that you love me.” He used the hand on your jaw to tilt your head, made it easier for him to search your eyes. “They’re hard things to say but they’re even harder if you’re not used to them.”

Words of doubt splintered on the tip of your tongue - a soft frown and a declaration that it had been nearly a year, you should be used to it by now - and were swallowed by a soft kiss. The press of Eddie’s mouth to yours was firm, a pressure tethering you back to reality, and you shot him the ghost of a smile as he pulled away to plant kisses across your cheeks.

“You can look around, if you want.” The offer was quiet, a soft whisper in the still of your room, provided in lieu of the self-doubt you felt. There was a twinge of fear, a worry that Eddie may find something he didn’t like and disappear into the ether - that he might realize everyone was right, there was something wrong with you and he would do well to cut and run - but Eddie grinned just the same as he finally spared the pale pink walls a glance.

“You spent an hour snooping around my room the first time you came over.” Eddie’s reminder was unnecessary. It happened without your notice; your body moved on autopilot as you wandered through his room, studying the flags and posters that covered his walls, picking through his collection of tapes and records with excited little hums any time you spotted something you knew. It hadn’t struck you as potentially rude until you turned to him, excited by the Motley Crue you’d pulled from a basket, and found his eyes already trained on you. Now, you felt your skin burn with an unnecessary embarrassment each time you were reminded. “Now it’s my turn!”

It was the pinnacle of vulnerability, allowing him into your space and giving him the run of the place when no one else had ever been given access, and the gesture was not lost on him. He spared you another kiss, this one lingering a moment longer than of the others - accompanied by a final searching gaze, warm brown eyes flitting between yours, and a reassuring smile - before he released his hold on you and lost himself to the wonders of your bedroom.

Just as you had, Eddie took his time exploring and wandered around your room slowly. His fingers delicately dragged along the surface of your dresser, the spines of books lining your shelves, the tops of records filling a crate, the plastic cases of tapes stacked in a bin, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He hummed when he spotted something that caught his eye - one of his guitar picks, a well-loved copy of The Fellowship of the Ring, a copy of The Illustrated Man you’d stolen from him, a Black Sabbath cassette he’d given you for your birthday - but only paused when he noticed the cork board above your desk.

White thumbtacks held items securely in place - ticket stubs from movies and concerts, cards from family members, notes from friends (and him), photo strips from the carnival - but there was no doubt that the one to catch his eye was the newest addition. It was a Polaroid, taken on the little camera your parents had given you for your birthday, of Eddie. In it, he sat on his bed, guitar resting on his knees and head bent, lost in his own world as he attempted to teach himself a new Metallica song.

“When’d you take this?” Eddie’s voice was a tone you’d never heard from him - something soft, a little breathless - as he reached out to brush the photo with careful fingers. It made you forget yourself, forget the nerves that tingled in the tips of your fingers and had your heart beating a little too fast, as you smiled.

“A few weeks ago. I took two, one for home and one for my dorm. I didn’t think you’d notice. You looked pretty.” The compliment was stated as a fact, as easy as acknowledging the setting sun or the rising moon, though your voice faltered as Eddie turned to face you. “I like watching you play the guitar,” you admitted, quiet as you picked at your chipping nail polish. “Is that… is it okay that I took them?”

“Flattery, sweetheart.” Eddie shook his head fondly, eyes crinkling in the corners as he grinned just a little too wide - a little too giddy, bright in a way that made your chest ache. “It’s more than okay. But it is kinda unfair, though, don’t you think?”

The confusion furrowing your brows was evident, obvious to him even as he returned to trailing his fingers over the items covering your desk. Instead of turning back, grinning and explaining himself as you expected he would, his attention remained locked on the stack of books piled at the corner of your desk. The bounce of his shoulders told you this was something you should understand - a tease he was waiting for you to get - but, after a beat of silence, you couldn’t help but ask, “What’s unfair?”

“Well,” he began mildly as he picked up the Motley Crue tape that started your relationship, “you have a Polaroid of me pinned up in your room, on display for anyone who comes in, and I don’t have any pictures of you.” He turned then, pout exaggerated and doe eyes wide, to fix you with an imploring look. “You’re so damn pretty, angel, and I don’t have a single photo. Tell met hat’s not totally unfair. More than, it’s criminally unjust!”

Soft giggles filled the silence, bubbled from your chest and eased a hint of the nervous tension filling the room - exactly as Eddie had planned, you figured, judging by the pleased grin he wore. “You’re right,” you conceded, smile wide as you watched him reach for the camera settled on your desk. “It is unfair, I’m sorry. If you really want, you can take a picture of me,” you offered, suddenly a little shy as his eyes glittered with excitement at the prospect. “I have plenty of film.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Eddie grinned, a salacious smile that set your body alight with a heat that only he’d managed to ignite - a fire, rushing through your veins and converging in your core - as he took a step closer to where you sat at the foot of your bed. “I’m absolutely going to take you up on that. You gonna pose for me or do I get to play director?”

There was a moment of hesitance, a beat of silence in which you questioned what you’d gotten yourself into, that Eddie smothered with a reassuring grin. He softened, if only slightly, and the fire in his eyes cooled considerably as he weighed the camera in his hand. An assurance was on the tip of his tongue, a reminder that you didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want to, but before he could speak, you frowned. “I… I don’t really know what to do.”

Eddie’s smile returned, this time a little softer - a little more fond, a little warmer - as he lifted the camera to his face. “Just smile for me, pretty.” The moment you acquiesced, smiled at him - fond and sweet - with the look you reserved for him alone, Eddie snapped the first photo. He caught it, dropped it onto your dresser without so much as a glance at the developing image, and nodded. “Beautiful, angel. One more? Sit up a little higher so I can get the ABBA poster in this one.”

It was a joke, clear from the grin on his lips and the snicker he hid badly, but it was necessary. The moment of levity made you blink, eyes a little wider, before your disbelieving laughter filled the room. “Eddie.” His name came out as a whine, sharper than intended but accompanied by a pout that made him laugh. “Don’t tease me. S’not nice.”

“I’m not teasing, sweetheart.” His promise was empty, full of mirth as you pouted. “It’s fitting!” He dropped the camera, eyes shining as he took in the sight of you, before he admitted, “Y’know, before you gave me the time of day, ABBA’s for sure a band I thought you’d listen to. Then you fuckin’ knocked me out when you told me you listened to metal, too. I’d come out to the woods for lunch and find you out there listening to Motley Crue and Iron Maiden and the only time you ever skipped school was to go see Metallica with me.” He paused, eyes narrowed as they took in the sight of you. “Were you grown in a lab? You’re too fuckin’ perfect, angel.”

The laughter that rang through the room, surprised and a little shy - always so flustered when he spouted compliments - covered the sound of the Polaroid. “I’m not perfect, Eds,” you denied, grin a little rueful as you shifted on the bed. “But you’re pretty close.”

“Me? Nah. I think you’re blinded by how much you love me. But that’s okay. I’ll take it.” Eddie winked, a gesture that made you laugh, before waving a hand at you. “One more? One for my room, one for my locker, and one for my dashboard? I miss your face.”

“Flattery, Eds.”

Surprised laughter escaped at your taunt, though Eddie was quick to grin and shake his head as he gestured for you to move. With a grin of your own, you shifted to sit a little straighter and move up the bed to get the poster in frame.

As you moved, your legs shifted and Eddie’s eyes flashed as they dipped between your spread thighs to catch a glimpse of the pale pink cotton protecting your modesty. His grip on the camera tightened, skin pulling taut as he watched you adjust the fabric of your skirt, and you could feel your skin begin to burn as you dipped your head.

The way he looked at you seared you from within, set your skin alight and made it difficult to catch your breath. “Sorry.” Your laughter was nervous, tinged with the jitters that made your fingers tremble as you chanced a glance at him from beneath your lashes. “Didn’t mean to… you know.”

“You never have to apologize for flashing me, sweetheart.”

Though he’d been planning to take another photo, have one more to display somewhere, Eddie abandoned the camera on your dresser. Without a moment of hesitation, he crossed the room to take a seat beside you on the edge of your bed, and you took a moment to study him.

He looked out of place amongst the pastels of your room, dark and brooding amidst the pale pink walls and childhood memories, but there was something about him that fit so perfectly. He seemed at home, content to exist amongst the ghosts of your past, and the thought settled the roiling of your stomach.

Eddie smiled, syrupy sweet, as he shifted closer to you. His knee knocked yours, body radiating heat even through the rough fabric of his jeans, and you felt powerless to do anything more than blink owlishly as he lifted a warm hand to cup your cheek.

Deep brown doe eyes met yours and you swallowed harshly at the heat you saw reflected in them. Despite the smile on his lips, there was something predatory in his gaze - a hunger, heady and wanting - that sent a shiver down your spine as his thumb grazed your cheekbone.

This was the first time he’d stepped foot in your room - the first time any boy had ever stepped foot in your room - and he was all too aware of the slight tremor in your limbs as you glanced at him from beneath your lashes.

“Why’re you so nervous, angel?” To anyone else, it was a genuine question - the most innocent inquiry, asked out of genuine concern. But you could hear the barely concealed amusement as he searched your face. He knew, could read it clearly written across your face, but asked anyway.

The silence was patient, even, and filled with the soft sound of his steady breathing. His palm was searing, a brand against your skin, and you were half-afraid he’d leave behind the imprint of his palm as he cradled your jaw. His rings, warm with the temperature of his body, bit at your skin as his thumb brushed your cheekbone. “This is different,” you answered finally, voice a whisper as your gaze dropped to your lap. “You’re in my room, in my bed. It feels… more serious, kinda scary.”

Eddie cooed, the sound edged with a mocking tinge - something not quite degrading, just enough bite to make you whine softly, and he offered an exaggerated pout. “Scary? You’ve been in my bed plenty, pretty girl. How is this any different?”

There were times, moments in your relationship that Eddie encouraged you to turn off your rationality and just feel - allow yourself to get lost in the emotions bubbling in the pit of your stomach, the flurry of thoughts clouding your brain - and you knew this was a prime opportunity.

A million different reasons came to mind but each one sounded more flimsy than the last, a pathetic attempt at covering up the truth. So, instead of fighting it, you shrugged. “I just… This is it, you know? The last piece. Now you’ve seen everything, all of me. It’s scary because… what if you realize you don’t like it, don’t like me?”

Whatever answer Eddie was expecting, that was clearly not it. Though he knew you had moments of doubt, instances of trepidation when it came to admitting your feelings and insecurities, you’d tried to keep from drowning in them. This was the first time you’d so much as mentioned your worry that he could lose the feelings he held for you and Eddie frowned in response.

The fingers brushing across your chips fell, dipped beneath your chin to tilt your head, and you could see the furrow of Eddie’s brows as he searched your face. The heat was gone from his eyes, replaced by an understanding that made your chest ache, and you offered him the ghost of a smile.

“Sweetheart, I’m so fucking in love with you, it’s kind of unreal. I’m in love with everything about you. Nothing is going to change that,” Eddie promised, tone as serious as you’d ever heard him.

Eddie’s eyes flickered between yours, waiting for some indication of how you felt, and the gaze was more intense than any you’d ever been on the receiving end of. It made your chest ache, warmed you from within and made you feel loved - seen in a way that no longer terrified you. So, you nodded.

For a moment of levity, you offered him a small smile and asked, “Not even the ABBA poster?”

His laughter, pleased at the moment of levity, filled your ears. It seeped into your skin and wrapped around your heart like a vice, squeezing as he grinned. “Not even the ABBA poster. Though, I was thinking about seeing if we could find you a Slayer flag so we could match.”

When you laughed, Eddie’s grin grew just a touch wider. He leaned in, fingers gentle where they pressed into your chin, and slotted his mouth over yours. It was a quick peck, a gentle kiss to remind you that he was there - just as eager for you as you were for him - and he laughed when you whined as he pulled away.

“You wanna watch a movie or somethin’? We could go to Family Video, bug Harrington. Think they got Halloween in stock, or maybe Nightmare, if you’re up for it,” he offered as his fingers stroked your jaw. “Might even let you talk me into Pretty In Pink again.”

Eddie’s smile was warm, softer than it had been in the heat of the moment, and you found yourself grateful for his ability to read you. There was a practiced ease to your conversations, a deftness with which he handled your moments of doubt, and the thought made your chest ache.

It was sometimes easy to forget that he had only a little more experience than you, that while the physical and the flirting was natural for him - a little more practiced, but only slightly - you were the first real partner he’d ever had. That love was new for him, too, as was the vulnerability, but he took it all in stride and did what he could to ease your mind.

There was no doubt that you wanted him to claim this final piece of your soul as his, to take the last bit of your vulnerability for himself - to have all of you, locked away in his memory - so you shook your head. “We can stay here,” you offered, voice going quiet as you met Eddie’s eyes. “I think I’m starting to like seeing you in my bed.”

“Yeah?” When you nodded, certain, Eddie grinned. There was no need for an explanation, no need to complicate the moment by declaring how you wanted him - just as he had with everything else, Eddie understood. He was much better at reading between the lines so it came as no surprise that he breathed his usual reminder. “I’m starting to like being in your bed, sweetheart, but if you get uncomfortable, tell me. We’ll go watch TV or listen to music or something, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay, Eds.”

With your consent - though you knew he would ask for it again and again before the night ended - and the way your knee pressed a little closer to his, desperate to feel his warmth, the fire returned to Eddie’s eyes. It was almost startling how easily he slipped back into the heat, how quickly it consumed him, but you didn’t question it as the light in his eyes was nearly instantly eclipsed by the blackening lust.

Eddie always made the first move - knew that was well within your comfort zone and had no problem initiating physical contact when you so eagerly returned it - and smiled as he turned to face you more fully.

A large hand slipped between your barely spread thighs, callused fingers featherlight as they ghosted along the rapidly heating skin. There were nearly faded bruises lining the soft skin - marks in the shape of his fingers, his lips so faint you could barely see them - from your last trip home and he pressed a finger to the one a few inches from the seat of your panties. When you inhaled sharply, pinprick of pain shooting straight to your aching cunt in a way Eddie cheered upon learning you liked, he smiled.

“I’m curious,” he hummed, voice dipping lower; honey dripping in your ears as his eyes swept across your face. “Do you lay in this cute little bed, in your pretty pink room, and touch yourself?”

He knew now, after nearly a year of dating, that you hadn’t touched yourself before he touched you. He was the first, in every way, but he’d been kind enough to teach you how to replicate the press of his fingers against that spot that made you see stars. It was a painstaking lesson, one that dragged on for hours, but he’d taught you how to throw yourself over the edge - just in case you missed him while you were away.

Eddie knew that you’d touched yourself in your dorm room, hidden beneath the covers on nights your roommate went out to parties - pulled the admission from you as he stared up at you from between your thighs, lips pressing insistently to the bundle of nerves hidden between the puffy folds of your fucked out cunt - but you’d been home plenty since then, slept in this bed, and he wondered.

There was little need for you to touch yourself at home, not when he was so close - when he could do it for you - but you had. On nights that he had Hellfire or his uncle had a day off or your parents implored you to stay home, you tucked yourself beneath the covers and pressed your fingers into your dripping hole, just as he’d taught you.

Though you had yet to answer, had yet to give him the affirmative he so desperately wanted, the hitch in your breathing told Eddie everything he needed to know. It added fuel to the fire, spurred him on, and you could see the crinkle at the corners of his eyes as his smirk grew just a little darker.

“Do you think of me,” he hummed, voice softer than you’d ever heard it, “when you touch yourself?” He gripped your thigh then, fingers digging into the tender spots he’d left in his wake, and laughed - a barely audible puff of air that fanned your cheek, had you inhaling the heady scent of cigarette smoke and mint gum - at your whimper. “Do you see these marks, think about what I spent all weekend doing to you, and stuff those pretty little fingers into your cunt, wishing it was me instead?”

He’d seen you, knew your body almost as well as his own - knew your heart, your mind, even better - but it was still embarrassing how the question ignited a blaze that had slick gathering between your thighs. Your entire body heated, tips of your fingers tingled and ears burned, as you dropped your gaze to your lap. You studied the pale fabric of your skirt, eyeing the way it bunched higher up your thighs with each pass of his hand, and swallowed.

Eddie cooed, cloying - almost condescending - as he pressed his fingers beneath your chin and tilted your head to search his eyes. “It’s okay, sweet thing.” He could see the hesitation written plain on your face, your reluctance to admit to something so torrid - even though he knew every dirty little secret you harbored - and leaned in close.

“I think of you when I touch myself,” he admitted, dark eyes sweeping your face as he treated it like a secret - a confession only you were allowed to hear. “I think of you, spread out in the back of my van with those pretty little lips wrapped around my fingers to keep you quiet while I fuck you in one of your cute skirts. I think about you in my bed, dripping for me before I can really even get my hands on you. I think about that little smile you get when we try something new that you really, really like and that shy little squeak when I first touch you, even though I’ve been touching you for a year now.”

Eddie groaned, an exaggerated sound that reverberated through his chest and shot straight to your core - a sound that pulled a soft moan from your mouth, a near whimper as his fingers pressed to your thigh - and he smirked as you shivered in his grasp. “Tell me, pretty, do touch yourself and think of me?”

“Yes.”

The confirmation was a whisper, a barely audible acknowledgement that still managed to make Eddie smile - proud he’d managed to pull that much from you - as his fingers trailed back to your knee. At your soft whine, disappointed that he hadn’t pressed his fingers to the growing patch darkening your pale pink panties, he pinched your knee in warning. “Patience, pretty girl. What am I doing?”

“Eddie.”

At your whine, the breathless cry of his name, Eddie tutted. He used the grip on your chin to tilt your head, waited for your eyes to meet his - brown eclipsed entirely by lust blown black. “I asked you a question, angel. When you think of me,” he repeated, voice ringing with an authority he knew you craved - one you’d admitted to loving, desperately desiring, in the darkness of his bedroom - “what am I doing?”

There was no real power dynamic in your relationship. If you asked, Eddie would happily hand over the reins. Though you had far less experience, he would willingly lie beneath you, trembling with eace swipe of your fingers over his heated skin - voice ringing in your ear with the same wrecked yearning he always managed to pull from you - the moment you requested it. If you ever faltered, he would offer a gentle word of correction, a soft suggestion, before falling back into place.

It happened, on occasion, but you both enjoyed this a little more.

Eddie relinquished control in most facets of his life - bowed to the rules of a system built in no way for people like him, fell into line in ways that he hated - but with you, tucked between his sheets or hidden in the back of his van, he could regain just a little bit of that power, a little control.

He never pushed farther than you were willing to go, never made you feel anything other than safe - loved and treasured, well cared for - and it gave you both an outlet. Eddie had the opportunity to lead, take charge in ways he was never given before, and you were able to stop thinking. He made it easy to shut off your brain and follow his orders, eager to make the moment good for the both of you.

“Don’t make me repeat myself a third time, pretty.”

The quiet order snapped you out of your reverie; drew you back into the moment with the gravel of his voice, rough and low in his chest, as it sent a rush of heat to your cheeks. The look in his eyes was searing, warm and hungry, as he awaited your response.

“You’re touching me.” The answer escaped in a whisper, hesitant and soft as your eyes widened at the sight of his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “When I think about you, you’re touching me.”

Eddie hummed, pleased by the answer, and allowed his hand to drift back up your thigh. His fingers ghosted along the soft skin, brushed at the inside of your thigh in a way that sent goosebumps erupting and seared his touch into your memory, as his eyes met yours. “How am I touching you? You gotta be specific, angel. I’m not a mindreader. I can’t give you what you want unless you tell me.”

“You’re…”. You paused for a moment, swallowed thickly in an effort to shut off the doubt weighing heavy on your tongue. Eddie - the man who’d taken your every first and thanked you for the privilege - would never judge you; he wanted to know and that thought encouraged you. “You’re just… touching. Your hands are so warm, Eds. Your fingers are kinda rough from guitar but it’s nice. It feels good when you just, you know, touch me. My sides, my neck, my…”

The smirk on Eddie’s lips grew, lifted the corner of his mouth in a way that made your stomach twist - a way you’d seen directed at you from between your thighs more than once - as his fingers inched your skirt higher. The warmth of him bled into your skin, his fingers leaving a trail of blistering heat in their wake. Though he had yet to touch you properly, slick gathered between your thighs embarrassingly quickly.

“Your… what?” The hand at your cheek shifted, fingers tracing the curve of your jaw - dragging teasingly across your bottom lip, tugging at the soon-to-be kiss swollen flesh - as he asked, “Your face?”

Each swipe of his fingers across your heated skin set you on fire, built the blaze higher and higher - sent your heart rate skyrocketing - and you bit the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted copper as his hand shifted a few inches lower to rest on your throat.

Eddie’s rings always felt a degree cooler than the rest of his body, the metal a slight shock to your system as his hand settled over your blazing skin - never cutting off the air, fingers simply settling at the pulse point, eager to feel your hummingbird heart beneath his thumb. “Your throat?”

As you blinked, eyes wide and breath hitching in your throat, Eddie trailed his hand a few inches lower. You’d forgotten every worry, every doubt, and could only focus on the lust roiling in the pit of your stomach as he bypassed your chest entirely to drag his fingers across your bicep. “Your arms?”

A soft whine, louder than you intended, escaped at Eddie’s teasing. In response, he grinned, laughter badly concealed, and dropped his hand to your chest. “Your tits?” He cupped one breast, gave it an experimental squeeze that saw your eyes falling shut and your lips parting in a breathy moan, before he continued his descent.

Teasing fingers dragged down your sternum, trailed across the expanse of your stomach, before they came to a rest just above the waistband of your skirt. “Or, maybe, you want it here,” he hummed as his fingers dipped just beneath the elastic. “What d’you call it, sweetheart? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say. Cunt, pussy, snatch; I’ll call it whatever you want, touch it, just tell me that’s where you want it.”

The warmth of his fingers bled through the cotton of your panties and sent you spiraling. Embarrassment burned in your veins, filled your chest in a way that made your fingers tremble at his question, as lust battled it in equal measure. He was close enough to feel, so close to where you wanted him, and you couldn’t help but whine.

“Eddie.”

There was nothing you wanted more than for him to finally touch you, to give up the teasing and taunting and press his fingers between your thighs - alleviate the ache that had grown nearly blinding, a desperate pressure that made you whine - and he could hear the desperation in your tone. It was evident what you wanted but Eddie made his desire clear, too.

As you hesitated, words stuck in your throat, Eddie’s fingers drifted lower to brush at the top of your mound. “Mm, how ‘bout this? Tell me which word you prefer, where you want me,” he hummed, voice low in your ear as he leaned in to mouth at the hinge of your jaw, “and I’ll let you come on my tongue.”

The prospect of having Eddie between your thighs thrilled you, scorched you from the inside with a desire that knew no bounds, but you were desperate to feel all of him. It had been two weeks, long and arduous without his touch, and you wouldn’t be sated until you’d gotten your fill.

Eddie knew, could read the hesitation in your suddenly rigid shoulders, and laughed as he sucked at the delicate skin just beneath your ear. “Fear not, pretty. You’ll get to come on my cock, too. This’ll just be the warmup. We’ve got all night and now that I’ve seen this cute little room, I’m not leaving until we’ve ruined your sheets, too.”

That was a promise - you knew Eddie well enough to know that he meant it; that he wouldn’t be satisfied with his brief stint in your bed until your mattress resembled his - and it saw you squirm in his grasp. Your attempt to press your thighs together, desperate to relieve a touch of the pressure, was blocked by Eddie’s hand keeping you spread open for him.

“Just say the word, pretty,” he encouraged, dark eyes meeting yours, “and I’ll eat you the way you like.”

There was no question as to what he wanted and, desperate to get what you wanted, you swallowed the lingering embarrassment bitter on the back of your tongue. Eddie loved you - wanted to hear you say it, wanted you to be comfortable asking for anything you wanted from him - and you kept that firmly in your mind as you shut your eyes. “When I think of you, you’re touching my… pussy.”

As the word filled the room, rang in your ears as if you’d shouted it instead of whispering it into the silence - so very different from the metal that constantly filled Eddie’s room and masked your sounds - Eddie grinned. “Good girl,” he cooed, eyes flitting across your face. The name filled you with a desire that burned, something so desperate to have him touch you that it almost surprised you, as Eddie tipped his chin to meet your eyes. Something warm, syrupy and so eager to have you that it set your entire body alight, lingered in his eyes as his hands lifted from your center. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Before you could lament the loss of his touch, mourn the disappearing warmth, Eddie leaned in to press a searing kiss to your lips. It quieted the lingering embarrassment, erased any concern, and brought your focus back to the slick gathering between your thighs. It was almost unbearable, the desperation you felt - the desire to have him touch you, to touch him in return - and Eddie seemed to be able to read your want as he nipped at your bottom lip and tugged.

“Let’s get you out of this, sweetheart,” he urged as his fingers fell to the hem of your top, “so I can give you what you want.”

There were moments, encounters where he liked to drag out the process of disrobing you - moments where he tugged the pieces of your clothing from your body with the utmost care - but he knew he’d taken enough time teasing you. Eddie was almost unnervingly patient in moments like this but even he was starting to grow restless.

Sure fingers found the hem of your top and tugged it up, tossed it across the room where it landed on the floor with a thud. It was followed by your skirt, soft material dragged down your legs carefully, before steady hands pressed to your shoulders. When you reclined, rested with your head amongst the pillows, Eddie finally chanced a glance at your nearly bare from.

Eddie gasped, a teasing sound that rang in your ears and set your skin alight, as he eyed the matching pale pink set covering the bits of flesh he so desperately wanted to see. It was nothing special, a set he’d seen - a set he’d tugged from your body, tossed into the abyss of his bedroom floor - a handful of times already, but he still eyed it as if it were the first time.

“You planned this,” he accused, feigning a scandalized glare as a hand flew to his chest. The silver of his rings glinted in the dim light of your bedroom and drew your eyes as his raked over your exposed skin. “You invited me here, knowing your parents were out, just for sex. What kind of man do you think I am, you minx?”

The moment of levity was desperately needed, useful in easing the ache in your chest and calming the rapid beat of your heart. Soft giggles escaped into thick air - harder to breathe with every brush of Eddie’s fingers against your overheated skin - as you glanced up at him. “Eddie!”

Your admonishment was soft, lacked any real heat, and made Eddie grin as he shifted to settle above you with one knee on either side of your hips. “Yeah, yeah,” he hummed, sounding a little put out as his hands ghosted along your sides. “I’m getting to it. I haven’t seen you in two weeks, sweetheart. Two whole weeks. Let me take my time, alright? Wanna see what’s changed.”

Eddie’s gaze softened, if only slightly, as he glanced down at you. Two weeks had passed - only two - and nothing of note had changed but he still studied your body intently. There was never any hint of displeasure, never any hint of anything other than a fond warmth reserved especially for you, and the look in his eyes made your heart ache as callused fingers brushed at your sides.

He traced the dip of your hip, the soft expanse of your stomach, the divot left in your skin from the waistband of your skirt, and you sighed as you focused on the feeling. It was soft and so sweet, something that made you glad you’d given him a chance - let him befriend you, let him ply you with pretty words instead of running for fear of falling in love - even as his fingers hooked into the band of your panties.

“I’ve seen this set before,” he acknowledged, grinning was he snapped the band against your skin. The sting was minimal, more a surprise than a real nuisance, and Eddie laughed at the squeak he managed to pull from the back of your throat. “It gets prettier every time, though.” When you tipped your head, skin burning from the weight of his gaze - the sincerity of his compliments, spoken with a reverence that never failed to warm your heart - Eddie laughed. “It’s prettier when you’re dripping for me, angel.”

Rough fingers dipped down, brushed the cotton barely concealing you from view, before Eddie dipped a thumb to brush the growing wet patch. It was darker than the rest of the fabric, evidence of your desire for him, and he groaned at the sight. “Are you gonna let me taste you, pretty? Eat you like I’ve been dreaming about for two long, long weeks?”

Eddie’s request rumbled in his chest, words low and rough as his eyes flickered between your face and the cotton hiding the spot you both so desperately wanted him to see - to touch, to taste. It rang in your ears, searing words edged with a playful tinge that made you whine, helped you realize he knew you were more desperate than him.

“Yeah, please, Eds.”

That salacious grin returned, bled into the warmth of the room and made it hard to breath. He had you in the palm of his hand - eager to give him whatever he asked for, permission to do as he pleased - and he tilted his head as his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties. His thumb stroked idly at the cotton, soothing both of you, as he met your eyes. “Please, what?”

Anything, everything; whatever he wanted. When he looked at you like that, dark eyes starving - hungry, all for you, in a way that made you feel so fucking powerful - you would give him anything he asked for. There was no time to think, no time to worry about the words that escaped, and that was the way you both liked it. When he demanded an answer, so insistent, all you could do was respond on instinct.

“Whatever you want, however you want it. I’m yours, Eddie. Please.”

Dark eyes, blown black with lust, glinted in the dim light of your bedroom as the corner of his mouth curved into a smirk. Plush lips, swollen from your kiss and the drag of his tongue across them, drew your eyes and all you could think of was how heavenly they felt pressed to your skin.

“Oh,” he hummed, fingers gripping the band at your waist and beginning to tug, “that’s a very dangerous promise, sweetheart. You sure about that?”

“Uh-huh.” There was nothing to consider, no need to weigh the consequences of your promise - with Eddie, there was never a moment where what you both wanted failed to overlap and create a perfect circle of desire - as you nodded. “Whatever you want, please.”

With your ringing consent, so desperate just to feel the press of his warm hands to your skin, Eddie dragged the soaked cotton down your legs. Deft fingers raked along your skin, brushed at the heated expanse of your thigh - littered with goosebumps, shivers racking your body despite the searing warmth of his body pressed to yours - as he mapped your inner thighs.

Eddie shrugged out of his jacket, let the heavy leather hit the floor with a thud, before shuffling down the bed to settle between your spread thighs. Moments of lingering embarrassment, unnecessary shame at the way he studied you, hit you square in the chest but before you could move to close your thighs, Eddie shouldered his way between them.

Eagerly, he reached for your wrist and plucked the scrunchie wrapped around it from you with a teasing wink before he dragged the frizzy curls framing his face into a low bun. He knew his hair tickled your thighs, sometimes made it difficult for you to concentrate on the feeling of his mouth - his fingers, his whole and undivided attention - and you smiled at the gesture.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, sweetheart. Missed you,” he cooed, voice muffled by your skin as he pressed his mouth to the sensitive skin just above your knee. “Missed your face,” he hummed, slowing to press another kiss to your inner thigh, “and your laugh.” He scraped his teeth across a fading bruise, lingered for a moment to suck the pliant flesh between his lips - shut his eyes and hummed at the breathless moan he pulled from you - before flicking his tongue across the warm flesh. “Fuck, missed everything about you.”

He leaned in then, stilled for a moment as his breath fanned across your dripping folds, before licking a broad stripe up your slit without so much as a warning. After two weeks of nothing, no time alone with Eddie - only a moment of attempted intimacy over the phone, interrupted by the nineteen other people living on your hall - the first drag of his tongue felt like a live wire pressed to your skin.

Electricity jolted through your body, yanked that surprised squeak Eddie seemed to love so much from your chest, and you gripped at the sheets beneath your pliant form as his nose brushed your clit. “Missed this perfect fucking pussy,” he groaned, vibration spreading through your body as his fingers pressed into your thigh. “Fuck, you taste so good. Could live between your thighs, if you’d let me, sweetheart.”

As your grip on the covers tightened, fingers digging into the soft cotton, Eddie doubled down on his ministrations. He lost himself to the desire you’d both felt, the desperation to have one another after two weeks of nothing, and licked at you with reckless abandon.

The press of his tongue, lapping at the slick dripping from your folds, and the suckle of his lips wrapping around the sensitive bundle of nerves had you seeing stars. The edges of your vision blurred white, the dark curls between your thighs blurred into a mess of little indistinguishable, and you could feel the bubbling warmth spreading through your limbs. Eddie knew your body well, always so happy to see you falling over the edge for him, and allowed his fingers to drift higher with every swipe of his tongue.

When he finally pressed forward, slipped a finger into your weeping hole, you could feel the metal of his rings pressing into your skin and gasped. Eddie lapped at you, eagerly swallowed all you had to give - the taste of you, the noises falling from your lips - and hummed against your skin as his thumb pressed to your clit.

“Fuckin’ look at you, sweetheart,” he breathed, sounding just as wrecked as you felt, though you had yet to touch him. “So good for me, so responsive. Love fuckin’ you with somethin’ on in the background but, fuck, if hearing you alone isn’t so much better.”

As Eddie spoke, drew your attention to the lack of music, his eyes fell from your face to the apex of your thighs. With his intent gaze, dark eyes blown wide and gone wild, watching as his fingers pressed into you - something akin to wonder, hidden just beneath the black of his lust - you took a moment to listen. You could hear the lewd squelch of his fingers pressing into you, the slick sounds of his mouth lapping at your folds, and it burned white hot in the pit of your stomach as your eyes screwed shut.

He wanted to hear it, reveled in the sounds, and you reminded yourself of that fact as the noise seemed to spur him on.

“Eddie, please!” The request was there, stuck on the tip of your tongue - so close to escaping, so desperate to fall over the edge that your hesitance was long forgotten - and Eddie knew it. There was no way he couldn’t feel it; the way your stomach tensed, the way your thighs pressed tighter to cage his body as close as you could, the way you clenched tighter around him with every insistent press of his fingers. As he tapped the spongy spot that had you seeing stars, your eyes opened and flickered to his.

“Good girls ask for what they want, princess,” he reminded you, lips shiny with your slick and swollen. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” The question was syrupy, warm and dripping as he eyed you, mischief clear in the brown of his eyes as you shivered at the name. When you nodded, choked out a keening ‘uh-huh,’ as his thumb pressed to your clit, Eddie cooed. “Then ask me, sweetheart. Ask me to make you come and I will.”

Any residual hesitance you felt was long gone, melted into the sheets and dripping down Eddie’s fingers. This was the way he liked you, pliant and soft beneath him with no thoughts of anything but the pleasure he gave you, and you would do anything to keep him moving. With a whimper of his name, a sound that had him pressing closer - nipping at your skin a little harder, teeth pressing into soft flesh in a reminder that would linger - you begged. “Please, Eds, please! Make me come, please. Missed you, missed this. Wanna come, please!”

“Mm, that’s it. Good girl.” Eddie’s pace quickened, fingers pressing into you in time to a rhythm only he knew. It constricted your lungs, set your skin alight, and had stars bursting across your vision was his breath fanned over your sticky inner thighs. “Let go. Come for me, angel. Make a mess of me.”

The moment the words fell from his lips, you were careening toward your end. It burned bright, scorched your skin and seared the shape of his palm pressed to your thigh into your memory, as it hit hard. The edges of your vision popped with bursts of white and the cry of his name rang in your ears. Eddie’s own noises - a soft grunt as he shifted, pressed his hips to the mattress in search of a moment of friction; a deep moan as he savored the taste of you on his tongue - melded with yours in a way that made your heart hammer against your ribs.

Eddie lapped at your puffy folds, drank your release eagerly, and you shivered at the insistent pull of his mouth. It was bordering on too much, overwhelming in the best way - sending shivers down your spine; a heat that threatened to swallow you entirely, flames lapping at your skin - and you weakly pressed your hand to his shoulder.

With a laugh, Eddie seemed to take the hint and lapped at your slit once more - a final drag of his tongue through your slick - before pushing himself up to his knees. As he settled above you, you took a moment to drink in the sight of him, eyes blinking slowly as you studied him.

His hair had fallen, frizzy curls no longer contained by the soft scrunchie, and his jeans did nothing to hide his arousal. His mouth and chin were coated in your arousal, lips shiny with your slick, and he grinned at the way your eyes lingered. Though you wanted to look away, pretend you weren’t ogling him, you felt powerless to do anything but watch as he gripped the neck of his t-shirt and tugged.

Black fabric sailed across the room, fell to the floor and joined your clothes - his jacket - and your eyes drifted to the dark trail of hair that disappeared into the band of his boxers. Without thinking, your hand lifted and trembling fingers traced the coarse hair. As your nails raked across his blistering skin, Eddie groaned.

“You gonna let me fuck you now, pretty? Make you come on my cock? ‘M so hard for you, princess.” Eddie’s moan was honest - you could see the evidence clearly, straining against the denim of his jeans - but there was a mocking edge that made you whine. He wasn’t making fun, he could never in a moment like this, but it was close enough to make your cheeks burn.

Whatever filter Eddie had - though it was minimal, at best - was gone. It disappeared with the first press of his mouth to yours, lost to the ether of the room as he sank into your embrace. He spoke freely, unafraid of your reaction, and you would’ve been grateful for the comfort that brought had he not used it to send you spiraling.

As you swallowed, desperate to ease the cotton filling your mouth, Eddie’s hands fell to his belt buckle. With a metallic clink, he popped it open and unzipped his jeans. Your eyes followed his hands, transfixed by the gleaming metal of his rings, and you didn’t need to look at his face to see his smirk.

“Please, Eddie,” you begged, eyes flickering to his as he shimmied his jeans down. “Wanna… wanna feel you.”

Eddie nodded, eyes flickering between your face and the apex of your thighs - the way your legs tightened around him, knees pressing into the side of his as he shucked off his jeans and underwear. “I know, sweetheart,” he cooed, voice softer than it had been - though still tinged with that teasing tone that made your stomach twist. “Been so good for me, even when I’m being mean to you, teasing you. I’ll give you what you want, pretty.”

Before tossing away his jeans, Eddie slipped his wallet from the back pocket and tugged a foil packet from within. It was new - shiny and untouched - and you pouted up at him as he grinned. “You knew,” you huffed, though your voice was too far gone to hold any heat.

“I didn’t know,” Eddie defended, though his grin gave him away as he ripped the foil. “I guessed. Figured it would take longer, though, if I’m honest,” he teased, eyes glittering with a mirth that made you smile despite yourself. “You’re just so easy for me, sweetheart.”

“Only for you.”

It went without saying - he was the only one you’d ever been with, the only one who’d ever made you feel this way - and he knew it. But it still made him grin as he shifted to hover above you. He leaned in, pressed a searing kiss to your mouth, and laughed when you whined as he pulled away.

“Only for me,” he agreed easily as his hand wrapped around the base of his cock. “You ready for me, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh. Please, Eds.” With your lips forming a pout, kiss swollen and shiny with his spit, Eddie laughed. He leaned in to press one final kiss to your mouth, eager to taste you - have you taste the tangy remnants of yourself on his tongue - before he notched the head at your entrance and pressed into you.

As your hips shifted, desperate to meet his despite the slight pinch, Eddie laughed. “Look at you.” There was an edge of condescension in his tone, something dark and syrupy - a little lazy, a little taunting - that had you clenching around him. It was belied by the fond look in his eyes, softened by the caress of his hand at your side, but it still sent a shiver down your spine as he hummed, “So fucking needy.”

Eddie’s fingers pressed into your skin, one hand on your hip - grip bruising, punishing, harder than you could remember it ever being - as he rocked his hips slowly. The pace was far more sensual than was usual for him, slow and hard - a rough drag of his cock through your walls that had you seeing stars - as the tip kissed a spot so deep it bordered on painful.

“You take me so well, pretty,” he complimented, eyes fluttering as he slipped as deep as you could take. “This perfect little pussy was made for me. Wasn’t it?”

“Uh-huh.”

He tutted, a soft click of his tongue, as your eyes threatened to close. With great difficulty, you glanced up at him, your eyes meeting his, and he cooed. “Say it, sweetheart. Tell me this pussy was made for me,” he demanded, still so fucking soft it made your head spin.

“Eddie!”

Callused fingers trailed up your side, the rough drag of them a beautiful contrast to the way his hips rocked with yours, until his hand rested at the base of your throat. He still refused to press, never wanted to constrict the air, you could feel the weight of his hand, heavy and warm, against your skin.

“Say it,” he repeated as his hips moved just a touch faster, “say it and I’ll let you come.”

A moment of hesitation, still not used to breathing the word aloud, and Eddie snapped his hips harder. He pressed impossibly deeper, so close that it took your breath - the scent of him embedded in your nose, in every lungful of air you managed to steal - and you relented. “This pussy was made for you!”

“Shit, good girl.” At his praise, the soft name falling from his mouth so eagerly, you keened. On instinct, you tightened, pleased with yourself - glad you’d made him happy - and Eddie laughed. “Oh, fuck, you like that? Like being my good girl, sweetheart?” When you whimpered, head bobbing in a nod as your hands lifted to his hair, Eddie grinned. “So good for me. So pretty, always so eager to take me. Shit, I missed you, angel.”

Eddie’s hips rocked harder, faster, as he pressed into you with reckless abandon. It was everything you’d missed - the weight of him settled above you, the brush of his fingers against your searing skin, the slick press of his mouth to your face and neck - and you were barreling toward another release far faster than you could’ve imagined.

He saw the signs, felt them clearly, and hummed. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he encouraged, voice wrecked in your ear. “You’ve got another for me. Let it go. Give me one more and I’ll come for you, alright?”

With his encouragement, you sank into the feeling of his hips rutting into yours. The puff of his breath, fanning across your face, and the weight of his palm resting across your throat. It was so much, a desperate heat that made your bed feel too hot - the surface of the sun - and you came with a shout of Eddie’s name.

The rhythm of his hips faltered, sputtered at the feeling of you clenching around him, and you could hear the tremor in his breathing as his own end loomed over his head. As he came, the lewd sounds of your bodies - skin meeting skin, panting breaths echoing through the room - rang in your ears and the warmth of his release made you moan.

A few moments passed, both of your chests heaving as you attempted to gather your breath, before Eddie pulled away. At your whimper, the soft whine you released upon feeling the emptiness, he leaned over to press a soft kiss to your mouth. “Give me a few minutes,” he teased, grinning as your eyes flickered to his. “I’ll fill you up again, pretty.”

You slapped at his chest feebly, limbs boneless, and laughed as he settled on the edge of your bed. His fingers itched for a cigarette - he would’ve already lit one in the comfort of his bedroom - but, instead, he reached for your Polaroid with narrowed eyes.

“You can say no,” he began, voice suddenly earnest - soft, warm, back to the gentle boy you knew and loved - “but I was wondering, can I take a picture of you like this? You look so pretty, angel.”

With the way his eyes roved your sweat slick skin, caught on the spots his mouth loved - the spots his fingers pressed to - you had no doubt as to how he saw you. It was obvious, clear in the reverence of his stare, and though you were a little nervous, you nodded. “As long as you promise to keep it hidden.”

“No one will see it but me,” he promised, and you knew that he was telling the truth. “You sure?”

When you nodded, Eddie clambered to the foot of the bed and snapped a quick photo - your body splayed across the pale sheets, tip of your chin visible but no other defining features, puffy folds spread with evidence of what you’d been up to. While it developed, he dropped it to the nightstand before climbing back onto the bed beside you.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he hummed, sparing the photo a glance, “this is gonna come in handy when you’re gone. I love thinking about you, but having a visual? ‘M gonna get carpal tunnel.”

“Eddie, that’s so gross,” you teased, laughing through the heat burning at your cheeks as he pressed you into his chest. “I really, really missed you.”

Eddie grinned, laughing along with you, and shrugged as he pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “Mm, I missed you, too. You wanna order pizza, gather our strength before round two?”

The rumble of your stomach answered for you - hunger cutting through the soft, syrupy remnants of your high - and you nodded. “Sounds perfect, Eds.”

After nearly a year together, Eddie had finally seen all of you. It was everything, every piece that comprised you, and judging from the fond look in his eyes, he would take you whole. He loved you, understood you in a way that no one had, and you found yourself glad that Eddie Munson had you in the palm of his hand.

______________________________________________________

Author’s Note: Every Eddie fic takes a million years because I just can’t shut the hell up about him. What kinda spell did they cast on this. man. He’s so goddamn charismatic.

Taglist: @x-avantgarde-x, @thisisparadisemylove, @eddiesprincess, @slvdsjjk, @munsonlover, @tasmbestspdrman, @urofficial-cyberslut, @jxngwhore, @hopelesslylosttheway, @meaganjm, @lazuli-leenabride, @deiondraaa, @piscesmesss, @glowyskiess, @kiszkathecook, @missryerye, @solarrexplosion, @ofherscarlettwitchways, @lovedandleft-haunted, @trappedinlimbo15, @sweetiekitten, @bookfrog242, @gwendolynmary, @sage-bun, @zealouslibrariesparadiselight, @castiels-lilass, @tojis-little-brat, @emmah787, @theworldsendxx, @asuperconfusedgirl, @flores-and-sunshine, @passi0np1t, @laurathefahrradsattel, @hellf1reclub, @slut4yourmom, @niko-04, @hannirose-loves-you, @mrs-eddie-munson, @screambabe, @vllowe, @ryswritingrecord, @cheriebondy, @ryswritingrecord, @thewitchofthewilds140, @bootlegmothman420, @maruushkka, @honeymoonpython, @keenesbeans, @jess-bonn, @sammysinger04, @khaoticken21, @denkis-slut, @spiderman-berries, @lotus-es, @amortiff, @stardust-galaxies, @ure-a-sunflower, @1-800-ch3rry, @ladybeewritethings, @ynbutbetter, @hunnybunimdun, @breathinfive, @s-u-t, @s4ntacarlal0stk1d, @rae-iin, @pennamesgame, @stefans-wife, @voldieshorts, @frankie-mercury, @bbymochi1, @serendiipty, @saturnsworld01, @eddiemunson1sstuff, @valthevalkyrie-main, @crying-caro, @inglourious-imagines

If you’re not tagged, it’s because Tumblr wouldn’t let me!

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conflictofthemind · 8 days

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Let's talk about the insane Paranorman (Norman/Agatha) x Stranger Things (Will/Henry) Parallels

"Once upon a time, long ago, there was a little girl. A - a little girl who was different... Who was different from the other people in her village. She could see and - and do things that no one could understand. And that made them scared of her! She turned away from everyone and became sad and lonely, and had no one to turn to. The more she turned away from people, the more scared they were of her. And they did something terrible! They became so scared that they took her away, and they killed her! And even - and even though she was dead, something in her came back. And this part of her, wouldn't go away even after three hundred years! And the longer it stayed, the less there was of the little girl."

Will and Norman are both associated with zombies. For Norman, this is his obsession with zombies in pop-culture and old horror flicks (also similar to Will's own nerdy interests). For Will, this connection is quite literal as he came back from the dead. They're also both called Freaks. In both medias this is heavily associated with the characters' perceived queerness and their persecution, including the metaphor of their stories, is about homophobic oppression.

Norman and Will develop a psychic connection with the 'villain', who is able to send them into trances where they see visions, and eventually even whisper in their ears when the connection becomes stronger.

The 'villain' part is in quotes because, while they both occupy the role of the antagonist within their stories, the line is not so cut and dry. We learn that both Agatha and Henry were young kids (11 and 12 respectively), who started showing signs of magical powers, which led their conformist societies to be afraid of them.

The Puritan courts sentence Agatha to death on charges of witchcraft, where she curses the seven jurors to die and never find rest. Henry's story proves more complicated.... but you can see the parallel. Paranorman is in a way the kids movie version of the Henry/Will plot in Stranger Things.

Paranorman ends with Norman confronting Witch!Agatha at her grave, where he is able to pull through to the little girl that still exists inside of her and wants to be laid to rest.

It had been tradition up until this point that the people with the 'gift' to see the dead would read her a bedtime story to make her go away for another year, her soul still unrested and in agony. Norman's decision to try and talk to her himself is what broke this 300-year cycle, allowing her to pass on peacefully and saving the town from yearly destruction.

...I think we will see something similar in Season 5 of Stranger Things. I don't think that's too much of an unpopular or an undiscussed opinion at this point in time, so I won't push it too much further. Look up other people's posts on the topic; I'm sure they could articulate much better.

But the specific parallels between these two pieces of media are so stark that I wonder if this was another piece of inspiration and evidence we can add to the pile. Especially with the text: society oppresses people with powers for being different // subtext: society oppresses queer people theme they share in common, and the amount of 80s horror references that exist within Paranorman.

#will byers #henry creel #stranger things #paranorman #st parallels #so many things you see in paranorman that you wouldnt ever see in another kids movie... bless laika studios

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shyvioletcat · 1 year

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A/N: So my dear friend @mariamuses came up with a wonderful prompt (this one right here) that really took hold of my imagination and wouldn’t let go. I’ve been working on it for a while but finally got around to getting it done. @rowaelinprompts another one for the list.

CW: A whole lot of banter, swearing and smut.

~~~~~

If Rowan Whitethorn was the main character in a novel, Aelin would most definitely be the antagonist in his tragic story.

Their relationship hadn’t started smoothly, they had metaphorically been at each other’s throat from the moment they met. They were authors, both of them employed but the same publisher, and essentially rivals in every way. Rowan was an author of epic fantasy, the gritty you have to be fully awake to keep track of kind. Aelin wrote for the fantasy genre as well but her books were more of the romantic kind. There was a stigma attached to that and people like Rowan-holier-than-thou Whitethorn tended to look down their noses at such things. She wrote romantic fantasy, he wrote science fiction. They were at polar opposites on the literary scale.

The introduction had occurred in their publisher’s office. Aelin had gone in to renew her contract and Rowan had been in the office signing his first. They shared a manager and Fenrys had been very excited to introduce them. She had offered a charming smile and her hand, which to his credit Rowan had taken in a brief handshake. After that Rowan had barely given her a second glance.

Aelin supposed that Rowan was just shy, and she tried over and over again to be friendly and get his attention. There were more than enough opportunities for it—the two of them were the shining stars of the fantasy world. They were always in on the big meetings together to organise release dates and press circuits. To keep the money flowing in smoothly the company usually alternated half yearly.

And it was unfortunate for him that there was very little in life that gave her as much joy as pissing him off did. He wasn’t all bad, their wits matched when they engaged in their battles of wills and he was devastatingly handsome. Maybe she was no better than the kid on the school yard picking on the person they liked because they didn’t know how to deal with their own feelings. Somewhere along the line, between the insane amount of grumpiness and quiet composure, Aelin had decided that she liked him. Like liked him. But that didn’t matter. Aelin could ignore all that for pure fun riling up Rowan Whitethorn gave her. It wasn’t entirely satisfying, but it was enough to keep her going.

Today Rowan had to suffer through hours of it. The two of them were at a comic and pop culture convention; meeting, greeting and signing things for fans and for monetary gain. Seated next to each other it was all too easy to slip a comment over the few feet of desk between them. Or flick little bits of paper over that she took the time to roll into teeny tiny balls for a singular purpose amid the stream of fans. In fact one such fan had just left the signing table when a piece of Aelin’s ammunition hit Rowan’s cheek. That quietly enthusiastic book buyer was the last for that round and they would have about fifteen minutes until the next lot came through.

He didn’t even flinch, he just sighed and clicked his pen, brushing the paper away with a casual hand.

“Your fans are so much more boring than mine,” Aelin said, chin resting in her palm.

“What?” Rowan asked flatly.

“Well, mine tend to go all out in their costuming,” Aelin replied. “Your’s

just put on a themed t-shirt and call it a day.”

“Is that such a bad thing? It’s far more practical,” Rowan countered as he leant back in his chair. “They don’t have to worry about being the weird ones on public transport or having their boobs fall out of their tops.”

Aelin grinned. “Have you been paying special attention to the boobs on display?”

Rowan didn’t answer but the blush on his was answer enough.

“Well, well, well. It seems that my books have given you something to care about,” Aelin added.

“Stop it, I have not been looking… it's just a general observation,” Rowan insisted.

“You’re welcome by the way.” Another ball of paper hit his face.

This time Rowan sighed. “Aelin.”

“Rowan.” Her voice was sickly sweet.

He looked over at her and Aelin’s stomach flipped. He was too handsome today, all made up for the public. He’d shaved, and his hair was kept from falling into his eyes with just the right amount of product. It was such an unusual colour and not for the first time Aelin wished she could touch it.

So caught up in her thoughts Aelin totally missed that Rowan had actually said something to her.

“Hmm? Sorry I am just thinking about the poor unfortunate souls that have been ensnared by your sub par writing.”

A familiar challenge flashed in his eyes and Aelin knew her little game was succeeding.

“I was just saying it’s nice that your fans have so much fun with your work,” Rowan said.

“Wait, Mr Whitethorn, was that a compliment?” Aelin’s hand was on her chest like she might be about to swoon.

He shook his head. “That was a compliment for your fans, not you. I’ll refrain from making a comment about their tastes in literature.”

Oh, he was ready to play now, Aelin thought to herself.

“Insulting the fans is a little beneath you, don’t you think?” Aelin said, twirling her gold ink pen between her fingers. “They are our livelihood after all. I’m sure, despite how you feel about me, you wouldn’t wish for me to be destitute. You’re not that cruel.”

Rowan glanced down at his watch, probably checking for when the next lot of fans would start flooding through. “Of course not, a little humility wouldn’t go astray though.”

Aelin tipped back her head and laughed, when she was done she found Rowan looking at her, an odd look on his face. Not odd enough to dissuade her from her next comment. “You won’t have luck there.”

She could have sworn the corner of his mouth quirked up the smallest amount for the tiniest fraction of a second. “Why am I not surprised?”

Any further response was interrupted by an attendant letting them know it would only be a few minutes before the next round of signings would begin. Aelin smiled and nodded and waited for the blushing young person to turn around before she went through her pre-fan-meeting brush up. She fluffed out her loose hair, readjusted the straps of her dress. One of the knots at her shoulder was coming undone so she gave that a quick pull to tighten it. After that she took out the small mirror from her pocket to check her face. Everything seemed fine except for a loose eyelash. There were signs of commotion starting as the fans from the start of the line so Aelin snapped her mirror shut. Blatant vanity wasn’t good for her image, or something like that, according to her publicist. She’d have to get rid of the eyelash blindly.

Aelin swept at her cheek, assuming it was gone, and put on her most charming of smiles giving those at the front of the line a quick wave. They tittered with excitement, copies of her books in their hands. Rowan’s fans, on the other hand, were far more subdued, but a few of them up the front were vibrating with nervousness. When they did sneak a glance in Rowan’s general direction Aelin gave them a smile and even a sly wink. Three of them blushed.

“You missed it.” Rowan’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“Hmm?” Aelin angled her chair so she faced him better.

“Your eyelash, it’s still there.”

She was surprised he’d been paying enough attention to her to notice the whole lash situation. Aelin swiped at her face again, fingertips dabbing along her cheek bone.

“You’re completely missing it,” Rowan said. He scooted his chair over, nearly close enough that their knees touched, then he beckoned her with a hand. Aelin lent it, her breath catching as Rowan’s fingers touched her cheek. It was over in less than three seconds, and yet those few seconds without air were enough to make her completely breathless. He left his finger raised in front of her face and she spotted the offending eyelash on the tip of his finger. “Make a wish.”

Aelin cocked her head, fighting a smile. This was straight out of one of her books, her debut novel in fact. The heroine and the soon to be love interest share a quiet moment amongst all the trials and danger that would eventually bring them together. It was sweet, and a turning point for those characters. There was no way Rowan would understand the significance of what he was doing. And that same peaceful outcome was highly unlikely in this situation.

Playing along anyway, Aelin sucked in a breath to blow away the eyelash. Her wish wouldn’t be polite to voice in public, or to the man that it included. But when Aelin’s breath passed her lips she kept the vision of her and him very clear in her mind. Of her body pressed against the wall, Rowan’s hands holding her up by her thighs as her hands tugged at his hair, mussing it out of one perfection into another, and the heated kisses being pressed over every inch of uncovered skin. That scene right there—one she had thought of countless times, that was her wish.

“What did you wish for?” Rowan asked, none the wiser over her depraved thoughts.

Aelin tsked at him, shaking her head like she was annoyed at such a foolish question. “Rule one, you never say what you wish for out loud. Otherwise it won’t come true.”

He didn’t push it, instead he fiddled with the rolled sleeve of his shirt. That left Rowan’s tattoos on display—a design Aelin had traced over with her eyes numerous times. Something in the Old Language and she would be lying if she hadn’t thought about learning just so she could understand what is said.

Footsteps and voices drew away Aelin’s attention and she turned to face the oncoming influx of fans. It was time to smile and put on a show. These were people who made her so successful, she owed them something.

“Hi, how are you today?” Aelin said to the fan who rushed up, a shiny new book in their hand. “Shall I sign that for you?”

That was essentially the same script Aelin used fan after fan. There were some variations when questions were exchanged. The fan in front of her at the moment had broken down in tears and Aelin had reached out to touch her hand, it only made her cry harder. Eventually the fan gathered herself enough to give a teary but very sincere thank you. Aelin grinned, giving a small wave, before movement in the corner of her eye redirected her attention. She peered over to Rowan’s desk, seeing that he was making a tally.

“What are you doing?” She asked before she could stop herself.

Rowan didn’t look at her, just clicked away the nib of his pen. “That’s going to tell me how many of your fans cried.”

Aelin left out a short laugh. “You’ve been counting?”

“Had to find something to entertain myself,” Rowan replied. “She’s number eight, just for your information.”

“Maybe I should keep track of all your fans who flirt with you, I might need an entire notebook. Makes me think it’s not actually your writing that’s intrigued them. Whoever decided to put your photo on the back cover should get a cut of the money.”

Rowan didn’t get a chance to reply because a pretty young woman wearing a t-shirt dedicated to one of his prominent characters approached his table. She gave him big starry eyes, her voice probably an octave higher than it needed it to be. To say Rowan was smiling might have been an exaggeration, but his face was pleasant. Aelin had her own fan to deal with so she missed whatever happened next in the interaction. When she glanced back at Rowan after sending that one away, he was still talking to the same woman. His elbows rested on the table as he looked up at her, smiling now. A real ‘you could see his teeth’ smile.

Aelin’s gut twisted with jealousy. Not only was this woman flirting with him, but Rowan was flirting back. It would never be that way with her, he loathed her, hated her, the villain in his story. Any amiability they had at these things were short lived. By tomorrow the ice would reform under the cover of night and they would go back to the way they were.

Finally the fangirl left, throwing one last dazzling smile over her shoulder. Thankfully for Aelin’s own sanity, Rowan didn’t notice, he was too busy getting his desk back in order.

“You know we don’t get paid to flirt with the fans, right? There’s no extra bonus for that,” Aelin threw at him, her voice sharper than it should have been.

“She was flirting with me, I wasn’t flirting with her,” Rowan defended.

“Yeah sure,” Aelin said, breaking up the conversation with another signing. “From where I sat, that looked a lot like flirting, so much so I ..would call it such.”

Rowan sent off another of his fans with a signature before he turned to her. His green eyes pinned her in place, the unexpected intensity stunning her to utter stillness.

“Trust me, Aelin,” He gave a quick glance as he nodded for the next fan to come forward. “If I was flirting, you would know.”

Clearing her throat, Aelin took the book form yet another fan and signed her name. And she did, again and again. She hated that Rowan had got the upper hand on her, that he had been the one to ruffle her feathers. That was her job. She could feel the smugness radiating off him and in between smiles and fleeting hellos, Aelin was scrambling for a come back.

When Aelin saw a small group of Rowan’s manly fans snigger at her fans and the adorable commitment they had taken to their love of her books, it came to her.

“If you flirt as bad as you write…” Aelin muttered during a slight lull in signing, letting the comment fade out into the realm of interpretation. “You’re probably one of those male writers who creates one dimensional women whose ovaries tingle at the sight of a handsome man or boobs that move counter clockwise when they walk.”

“What the hell are you on about?” Rowan asked, conscious of his language as a particularly young fan walked up with his parent.

“Female characters, Rowan. In particular, yours,” Aelin offered.

Rowan’s laugh was humourless. “There’s only one way to find out for sure, Aelin.”

She ignored the way her name sounded coming from those full lips. “Never.”

Aelin had declared numerous times that she had not read his books, she had sworn she never would. So she didn’t know for sure how Rowan wrote his female characters, regardless she wasn’t going to abandon her new line of attack.

“I’ll start passing judgement on your faerie porn,” Rowan said to her, making the person who had just handed over a book snort.

Aelin signed her page viciously. Yes, her books were full of faeries, yes they had a lot of sex. There was nothing to be ashamed of about writing, reading and enjoying such things. The condescension and superiority that people held around romantic fantasy screamed of misogyny. As a predominantly female author community it wasn't at all surprising that the genre was looked down on. And faerie porn wasn’t necessarily a bad term, not when it was used lightly and lovingly, and by the right people. Rowan Whitethorn, with his know it all scientist and boring spaceships, was not one of those people.

“A length as long as a forearm,” Rowan added. “Have you actually measured your forearm?”

Aelin couldn’t help it, she did look at her forearm, even subtly shifting it over so she could compare it to her body. She had never specifically compared a dick to a forearm but maybe she was prone to a little exaggeration. It was romance, it was fantasy, an extra few inches was a given.

“Oh, please,” Aelin was glad that the end of the line was sight. “A huge penis is far more believable than a poorly contrived experiment gone wrong.”

“It’s science fiction,” Rowan said.

“It’s fantasy,” Aelin shot right back.

For a moment they just looked at each other, the challenge rising. If he wanted to play the euphemism game she would play. She was an expert. She had at least five alternatives for clit in her back pocket.

“Feeling a little inadequate?” Aelin all but mocked in a sympathising and sweet voice. “I hear it's not size that matters.”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “We’re not talking about this.”

If that wasn’t just an invitation.

Work prevented her from answering right away, interrupted by what she was here to do. This was going to pay for another fancy bookcase in her home office and maybe some books to fill it.

“I would bet you wouldn’t even know where to find that bundle of nerves,” she taunted. “And if you did, you wouldn’t know what to do.”

In turn, Rowan was delayed by his own work, but she could see the tightness working in his jaw as he withheld his answer. She wondered what he was spending his money on.

When he was done he lent an elbow on his table and once again Aelin found herself rooted in place by his stare. Not to use a cliche but it was the very definition of a heated stare. She was starting to contemplate whether or not Rowan really hated her, because when his eyes took a casual perusal over her she was most definitely having second thoughts.

“Are you sure about that?” His voice was low and rough. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. It was unfair that he could so easily start unravelling her with just a few words.

A very bright Hi snapped Aelin out of her trance and she went back to her job. She was distracted through that signing, barely remembering who had offered up the book or what they looked like, because she couldn't shake the distinct feeling that Rowan had just been flirting with her.

Maybe she could get him to do it again.

“That one spot is a thing of complicated wonder, not everyone has the skills,” Aelin said, she was a free woman now with her line ending. Rowan had a few more to go. “I would begin to wonder if the women in your books even have one.”

Rowan actually muttered a curse under his breath and gallantly recovered by the time one of his few remaining fans came up to the table.

When he had a moment he replied. “At least I keep the growling to a minimum.”

“Don’t mock the growling, my readers love the growling,” Aelin defended. “It’s a crowd pleaser.”

The last few of Rowan’s fans handed their books over and he gave them his full attention. It wasn’t until they were gone that he faced her. “Is that how you write, Aelin? Cheap cliches and tropes please the populace?”

“Excuse me?” Aelin said, playfulness morphing into anger. How dare he insult her or her writing like that.

“Can’t handle when the tables are turned, Galathynius?” Rowan was entirely too smug for her to handle.

Aelin wanted to storm off, but she still had a few more minutes to wait here in case there were any late comers. All she could do is glare, eyes narrowing at Rowan who was busy looking at something on his phone and dream of all the painful ways she could use that pen on him. Maybe she’d start with stabbing him in the hand, slow down his writing a bit. Noise drew her attention away and she saw a few more people walking over. Regardless, she took the opportunity to fire another non violent shot.

“I don’t know why I expected anything else, Sci-fi is such a boys club. I wouldn't expect you to think for yourself and think outside the preconceived sexist ideas against female authors. Romance, no matter the sub genre, is valid and worthy just as much as any other form of writing.”

Rowan looked mildly shocked, then affronted. “I never—“

A throat clearing had Rowan stopping, he looked down awkwardly and then to the fan who handed him a book. He stumbled over his introduction but recovered quickly and slipped on that charming mask. That’s all it was, a mask. He was a bastard, a pious, narrow minded bastard. It was very unfortunate Aelin was obsessed with him.

Rowan had a pair of women fawning over him and suddenly Aelin was filled with longing for that to be her. Not gushing over his work, because she hadn’t read it wouldn’t know where to start. But to be able to appreciate him in public. Not bottling it all up to the point that she felt like she was going to explode.

Despite the fan in front of him, Rowan said, “You really think I’m one of those assholes that degrades their female characters to pandering damsels with no depth or purpose other than wives or the murdered?”

With no real evidence, Aelin just shrugged but a fan came to his defence. “He actually gave a really great interview talking about the depiction of women in media.”

“On how to do it wrong,” Aelin muttered, but each word was clear.

Rowan’s pen snapped down on the table but that was the only sign of his irritation as he thanked and said goodbye to the fan that had gallantly come to his defence. What Aelin had done was highly unprofessional and she just hoped the fan wouldn’t take to social media about it. She didn’t like her chances.

The last of the stragglers came through and Aelin signed her last book, sending the fan off with a genuine smile and an enthusiastic wave, just waiting for the official declaration for this to be over.

“Okay, you guys are done,” the attendant that was directing them around said, giving Aelin’s table a definitive ending of signing knock.

“Thanks for that,” Aelin said brightly, thanking the gods this was over and she’d have some space to breathe. She went to offer some lighthearted celebratory banter but Rowan was already gone. He must have dashed out as soon as the attendant came over, his chair was still spinning.

Aelin followed, eager to be out of the public eye. She’d messed up, and she should apologise, even if it meant swallowing her pride and admitting she was wrong. That left a very sour taste in her mouth and she sighed. She could do this, sorry wasn’t a hard word to say.

Walking down the deserted hallway towards the VIP rooms, Rowan was easy to spot. This part of the convention centre was closed off from the public, only guests and workers were allowed back here. He turned a corner, right to where their dressing rooms were. With the need for solitude Aelin almost passed Rowan’s door to her own but she needed to do the right thing.

She hesitated at his door. Maybe. Aelin stepped back and raised her fist. Yes.

Her knuckles were about to hit the cheap laminate when the door opened. Rowan was looking at his phone so nearly bowled her over. It took her touching his chest for him to notice her blocking the way. His eyes started on her hand and tracked up her arm to her face within a matter of seconds. He was most definitely disappointed to see her.

“Hellas take me, what?” He snapped, taking a step back into his room.

“Hello to you, too,” Aelin said sardonically, matching his mood. “I didn’t realise my mere presence was so offensive. Can’t say it’s unexpected.”

Rowan cursed under his breath before looking right at her. “How else do you expect me to react after you’ve spent gods know how long assuming the worst about me and my work? You’re judging me on my books which you haven’t even read.” He paused like he was considering his words. “I’ve read yours, all of them. And I will happily admit to everyone that they’re good, but you can’t afford me the same courtesy. I don’t understand why you have this gods-damned vendetta against me.’

For a long moment Aelin just stood there stunned, just processing the words he’d said. Then in her shocked state, it was her stubbornness that won out. “Nice of you to let me know you degraded yourself to the level of reading faerie porn, I hope it wasn’t above your reading level.”

She shouldn’t have said it, because Rowan got mad, unexpectedly mad. This wasn’t the playful banter induced irritation that Aelin liked to rile out of him. This was real anger, so fierce and sudden it left Aelin feeling flustered and way out of her depth.

Rowan let out a short bitter laugh. “You know what, Aelin? I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of this.”

“Just admit—” Aelin had to clear her throat. “Just admit your institutionalised misogyny and distaste for my books. That should excuse you like every other man who can’t admit they’re wrong, you absolute asshat.”

“I don’t understand what I did to deserve your contempt, I’ve never claimed to laud my writing prowess over you.” He was fuming now. “If you want to talk about people admitting you were wrong, you might want to start with yourself.”

Aelin scoffed. “I think you’re threatened, and like any threatened animal you’re lashing out. Just like your writing, your words now won’t be enough.”

Rowan actually took a step back and ran an agitated hand through his hair. “You know what, I’ve had enough of your princess act. You’re a fantastic author but thanks to nepotism you’ve had to work nowhere near as hard as I have. Daddy’s money supported you, you can’t deny it. I wasn’t allowed that kind of time or freedom to hone my craft.”

Anger stoked, Aelin wouldn’t, couldn’t back down. “How dare you. How dare you insinuate once again my writing is so inferior to yours just because I don’t fit the idea of the tortured author. Although it's a relief to finally and openly admit your halfassery in your own work.”

“I never—” Rowan snapped. “You know what, fuck you!”

The swearing took Aelin by surprise, flustered her and apparently scrambled her brain because she had no control or coherency over the words that flew from her mouth of their own accord. “No, you fuck me!”

If Aelin had possessed lesser restraint she would have clamped a hand over her mouth to try and cram those damning words back in. Instead she just stood there dumbstruck, Rowan did too. Then his whole demeanour changed. The shock morphed into confident determination, like he was piecing together a riddle and had come to a sudden realisation. His green eyes locked onto her’s, taking the steps he needed so that he was leaning a hand on the doorway, close enough that Aelin had to look up at him.

For a moment the only sound Aelin heard was the beating of her heart on her own ears. Then Rowan lent in just that fraction closer.

“Do you want me to?” He asked, whisper soft but rough in a way that made Aelin’s gut twist.

“I—“ her throat was so dry that her voice scratched it and caught there.

A smirk tilted Rowan’s lips, and he became handsome in a dangerous way. “Is this the truth of it, Aelin? You want to fuck me so bad that tease and taunt just to ease your frustrations? How’s that going for you?”

Aelin swallowed, hoping her voice would return with some amount of confidence so that she could admit to the contrary convincingly. “Don’t flatter yourself, Whitethorn.”

Rowan stood a little taller. “That’s not a no.”

Oh gods.

Thoughts floundering, Aelin was looking for something to rescue her from the situation she had marched herself into. Now Rowan had called her out, and somehow he was able to see through the lies she tossed his way.

“Have we argued enough that you’ll go back to your dressing room and smile at yourself in the mirror as you come up with clever little insults for our next round?” Rowan asked, reaching out and sweeping her hair over the knot of her dress that sat on her shoulder. “Or should we keep going and see what happens next?”

The gesture had almost been sweet, innocent, but then his thumb dragged down the side of her neck.

“You’re teasing.” Aelin hated how breathless her voice sounded.

His featherlight touch ceased, his hand withdrawing to a safer distance. “Am I?”

Mala burn her, what was happening right now? All of Aelin’s wit had deserted her; she stood there, no retort or scathing remark to put Rowan back in his place. The only thought that was rattling around in her empty head was that maybe Rowan wanted this too. It made her senses come alive, all too keenly focused on the man in front of her. Aelin could scent the fresh edge of his cologne, her eyes roved over him without shame or reserve. The brief touch he had given her wasn’t enough, and without her permission she found herself arching ever so slightly towards him in the wish for more. She wanted to feel his hands on her body— wanted to taste him.

“Well, Aelin. What’s it going to be?” Rowan no longer lent on the doorway, standing straight he just looked at her expectantly.

The next move was her’s to decide.

He’d outplayed her, Aelin hated it.

“You’re a bastard,” she half mumbled, all her usual arrogance nowhere to be found, she tried to save some face by putting a hand on her hip. An abrasive and hostile stance.

Rowan wasn’t discouraged. “We’ll see if I can change your mind about that.”

Aelin felt her face scrunch in confusion. “What is that suppose—oop!”

Rowan yanked Aelin into his dressing room by the brave arm on her hip, far enough that he could close the door and then press her into it. When she had time to catch her breath, Aelin found her hands bunched in the front of his pristine button up shirt. Their chests heaved in unison, neither of them making the move to take it further.

“Rowan,” was the only word Aelin could manage, the only thing in her head.

In response to his name he bowed closer, their mouths almost touching.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Rowan asked. “I need you to say it before I give you what you want.”

Aelin couldn’t say it, it was like the final barrier in admitting she was wrong. So instead she went to close the distance herself, but to her gut sinking disappointment Rowan drew back.

“I’ve read your books, Aelin. I know you know how to use words,” Rowan made sure his know-it-all tone came through.

She was stuck, trapped and wanting so badly. And from the satisfied smile on his face, Rowan knew it.

“Yes,” she predicted the insistence that would come from Rowan’s mouth and clarified. “Yes, kiss me.”

Surprisingly he sighed in relief. “Thank the gods.”

Aelin gasped as Rowan closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to her mouth, then moaning as he didn’t hold back. That small sound was enough to snap just a little bit more of Rowan’s restraint and he crowded her fully against the door, pressing their bodies together. It felt close to heaven having his hard body on her’s like this with how perfectly they aligned. When Rowan’s hands dragged from her back down to her waist Aelin arched into him, bringing them that much closer. He held her against him with strong and insistent hands.

“Is this all you wanted, princess?” Rowan asked, blessing her lips with another heady kiss. “Or did you really mean what you said?”

Aelin had two choices. She could hold to her stubbornness and pride, twist the door handle somewhere behind her and flee. Or… she could stay and have Rowan do exactly what she had told him to do.

“Rowan I—“ she got distracted when Rowan kissed down her neck. “I want you to.”

“Want me to what, exactly?”

This was Rowan’s revenge. For every insult and teasing word that Aelin had thrown at him for years, he was dragging this out. Pulling drawn out confirmations and pleas just to see her squirm. He was going to make her say the words just for spite. It just made Aelin want it—him—more.

“Fuck me, Rowan,” Aelin said, a hand im Rowan’s hair to bring his lips closer. “I want it.”

He growled, something right out of her books, a sound low in his throat that had the blood in Aelin’s veins heating. Rowan abandoned his words, and let his actions speak now. He hooked a hand under her knee, spreading her legs wide enough that he could press between them. Once again, all Aelin could do was gasp as she felt the length of him press into her core, grinding against her. She still had a hand fisted in Rowan’s shirt and she gripped and twisted it tighter, moaning as her hips began rolling in time with his.

Rowan was kissing her like he could swallow the sounds. It felt divine, and tortuous and not enough. She might have voiced it aloud because the next moment Rowan had a hold of her other thigh and was carrying her across the room. Aelin just looked at him, a little stunned by the brazen act as she was settled on a flat, hard surface.

“You alright there?” Rowan asked with a kiss to her cheek and then the corner of her mouth.

“Uh-huh,” Aelin nodded. “Just… unexpected.”

“We’ll add it to the list for today,” was all Rowan said before he was kissing her again.

With Aelin now seated on a steady surface, the bench below the mounted mirror, it gave Rowan’s hands newer freedoms. They started on her ass and then roamed back to her waist. Aelin could thank her dress for that attention. It had a flat panel that cinched in her waist above the skirt. The waist piece was cut to scoop under her breasts, almost like a corset, the top of the dress tying in knots at her shoulders. What that did was create a perfect path for Rowan’s hands to follow.

Aelin looked into Rowan’s green eyes as she felt his hands move higher, stopping at the seams at the underside of her breasts. His eyes darkened as he took care in running his thumb along the line of the layered fabric, but it was enough sensation to fill her with a new wave of need. Her fingers went to the buttons of Rowan’s shirt, swiftly undoing it to, exploring the fevered skin beneath.

With her bare hands on his skin Rowan leaned closer, drawn to her, and he tipped her face with his chin so that he could kiss her. His tongue ran along her bottom lip, asking for permission. Aelin gave it willingly, her tongue doing the same. She wanted more, she wanted everything.

Just as eager, Rowan’s hands skimmed over Aelin’s breasts, heavy and nearly aching beneath the fabric. She wanted to protest at the lack of attention he paid them, she might have if Rowan’s tongue not flicked at the roof of her mouth at just that moment. But then his fingers stopped at the knots at her shoulders.

“These have been distracting me all day,” Rowan said in between one kiss and the next. “Can I?”

The way Rowan asked for permission despite the frenzy of lust they found themselves was touching, but Aelin wasn’t going to bother to start a conversation about it and nodded. She could feel one of the knot’s loosening under Rowan’s fingers. It would have been easier to just slip it over her shoulder but what he’d said made her let him be. And if he kept kissing her like this along with that distraction, who was she to complain?

The pull of fabric on her skin disappeared entirely and Aelin knew he’d accomplished his task. Rowan let the fabric fall and when his hand met utterly bare skin he groaned, hand splaying on her collarbone.

“I knew it,” he hissed onto the skin of her neck, his hand travelling lower in time with his kisses.

“Huh?” Aelin managed, focus zoning on what his hand was doing.

Rowan’s body shuddered as he cupped her bare breast, delicately catching the peak of it between his forefinger and thumb. “That it was just your dress holding these up.” His idle hand went to her ass and he squeezed. “Are you wearing anything under this thing?”

Aelin kissed just under Rowan’s ear so he could hear her whisper. “Why don’t you find out.”

In truth, Aelin did have underwear on but right now she was regretting not wearing something a little nicer. All it was was a beigey coloured thong, made for all day comfort. Not for an unexpected hookup with her authorial enemy. Rowan didn’t seem to mind though, his hand had travelled down her body and under the hem of her skirt. His fingers were tracing patterns over her thigh, inches away from finding out for himself what was hidden under her dress. All the while he pinched and rolled her nipple between his fingers, keeping her on edge. Finally his finger traced over the soft cotton of her underwear, starting on her hip and following it along the crease of her thigh. Her hips jolted forward when a finger skimmed over her clit, then lower.

Rowan groaned, resting their foreheads together as a knuckle dragging back and forth over her folds. “You’re soaked.”

The touching started to become the best kind of agonising, and Aelin was losing her patience. “Get on with it.”

“Aelin, that’s not you get what you want,” Rowan taunted, but his words didn’t match his actions.

Not in the slightest as he pulled her underwear to the side and pushed a thumb on her clit.

“Gods,” Aelin breathed, clinging to the man in front of her like a lifeline. “More.”

Rowan rubbed a slow circle around her clit and kissed her. What he was doing was driving her insane. Every touch was bliss, because Rowan gods-damned Whitethorn knew exactly what he was doing. He kept her right on the edge, playing with her to the point of just ready to break. Aelin reached for his belt, her hands weren’t gentle as he tugged the buckle loose and moved onto the fly of his pants. She could feel his hard cock straining against the dark denim. That broke the last of Aelin’s resolve—she was tired of playing.

They both seemed to snap into a frenzy, Aelin yanking his shirt off his shoulder as Rowan attacked the other knot that held up the deep V of her neckline. Her chest was fully exposed now and the skirt of her dress was bunched at her waist. As Aelin looped her fingers into the belt loops of Rowan’s pants he pulled something from his pocket and slammed it on the bench beside her. They both worked to push his jeans down, Aelin making sure that his briefs went with them.

He was glorious, her fantasies about him didn’t do him justice. There was a male kind of pride on his face when Aelin looked up at him with what might have been awe. She was going to wipe that look off his smug face.

“Should I measure it,” she said, moving her arm towards his dick, forearm extended. But just when his appendage and her’s were about to line up she ran her fingers down the length of him, right down to cup his balls.

Rowan bowed forward, keeping a grip on her hip and the other slammed down on the bench. Eyes down, he watched as Aelin worked him, his breath catching with every twist and pull. The sight of this man under her thrall was intoxicating—the tension in every muscle, pleasure rippling across his features. The fact she had been able to elicit this kind of reaction from him made Aelin moan as her core pulsed with need.

“Stop, stop,” Rowan panted, putting a hand on her wrist. “Just… wait.”

“Oh?” Aelin said and released him.

Rowan’s answer wasn’t verbal, instead his fingers traced a swirl on the inside of her knee. He didn’t linger there, only went higher and higher until he had hold of the waistband of her underwear and pulled them off. Aelin lifted her hips to help rid herself of them, scooting to the edge of the counter. Closer to Rowan.

She went to reach for him again, but Rowan grabbed her hand, pressing a kiss to the top of her palm before guiding it to rest behind her. Aelin had thought this was it. That Rowan would surge forward and fill her until she was screaming. She tried not to look too disappointed as a chaste kiss was pressed to her lips then her cheek. When those patient kisses reached her neck they changed, they were heavier, more insistent, full of heat as his teeth scraped across her skin. Aelin was so focused on the feeling of his lips, she didn’t know what his hands were up to until a finger softly teased her clit.

Want rushed through her, pooling where Rowan’s hand began to tease with purpose. Aelin moaned, one arm kept her upright, the hand of the other dove into Rowan’s hair. That hold, with her elbow over his shoulder blade, became her anchor and the rhythm of Rowan stoking picked up. She was shuddering and gasping, lost in the feel of Rowan’s touch. When he slipped a finger into her, Aelin almost came undone.

“That’s it,” Rowan whispered against her ear, nipping at it. “Don’t hold out on me now.”

“Oh gods,” Aelin gasped as the finger inside her crooked just right. “Rowan.”

“I’m right here.” He pressed and circled down on the apex of her thighs. “And I want you to come.”

It was a command that Aelin was powerless to ignore. Her core tightened and then the tension broke, she rolled her hips through the waves of pleasure taking over her body. All throughout Rowan whispered praises, kissed the flushed skin of her neck, rocked his fingers in a perfect motion to draw out her orgasm. Aelin felt boneless once she had caught her breath and she knew she must look a little dazed as she stared up into green eyes that were full of indecent intent and entirely self-satisfied.

“Does that answer your snide remarks about me not knowing how to please that bundle of nerves?” Rowan teased.

“I’m going to have to admit I was wrong,” Aelin said. “It won’t happen again.”

That made him laugh, a short, pleasant sound that skittered across her skin. That sensation only intensified when Rowan angled her chin up to look at him.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he declared and Aelin couldn’t help her eyes dropping to his cock that still jutted out of his jean. Hard and ready for her. The denim was quickly shed from the rest of his body.

“I thought we’d never get there,” Aelin quipped and she inwardly kicked herself. Rowan had just rocked her world and was potentially going to do it again, and she couldn’t keep her damn mouth shut.

Rowan didn’t seem to mind though, he just kissed her and picked something up from the bench beside her. When there was a crinkle of foil Aelin opened her eyes to see a condom caught in between Rowan’s fingers and his wallet unfolded by her thigh. Surprised at the preparedness, and honestly just the consideration of it, Aelin’s stupid mouth ran her into trouble again.

“Hoping to seduce one of your fans back here?” She said and instantly regretted it.

“You’re such a smartass,” Rowan said, mirth dancing in his words. “You’ll be thanking me for always being prepared soon enough.”

“Awful sure of your—“

Rowan cut her off with a fierce kiss, his hands pulling Aelin’s hips closer and nudging the head of his cock at her entrance. Anticipation hung in the air as Rowan waited, whatever for Aelin didn’t know. His eyes took in her face before he lent in, lips hot on her neck. Aelin shuddered, ready to beg if he didn’t do something, and soon. Rowan saved her that profound embarrassment.

He kissed over her pulse point, tongue flicking. It was then he pushed in, pulling Aelin closer, and filling her with a single delicious stroke. Aelin threw her head back, moaning loudly in relief. Rowan felt utterly perfect inside her, even more so when he started to move. The thick length of him drove in and out, feeling good but from this angle it wasn’t enough. Aelin started grinding forward to meet him, their gasps and moans filling the room.

“Aelin,” Rowan groaned as she kissed her way up his neck. “I need more.”

Aelin met his lips. “Then take it.”

The only warning she received were Rowan’s hands tightening on her thighs, and then they were moving across the room. Aelin held on, a slightly delirious laugh escaping her as he carried her so effortlessly. Then she was lowered onto the couch, her bare back meeting the soft cushions. Aelin’s dress was still bunched around her waist but she couldn’t care less. Not when Rowan was looking at her like she was the centre of his world. And she supposed that in this moment he might be. He was braced over her, surveying her with unfiltered desire.

“You’re beautiful,” his voice was nearly reverent.

“I know,” Aelin said, her irreverence equaled the esteem of his sentiments.

He laughed, something that seemed out of place considering the situation they were in. “The correct response is ‘thank you’. We’ll have to work on those manners of yours.”

Aelin keened as Rowan thrust into her, a lazy and thorough pace. He took the care to slip a thumb between them, exposing her clit, allowing friction to hit it with every thrust of his hips. Under Rowan’s ministrations it didn’t take long for the hot coil low in Aelin’s stomach to tighten again, craving the release she knew Rowan was going to give her. He bowed, putting his mouth on her breast, pressing an opened mouth kisses in time with the bouncing from the sharp thrusts. When he sucked a nipple into his mouth Aelin cried out, her core fluttering. This was euphoric, Aelin would crave this every day for the rest of her life.

“You’re close.”

It wasn’t a question but still Aelin answered. “Gods, yes.”

Rowan kissed her mouth again, licking in and teasing her tongue with his. Then he angled her hips upward, grinding on her clit more earnestly. He was on his way to outdoing every other man she had been with. He would ruin her and she’d thank him for it.

“Prove me right,” Rowan breathed onto mouth. “Tell me this is why you teased me.”

“It is,” Aelin said, a moan catching her words. “Gods, please don’t stop now.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Rowan promised.

Rowan gave her a hard thrust, followed by a steady drag of his hip and Aelin broke. Moaning his name like a prayer she allowed the pleasure to consume her wholly. She had little sense beside the feeling of Rowan driving into her over and over, heightening the peak of her orgasm. He didn’t last long after that, cursing as he came inside with hurried but thorough jerks of his hips.

Aelin ran her hands over Rowan’s sweaty skin as they caught their breaths. He graced her skin with lazy kisses like he wasn’t quite done with her yet. Eventually he did pull away and out, walking across the room to dispose of the condom. Aelin fixed her dress and retied the knots on her shoulder. Without a mirror they must look a mess, but Aelin didn’t care. All her focus was going to the man who was dressing in front of her.

“So, should we talk about it?” Rowan asked, picking his shirt off the floor.

“I… what is there to talk about?” Aelin hedged.

Rowan gave her a smile like he could read every one of her insecurities. “Maybe about how I’d very much like to do it again.”

“You would?”

Rowan left his shirt on the back of the chair and prowled over to her. She thought he might kiss her or pin her back on the couch, but Aelin was pleasantly surprised as he instead sat next to her and pulled her into his lap.

“Why don’t we just admit that I like you and you like me, and we’ll go from there?” Rowan said, sweetly brushing hair out of her face.

Aelin nodded enthusiastically, smiling as their lips touched. “Yeah, lets do that.”

They made out like teenagers, and it was just starting to get interesting when there was a knock on the door. They froze where they were, Rowan’s hand in her breast and Aelin’s mouth on his neck.

“Yes?” Rowan’s voice was strained.

“You have a panel starting in five minutes, Mr Whitethorn,” someone said through the door.

“Thank you,” Rowan called back. “I’ll be right there.”

They both started laughing and Aelin stood. “They’ll be knocking on my door next and I won’t be there.”

“Well, we have places to be,” he reminded, probably to them both.

Aelin went over to the mirror and tidied herself up. She was flushed and she could only hope it would fade in the next five minutes, otherwise she’d be blaming the lack of airflow in the convention centre. Rowan came to stand behind her, sweeping a hand through his hair to make it neater and less like Aelin had been tugging her fingers through it. She turned, fixing his collar and kissing him once.

There was a lot unsaid between them, but right now they had a job to do. Aelin wanted nothing more than to stay shut in here and have their own kind of fun.

“Come on,” Aelin said. “Once this is done, I’ll show some more things you’re right about.”

~~~~~

Fenrys checked his watch. The panel had started five minutes late apparently thanks to his two star authors. It was highly unusual for Rowan to be late, he tended to be early if anything. Aelin tended to be 50/50 on the matter. She was likely to appear just at the right moment after she’d worked everyone into a tizzy. It was quite a feat to be the manager of two authors who were such polar opposites.

The host introduced them, and they both walked out on stage. Aelin gave the crowd a wave as they cheered, while Rowan just nodded politely. Unsurprising reactions from the two of them. What did surprise him was Rowan pulling out Aelin’s chair and tucking her in before he took his own seat. And there was the smile Aelin aimed at him. That was weird. Really weird.

“What was that?”

Fenrys turned to see Lysandra who had appeared next to him. As Aelin’s publicist it wasn’t uncommon for her to be at these things, especially with how much of a firecracker her charge tended to be.

“They were nice to each other,” Fenrys said lowly as the questions started.

“Weird,” Lysandra concurred.

“Yeah.”

For a while they just watched the panel unfold and the host led the conversation. Aelin and Rowan did their job well, and for that Fenrys was grateful. It sure as hell made his job easier.

“Aelin wasn’t in her dressing room, I wasn’t even sure she was going to turn up,” Lysandra muttered.

“Weird,” Fenrys said this time.

Lysandra hummed her agreement.

The sound of Aelin’s bright laughter drew Fenrys attention and his mouth popped open when he realised she had been laughing at something Rowan had said. This was just progressively getting more confusing.

“What… he’s not funny,” Fenrys whispered. “I would know, and Aelin knows. What the hell is happening?”

“What changed?” Lysandra added. “This morning she was ready to rip his throat out.”

Fenrys turned his attention back to the stage, just watching for further signs that his two authors who were self professed enemies were… friendlier. Giggling made him look away to a couple of fangirls just in front of them.

“Look at them, they’re totally fucking,” one of them said.

The other tried to keep a lid on her laughter. “I swear he’s got a hickey.”

Fenrys’ eyes went wide and he turned to find Lysandra looking at him with a mirrored expression.

“Nooooo,” Lysandra hissed. “When?”

“I…” Fenrys was too shocked and his brain scrambled for an answer. Then it hit him, loud and clear. “Right now!”

His voice was slightly too loud and drew some curious looks, he gave them an apologetic smile.

“What?” The publicist demanded.

“I saw them arguing,” Fenrys explained, recalling what he’d seen a little earlier. He’d been heading to Rowan’s dressing room to have a chat about his next publication date when he saw Aelin at his door, getting into another one of their spats. “I heard them arguing and I left them to it. I really left them to it. Because I came back later and heard some noises and thought maybe he was blowing off steam with one of the fangirls but, hey. Guess not.”

“Wow, good for them,” Lysandra said through quiet laughter.

A few moments of silence went by as Fenrys digested this turn of events and the complications it might pose for him. All and all it would be good, certainly a lot less tension in the room.

“Did you know that Aelin hasn’t read his books?” Fenrys said, watching as Rowan sent Aelin a secretive smile that wasn’t all that secret in a room of one hundred people.

Lysandra nodded with a wry smile. “Yeah, I keep telling her to. Maybe now she will.”

~~~~~

After the panel Aelin snuck away from Rowan and went to the booth that their publisher had set up. All his books were there and she bought every single one of them. With the animosity between the two of them well and truly burnt away to nothing this was the first task on Aelin’s list. She had avoided Rowan’s work out of stubbornness and spite, but now she was curious to see what he’s written.

With a pile of books in her arms, Aelin returned to Rowan’s dressing room. He was seated on the couch looking at his phone and he looked up at the noise of the door snapping shut.

“What have you got there?” He asked, setting his phone aside.

“I thought you could give me a private signing,” Aelin said. “The front page of each, please.”

“Is that so?”

Aelin nodded, bottom lip tucked under her teeth. There was a small table beside the couch and she put the books there, pulling her gold pen out of her pocket. With it between two fingers she waved it in front of him, standing so she was between Rowan’s knees.

“No matter what, keep signing,” Aelin told him, pressing the pen into his hand and then kissing him deeply. “No matter what.”

Rowan was breathing hard and Aelin’s hands raked down his chest and stopped at the waist of his jeans.

“Grab a book, get started.” She popped the top button of his jeans only after he’d picked up the first book. “Now we can get started.”

Rowan did well, despite the distraction. Every book was signed, but by the last one his signature was nearly illegible. Her mouth had been entertaining him while he signed and now while Aelin sat beside him so innocently inspecting his work it was very hard to ignore the very proud distraction for her.

She tutted, determinedly glancing towards Rowan’s eyes. “Now you’ll have to start all over again.”

Rowan was having none of that. The gold pen was tossed across the room and strong hands hauled her into his lap. Aelin laughed but that was quickly silenced by a growl and demand in her ear. “Later.”

When those hands began to wander, Aelin readily agreed. “Later.”

Maybe later she’d even tell him her wish had come true.

~~~~~

Well... I think this might be my first official smutty oneshot. I hope it wasn’t half bad.

Tags: @fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @galyxsy // @tangledraysofsunshine // @highqueenofelfhame // @3am-reading // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @aelinfire-bringer // @nalgenewhore // @highladyofthesith // @http-itsrebecca // @sleep-and-books // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @sleeping-and-books // @ttakeitbacknoww // @armixers-unite // @mariamuses // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @heroesofterrasen // @highladyofstoriesandmusic // @empire-of-wildfire // @camerooonchiu // @crackedship // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books // @yourwhisperingshadows // @thesirenwashere // @tswaney17 // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper // @cat5313 // @judelovescardan // @flowerspringsea // @chaoticskyy // @the-regal-warrior // @fanfictrash3000 // @blueeyes425 // @starseternalnighttriumphant // @bamchickawowow // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda // @flora-and-fae // @thereaderandfangirl // @illyrian-bookworm // @chemicha // @meltalgel // @gay-book-nerd // @that-odd-puzzle-piece // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @hizqueen4life // @the-third-me // @1islessthan3books // @bestmelle // @cursebreaker29 // @b00kworm // @superspiritfestival // @aesthetics-11 // @maastrash // @mynewdreamwasyou // @the-last-apprentice // @charincharge // @firestarsandseneschals // @scarznstars // @absolute-dissapointment // @thesurielships // @df3ndyr // @trinitybailey2003 // @gwynethhberdara // @booknerdproblems // @larisssss // @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves // @rolltide7 // @scandinavianromantic // @tillyrubes10 // @starwarsslytherin // @minaidss // @paytin77 // @jesstargaryenqueen // @anntheintrovert // @starbornvalkyrie // @loudphantomdragon // @woollycat22 // @claralady // @perseusannabeth // @fangirlprincess09 // @maddymelv // @sierrareads // @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx // @jlinez // @lysandra-ghost-leopard // @rowaelinismyotp // @pullnpeeltwizzlers // @anne-reads // @jadeaffliction // @gracie-rosee // @elriel4life // @rowaelinrambling // @tothestarswholistentodreamers // @thenerdandfandoms // @castielspelvis // @swankii-art-teacher // @grandma-noob-lord // @vanzetanze // @highlady-brittney // @story-scribbler // @linguine-panini // @pastasiren // @surielandiareendgame // @silentquartz // @live-the-fangirl-life // @whimsicallyreading // @goddess-aelin // @littleboxofthunder // @empress-ofbloodshed // @booksbqueen // @rowanwhitethornisbae // @charlizeed // @feysand-loml // @aelin-queen-of-terrasen // @alyx801 // @amandaswallowtail // @louiseleblancdiggory // @abookishfreak // @danibutterr // @thegreyj // @lizzyfirebringer // @endlessdaydream // @magnifique1807

#editing might be a little iffy at the end but we'll survive for now #rowaelin fanfiction

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wardenparker · 2 years

Text

Close Encounters of the Toothy Kind

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 9.2k Warnings: *Reader has a nickname right up front.* Evan being his whiny self. Alcohol consumption but no one’s judgement is impaired. Light power dynamics, biting (blood is drawn), oral sex (female receiving), hair pulling, dirty talk, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, monster fucking, rough sex, vampire kink/fetish. Summary: The company Halloween party is way more fun than you ever expected - even if your coworker and roommate Evan doesn’t think so. Notes: Happy Spooktober everyone! This little fangbang has been brewing in our minds for months now and it turned out even better than I ever dreamed! Smothered in pop culture references and plenty of cheeky fun. 🎃🧡🧛‍♀️

Ever since Max Phillips was in high school, he knew how to throw a party. It helped get him laid both there and later on in college. Even throughout getting his MBA and graduating, his attention to detail for having a good time led to some of the most memorable parties on campus. It was something he considered a little extra that he had to offer a company beyond the normal impressive résumé. Because in order to throw a great party, you had to know what people wanted. You had to read their wants through the small conversations and the body language of the person.

It was also useful in closing deals and impressing clients. Which was why he had pulled out all the stops tonight in the annual Halloween party. It wasn't just a sad, alcohol-free punch and those horrid cookies that Zarabeth makes. This is impressive. The smoke machines and black lights contrasted the disco balls that twirl overhead giving the event a truly spooky vibe.

"You'll see, Cat." Evan looks around nervously, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin under your elbow as he propels the two of you forward into the "East Ballroom" swallowing as he takes in the decorations. "I'm not crazy. Max is a vampire."

“Ev, it’s okay to just not like the guy.” Evan is an okay roommate. He really is. He’s clean and doesn’t cook horrible food, and he’s even handy with a toolkit when things need a little TLC. But this crusade he’s been on against your boss is just insane. Pulling at your tight Camp Crystal Lake t-shirt and smoothing your short shorts, you’ll be the first to admit that you took the easy way out with your costume this year, but Friday the 13th camp counselor was just too good to pass up. The Halloween store in town even had knee socks with Jason’s hockey mask on them to go with your Keds sneakers. “Let’s just have a couple of drinks and hang out. Maybe not get weird over your obsessive hatred of our boss?”

"I'm telling you he's a vampire!" Evan hisses, the cords in his neck bulging and he doesn't understand why you don't believe him. He looks around and groans, rolling his eyes and pointing. "He's even mocking it. Look at him." Max smirks as he watches you and Evan at the entrance of the ball room. Evan looked panicked and pale. He wonders if the poor schmuck is still trying to convince everyone that he's a vampire. It is so much fun to watch him freak out like the obsessive little turd that he is and push everyone away with his theories. Amanda had finally dumped him for good and started dating Andrew, which was a much better prospect for her in Max's opinion. He takes his eye off you and checks the buffet table again. The caterer that he had chosen had promised him that the canapés would all be haunted and ghoulish and so far they hadn't disappointed.

“Oh hell yeah, Lost Boys!” You grin, seeing the costume that Max has expertly pieced together. Max Phillips might be a frat boy and occasional asshat, but he has an attention for detail that has to be admired. And frankly? He’s ridiculously hot. A fact only enhanced by leather and eyeliner, in your opinion. Sure he’s a little obnoxious, so you just keep the fact that you have a little – okay, big – thing for him on the quiet side. Especially since your roommate despises him. “Evan,” you look at your roommate now, decked out in his Van Helsing costume like he’s in some kind of righteous crusade. “I am begging you to just let tonight be about fun and not this hyper focus.”

Evan rolls his eyes and gives you a disappointed look. "You're going to believe me." He promises you. "By the end of tonight, you will know the truth - Max Phillips is a vampire."

"I sure am." Max agrees easily, appearing at your side and wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "David from Lost Boys." He clarifies. "Glad you can make it Camp Crystal Lake Counselor." He doesn't waste the opportunity to look at your legs, you've got them on display after all and you aren't on company property.

"Max." Evan greets him through clenched teeth, furious that he's touching you.

“Evan made me a name tag,” you tell Max with a grin, pointing to the sticky Hi! My Name Is badge on your shirt that features your office nickname - Cat - and a little cartoon drawing of black cat beside it. “Nice party, Max.” You may keep your attraction under wraps, but that doesn’t mean you can’t just be a generally nice person.

“Thanks Kitty Cat.” Max sends you a small wink and looks around. “We’ve got a couple of our clients and potential clients here so I could get away with splurging. Plus, I love Halloween.” He smirks over at Evan. “All the things that go bump in the night come out.”

“Does that mean there’s good booze?” You ask, one eyebrow ticking up at Max curiously. Splurging on clients might mean there’s actually something tasty. “I heard a rumor about sangria or punch or something, but that might have been Elaine’s wishful thinking.”

“Ohhhh the Bloody Sangria is my own recipe.” He tells you with a grin. “There’s also Witches Brew, Poisoned Apples and Demon Juice.” He points to the bar where premixed cocktails are being poured up into glasses where the base is a skeleton’s hand.

“Sangria for sure.” That stupid exaggerated grin on Max’s face shouldn’t be charming, but he’s got vampire fang caps on his teeth and alright, maybe you had a little thing for Kiefer Sutherland as a teenager that the Lost Boys costume is playing into. To Evan you throw a pout, silently asking him to play nice before heading to the bar with Max.

“Make sure you get some appetizers too.” Max hums knowingly. “Those drinks sneak up on you and we don’t want you buzzed too quickly.” He catches the eye of a prospective client and pats your shoulder. “I’ll catch up with you later, enjoy yourself Kitty Cat.”

“Come on, Ev.” You reach for his hand but resist when he tries tangling your fingers together, tired of repeating that you are not interested in him romantically. He’s a good roommate and a decent friend, but as a boyfriend? Not your type at all. “Drink with me, eat with me. It’ll be fun.”

“I’m not touching anything Max could have corrupted.” Evan huffs, annoyed that you are so flirty with him. You need to just trust him.

“He’s not going to poison our clients.” Rolling your eyes at him is still playful, because you’ve definitely always thought of Evan as more of a brother than anything else, and you nod toward the bar. “I bet they have beer in bottles that Max can’t have tainted with his spooky vampire vibes.”

Evan blows out a sigh and dutifully follows you like a lost puppy, wondering how he can possibly convince you about Max. “Hey man.” Tim smirks and lifts the glass of alcohol up. “You came.”

“I had to drag him out of the apartment,” you tease, giving Tim a hug before slipping past him to the bar for a glass of sangria.

“Would you like an extra shot of Vampire’s blood in your sangria?” The bartender asks with a smile. “It’s a floater of blackberry moonshine.”

“Why the hell not. Go big or go home, right?” You laugh, cringing at the cliched phrase before you shrug your shoulders. “And a Bud Light.” The least you can do is grab Evan’s first beer for him, since you did drag him out tonight. Being convinced that some socialization that didn’t happen under neon lights with phone headsets attached to your heads would be good for him might not have been correct.

Evan looks around the room in jealousy, begrudgingly impressed with the party. Hating how this man took his job and was actually doing a bang-up job. He takes the beer from you and eyes it for a moment before he hears Max’s laugh across the room. “Fuck it.” He groans and puts the bottle to his lips.

“Atta boy,” Tim laughs before strolling away when he spies someone he wants to say hi to across the large room.

“Eat, drink, and be merry,” you agree with a grin. You just want tonight to be fun. Maybe get Evan talking to the new girl from Legal that he said was cute a couple of days ago. Anything to get his mind away from the vampire thing.

Max keeps an eye on you as he makes his way around the room. Partly because it drives Evan insane. He might have made a couple of veiled threats to change you next. But mostly it was because he was very intrigued by the way your tits look up under that t-shirt. He had plenty of fantasies about his counselors when he was younger and his grandma made him go to the sleep away vacation Bible camps in the summer.

******

The deejay they hired for tonight is doing an excellent job of keeping the energy up, and you walk past the table just in time to hear Deliah from HR begging him to play Thriller again, making you laugh as you hit the bar. This sangria is addictive and you lean back against the sturdy wood to look around the room while the bartender pours you glass number three. Evan has finally started talking to the girl from Legal and from where you are it looks like she might even be interested in him so you send up a little positive energy in his direction and sigh. Maybe now you can actually relax and find someone to dance with - a thought which feels slightly bitchy considering you know Evan would dance with you if you asked. But you’d like to dance with someone you’re attracted to, which seriously narrows the field around here.

Max chuckles to himself when he sees you going back for another drink. He slides up behind you, leaning over your shoulder to murmur in your ear. “Enjoying yourself, Kitty Cat?”

“Max!” You didn’t see him approach and definitely would have done a spit take if you had had a sip of drink in your mouth when he spoke. “Uh— yeah, actually. Your sangria’s really good.”

“I’m glad you enjoy it.” He purrs with a delighted smile. “I like the body of it.” He waggles his brows. “And the way that it sneaks up on you.”

“The body of the bloody sangria?” It’s dumb, and you probably wouldn’t laugh at it if you weren’t two drinks in and finding the 80s vamp look on him a little extra hot. “Har har.”

Max winks at you. “Planning on being the first victim of the night?” He asks, leaning in. “Or are you going to be the counselor that survives?”

“Oh, come on.” Leaning back against the bar, you toss him the same smirk you would give anybody in this situation. “Nobody wants to die first. I’m totally Final Girl material. Nancy Thompson, Laurie Strode, and me.”

“You sure?” He leans in and flicks your name badge. “Kitty Cat survives?” He hums, smirking at you.

“For sure.” The authoritative nod you give him when the bartender sets your drink down beside your elbow comes with a grin. “I’m not afraid of some big bad monster.”

“Really?” He flashes his fangs at you playfully. Everyone thinks they are fake but why would he do fake fangs when he has the real thing. “Not even a skipping beat of your heart?”

“Not even.” It’s a dirty lie because you’re a damn scaredy cat, but at the same time you do love the adrenaline rush of a scary movie. The fake fangs are more of a turn on than anything else, which is probably the real reason your blood is currently pumping.

“I think you’re lying.” He coos, leaning in closer and brushing his nose against your pulse. The smell of your blood is intoxicating, and he groans quietly.

“Rude.” You laugh, picking up your drink and nudging him with your elbow. Maybe it’s a little more flirtatious than you would ever be regularly, but this is outside of work hours, outside of the office, and it’s a party.

“Just honest, Kitty cat.” He chuckles, watching you take another sip of your drink.

“I don’t know why I let you call me that.” Yes you do. You absolutely know why. It’s because he’s hot as fuck. It had taken almost a year to accept being called Cat at work and then Max just rolled in and added kitty to it and you just let it slide. “Maybe I instinctively knew you’d have a killer sangria recipe that I’d want to steal.”

“Better than what I was going to call you when I first met you.” He confides with a cocky grin.

“Oh god.” You choke on a laugh before taking a sip of your drink. “Do I want to know?”

He snickers to himself and shuffles closer. Leaning in to whisper in your ear. “Pussy…Cat.” He purrs, making sure to emphasize the first word.

That…is not what you expected, and you definitely feel a very visceral reaction to Max’s breath on your neck. You can practically feel your panties drench at the implication that he might be interested in you, too. But that’s…that’s a stretch, right? It has to be. Max flirts with all the women in the office.

“Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” He hums, wondering if he’s misread the subtle signals you’ve sent him.

“A little.” You have to admit that, as silly as it makes you feel when you tilt your head to look at him. “Surprised, I guess?”

“Why would you be surprised?” He lifts his brows, shocked that you didn’t know that you are a gorgeous woman. “Every man in this room would take you home if they could.”

“Maybe.” Shrugging, you take another sip of your drink before turning to face him fully. Whether it’s the booze or the atmosphere or the light-switch flick of a mood change, you’re feeling bold. “But I’m not interested in them.”

“And who are you interested in?” He asks, intrigued by who would be your taste. Surely not Evan, he’s heard him moan about you turning him down to Tim too often in the break room.

“Seriously?” It’s probably a good thing that he has to ask, it means you haven’t been too obvious at work. Although you kind of thought you were being pretty obvious right now. “I mean, don’t fire me over it, but…you…”

“Hmmmmm.” Max flashes you a wicked, fanged-filled grin. “That’s not something I would ever fire you over Pussy Cat.”

“That nickname is gonna stick now, isn’t it?” You can feel the heat in your cheeks, nerves and embarrassment rising right along with arousal. He’s looking at you half like you’re a fucking meal and half like something else that you can’t quite pinpoint but you’re fairly certain you’re going to enjoy.

“Yes it is.” He chuckles again. “But only when we’re alone.”

“We’re never alone.” More than anything it’s just pointing out a fact. Aside from the rare occasion that he has called you into his office, The two of you have never actually been alone. Maybe once you were the only two people in the break room at the same time, but that was in passing and the door was open. It wasn’t exactly private.

“Then maybe we should be alone.” Max offers with a smirk. He can smell your interest, but he wants this to be completely your choice.

“Seriously?” You ask again, still a little incredulous that he could be interested. “I mean…I didn’t think…” But he’s looking at you like that and you swallow the lump in your throat so hard that it bottoms out all the way down in your pussy. “I mean, yeah. That sounds like fun.”

“Yeah?” He bites his lip with his fangs exposed. “You want to be alone?” He waits for you to nod and he smirks. “How about now?”

“Eager.” But it makes you flush with your own fervent desire, wondering if he means just finding a dark corner of the party, leaving together, or if his mind has jumped straight to hooking up. It occurs to you, as you smirk and pick up your drink to down it quickly (no sense in wasting, obviously) that you don’t care. “Fuck it. Yeah. What do you have in mind?” Evan is going to be so fucking pissed but you just can’t bring yourself to care at the moment.

He chuckles, surprised that you’ve said yes, but also very happy that you have. “I think the innocent camp counselor should go into the bathroom to be ravished by the dangerous vampire.” He hums as he lifts a brow.

Straight to hooking up, you acknowledge with a smirk. It doesn’t really surprise you. Max isn’t exactly known as a relationship guy around the office. Either way, you don’t mind making him a notch on your proverbial bedpost tonight. “You go for the innocent thing, huh?” It makes your smirk deepen just that much more. “Noted,” you murmur in his ear before taking the strut all the way out of your step and hightailing it out of the hotel ballroom toward the unisex bathroom down the hall.

Max watches you walk away for a long moment, admiring the view. “Turned you down, huh?” Evan’s pithy little comment makes his smirk reappear as he turns towards the other man.

“Guess so.” He chirps, unwilling to let Evan cause a scene and prevent his little rendezvous with you. Some sacrifices must be made and right now, wiping the smug, satisfied look off Evan’s face is on the chopping block.

“She’ll never date you. Or fuck you.” He tells Max, his eyes darting around but the little fucker is brave around a crowd in the ballroom - confident Max won’t cause a scene. “So you should just leave her alone.”

“Same could be said for you, slugger.” Max pops back with a wink. “After all, if I lived in the same apartment with that little Kitty Cat, I’m sure I would have wooed her by now.” He chuckles and gives Evan a sympathetic look. “Guess you just aren’t what she’s looking for…” Max lets Evan stew for a moment and right when the other man opens his mouth, he interrupts him. “Whelp! I better go take a piss, all the Bloody cocktails have gotten to me.” He smirks. “Try the special sangria I have behind the bar.” He confides. “They have it just for me, but tell them Max said it was okay.” He turns around and whistles as he walks towards the bathrooms, knowing Evan is fuming.

It takes just long enough before you hear footsteps outside the bathroom door for you to start doubting yourself. Wondering if you just made a completely dumbass mistake that’s going to make life hell at work from now on, or if Max really did use the specific word ravishing or a million other little paranoid concerns. You’re in the process of telling yourself to get a goddamn grip when the bathroom door clicks open.

Max raises a brow at you, seeing the doubt and second guessing on your face. “Change your mind, Pussy Cat?” He asks as he steps inside and closes the door. If you don’t want to do this, it wouldn’t be nice to have the rumor mill spin if someone looked in and saw the two of you. “I got caught up by Evan trying to warn me away from you.”

“Thought you might have changed yours,” you admit, but the news that it was Evan who caused the delay makes you relax again instantly. “Ev’s just…protective.”

He snorts and sends you a knowing look. “Evan wants to be in your bed.” He counters. “He’s like the annoying little puppy that chews on your shoelaces and tries - and fails - to hump your leg.”

“To be fair, he’s never actually tried to hump my leg.” The comparison makes you laugh though, and you shake your head. “He knows I’m not interested in him.”

“He knows…but he doesn’t know.” Max smirks as he flips the lock and takes a step towards you. “He might get the hint tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” It’s not like you had been planning on broadcasting this little interlude around the office, so the idea of news of it getting back to Evan hadn’t even been on your mind.

“Only if you wanted.” He chuckles, reaching out and stroking your arm, his eyes on yours. “He’ll know when you scream my name.”

The corners of your lips tick up in a smirk as you step into him, feeling your heart speed up and your pussy clench at that kind of promise. “I guess you better make sure I scream loud enough, then.”

Max’s eyes flash and his smirk grows wider. “Only thing I like more than making a sale is a challenge, Pussy Cat.” He growls, stalking towards you like a predator cornering his prey.

It would probably come across as way too dramatic if you weren’t honestly so goddamn turned on, but as it is? You’re in exactly the right frame of mind to find that broad frame and cocky ass smirk enticing as hell. “Then what are you waiting for?”

“Permission.” Quicker than he probably should have, but not enough to be too obvious, Max pins you against the row of industrial yet aesthetically pleasing sinks and hand soap units. Your back is to the mirror, and he leers with his nose pressed right against yours.

Your sharp gasp and wide eyes definitely lend themselves toward that whole innocent thing he supposedly likes, and the way he has your back bowed so that your tits are pushed against his chest is only adding to the heaving effect. "Max..."

"Yessssss, Pussy Cat?" He doesn't kiss you, not yet. He likes the teasing and the way that your breath catches in your throat. It makes the veins flood with blood and it smells so sweet as your body heats up even more than normal.

"Shit..." The realization makes you roll your eyes even as you're nearly panting in anticipation. "Of course you're a tease."

He tsks in disappointment at your seemingly bemoaning of his traits. "You don't think it enhances...." his 'fake' fangs graze your throat slowly before he retracts them and places the most delicate kiss on your galloping pulse, "anticipation?"

The way you almost whimper is a complete giveaway that it definitely is an enhancement, and you shiver a little. Being caged between his arms against the counter makes you feel caught in a delicious sort of way. "M-maybe."

"Hmmmmm." Max is already hard, pressing against your hip through your camp counselor shorts and one hand moves from the cold counter to grab your side. "Don't worry, Pussy Cat." He follows up the small kiss with a slow drag of his tongue up the line of your neck. "I won't bite hard...unless you want me to."

Evan’s ridiculous vampire claim rings in your ears again, completely unwanted, and you smirk as you tip your head to one side to give him all the access to your neck as he could possibly want. “It’s been a while since I’ve been properly manhandled,” you murmur, tugging on his earlobe with your teeth as his head hangs right beside yours. “Sounds like fun.”

Max hisses, cock jumping when your teeth nip his skin. "Fuck." He huffs, trying to decide if he wants a quickie, or if he just wants to destroy you. Your giggle makes up his mind for him, pulling away and dropping down to his knees to unbutton those ridiculously tiny shorts you are wearing. The prospect of devouring your cunt while you have knee highs and sneakers on is appealing.

"Shit." Max Phillips on his knees is not a sight you ever thought you'd see - both because you didn't ever think you'd actually be in this position with him and a little bit because you thought he might be one of those guys who was prissy about the smell or taste of pussy as an excuse to never give oral - but it's fucking glorious. It takes all of thirty seconds for your cutoffs to be tossed across the damn room, and Max's eyes are eye level with the soaked through crotch of your white cotton panties.

"Virginal." He hums, smirking up at you before he reaches out and rubs the damp fabric. "Even though I know you aren't, it makes you look even more like a teenage counselor that might survive the night."

Looking down at him with the most innocent expression you can muster, you can see just how wide his pupils have grown since getting the first bit of your clothing off. "Of course I'm innocent. I don't know why you would possibly think otherwise." You intone, wondering if he's into roleplay enough to want the whole act.

He chuckles, hooking a finger in the band of your panties so he can start dragging them down. "Because good virginal girls don’t let sinful vampires eat their pussy in the bathroom." He teases, leaning in and blowing on your heated pussy lips and giving you a fang-filled smile.

This time your whimper is accompanied by the eager way you open up for him, totally willing to spread your legs for him before he's even kissed you. It's not like you're expecting a lasting and deep connection out of fucking your boss in the bathroom at the company party. You're horny, not delusional.

Your ass is perched against the counter so Max wastes no time in shoving his shoulders under your legs, bringing your thighs to his shoulders and he winks at you, right before his mouth envelopes your cunt in a large bite, his fangs retracting again so he doesn't puncture your lips.

They definitely heard you moaning in the hallway, but you couldn't care less as you brace yourself with one hand on the counter and sink the fingers of your other hand into his thick, artfully messy hair. The heat of his mouth and determination of his tongue as he licks a long, flat stripe up the length of your sex is enough to have you tossing your head back and shutting your eyes in pleasure. Or it would be, if you didn't want to watch his every movement so desperately.

There is an art to pussy eating. He had tried to tell Evan that when the prick was in college with him, but he had been too busy thinking Max was an asshole. It might have been one of the reasons his roommate's girlfriend had jumped into his bed when Evan was away for a long weekend. She had obviously listened to the tips he had tried to impart. Enough to be curious, at least. His tongue twists around your clit and he flicks it playfully before his tongue slides down again, curious to taste you right from the honeyed little well between your thighs. Your fingers curl tightly, nails digging into his scalp instinctively before soothing the bite away. Apparently you never noticed Max having an overly long tongue, but he is curled into the absolute depths of you in a way that has you rolling your hips forward and pushing down as if he isn't already completely buried in your cunt.

Max groans into your folds, loving how you don't mind being a little more forceful. His cock twitches and he holds your legs wide so he can curl his tongue deeper, licking into you with fevered eagerness. He knows what the fuck he's doing, you'll give him that. Any idea that you had about him being selfish in bed is being completely washed away by the deep growling sounds floating up to you from his throat and the way those vibrations roll through your body to have you whining and writhing and almost ready to burst in no time.

His eyes fixate on you. Responding to the micro expressions as he works your cunt with his tongue. If you’re going to fuck him; you’re damn well going to have nothing but good things to say about him. His fingers dig into the tender flesh of your thighs and he huffs, not needing to breathe, but you would expect him to make some noise.

“Holy shit, Max—” Every time you get a gulp of air he pushes it out again, cutting off your moan of his name and twisting it into a harsh gasp with a dexterous flick of his tongue that swirls around your clit like a lollipop. “S—so— good! Fuck.”

He chuckles into you, waiting until you look down at him again before he sends you a small wink and sucks your clit into his mouth, ripping your orgasm out of you.

You’ve never outright just screamed while cumming before, but this one comes tearing out of you like an igniting fire that leaves you shaking and cursing and grasping at any bit of him you can get your hands on so that you don’t just collapse backward into one of the sinks behind you. “Oh my fucking god, Max.” You’re practically dizzy from the force of it, which just makes you giggle in filthy glee when you can breathe again.

He is smug as he kisses your clit one last time before he leans back and looks up at you. “Did I pass muster, counselor?” He teases.

“With the first test.” You nod eagerly, getting air back in your lungs as you reach to drag him up for a kiss. You haven’t gotten to yet and now that he’s had his mouth on you, you’re dying to indulge.

Max goes willingly, fusing his mouth to yours and sliding his hands up under your shirt. Wanting to get his hands on your tits for a long time, he moans as he cups them over your bra and slides his tongue into your mouth at the same time.

Moaning into the kiss is a natural instinct. His large hands envelope your overheated skin easily, somehow easing the heat of arousal at the same time he intensifies it. It’s you who tears your shirt away, ready to just throw every stitch aside and thoroughly fucking enjoy yourself.

He pulls away from you to admire the view as he unhooks your bra and tosses it away. "Fucking in your shoes, I'm digging it." He teases, pinching your nipples and ducking down to pull one into his mouth.

“Feels—” His talented mouth cuts you off and you almost squeal, letting it dissolve into a sinful moan. “Dirtier.” You finish your thought with one hand cradling his head to your tits encouragingly and the other fisting his shirt blindly to follow the trail of his torso down to the pronounced bulge in his pants.

"You are dirty." He groans, pulling off your tit with a pop and then biting it playfully before he nips the other. "Gonna fuck you like the dirty fucking girl you are right here."

“It’s a good thing you got my pussy nice and wet, then.” With one hand wrapped around the thick length protruding from his pants, your other starts working open his belt. “It’ll be nice and easy to slide that big cock in right away.”

He smirks and stands straight while you pull open his pants and groans when his cock is your hot hands. "Fuck." He hisses, twitching when your thumb presses against the tip. "I'm gonna be balls deep and die happy." He jokes.

"You mean you're not a real undead bad boy?" Putting on a pout of faux disappointment keeps you from laughing, knowing that he knows all about Evan's Max is a vampire crusade. The very last thing you're about to do when you have his thick length throbbing in your hand is laugh. "Darn."

He doesn't even answer you, just thrusts into your grip. "Line me up, Pussy Cat." He hums. "I'm gonna make you cum like this then I'm going to turn you over so I can watch your ass bounce."

"Promises, promises," you tease, not that you have any doubt he can do it. He's not even out of breath while you're a panting and whimpering mess. You don't hesitate to do as he tells you, though, leaning back a little to let your legs fall open wide so that you can position the blunt head of his cock at the entrance of your dripping pussy.

"Fuck, look at that pretty little pussy cat." He smirks and watches you while he breeches your entrance and starts filling you steadily, inch by inch.

He feels thicker splitting you open than he did in your hand, and your head drops back when you let out a deep groan of pleasure. Max doesn’t stop until he’s fully bottomed out inside you and you don’t want him to - making lascivious noises of approval with every inch until his hips are flush against yours and then you’re diving back in for more kisses. Wrapping your arms around his neck keeps him close but you grind your hips down against his and whimper happily. “Fuck me, baby. Come on. Need you.”

Max snarls slightly, his grip turning bruising for a split second before he relaxes and grins at you. "I can do that, sweetheart." He growls. "Guaranteed." Pulling his hips back, he snaps them forward harshly.

“Yes!” The force of the thrust pushes you back on the counter and you keep your arms around Max, sinking your teeth playfully into his neck for a moment because he seemed to have liked you using your teeth earlier. “Just like that.”

"Fuck." His dick twitches deep inside you and his own fangs spring out of his gums. He doesn't bite you though. Not wanting to change you right now, so he just keeps his head over your shoulder so you don't see his slightly feral expression. His hips rock faster after you bite him, ready to give you what you want.

It’s fierce and needy after that. Rough in all the right ways, like you hadn’t been the only one secretly pining in the office ever since Max joined the company earlier in the year. Or, if not pining, you definitely weren’t the only one with filthy thoughts about the other. Every once in a while his grip tightens to near bruising and you moan every time, loving the harshness of a little pain with your pleasure. You’ve always been that way and know for a fact that Evan is gentler than a basket of fluffy kittens, which is one of the reasons you just never had any interest in your roommate. But this? This is your kind of fucking - dirty and delicious.

Groans pour out of his mouth, not because he's winded or anything human, but because you are fucking perfect. Taking his pace, his eagerness and wanting more. He can feel the way that you get even wetter when he forgets not to crush you for a second. Loses control slightly. It's intoxicating and your blood – fuck, it's like ambrosia right under the skin.

There’s no chance that people haven’t figured out what’s going on in here - from the locked door to your combined sounds to the harsh slap of skin on damp skin. Max’s cock is battering your pussy in the very best way and you hope like hell that you’ll be as sore as you think you will tomorrow. The idea of carrying that with you for a few days sounds perfect, especially if this is only going to be a one-time thing. Just a perfect little capsule of a memory of that one time you got railed in a hotel bathroom. Even that thought makes you gasp out in pleasure, legs tightening around his waist as you can feel the familiar twist of orgasm in your belly building up again.

“You gonna cum?” Max asks, smirking at you as he keeps drilling into you over and over again. He knows you are close, that fluttering little pussy of yours is about to explode and soak him. “Yeah, you are.” He huffs smugly. “Do it, Pussy Cat.”

You barely have it in you to be sassy in the moment, just rambling whatever pops into your head, and your fingers are digging into his leather covered shoulders with a tight pressure that doesn’t seem to phase him in the least. You turn your head to drag your teeth along the juncture of his long neck to egg him on. “So good,” you whine breathlessly, sucking hot marks into his skin with enthusiasm. “So fucking good, Max — fuck I’m gonna cum so hard.”

Max feels his face start to change, growling harshly and planting his face in your neck while he ramps up his pace to just beyond what is humanly possible. Wanting to feel it and hear you scream. “Do it.”

It takes mere seconds more, and you’re clinging to him when you feel the rush of overheated blood become an equally overheated flood from your cunt that drenches his cock with an unbelievable amount of cum. It’s so intense that your whole body locks up, turning your scream of his name into a strangled wail as you fall apart.

Hissing, Max doesn’t fuck you through it, instead he’s pulling out of you and manhandling you like a rag doll. Flipping you over and letting you fall forward while he pulls your cheeks apart and sinks back into your cunt with a victorious hum when your walls are still pulsing.

“Goddamn—fuuuck Max!” The strangled sob is punctuated by his name when he spears his cock back into you completely, burying his length to the hilt and extending the end of your orgasm so that your body shakes again in ecstasy as you try to grasp at anything on the counter so you don’t end up face down in a sink. You had no idea he was this strong - making you feel like a rag doll in his arm as he finds his rhythm again.

Now he’s grinning, watching his cock spear into you and make your ass bounce. His hands grip your hips as he rails into you. “Do it again.” He growls, wanting to feel you cum again. It’s a point of pride and he’s loving how you take it.

You’re about to gasp out a joke about how you’re gonna need a little more time before you can cum again when you lift your head to find his eyes in the mirror — and can’t find his face at all. The reflection of his clothing is clear as day: duster and shirt and torn open pants Moving behind you in rhythm with the merciless way he’s fucking you and fingerless gloves gripping tight to your hips as you find your own reflection unblemished in the large bathroom mirror. But Max? Max is as transparent as a summer breeze, only affecting the things he touches as you see his grip tighten on your flesh by the way the indents there deepen. You can feel it, and you can see the result, but you can’t see him.

“Holy shit…” With your eyes blown wide and the vision of your number one top fantasy right in front of you, another orgasm tears through you almost instantly. That years old pornographic dream of getting fucked by a vampire after getting through watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer is now so real that it’s turning your blood into wildfire and you can’t believe the way you moan as you shake and drench his cock all over again.

It’s your reaction that makes him slip up, the instant orgasm when you realize you don’t see his reflection. His fangs were grazing over your throat and when you clench down around him, he cuts you. Groaning when the coppery tang of your blood hits his tongue. Making him growl and start sucking sloppily while he fucks into you like the supernatural monster that he is.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” At this point you feel like your body might just tense up and be in a constant state of cumming for the rest of the time he’s fucking you. The sight of the light trickle of blood welling up on your neck only to be licked away by an invisible tongue seconds later makes you gasp and keen, and the instant realization that your vampire fantasy is now a vampire fetish just makes the whole thing better. For now the only downside is that he’s fucking you so hard that you can’t catch your breath to babble at him about how amazing it feels.

There’s a beauty to not being seen, not having his reflection in the mirror. You can’t see that his face has completely morphed. Turned into the more gruesome visage of his being. Brow heavy and eyes yellow tinged with red, Max snarls when he feels his body lock up, driving impossibly deep into your hot cunt and making a nearly demonic noise as he fills you with ropes of his impotent seed.

“Max!” Only his name falls from your tongue as he buries himself as deeply as possible in your body and follows you down the rabbit hole of pleasure. You feel boneless and wrecked and absolutely ecstatic in ways you can’t quite describe as you pant for air, crushed underneath his weight on the cold marble countertop.

He doesn’t need to recover or catch his breath. He could pull out of you right now and be perfectly fine, save for his face still being a twisted visage of the image he normally presented. Still he leans over you, savoring the feeling of your cunt fluttering and your thighs shaking. “Pussy Cat has a secret.” He teases playfully, his tongue lapping up one last drop of your blood before he bites his lip and lets a drop of his blood heal your wound as if it never happened.

“A fucking convenient one.” Still mostly breathless, you twist under him to be able to see his face. The ridges and bumps of his transformation draw your eyes across them as you take it all in, fascinated rather than terrified with his cock still buried inside you. Your eyelids flutter a little, that flash of pure attraction undeniable in your veins. The same ones he just drank from. “You’re actually a vampire?”

“Shocker.” Max makes his face smooth back out, his now brown eyes wide and his lips twisted into a grin. “Evan is actually right about something.” He chuckles and opens his mouth so his fangs descend again to show you.

“Fuck.” It’s all excitement and wonderment on your part and you can’t deny it at all. “That’s…so fucking sexy,” you admit with a self-conscious giggle.

“Knew I liked you.” He teases, slapping your ass playfully as he leans back to let you straighten up. “Least you don’t have to worry about an accident with me.”

“Thank god.” When you stand up again it’s like a miniature flood from your pussy and you laugh again. “Because you cum like a fucking Super Soaker.” It’s nothing a couple of paper towels can’t clean up, but it’s fun to tease.

“Is there any other way?” Max asks as he uses another sink to clean up and hands you the shorts you had worn. Your panties slide into his pocket with a mischievous wink to you.

“Pathetic dribbles, usually.” You’ve never been dishonest with yourself about why you’re single, knowing that you like a rougher and more physically demanding sex life and that balancing that with a man who isn’t also an absolute jackass or abusive in some way isn’t easy. It’s why you embraced the ‘Cat’ jokes. Better a cat lady than miserable or bored, at least in your book. “Don’t worry,” you murmur, offering him a smile as you slip on your shorts. “I won’t tell.”

It’s surprisingly nice to hear you say that. No fear or worry in your voice, just confidence that he can trust you to keep a secret. The only other people in the office who knew are the ones he’s already changed. And Evan’s stupid ass, but no one believes him. “Let me feed you more than lame ass Halloween cocktails and canapés tomorrow.” He says suddenly. “Before I fuck you to death again.”

“I—what?” Having reached down to pick your t-shirt and bra up off the floor, you straighten up and look at him quizzically. Not because you’re not interested, obviously, but just because you’re surprised. “Are you asking me out?”

“I mean— I guess—uh, yeah.” He frowns slightly as if he’s just worked out that is what he’s actually doing. “Unless you have a strict ‘fuck but not date your boss’ policy?” He jokes, trying to cover up the slight nervous fear that you might turn him down. That you just wanted a quick bang in the bathroom.

“Not at all.” It’s almost a pity to get dressed, but he’s already cleaned up and tucked himself away, so you clip your bra on again easily. “Actually I’ve never fucked or dated my boss before at all, so this is new territory for me.” You pull your t-shirt over your head and adjust, smoothing out the wrinkles. “Seven o’clock tomorrow? You know where I live.”

“Yeah.” Max nods, checking his clothes in the mirror and then looking back at you. “Got some blood on your shirt, Pussy Cat.”

“Call it a souvenir.” A memento, you think with a grin. Throwing him a wink, you lean in to kiss him one more time before moving back toward the door. “See you out there?” It’s an effort to not come across as clingy, that you are so overly nonchalant. Because in reality you want to prance out there on his arm and proudly dare anyone to give you shit about disappearing to fuck.

Evan pounces on you as soon as you appear out of the hallway leading to the bathrooms. “Tell me you didn’t.” He practically hisses.

“Didn’t what?” You ask, feigning innocence. Of course he was going to get nasty about this. It’s not like it’s a secret that he hates Max.

“Come on, we need to go.” Evan is nearly panicking, seeing the spot of blood on your shirt. “We’re leaving.”

“Oh my god you’re so overprotective.” Overprotective and with an annoyingly tight grip as he steers you toward the other end of the ballroom with determination. You barely have a chance to glance back, catching a glimpse of Max right before even drags you out the door. You might have even liked the little bit of manhandling if you hadn’t just been fucked within an inch of your life by a vampire.

Max chuckles to himself as he sees you pull a harsh frown at your roommate. Tomorrow is going to be fun. He hopes like hell you don’t tell Evan about your date.

******

You oversleep like hell the next day, worn out but feeling energized all the same. The ache in your thighs is so gorgeously satisfying and you sit in the living room in your pjs with a book until it’s time to shower and get ready for your date. Evan has been out doing god knows what all day with Tim so you haven’t had to avoid more arguing like the night before. It got bad enough that you have nearly threatened to move out if he tried to keep telling you what to do. By the time Evan comes home, you’re showered and dressed and finishing your makeup, just watching the clock tick down in anticipation.

“Where are you going?” The mournful eyes he gives you can’t hide being bitterly upset. He doesn’t know why you don’t believe him. He’s only got your best interests at heart, maybe a little selfish on his part, but that was to be expected.

“Out.” This time you don’t mean to be evasive, you just really don’t know where Max is taking you. “Dinner, I think. Did you have a good day?” Despite being pissed at him for presuming to tell you how to live your life, he’s still your friend.

“No.” Evan shakes his head. “I don’t want you to be mad at me, but Max is dangerous.” He stresses, imploring you to understand.

“Ev, I really don’t want to fight with you, but you need to drop it.” Pinching your eyes shut doesn’t banish the tinge of a headache that you can feel forming from the topic, and you turn to check your reflection in the mirror one more time - eventually biting back a grin when you remember looking up to see no reflection at all behind you last night. “I know you don’t like him,” you tell Evan. “But you are also very biased against him by your own admission.”

He sighs sulkily. “Want me to go with you?” He offers, wanting to find out where you are going. You’re mad at him and it’s not something he likes, but he hates you being so blasé about Max. “Maybe we could go to that bar around the corner.”

The lobby buzzer sounds from the wall panel in your kitchen at the same moment you turn and frown at your roommate. “Do I want you to come on my date with me? Come on, Evan. No. That’s both weird and honestly a little rude. Especially when I haven’t even told you who it’s with.” He’ll find out in a second, but you go over and hit the buzzer to let him into the lobby so he can come upstairs. Evan’s going to have to get over it eventually.

“You’re going on a date?” If possible, he looks even more remorseful, but he shakes his head. “I didn’t— it’s not Max, is it?”

“What if it was?” You pick up your jacket from the hook by the door and double check your pockets for your wallet, phone, and keys. “I couldn’t tell you, could I?” It just makes you shake your head, honestly a little heart sore over the whole thing. “I can’t be excited that the guy I’ve liked for ages finally asked me out because my roommate is on a righteous crusade against him.”

“It’s not a crusade!” Evan insists, reaching out for your hand. “I d-don’t want to see anything happen to you.” He doesn’t want you dating anyone but he really doesn’t want you dating Max. The idea that you have a crush on him hurts, considering you know what he did to him.

“Ev…” You sigh, turning to face him even as you hear footsteps approaching your door. “I swear, if he hurts me or doesn’t treat me right, or does anything that I don’t like, I will dump his ass faster than lightning.” Even so, the rhythmic knock on the door makes you grin, eager to see Max again after just a day.

It’s important that you qualify that you don’t like talking about Max hurting you or being disrespectful, because there are definitely kinds of ‘hurt’ that you enjoy more than most. “And I’m not asking you to suddenly be best friends with him or even spend time around him outside of work. I’m just…I really like him. And I want to see where this goes.”

Was what happened between them in college shitty? Of course. But that lies as much on Evan’s shitty girlfriend’s shoulders as anyone else in your opinion, and you squeeze his hand before going to open the door for Max.

“Hey Pussy Cat!” Max grins, wearing jeans and a leather motorcycle jacket. He peels off his sunglasses as he looks you up and down with a very pleased expression and then offers the flowers he had brought. Flowers for dates were a must. Especially after the way he fucked you. “You look good enough to eat!”

“Don’t be mean,” you chide him, knowing his hearing is good enough that he definitely just heard you defend him to Evan. The flowers he has brought are stunning - deep reds and purples dotted with blues. “Do you want to come in while I put these in water? They’re beautiful.”

“Are you inviting me in?” He waggles his brows playfully and Evan nearly turns purple.

“SEE? He has to be invited in! Only vampires do that!” Evan’s voice nearly reaches the soprano range, it’s gone up so many octaves.

Max chuckles and steps into the entryway of your apartment. “Actually pal…that’s the same for demons, goblins and warlocks. Witches get a free pass for some reason.”

“Witches are still human.” Is the explanation you offer, figuring that playing along with the game is the way to be the least conspicuous. “Do you two need to be separated while I put these in my room or can you be in the same room without killing each other?” It’s kind of an honest question, all things considered, but you raise an eyebrow at Max asking him to behave as you grab your vase from the kitchen counter.

“I’m always a team player.” Max reminds you innocently, even fluttering his lashes at you. He’s not physically hurt Evan since punching him in the nose after he had been a little shit and lied to get him expelled and academically shunned from every fucking college but the one where he was turned into a vampire. “Ev and I will be fine, won’t we?” He throws his arm around Evan’s shoulder and squeezes him close as he grins at him, enjoying the other man’s discomfort.

“Be nice, please.” Is your one request, made to both of them, before you disappear to deposit the beautiful buds in the vase that will sit on your bedside table.

“Get off of me.” Evan hisses, shrugging out from Max’s arm and turning on him. “If you hurt her…” He trails off to seem more threatening and Max shoots him a grin.

“Buddy… pal…” He coos. “Don’t worry. It’s gonna be fine. Just…” He winks at Evan. “Make sure you have some good headphones tonight.”

You can hear them as you disappear down the hall and allow yourself to grin, shaking your head at the way Max doesn’t even pretend to assure Evan you won’t get hurt. Because there is no way your friend could wrap his head around the fact that having Max’s fangs cut into your skin was half of what made you cum so hard last night. Pain and pleasure mixed – and the promise of more – make you shiver with anticipation as you quickly drop the vase of flowers beside your bed.

Maybe you’ll ask Max to go back to his place, though, just so you don’t rub it in. Because you are definitely going to make some noise tonight. Your throbbing pussy insists on it.

______

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