Shotgun
Description: you're on a camping trip with your two friends, and the scariest guy from school: Eddie Munson. A few beers and some weed change the way you look at him however. Maybe he's not so scary after all. Cocky, oh yes, but not scary. Especially the way your legs start to squeeze together at the sight of him. But, does he like you, or is this some cruel game to play on the innocent band geek?
A/n: do I have 10 WIPs? Yes. Do I have requests I'm working on? Also yes. So logically, I started a one shot from a smutty dream I had, that turned into a freaking long one. Enjoy!
Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI or I'll feed you to the fishes. Very smutty, a bit of angst, hella fluff! Reader is AFAB, cocky!experienced!Eddie x Virgin!band geek!fem!reader, very slight dub con in the beginning (touching over panties, explicit consent not given), female fingering receiving, dry humping, female oral receiving, p in v protected sex.
❤️Reblogs are what keep me going; they keep Tumblr going, and my little black heart beating. Reblog my work and I'll love you forever sweetheart. ❤️
12.5k words (oops)
Masterlist
"You know you guys can't handle this shit!"
Eddie laughs, nearly spilling the beer cradled in his hand.
Steve rolls his eyes, chucking his beer top into the campfire you guys had set up for the evening, the paint sparking briefly.
"Come on Munson, pass it round, quit being a bitch."
"Yeah Eddie, share the love!"
Robin giggles as she clutches her chest dramatically. Shaking your head, you shift uncomfortably on the ground. It's not that you haven't been around this sort of stuff before, people you weren't too keen on have smoked once in your company. It wasn't even a moral thing, you were just a little scared of the effect. That, and the fact you were sitting right next to Eddie Munson.
Eddie, the guy you've literally been frightened of since you saw him leaping on tables in the cafeteria. That was some time ago, and Robin had assured you he was a good guy. You trusted her judgement completely, hence why you'd even considered going camping with the three of them for the weekend. It didn't help the fact that you were just a band geek, not used to these sorts of get togethers. Hell, your closest friends played chess for fun. This was so out of your comfort zone that you felt like a deer in headlights. Only a week ago you had your first beer, at 21; the proper age. Now you were sucking back a brew in the woods at night, sitting next to the drug dealer of the area.
It could just be the beer talking, but Eddie looks good right now. Every time he shook his mane of hair out of his face it had you biting your lip. He threw his head back when he laughed and the sight of that stretched neck of his had you clenching your thighs, feelings bubbling up that you'd never felt before.
So when his hand reached out and his fingertips grazed you, a blunt pressed between his thick ringed fingers, you gasped, pulling your hand away as if it had been burned.
"Come on, take it."
Your tongue feels thick and swollen, sticking to the roof of your mouth. Words. Think of words.
"Can't you, erm, pass it the other way?"
"No, it always goes to the left sweetheart."
Sweetheart.
Glad the low light hides your blazing cheeks at the pet name, you dip your eyes downward for fear of them exposing you. You played the flute for Christ's sake. This was not your thing.
"I-I, well, I-"
"You not smoked before?"
Robin's voice cuts through the myriad of noises in your head, making you turn violently.
"I just, I never-"
"Look at me."
Those words from him sing through your nerves, making you forget any thought you had, or anticipated. As you turn, Eddie's dark eyes bore into you.
"You trust me?"
No. A thousand times no.
"Yes."
"Come here."
He shifts and gets up on his knees, joint pressed between pouting lips as he lights it again, the cherry blazing almost as hot as your blood right now. You mimic his movements, rising on shaky thighs to kneel in front of him.
"Right, I'm gonna take a pull, and blow the smoke, when I breathe out, you breathe in, 'kay?"
His words are sweet, and a little condescending, an edge of talking down that just stirs up your insides further, guts a puddle.
"Okay."
He cups his hands to his face, gesturing for you to do the same. Raising your shaking hands, you touch them delicately with his. He flips his hands so they are on the outside, cupping yours, pushing them together with a lot more force than you did.
He's close, so close. Your breath hitches in your throat, those deep eyes a couple of inches from yours. Heat radiates from his body, your skin itching almost from its blistering warmth. That could just be from the fire. Or the fire in between your legs.
He smells good. There's weed there, sure, and the beer you've all been drinking, and some aftershave you couldn't place, maybe bergamot? An undercurrent lies beneath it all, of man and skin, that makes your toes curl.
He breathes into you then, the swirling smoke trying to escape your cupped hands.
You inhale deeply, focusing on the feel of Eddie's rough hands, on his touch. You breathe in until there's nothing left and hold it. His eyes don't leave yours, sparkling in the fire light.
The exhale hurts more. Breathing out smoke, you revel in the fact you didn't cough or startle. The feeling of him letting go of your hands is far worse.
A ringing, whooping noise finally reaches your ears, between the sound of your own blood pumping. Robin and Steve are cheering like morons, but your gaze doesn't leave Eddie.
"There you go. Good girl."
Damn.
A sharp intake of breath pulls into your lungs and straight to your heat. The pure shock and desire those two words drew from you have you dropping backwards, butt slamming into the pine needle dusted ground.
"Hey you OK?" Robin's hand on your shoulder distracts you briefly and you flash a weak smile.
"Sure, just went to my head a little, I'm good."
Eddie's hand reaches over you, passing the blunt to Robin. You dare not look him in the eye, fearful that everything you felt was written all over your innocent face. Out of your periphery, you can tell he's facing you. Suddenly the fire was extremely interesting.
Robin has a couple of tokes, and tries a third when Steve waves at her.
"Quit hogging it!"
"OK, don't get your panties in a twist!" Passing it to Steve with a loud huff, he takes it and breathes deep. And promptly coughs his guts out.
Robin and Eddie cackle, and even you can spare a giggle at the irony.
"Told you Harrington. Even the little band cutie took it better than you!"
"Fuck off Munson."
Hell, he knows who I am. And he called me cute.
This is Eddie. Scary, metal head, drug dealer Eddie. Eddie who all of a sudden stirs your insides up and makes your head dizzy. Eddie who you now realise is actually goddamn gorgeous.
Eddie takes a hit and turns to you.
"You wanna try smoking it sweetheart?"
Heart hammering in your ribs, you manage to speak.
"C-can you do, that thing, again?"
His smile is dipped in sin as he scoots nearer to you, and you copy him. Suddenly this seems more intimate, sitting on the ground, twisting to face each other, inches away. He takes a hit and holds it, gesturing at you to lean closer. The way he tilts his head, you could almost believe he's going to kiss you. This time, he cups your face, blowing smoke at you. It's so close his lips brush yours ever so softly.
You're not sure if your inhale was intentional or a shocked gasp, but in the smoke goes.
Did he mean to do that?
One look into his eyes tells you yes. There's a cockiness to his grin, the devil dancing across his face.
So, did he do it because he likes you, or is he just messing with you? Only Eddie knows the answer to that.
You exhale, less than an inch from his full lips. Time stops. That is until Steve and his loud mouth break the spell.
"Come on, get a room you guys!" He practically yells, throwing a twig in your direction.
You snap your head away from Eddie and stare at Steve with wild eyes.
"I-I wasn't, we- we weren't-"
"We weren't? Well, that's a damn shame."
As you glance back at Eddie he's leaning on propped up elbows, looking so sure of himself that it's annoying, bordering on making you angry.
Cheeks flooding with warmth, your mouth forms words without checking with your brain first.
"Y-you know what you are Eddie?"
He tilts his head at you, still smirking, and gestures a hand willing you to continue.
"A cocky mother fucker."
The grin falls from his face as he looks at you in shock. Robin and Steve practically piss themselves laughing at your sudden outburst.
"Shit Eddie you better watch out!" Robin laughs out.
"Yeah, that kitty's got claws dude." Steve agrees.
Embarrassed at your own words, you risk glancing at Eddie. You were expecting him to be upset, angry even. That's not the case; he looks impressed.
"Shit, yeah, I can see that. Didn't know you had it in you sweetheart."
Smiling to yourself, you stretch your legs and wiggle your feet. You impressed him. Your turn for a smug smile.
Pretty soon the high starts to settle in; a warmth seeps through your bones and a tingle spreads from your head into your body. It feels like you're quivering whilst sitting still. Steve offers you another beer but you turn it down, well aware that being too foggy right now would be a bad idea. Especially since Eddie has been creeping closer. Now you're side by side, hips so close any time he moves he brushes against you.
The fire dies down, turning to embers. The beer coat has vanished, leaving you shivering. Steve and Robin are already under a blanket; you can see Robin's eyes are close to closing.
"You ok there sweetheart? Cold?"
"I-I'm O-OK."
"No you aren't, you're shaking."
Without a further word he's taking off his jacket and putting his arm firmly around you. Whatever space there was between you has melted away, sides now flush.
You could say the same for your face. This may well be the closest you've been to a boy. Well, a man. He drapes the jacket over the pair of you, covering your crossed legs and his lap, and rubs his hand smoothly up and down your arm to warm you. Little does he know how much he's warming your insides, each stroke sending a buzzing desire through your limbs.
Steve's chatting away; yet another story about Dustin spilling from his lips when you feel Eddie's other hand snaking underneath the jacket, coming to rest on your thigh.
Eyes wide, you flick your gaze towards him.
"What are you doing?" You whisper urgently.
"Just warming you up sweetheart."
He says it so sweetly, yet it belies the movements of his hand, moving further up your leg to run soft circles just underneath the hem of your skirt.
You can't hear a word Steve is saying, unable to concentrate on anything but Eddie's touch and the whooshing blood in your ears. No one had ever touched you like this, not once.
Robin's shrill voice breaks through the fizzing in your head; once again her and Steve are arguing over something. You might have heard Vickie being mentioned but you can't be sure.
Eddie's hand trails higher, within reach of your panties. Breath catching in your throat, you mean to admonish him but all that comes out is a breathy noise.
"Eddie…"
He rests his chin on your shoulder, hot breath fanning your ear.
"You want me to stop?"
You don't answer, you can't. You're frozen, unable to move, unable to make a sound lest a moan escape your lips.
He wouldn't dare, not with Steve and Robin here, would he?
He would.
Eddie runs a finger gently down the front of your panties. The softest touch, a whisper of a thing. Then he does it again, up and down, pressing the cotton of your briefs into your private parts.
You can feel your insides fluttering, a burning settling between your legs, being stoked by every barely there touch. Suddenly, he presses down on something that has you softly whimpering and clenching at nothing. A tingle shoots down your legs to the tips of your toes.
You hear a small noise; it's Eddie chuckling in his throat. It snaps you out of your frozen state and you move to get up.
"I'm going to bed guys."
Standing abruptly, you let Eddie's jacket fall from you as he scrambles to keep it over his own lap.
You turn to your tent and hear Steve and Robin wish you goodnight, and mumble about going to bed soon too.
"Night guys!"
"Want any company sweetheart?"
There he is, sitting with that arrogant look on his face.
"Goodnight, Eddie."
You say it firmly, even though your resolve is as substantial as tissue paper. Stomping over to your tent, you turn on your camp light and sit on your double inflatable bed, hugging your knees.
Now that you're alone you realise how much that weed affected you. You feel airy, light as a feather, fingers and toes still tingling.
It must be the drugs.
You focus on the reality of the situation. You just let some guy touch you down there. Eddie Munson touched you over your panties.
So why weren't you scared? Or angry at him? It's not like he asked. The fact is that no one's done anything like that to you before, and it felt incredible. Left you aching for more. That thought was making you more frightened than anything else.
You listen to the group slowly pad their way off to bed, rustles of clothing, mumbled 'goodnights', and tent zips.
To the left of your tent was the huge six berth Steve had brought for him and Robin. It was fancy, you assume he 'borrowed' it from his parents. On the cusp of hearing there was bickering. You don't know how Robin and Steve became friends, or how they maintained it since they acted like an old married couple most of the time, but it seemed to work. After a few minutes soft snores echoed from the two of them.
No sound comes from the other side, where Eddie had pitched a little coffin tent. You wonder if he's still sitting by the dying embers of the fire. He's probably smoking.
Stop thinking about him.
You undress, only pulling an oversized t-shirt on to sleep in since your big sleeping bag is so warm. You'd bought a double one with your birthday money last year because you hated feeling restricted. It was a luxury but with all the camping you did it just made sense. Snuggling into its spacious depths, you attempt to quiet the raging hormones coursing through your veins.
God, why is he so annoying and smug? It burned you up, but you couldn't deny how much it turned you on.
You slide your hand between your legs, pressing hard to try and quench the fire. He did something, you're sure of it. This wasn't natural for you, movements unsure and bordering on clumsy. When you run your finger through your naked folds you whimper, and see how wet you are. Gasping, you explore further, and find that spot, a hidden nub that sends a bolt of lightning to your core.
"Oh fuck," you breathe out in a moan, starting to rub up and down.
"You alright in there sweetheart?"
Oh shit, he's right outside the tent. Was he there the whole time?
"Yeah, what do you want?"
"I'm cold, can I come in?"
No.
"Y-yeah."
He unzips the tent and enters, crouching to accommodate his height. Closing the tent up, he takes in his surroundings, letting out a low whistle.
"Pretty sweet set up you've got here, your folks rich or something?"
"No, I just do a lot of camping with the troop."
"Huh?" He looks confused, falling to his knees to look you in the eyes.
"The girl scouts, I volunteer as a leader."
The laughter that comes from him is loud and rich.
"Fuck, you got that little innocent act down don't you?"
It's your turn to look confused.
"What on earth are you talking about Eddie?"
He scoffs at you, clearly not buying it.
"The cute little band geek thing, helping out with girl scouts. Shit, the whole 'can you do that thing again?' " He mimics your words from earlier and you flush crimson.
"Eddie, I honestly don't know what you're going on about. I never smoked before, I hadn't even had a beer before my 21st last week. I've never even- no one's done what you did, outside."
Eddie's jaw may as well be on the floor.
"You're fucking with me."
You shake your head, lips pressed tight.
"Well, now I feel like an asshole." He huffs out, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed.
"Well maybe you should, you never asked."
"I'm sorry, I just- I thought you were one of those freaky band kids. You kept looking at me like you were gonna eat me alive, I thought I was in for a rough night." He laughs, shooting a gaze at you.
"Well you thought wrong." You turn your head, arms crossed firmly over your chest.
"I'll go if you want. Want me to leave?"
Yes.
"No."
A smile spreads slowly across his face, and he inches closer to you on his hands and knees, palms splayed on the foot of your air bed.
"So, you want me to stay?"
"No."
"So… should I sleep in the doorway?"
A fair question, considering your answer. You laugh, looking back at him. His smile is softer, much less mocking. It's sweet almost, sanding down your rough edges.
"Yeah, you can be my bodyguard. Protect me from bears and mountain lions and stuff."
He chuckles and climbs over; you lay back on instinct, further away. Leaning right over you, his face is an inch from yours, hair tickling your cheek.
"You know, I could protect this beautiful body of yours better if I was in the sleeping bag with you."
"You don't give up, do you?" You whisper into his skin, sounding braver than you felt.
"It was the sweet and innocent thing, did me in."
He plants a soft kiss to your cheek, brushing your skin, and another, to the corner of your mouth that makes you shiver.
"Tell me to stop."
"Eddie, kiss me."
His mouth is on your then, hot and heavy, tongue begging at your bottom lip. You give him an inch and he takes a mile, tongue sliding against yours with practised movements. Not expecting the full force of his kiss, you suddenly realise you're moaning into his mouth, hands coming to wind into his loose locks.
He breaks away, chuckling at the way you chase his lips.
"You know, you don't kiss like a good girl."
Merely whining in response, you try to catch your breath.
"So, can I get in the sleeping bag? I'm freezing out there."
"Fine, just, no funny business." You point your finger at him, gasping when he licks it long and slow.
"Nothing you don't want me to do." He winks, and pulls his t-shirt over his head.
"What are you doing?"
He ignores you, pulling his socks off and unbuttoning his jeans.
"I'm getting undressed. Why, expect me to sleep in my jeans?"
You merely screw your nose up in response. Stripped down to his boxers, he clambers his lithe body onto the sleeping bag with you, all elbows and knees. Sighing, you move over to accommodate him but he wraps his arms around you.
"Eddie, what-"
"I'm cold sweetheart, just, warm me up a little?"
Your heart is hammering in your ribcage with the realisation that you're entirely out of control of this situation. You allow him to hold you, and hesitantly rest your arm over him. Your head is snuggled into his neck, feeling more comfortable than you had any right to be.
"Eddie, your legs are freezing."
"I know! I wasn't lying, my sleeping bag's shitty."
He pushes his thigh between yours, and you remember a split second too late that you're not wearing any bottoms. Suddenly, his bare thigh is pressed against your naked heat. You're praying to any Gods that might be listening that he doesn't notice, attempting to stay as still as possible.
He's warming up slowly, but you're stiff as a post, trying not to focus on his thigh and the slight pressure it's putting on your most delicate parts.
"So, you gonna tell me what you were doing sweetheart?"
"What?" You whisper into the soft skin of his neck.
"Well, I came out of my tent to see if you were still awake, and imagine my surprise when I heard moaning."
"N-no, I wasn't!"
"Quit lying, I can feel your cunt on my leg."
You nearly choke on your own saliva.
"Eddie, you can't just say that!"
You hit him on the chest. He just laughs, dragging your little fist to his mouth to kiss it.
"I can when you're soaking my leg."
Opening your mouth to respond, all words escape you. Especially when he grinds his thigh against your folds. Instead of words, a whimper breaks from your lips.
"Yeah? That good sweetheart?"
The smugness is back, but you can't find it in you to care, not when he rocks his hips and the force of his leg sets loose a roll of pleasure. He's hard, it's pressing into your hip.
A lean arm curls around you, his thick thumb finding its way to your chin to lift it upwards. You stare into his darkened eyes as they dart to your lips and back up.
All resolve is dissolved like ash in the rain as you feel the intensity of his stare and the warmth of him between your thighs. You crash your lips to his desperately, hips chasing friction. When his heavy tongue slips into your mouth you respond in kind, needy and vigorous.
He takes his thigh away and you huff at the loss, but it's not for long, not when that hand of his is stroking down your front, lightly massaging your hardened nipples and chasing down to your stomach. He cups your mound, one finger pushing down on your swollen nub.
"Eddie."
It's a whimper, a plea into his open mouth. Responding by biting your bottom lip softly, he dips his finger lower, circling your entrance gently. His finger slips inside then and you clench around it immediately, moaning at the foreign feeling. It's odd, yes, but it's so good that you cry out.
"Gotta be quiet sweetheart, don't want anyone hearing me fuck you with my fingers."
His crude words are peppering your insides with fire, the evidence of your arousal seeping out of you. Humming in response, you bite your lip, clinging desperately to his side.
He slowly pumps his finger in and out, watching your face. You're slick jawed, eyebrows knitted tight, hips rolling with each thrust of his hand.
"Fuck you're so tight, can barely fit my finger in."
"Eddie, no one's ever-"
"Shhh, I fuckin' know sweetheart. Gonna make you feel really good. Just enjoy it."
He curls his finger inside you, incessantly stroking at something that's making your legs tense up and your insides flutter around him, the heel of his hand flat and hard against that spot again.
"Oh my God!" You whisper urgently, fingernails digging into his sides.
"I know baby, feels good yeah?"
"Uh huh" you manage to breathe out as your eyes squeeze shut.
The pressure collating in your tummy is building and building as he speeds up, finger reaching deep inside. It releases, and flows from you, wave after wave crashing down and washing away everything but Eddie.
You muffle your cries of pleasure in the skin of Eddie's chest, resisting the urge to clamp your teeth into his flesh.
As you come down, he releases his digit with a wet sucking sound that probably would have made you embarrassed five minutes ago, but now it's just inconsequential.
"Still with me?" He asks softly as he hugs you close.
"Barely" You mumble; he chuckles at your reply.
He rolls you on top of him, moving your legs so you're straddling him. His hard on is pressing firmly into your privates, your slick dampening the front of his boxers immediately.
"Eddie, I'm not- I can't have sex with-"
"Sweetheart, you trust me?"
Yes.
"No."
There's that look again, that edge of mocking that isn't making you annoyed anymore, it's making you want to pull his underwear down and slip him inside of you.
"I'm not gonna fuck you. Not unless you want me to. Relax sweetheart."
His hands are on your ass, moving you against him to grind on his rock hard bulge. Your eyes widen, the friction so much better than his thigh.
He lets out a stifled moan, and damn if it isn't the best noise you've heard in your life.
His hands trail under your shirt as you take over moving against him, feeling the shape of him under you. Tugging at the hem, he looks up at you with pleading eyes.
"Can I- can I take this off?"
All feelings of modesty have fled and you whip your shirt over your head and fling it across the tent.
"Fuck, look at you."
Leaning forward he takes your nipple into his mouth and rolls his tongue around and around.
"Eddie, oh Holy fuck!"
Your movements become faster and sloppy, so he grabs you by the hips to slow you down.
"You know what I think?" He says, in between wet open mouthed kisses to your breasts, "I think you are a freak. You just didn't know it yet." He chuckles darkly, and sucks hard at one of your nipples.
Your moan is loud and bordering on pornographic as you rut yourself against him harshly, all pretence of keeping quiet forgotten as your stomach tightens again in thick knots of pleasure.
"Oh Eddie, I'm- I'm gonna cum oh fuckfuckfuck!"
It all undoes at once as you release and clench around nothing, pussy throbbing with ecstasy. The bones in your body seem to disintegrate, muscles a distant memory as you flop against him.
Eddie's not done.
"Come on sweetheart, just a little longer."
He encourages your hips to move again as you lay on his chest, skin glowing with perspiration. You can only grunt in response and start grinding against him again, the feeling so intense it has you clenching your teeth with pleasure pain.
"That's it, fuck, I'm so close. There's my good girl, just, oh shit, little more."
His praise bubbles through you and you speed up to meet his rutting hips, your slick sticking to the tops of your thighs.
"Feel so good sweetheart, oh shit!"
Lifting your head, you do it just in time to watch Eddie's eyes screw shut, mouth panting open with pleasure as he holds your hips in a death grip. His cheeks and neck are flushed, the vein in his neck pulsing. You press your lips to it softly, leaving feather dusted kisses over his neck and jaw as he comes down from his glowing high.
"Holy shit." He laughs into you, kissing the top of your head over your hair.
"Indeed" your reply is breathless as you melt into his front, attempting to ignore the stickiness.
"As much as I'm enjoying you naked on top of me, I need to, er-" He gestures vaguely at himself with one hand. For a minute you think he's just going to go, but instead he wriggles out of the sleeping bag and whips his boxers down.
You sit back on your heels, mouth agape as he casually cleans his spend with his underwear, wiping at the matted pubic hair. He's big; you could feel him under you but now you're faced with it you fear your eyes may bug out of your head.
Glancing down, you can see some of his cum escaped its fabric confinement; a few drops glisten on your lower abdomen. Curiosity gets the better of you as you gather it on your fingers to feel the consistency, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger. It's stickier than you thought. You bring your thumb to your mouth and suck the excess off. It's salty, and strange, but not unpleasant exactly.
When your eyes meet again Eddie looks awestruck, staring at you with the queerest expression on his face.
Embarrassed at being caught, you hide your hand behind your back as if scolded.
"Sorry, was that wrong?"
"No, fuck no," he chuckles, looking away, "just have to stop looking at me like that sweetheart."
"Why?"
"Hell, 'cause you're making me hard again."
"Oh."
You shyly put your head down and settle back down in the sleeping bag's warmth. To your amazement Eddie gets in with you.
"What are you doing?"
"I thought you said I could stay? Or you had enough of me?"
"N-no, I just… well, you're naked."
He laughs hard at that.
"So are you."
Nothing about this seems to phase him, but your mind is swirling around and around. You'd just had your first orgasms ever, and now you're going to be sleeping naked with a man. With Eddie Munson.
He's so much warmer now, skin hot to the touch. Hesitantly, you rest your hand on his chest. He pulls you close, picking up your little camp light with the other hand, fiddling with it briefly before offering it to you.
"Can you switch this thing off?"
You reach and press the button, plunging you both into darkness.
"Night sweetheart."
"Night Eddie."
********************
Early morning light wakes you, filtering through the tent fabric, coating everything in a warm glow.
Eddie is still here, laying on his back, snoring softly with you cuddled to his chest. You'd hate to admit it, but you were glad. Glad he didn't run off in the night. Glad that last night had actually happened and wasn't just your over active imagination playing some cruel joke.
Laying there, feeling the rhythm of his breathing, you take a second to really think.
What was actually happening? A part of you is frightened; scared that maybe Eddie sees your virginity as a challenge. Maybe that's why he stayed? You were staying another night after all. Or maybe this is a little holiday romance, something to keep him occupied whilst he's away. You'd had one before at band camp; nothing serious, just kisses and cuddles and radio silence on your return.
What were Robin and Steve going to say? You contemplated waking him up right now to sneak him back to his own tent, but that thought went straight out the window when you caught the sound of their tent being unzipped.
A soft bash to your tent startles you and makes Eddie snort himself awake.
"Hey guys I'm making coffee! Come and join us!"
Robin sings out and walks away to fuss over the fire it sounds like.
Oh Holy shit balls. Hey guys?? She knew Eddie was here. And if she knew, Steve knew.
Eddie smirks down at you as you stare at him with wild panic in your eyes.
"Guess our little secret is out sweetheart."
Before you can say a word he's unzipping the sleeping bag and fumbling about for his jeans, slipping them clumsily onto his legs.
"Eddie!" You whisper urgently. He just chuckles.
"What, want me to cut a hole in the back of the tent? Tunnel out?"
He's got a point.
"Eddie, please just don't-"
"Hey, I ain't one to kiss and tell, relax."
Before you can say another word he's perching a cigarette in between his plump lips and making his way out of the tent.
Fuck.
You pull on your clothes hastily, a skirt and t-shirt, and slide on your sneakers, attempting to untangle some of the messy bed head that had been created during the night.
It's now or never.
You exit the tent, attempting to look as casual about it as you can.
"Morning guys."
Steve smiles at you.
"Howdy cowgirl."
"Hi?"
You return his greeting, utterly confused, but by the sound of Robin shushing him violently and Eddie coughing on his cigarette you can only assume he meant something by that which went over your head. Robin breaks the tension, talking a mile a minute.
"Hey sleepy head! You want a coffee? I just made it over the fire. Crazy! I know it took forever. It'll wake you up. Not that you need waking up you're up and about and it's early! It's not like you had a long night. Well you might have how would I know anyway here's your coffee!!"
Seems you might have gotten a little loud, why else would Robin be breaking the sound barrier? You don't say a thing, just smile gratefully and take your coffee, entirely avoiding Eddie's eyes, and try to wish the blood away from your darkening cheeks.
"So, we thought we might have a swim in the lake in a couple hours when it's warmer, you in?"
Steve asks and you nod, aware your voice right now is not to be trusted.
So, after a little breakfast and small talk about the cold last night, which you put a particular emphasis on to try and explain away your little situation, you all go and change into your swimwear.
In your tent you lay out your usual one piece, the plain black one you always wear with the troop, and the other set. The bikini you bravely bought but never wore, deeming it far too skimpy for camp. But this wasn't girl scouts.
God damn he's already seen me naked, come on, be brave.
Skimpy number it is. You wear it underneath your clothes and grab a towel and a book, readying yourself to join the others.
Eddie and Steve walk ahead, talking obnoxiously loud; something you're quite glad of. At least they aren't whispering about you.
Robin walks side by side with you, practically vibrating.
"Just, whatever you wanna say, say it before you explode."
The voice that exits her mouth is so high pitched you're surprised dogs didn't start barking.
"You had sex with Eddie Munson!"
"I did not!"
"Totally did, we saw you!"
You stop in your tracks, mouth hanging open.
"What the fuck Robin!"
"Sorry, we didn't actually like, see you see you, we saw your shadows, 'cause of the light in your tent."
"We- I- I mean, we didn't, like, have sex, we just- did something else." You settle at lamely.
"Are you going to? He really likes you."
You scoff at that, continuing your walk.
"He's just trying to get in my pants, take my virginity. I doubt he'll even talk to me after."
Robin's hand shoots out to grab your arm.
"Oh, you don't know, do you?"
Feeling utterly confused, you turn to face her.
"What are you going on about?"
"Eddie likes you, he had a crush on you in high school. He was the one that suggested inviting you and nearly killed me when I actually did."
Your world turns sideways in your mind; everything is upside down, thoughts smashed, memories cut to ribbons in their wake.
"Huh? How- what?"
"He was telling Steve like a week ago, I was listening in and opened my mouth as per usual. I tried to tell you, remember?"
You rack your brains trying to come up with answers when a light bulb switches in your head.
"Hang on, you said Eddie wanted me to go before, didn't you? I honestly thought you were just joking with me, I didn't think he knew who I was!"
You reach the tree line and see the two boys a little further on, just on the tiny beach leading to the lake, stripping off their clothes.
"But he was so- so sure of himself!"
"Oh he's always like that. Pretty sure it's an act, he's actually super sweet when you get to know him."
You look up and stare at Eddie in his swim shorts. He'd been naked last night, but with the low light and distraction of seeing his privates for the first time you hadn't had the opportunity to really look at him all over.
He was lean and tall, but there was a broadness to his shoulders and a sinew to his muscles that made him stand out. Tattoos littered his frame, more than you thought he had but the detail was lost at this distance. You were walking closer, still staring at him, when he captures you. Smiling that smug grin of his he holds his arms out as if on display.
"See something you like sweetheart?"
On the edge of shying away, you look down; but then you remember Robin's words. He's the one with the crush on you. Feeling a little braver, bolstered by that thought, you walk closer, a couple of feet away from him, and stop.
"You look really good Eddie."
Pulling your t-shirt over your head, you smile at Eddie's reaction. Clearly not expecting such a bold move from you, his cheeks and neck are flushed pink. For once he seems speechless. You slip your skirt off and away, kicking it to one side.
This leaves you in your tiny baby blue triangle bikini, with delicate daisies embroidered on the hem. For once, your cleavage is fully displayed, and the ties for the bottoms ride high on your hips. You slip two fingers under each tied side and pull them up ever so slightly.
Eddie's eyes dart down and back up again, and you swear you see him swallow thickly in his throat.
"Well, you swimming or not handsome?"
Without a further glance you kick your shoes off and wade into the chilly water.
OK, keep calm, just look at him now.
Risking a quick peek back, you see him standing gormlessly on the sand, mouth hanging open. He looks so dorky, so unlike the Eddie you've seen so far that you giggle aloud.
Steve calls out to him, already in the clear water. He's stumbling into the lake after you then as if a fire was lit underneath him. Robin makes her way in too, and pretty sure you're laughing and splashing each other in earnest, the boys taking turns in dunking each other underwater.
Steve keeps screaming about his hair, which just makes you all laugh that little bit louder. Soon he's moping about it and swims off surprisingly fast. Robin says she wants to dry out and wanders back to the beach to read a little, leaving you and Eddie alone.
He swims straight to you, bodies a couple of inches apart. Suddenly the water doesn't feel so cold, warmed by the heat he seems to pull from you just by being close. That ache is there again, wanting to be filled by Eddie. You try and shake the thought away.
"Seems a little skimpy for a scout leader," he says, gesturing at your two piece.
"Well, I don't wear this one with the troop," you reply, attempting to look blasé about it.
"So, wore this just for me, sweetheart?"
You shrug, but know your eyes betray you, honesty etched into the look you give him.
"You did, didn't you? That's cute," he responds to his own question, reaching a hand up to hold you by the waist. All of a sudden his breath is in your ear, his other hand reaching up to your chest.
"You look hot by the way, I like the little flowers," as he says it he runs a finger over the hem of your bikini bra making you shudder.
"Eddie," you whisper, meaning to scold him but it just comes out a little too breathy for that.
He continues to whisper in your ear, each word sending a butterfly loose in your swirling stomach. "Wondering if I can stay in that tent of yours again. To stay warm?"
You laugh, turning to face him. "That's not all you want and you know it."
"Yeah?" He comes closer, lips so close to brushing yours, holding your chin between thumb and forefinger. You clench your thighs together as your eyes flutter shut.
"Seems you want more as well," he laughs, pulling back from you. The frown that appears on your face tells him all he needs to know.
As he moves away, his hand drops down, knuckles dragging slowly over your nipple, already pebbled by the water.
"Maybe later princess."
He turns to get out of the water. Furious with how forward he just was you shout after him.
"Eddie, you are such-"
"A cocky mother fucker?" He shouts back, stealing your thunder.
You clench your fists, nearly losing it treading water, and decide to swim away to cool off.
You're finding Robin's words hard to believe. He still seems so confident; maybe his little chat with Steve was a rouse to get you here so he could tease you. If he has liked you all this time, maybe it's just a sexual thing. Seduce the band geek.
When the ache between your thighs is lessened by the burning muscles in your arms and legs you swim back to shore and dry off, laying on your towel to read.
It's like the universe has it in for you today. A few more pages into your fantasy book and suddenly there's a sex scene. Usually, you'd just skim over the 'fruity bits' as your mom called them but now? Now it was as if Eddie had altered your brain chemistry and you found yourself absorbing every word in detail, thighs clenched together almost to the point of pain.
"What you reading?"
You jump visibly and look up to see Eddie couching over you, sodden locks leaving pitter patter drips on your legs.
"Eddie, you're dripping."
He smiles mischievously.
"Am I making you wet, sweetheart?"
You roll your eyes and replace your bookmarker, putting your book down to one side.
"Yes, Eddie, I'm soaking wet for you."
Triumph flashes over your features as you take in his wide eyes; so shocked at your reply he's nearly choking on air.
"You are strange Eddie. You can give it but you can't take it, can you?"
His eyebrows raise and he attempts to cover his flustered appearance.
"I'm just surprised, I thought you were a good girl."
Ignoring your heart thumping hard in your chest at those words, you shrug.
"And here I was thinking it was because you've had a crush on me since high school."
Eddie opens his mouth, and promptly closes it. When he speaks again it's quieter, almost like he's embarrassed.
"Who- how did-"
"Robin."
"Of course."
He stares at you then, all bravado gone. A moment passes where you both try and work out what this means, what the other is thinking.
Eddie coughs and stands up, breaking the spell.
"We're heading back to have lunch, if you wanna come."
He walks off then, not a further glance at you. Wondering if you upset him somehow, you gather your things and head back to camp.
********************
Later that evening, you're huddled around a campfire again having a couple of beers; or, in the case of Steve, several beers. Eddie had been civil, nice even, but there was no edge to him right now. You're not sure if you miss it or not, realising that you had actually grown fond of the push and pull between you, and that grin of his.
He'd disappeared at one point, and returned a little later with his acoustic guitar; beginning playing a little aimlessly, just background music to your tiny circle. He played beautifully; it really was mesmerising to watch his fingers dance over the strings.
"Play me a song, Eddie." You say, before you realise you were saying it aloud.
"Yeah?" He flashes a small smile and you encourage him by placing your hand on his knee.
"OK, just for you then sweetheart."
He breaks into a rendition of Should I Stay Or Should I Go, by the Clash. You're almost certain it's a jab at you because of last night and your failure to make your mind up. You don't mind; listening to the rest of the lyrics you realise you're hoping he means more than just a little in-joke. If you say that you are mine, I'll be here till the end of time.
When he finishes you all clap, Robin as quickly as a bird's wings flutters, and Steve just a little too loudly, probably due to too much alcohol.
"Thank you Eddie, that was brilliant." You smile softly at him.
"No problem sweets." He moves to put the guitar away but you wave your arm at him.
"Can I play something?"
A sharp intake of breath rings out from Steve and Robin but you pay it no mind. Eddie looks at you like he's sizing you up. Seems he comes to the conclusion that you aren't just going to pull some rockstar move and smash it on the ground, he passes it to you carefully.
You take it reverently in your hands and get comfortable with it, tuning the G string slightly as it was a little off when you heard it.
An idea springs to mind and you grin deviously to Robin over the fire, a grin which is reciprocated. She knows what you're about to do. The Band Camp thing.
You start to play the very beginning of a song extremely loudly, singly wildly off key.
"Kumbaya, my Lord-"
"Don't you fuckin' dare!" Eddie shouts, lurching a hand toward you to clamp over the fret.
"I'm kidding!" You giggle, prying his fingers away. Robin's laughing and Steve looks like he's about to burst, swaying in his seat.
"OK, no funny business."
"Not unless you ask for it." You wink, and start to play what you had intended all along.
"One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small
And the ones that mother gives you
Don't do anything at all…"
You lose yourself in the song, the melody. When you were younger you had just assumed it was nothing but a song about Alice in Wonderland. You knew better now, but it was fun to play and it suited your voice.
As you came to the conclusion your eyes fluttered shut and you sang out the last couple of lines like no one was even there.
"Remember what the dormouse said
Feed your head
Feed your head!"
Whooping and clapping finally reaches your ears as you open your eyes. Robin is going insane; Steve is shouting but it sounds slurred. Eddie just looks stunned as you pass his precious guitar back to him.
"You're incredible sweetheart." He looks genuinely impressed, staring at you with such intensity it makes you squirm.
"It was OK, my strumming's a little sloppy."
"But your voice! Jesus Christ, I've got goosebumps. You should sing, like, all the time."
You laugh, swatting him with your hand.
"I think that might get a little annoying."
"I'd love to listen to it all the time."
The sweet moment is broken by Robin gagging loudly.
"Munson that was so cheesy I'm gonna hurl."
He just shrugs, unbothered, and puts his guitar away. You didn't think it was too cheesy. In fact, you're breathless, thoughtless. The ache was settling back in, so deep in your bones there was no willing it away. It was clear; you needed him. Biblically.
As that realisation hits you like a ton of bricks, a soft thud breaks through to you. Steve has fallen backwards, already snoring.
"Well, looks like he needs to go to bed. Give me a hand guys."
Eddie stands up and lifts Steve bodily round his waist. Robin and you hover nearby, but he doesn't need your help after all.
Steve's giggling childishly, slurring words together.
"Don' wanna go bed, wan' sing too!"
"Sing in the morning, big guy."
You help Robin tuck him into his sleeping bag, as Steve mumbles Kumbaya under his breath.
Robin huffs. "I'll take it from here," and quieter, just to you, she whispers, "I'm putting earplugs in, go have fun."
"Robin, I-"
"Shhh you'll wake the baby. Just go, go!"
You leave the tent and see Eddie sitting by the fire, rolling a joint.
"Erm, Robin's going to bed too."
"Oh?" He looks at you, quirking one eyebrow. "Are you?"
"I'm not tired."
That shit-eating grin of his is back, tugging at the corners of his mouth slowly.
You sit down, right next to him, knees touching. He finishes rolling, licking it closed with a pointed tongue you can't help but stare at.
As he starts smoking, you finally let loose what's been on your mind all day.
"Why did you act funny with me? After I said you have a crush?"
He huffs a little laugh, blowing smoke through his nose.
"I thought that was obvious. I was embarrassed."
"Really? I didn't know Eddie Munson could get embarrassed."
He takes another drag and looks away.
"Yeah, well it happens. I don't like people knowing too much about me. Rather come across as mean and scary and-"
"-cocky?"
"Ha, yeah."
It's quiet again, but not a loaded quiet. You feel comfortable, almost enjoying the silence; just the slight rustle of pine needles in the breeze, and an owl hooting far away.
"You want some of this?"
Eddie's touch pulls you back to the moment, rough fingertips grazing you. The touch burns again, but differently this time. This time you melt under it.
"Can you, do that thing?" You ask in a small voice.
He smiles wickedly, straightening his legs out.
"Come here" He says as he pats his lap. You straddle him awkwardly, not sure if this is what he meant, but a firm hand grabs you by the ass and shifts you closer to him so your chests are flush.
"Like this?" You ask quietly, breathing the question.
"Just like that baby."
He takes a long toke and beckons you forward with one finger. When you're in range, nose lightly brushing his, he brings your chin toward him with one firm hand and presses his lips to your mouth.
Stiffening with surprise, you quickly soften, disarmed by his lips. You part yours and he breathes the smoke into you, allowing you to inhale deeply. Breaking away, you exhale the smoke downwards and look into his deep eyes.
"Do it again."
He bites his lip and smiles, flashing his teeth. He repeats the gesture; taking a pull, smashing his lips to yours and breathing into you. He doesn't let you pull away to breathe out; instead he presses his tongue into your mouth. Smoke burns your nose as you submit to him, the kiss becoming filthy and desperate as he grips onto the flesh of your ass.
Finally he lets up, if only to breathe. You're both panting, electricity in the air passing between and through you.
"I like it like that." You smile, hand resting on his chest.
"You keep surprising me sweetheart." He responds, hands kneading at the flesh of your hips.
A fuzziness rushes through every nerve, all of your body crying out, singing for him.
"You know, I don't mind cocky Eddie."
"Yeah? I thought I annoyed you."
"A little. But it kinda turns me on." You respond, rolling your hips into him.
"Oh fuck sweetheart," he roughly grips you, forcing you to do it again, "you drive me fuckin' crazy."
He's on your neck, kissing and licking at you almost tenderly.
"Eddie, please," you whisper, mind abandoning any clarity as he kisses you.
"Please? What do you need, sweetheart?"
How can you answer? What do you need?
"Eddie, I-I need you, please," you whisper into his ear, rocking against his hardening bulge.
He bites down on your neck, eliciting a gasp to spill from your lips.
"Tent." Is all he manages to say, and you stumble upwards on wobbly legs, to lead him to it.
Fumbling for the zip, you just about get inside it when you feel his hands on you gently pushing you forward. A small touch is all it takes and you're falling onto the air bed, knees bending as you collapse face forward.
He's on your back before you can think, firm arms caging you in from behind.
"You need me? Really?"
You nod, squirming underneath him, a small hand curling around his forearm.
"Dreamed about you saying that, fuck." He whispers, lips pressing to your shoulder, "turn around."
You can't find it in you to not comply. Wobbling the mattress, you twist to face him, engulfed in the intensity of his stare, illuminated by the fading light emanating from the fire.
"Say it again." It's soft, but ironclad in the centre.
"I need you Eddie."
"Fuck" He huffs, moving down your torso, pulling your t-shirt up so it kisses the edge of your breasts. He looks up at you with pleading eyes; a look that turns your insides to mush.
"Can you turn the light on? I need to see you."
He sounds so desperate, so in need that you waste no time in grabbing your camp light and switching it on, bathing you both in cool white light.
As he's pulling your top up, you assist and pull it over your head, flinging it to a corner.
"You are really beautiful." He says, drinking you in with his eyes, as a calloused hand strokes between the valley of your breasts. You slide under his confident touches, getting more anxious by the minute.
"Can I taste you?"
You nod, and he unbuttons your skirt, pulling your panties down with a roughness that makes you flinch. You're entirely exposed.
"I've wanted this, wanted you, for a long time."
You wriggle underneath him, and reply. "Didn't you get me like this last night?"
"This," he says, gesturing to your revealed flesh, "this is different."
You don't quite get it and want him to explain further, but his lips are on your nipples and all that comes out of you is a heady moan. A firm knee pushes your thighs apart and you bend to his will, allowing him to kiss down, and down, leaving hot pressured mouth trails to your stomach.
When his lips meet the tops of your thighs you cry out his name.
He understands, slipping his tongue between your folds and licking at your clit with pointed precision.
"Oh fuck!"
A chuckle emanates from his throat as he doubles his efforts, flicking and suckling at you in earnest. Thick fingers tease your entrance and one slides into your glistening opening, pumping slowly.
It shocks through your body, setting loose tendrils of pleasure so profound it's almost a religious experience. He prods another finger at you, sliding it next to the first and it burns, making you hiss.
Eddie mumbles platitudes into your pussy, telling you how good a job you're doing, how proud he is, how you're a good girl. His good girl.
The tension is unbelievable, clenching every muscle as your breath comes in short pants.
"That's it sweetheart, sing for me."
The fingers curl, stroking something incessantly inside you that rips a sultry groan from deep within your chest cavity, and without further warning your orgasm washes through. It collects and expands, a force of nature that flies out and collides like stars in the universe.
Your back falls to the air mattress, and that's the only signal you have that it ever left. You feel soaked in your own juices, thighs uncomfortably wet.
Eddie hovers over your face. You're not quite sure when he got there.
"That OK sweetheart?"
You don't reply, you can't. Your response can only be carnal, feeding into the biting, gnawing need that still refuses to lessen its grip on your core. Bringing shaking hands upward, you wind them into his hair and pull his face forcefully towards yours, tongue slipping in to taste your slick in his mouth, groaning at the tangy sweet flavour.
He collapses against you, full weight of his lithe body pressed into yours, but it's not enough. Pulling away and leaving less than an inch of space you voice your frustration.
"Eddie, please, I- I want you. I want you inside me, please."
Eddie shakes his head for a second, then deep brown eyes seek yours for any doubt, and come up empty.
"Are you sure sweetheart?"
The nod you reciprocate with is painfully fast, hurting the muscles of your neck. He looks uncertain, but discards his clothes, kneeling in front of you in his boxer shorts.
"I need you to be sure. I can't give it back."
You let your legs fall further apart, giving him the view of you open and ready for him.
"Please."
Underwear has never been discarded quicker. He has his cock in his hand, sliding on a condom from his crumpled jeans at record speed. A second later and he's towering over you, nose brushing yours and dick lined up to your sopping entrance.
His tip breaches you, so much thicker than his fingers, and you wince. You can tell he's trying to be careful, pushing into you slowly, watching for any signs you want to stop.
You're so full, and he just keeps going. A moment later and you let out a little startled cry as a sharp pain shoots from deep inside.
"You OK sweetheart?" He stops his movements, staring at your face with a worried expression.
"I'm fine, just, go all the way" you manage through gritted teeth.
He slips the last of it deep, deep inside as you yelp at the suddenness. Then, he's still, grabbing your hand and entwining your fingers with his over your head, his other arm holding him perfectly motionless above you.
"That's it, you're OK, so fuckin' tight, fuck," he says to you, kissing your cheek. It burns, the feel of him, but a fullness is beginning to overtake that ache.
"You know, I thought you were afraid of me in high school." He half laughs, kissing the tip of your nose. It's such a sweet gesture from the so-called frightening man that you giggle a little too.
"I was," you admit, staring into his deep eyes.
"Then, we come here and you look like you're gonna eat me alive. Then, you're all innocent, and now… fuck, I can't keep up."
You appreciate what he's doing, talking to you, distracting you from the pain. It helps; it's settled into a dull throb and your need from him is outranking it.
"Eddie, you can move."
With a peck to your lips he pulls out a little and thrusts back in, setting a slow and steady pace.
This is so much better than his hands, or his tongue. On every thrust he's massaging at something that makes you moan, again and again.
"You're doing real good sweetheart, my good fuckin' girl."
All of a sudden you feel it, all of it. His lean weight comforting over you, the squeeze of his fingers in yours, the throb of his member inside you, his words. It's all too much. Your eyes gloss over and a tear works its way down your temple.
"Oh shit, you want me to-" He starts as he slows down a little.
"Don't you fucking dare, please, please, I-I need-"
He grins at you; that self satisfied look that turns your legs to jelly.
"What do you need, sweetheart? Whatever you want, I'll give it to you."
"Harder Eddie, oh God!"
He snaps his hips into you with much more force; once, twice, three times and you scream his name, pussy clenching him hard, every muscle tense. As everything unravels you go limp, whimpering at the pulse that you can feel pounding in your core.
When your eyes finally decide to open, he's leaving kisses as light as a butterfly's wings on your cheek.
"Woah," is all you can say, between breathless giggles. Tears are falling but you don't care enough to wipe them away.
Eddie unlatches his hand from yours and does it himself.
"That was so hot. You need to do that again," he whispers, beginning to grind into you slowly.
"I nearly died Eddie, it might finish me off!"
He laughs back, but doesn't quit; hips still driving into you leisurely.
"What's life without a little risk?"
You stare up at him, biting your lip, a question on the tip of your tongue that you're too nervous to ask.
"What is it?" He asks, brow furrowed, as if you were about to ask him to stop.
"Can I… wait, don't worry."
He does stop then, to put his hand to your face and stroke you with his thumb.
"Hey hey hey, come on, what baby?"
You whisper it quietly, voice small and second guessing.
"Can I try, erm, being on top?"
You're surprised that Eddie's face didn't split in half from the sheer wideness of his grin.
"Holy shit, yes, please."
He winds his arms underneath your frame and flips you so fast your vision blurs, until he's underneath you. You sit up, his cock still buried within, and you gasp at the new angle.
"Eddie, Jesus Christ!"
Palms splayed on his chest, you control your breathing a little. This angle is devastating, pressing harshly against that place inside that has you throbbing around him.
Eddie chuckles darkly as his hands slide over the flesh of your thighs, rubbing back and forth, until they work their way to your hips and pull you up ever so slightly, only to drop you back down again.
"Just like that sweetheart, 'Kay?"
He tilts his head to one side, that mocking tone fuelling the embers of your desire. Rising up on shaky knees you pull off him and slide back down, trying to find some semblance of rhythm. Your clit grazes his pubic hair on one pass and you nearly lose it completely, the feeling sending a bolt of pure pleasure up your spine.
"Oh my God!"
"Yeah? That good?"
You hum and nod, words escaping you, now rolling your hips on each bounce to get that sensation over and over.
Eddie's talking now, watching how much you writhe and whine at his words.
"That's it sweetheart. Wanting to- oh fuck- ride me, on your first time. Oh yes, fuck, just like that- dirty, my dirty fuckin' girl."
"Eddie, oh God, can you, fuck, please-"
"What is it sweetheart? Anything, you can have anything."
His words embolden you, and before you can hesitate your hands are gripping one of his and leading it to your throat. You're not sure why, but you know deep in your core that you need it.
Eddie looks shocked by your moments but quickly recovers, fingers slotting around your throat, squeezing lightly at the sides.
Speeding up, feeling the pressure of his hand on your windpipe, you throw your body into each movement.
"Fuck Eddie, harder!"
He squeezes and you let go of everything, breath leaving you. All composure, all thought. It's just you and Eddie, and his hand, and his cock. Screaming aloud, you fold almost double, collapsing into him with a shocked, delicate whimper.
His fingers relinquish their firm grip, coming to rest on the back of your head in a comforting, tender hold.
"I was right, you are a freak."
Laughing aloud, you have just enough bones left in your neck to lift it ever so slightly. He looks surprised, sure, and really aroused, judging by his hooded gaze.
"Are you not… done?" You ask, as you feel his impossibly hard length still throbbing inside you.
"What can I say, I've got stamina."
That smug face is back, a flash of canines and confidence. You'd roll your eyes if it wasn't so sexy.
No time for a witty comeback though, as he holds you close to him and thrusts upwards with abandon. Colours swirl in your vision as you try to stay attached to reality, focusing on the feel of his skin, the pounding of his rhythm, and the light in his eyes.
"Fuck I'm close, I'm so fuckin' close. You're, oh shit, so- oh God, can't believe you're letting me do this."
Slack jawed and practically dribbling, you let him use you to chase his own release, trying to weakly meet his thrusts. A pulse deep inside is brought to your attention, and it's not yours. Looking at his face, you watch it awash with ecstasy as he holds you tightly and throbs his climax out.
His muscles melt, holding you still but so loosely that the lack of pressure surprises you, as if you were only aware of how tight his grip had been at this very moment.
The only sounds are the nightlife of insects around the tent, and panting, heaving breaths. Sliding off of him in an organic gesture, you curl up into his arms, finally feeling sated and at ease.
Lips are pressed into the top of your head, kissing you over your hair. No words are spoken; none need to be. For a shining moment, this is all you need. To be held, and cared for.
Minutes go by, and your eyelids begin to feel heavy. Before you drift off, Eddie breaks the spell cast over both of you.
"Was that OK princess?"
"That was incredible Eddie."
He kisses the top of your head again, then seems to remember himself.
"Fuck sweetheart, just, stay right there."
Clambering to his feet he pulls the condom off, tying it in a knot and discarding it into a corner to be thought of later. He's back then, spreading your legs.
'Eddie, you can't just-"
"I'm just looking after you sweetheart. You got some tissues or something?"
Furrowing your brows, you point to your wash bag near the foot of the sleeping bag. He paws through it wordlessly, and brings out some tissues and wet wipes.
"Sweetheart I'm so sorry."
"What's wrong?" You ask, panic riding your words.
"I've made you bleed." Eddie looks crushed, so upset at your prior pain, anguish etched into his face.
"It's OK Eddie, it's normal."
"You should have said. I'm so sorry."
You laugh a little, touched by his concern.
"I didn't know! It's alright, it doesn't hurt now."
Placated slightly by your answer, he cleans you both up as well as he can, before slipping into the sleeping bag with you.
A thousand questions perch on the edge of your tongue, but it's so warm, so cosy and right, that your body denies all words for a moment.
When you feel capable of speech you look up at him.
"Stamina, huh?"
He flushes, looking down at your smiling face.
"I may have tactically jerked off beforehand."
"When??" You giggle, fingers flirting over his exposed chest.
"When I went to get my guitar."
"Eddie, how did you know that-"
"OK, OK!" He grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles before hiding behind it, "I didn't know, not for sure. You just looked so good in that little two piece, I couldn't hold it in."
"Perv," you respond, but your eyes are soft.
"Yep."
Giggling, you slip into a calm, contented sleep in his arms.
********************
You wake up a little later than intended, no doubt exhausted from last night. The tent feels empty. Upon realising that Eddie's missing a dread settles in your stomach. Bile rises as you sling some clothes on. Maybe he's had his way with you and that's it.
Exiting the tent, you see he's just by the fire, trying to get it going again, a cigarette dangling from his pouting lips.
"Oh would you just- come on!" He says as he angrily flicks his lighter, trying to get the wood to catch.
You smile, relief washing over you, and walk over to help.
"I'm begging, come on- oh, sweetheart," he looks a little sheepish as he speaks to you, mumbling around his cigarette. "I was gonna make you coffee and bring it to you but the damn fire won't start."
You giggle, and rearrange the little pile, adding a few twists of paper to the base, and hold your hand out to him. He looks at you blankly for a second, then comes to his senses, placing the lighter in your palm.
With one stroke the papers alight, and starting to catch the rest of the twigs. The couple of logs won't take long to catch.
"Witchcraft."
"Nope, just girl scouts."
"You can go back in the tent if you want, I'll make you a drink."
"Eddie?"
"Huh?" He turns to you, pot of water in his hand.
"Good morning." You smile shyly at him. He grins, placing the pot on the ground and stubbing out his cigarette. Strong arms slot their way around your waist and you fling your arms around his neck, grinning stupidly at each other.
"Good morning. Good night?" It's framed as a question, and you know what he's getting at.
"Great night."
Smiling wider, he presses a kiss to your forehead. Puckering your lips to ask for a proper kiss, you hear a very loud cough.
"Good morning love birds." Robin wiggles her eyebrows at you both. You move to break away from Eddie, but he steals a kiss anyway, and pulls you close to his side, arm firmly around you.
"Is Steve alive?" He asks, looking at Robin.
"Well, he got up in the night to throw up, just glad he didn't do it in the tent. He's dead to the world right now. He's been singing in his sleep you know. Nearly suffocated him with a pillow."
You both laugh at that, and then hear a loud groan from the tent.
Eddie glances at you with mischief and shouts out towards Steve's tent.
"Harrington! Wanna sing for us, big guy?"
"Urgh." Is the only reply. Robin rolls her eyes and busies herself with the fire.
After a while, the coffees are ready; you all attempt to rouse Steve but he's gone back to sleep, groaning whenever you call out to him.
Then, it's just the sad business of taking down your tent. There's a special kind of melancholy reserved for such an occasion; pretty soon there's no sign at all that it was ever there. Afraid that your memories, your feelings, about last night would fade too, you walk over to Eddie who is perched on a stump fitting the last of his things in a bag.
"Eddie?"
"Yeah sweetheart?" He asks, still fumbling with his bag.
Do you still like me? Do you want to see me after this? Was this all a dream?
"Can I get a ride back with you? Steve and Robin are gonna be a while."
You gesture over to where Steve had finally emerged, whining and packing his stuff, tent still upright.
"Sure, anything you need." He flashes a tight lipped smile and reaches to grasp your hand briefly.
The ride back to town with him is chatty, even if it's only surface level stuff. Your rendition of White Rabbit had him fumbling around the glove compartment and pulling out a few older classic rock tapes that you happily listened to; music was a big part of your life, at least you both had that in common. His eyes light up whenever you talk about a band or song that he likes too, gesturing so emphatically with his hand you have to remind him to look at the road.
Pretty soon you're pulling up to a crossroads, except Eddie pulls over instead.
"What's wrong?"
He huffs, smiling at you sadly.
"If I keep driving forward I've got to say goodbye to you, take you home," he admits. Your heart flutters at the admission.
"Where do you live, Eddie?" He looks confused, but points to the left turning.
"Eddie, turn left."
"Really?"
"Really. I was supposed to stay at Robin's tonight anyway."
His grin is downright manic as he pulls back on the road, making short work of the drive to his trailer.
He bundles you out of the van and opens the trailer door, both of your bags heaved over one of his shoulders.
The sight of an older gentleman startles you as he potters around the kitchen area.
"Hey! This is Wayne, my Uncle. Wayne, this is my girlfriend."
Your eyes widen as he gives your name to his uncle and you shake hands with him, the roughest hand you think you've ever touched, but the softest grip.
"Pleasure to meet you, miss. I'm heading out today, so I'll see you two later I'm guessing."
He waves and smiles fondly at the pair of you, and leaves.
"Sorry, thought he would've left already." He explains, pulling you both to the back of the trailer and into what you assume is his room.
Allowing yourself to be led, still feeling shell shocked, you perch on the edge of his bed as he dumps the bags on the floor.
Eddie's talking, saying how he wishes he tidied before he left, how the trailer's not much but it's home, and his uncle…
"Eddie, wait."
He stops mid flow to look at you.
"Girlfriend?"
"Well yeah? I mean, if you want to. I didn't ask, did I?" He flushes pink, hand reaching up to nibble at his thumb.
"I mean, you don't know me, really." You shrink, almost folding in on yourself.
"Hey," he sits down next to you, stroking your jaw with his finger, "I know enough. And I let you touch my guitar. We're practically married now."
Lips press softly to yours, a delicate touch that has all tension flying from your body in a rush.
"Eddie…" You whisper, giving him a butterfly kiss with the tip of your nose.
"Hmm?"
"You smell really bad."
He laughs and grabs you around the waist, pulling you down sharply to lay on the bed.
"So do you."
"A point well made." A response, but you don't move, snuggling deeper into his neck.
"So, I've got an idea. Let's have showers, get into some comfy stuff, and cuddle. Probably got a movie or two we can watch?"
The normalcy of the situation is surprising, but most welcome.
Smiling wickedly, you nip at his neck and whisper in his ear.
"One condition: we shower together."
He groans loudly, hands stroking at any skin he can reach.
"Fuuuck, sweetheart, I've created a monster."
You laugh, and hold him tightly. Eddie Munson isn't so scary, after all.
Taglist (just some people I thought might like this, hope you don't mind!)
@eddiesprincess86 @zestychili @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @roanniom @usedtobecooler @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiemunsonfuxks
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5.7k | din djarin x f!reader
summary: after convincing him to help you hide from the guild, you teach mando how to enjoy himself. this is the way.
warnings: smut (duh), 18+, mdni. canon-typical violence, but otherwise it's super canon divergent. din is a touch-starved virgin, soft touches, lap-sitting, the helmet stays on, mask kink, din does lots of whimpering, experienced!reader, mutual masturbation, virginity loss (m), praise kink, creampie, brief aftercare at the end.
note: look me in the eye and tell me he wouldn't crumble at the thought of skin-to-skin contact. yeah. you can't. anyways this is so long and so self-indulgent. pls forgive me. if mando takes his helmet off by the end of this, mind ur business this is sooooo not canon.
note p.2: i'm so sorry this took so long but i was hungover. also this was not meant to be this long. so count this as a big fat thank you for 1.4k as well as my bday present to you guys (for my bday.) impaired editing i apologize.
With the light of both suns in your eyes, forcing you to blink the spots from your vision, you brushed a hand across your forehead. The dry, dusty atmosphere of Tatooine was no joke, and you scowled under the cloth you'd brought with you to cover your mouth and nose.
"Figures," you mumbled to yourself, looking down to see a small pile of sand building on the tops of your boots, the wind blowing it into place. "Why would anyone choose to live here?"
Of course, you weren't looking for a resident; you were looking for a fugitive. The infamous Mandalorion, no less. You'd been given less-than-satisfactory information on the bounty hunter and the reasons for such a high reward for his capture, but it wasn't like you had much choice than to accept the job. Despite what you told yourself, you did actually need the money.
That was before you'd figured out that everyone else in the Guild had been tasked with the same job, turning a high stakes bounty hunting gig into a near-definite suicide mission. Something you didn't want anything to do with.
But alas, here you stood, practically sinking into the hot Tatooine desert. You had to keep shifting your weight to keep at least one foot above the surface. You never knew when you'd have to make a quick getaway. There were still a handful of Guild members left that presented a challenge to collecting your bounty, and of course they were the most dangerous ones.
You kicked a foot forward and watched the sand shift, cursing the trouble that was inevitably on its way. You'd managed to bribe your way to Tatooine, where the Mandalorian was apparently hiding from the Guild. And if you had found the Mandalorian, there was almost no possibility that the others hadn't found him.
Because, if you were being honest with yourself—the one task you excelled in—being a bounty hunter wasn't exactly something you were good at. In fact, you were far from it. With luck and just enough anxiety to keep your feet moving, you'd floundered your way through three years in the Guild, searching for a way out just as quickly as you'd begged for a way in.
So you'd gotten yourself into this mess. Wasn't that how it normally went, though? Quick decision-making skills weren't necessarily a blessing if the decisions you made would determine your chances of living past thirty (spoiler: the chances were significantly slimmer).
You rubbed the dust out of your eyes once more and saw some movement in the distance, the subtle glint of beskar blinking toward you as it reflected the sunlight. Gotcha, you murmured inwardly. The Mandalorian was here, and you were going to get him. Not to turn him in, no; you held no loyalty to the Guild and its cult-like policies.
This job was an escape mission. If he could stay hidden, maybe he had room for one more. You'd cut a deal.
There had to be something you could offer him, if not your skills in combat, or stealth, or—
Or simply human mobility, you groaned inwardly as you felt your ankle roll underneath you, the sand softer than you'd anticipated. It'll be a good day when I leave this damn place.
—
It was a wonder that the two of you had survived. You'd hardly gotten the chance to give your proposal before he was aiming his blaster at you, and then at the Guild members that showed up in droves behind you. It was all you could do to get out of the way, knowing you'd be hopeless in the fight.
Now, with their bodies scattered around your feet, the Mandalorian standing a few feet from you with his chest heaving, and his beloved ship somehow still functional, you had your chance.
"You're not...very good at this," he said, the helmet masking his voice in a way that made it scratch along the insides of your ears as it traveled to your brain. "You do know that?" he asked, but it sounded more like an accidental insult than a real question.
You threw your hands up, letting them fall heavily to your sides. "Yeah, I told you that," you scoffed. "That's why I'm asking to go with you. Wherever you're headed."
His head tilted, the beskar shining in the setting suns, and you wondered what his eyes looked like under that helmet. Would they be sparkling with mirth or lined with mockery?
"I thought you were kidding," he said sheepishly, shifting his weight. "To get me to underestimate you." He looked like the picture of careful relaxation, although his blaster was still held tightly in both hands, poised in case he needed to aim and fire.
You couldn't help the exasperation in your tone as you lifted your head to the sky, squeezing your eyes shut and placing a curled fist over your eyes. "Why would I do that when I don't want to turn you in?"
He didn't answer.
"You know that there's only two ways out of this, right?" He still didn't answer you, just held his blaster taut and his head tilted to the side, so you continued. "You killed every Guild member that's left. Now it's just you and I. If I don't bring you in—which I'm not exactly dying to do—those rich fucks that are more powerful than us are gonna come find us."
"Find you," he corrected. "Why would I want to add another target to my ship?"
You shrugged. "Yeah, they probably will. But that's only part of the first option. Either they come for me, and you leave me here, and I die—also something I'm not particularly thrilled to think about—or the two of us..." you gestured with your hands to imitate the pair of you getting on the Razor Crest and flying away from Tatooine and its dusty expanse of a landscape.
"Could be a third option," he said quietly, "if you think about it." He lifted his blaster until it was lined up with your chest. "I might just kill you and cut my losses."
Fear might have struck you, but you didn't have the energy to entertain the panic unspooling in your chest. "That wouldn't be very humanitarian of you. Besides," you insisted, hands lifting to portray the image of surrender, "I'm light. I'm quiet. I won't stay with you longer than I need to. Once you get me off this planet, I'll find a place for you to drop me off."
He didn't answer for a moment.
"Literally," you pushed once more, "you can open the back door and push me out for all I care. I just want out of the Guild and all their dumb shit."
You'd known Mandalorians to be quiet, pious, and ruthless, but something about the way his helmet betrayed no hint to what he was thinking or how he might respond...it made you more anxious than you'd ever been in your life. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm. "Well...you're not coming with me. Ship's full."
"Your ship?" you said, incredulous. "That thing would be gone without me."
"Damn luck, that was." His voice had gone hard, but his body was still.
This was...partially true. Your mind flashed with a memory of the way you'd accidentally pulled the trigger on one of your blasters, effectively stunning the last Guild member who'd been attempting to strap explosives to the hull of the Crest. It was the only good thing that you'd done all day.
You curled your lip, annoyance rippling off you in waves. Lifting a middle finger in front of the helmet, you scowled. Hope he can see this under all that beskar, you snarled inwardly. "Still counts."
With a soft huff that you could hear come from under his helmet, the Mandalorian lowered his blaster. "One jump into hyperspace. The first little space rock that's big enough to stand on—"
"Perfect," you interrupted firmly. "I'll be out of you...armor...soon enough."
—
You'd missed your stop about three years ago. One jump into hyperspace had turned into four, and then ten, and...now you had your own spot to rest your head at night on the Razor Crest.
On that first day, you hadn't known the Mandalorian—"Din Djarin," he'd introduced himself reluctantly one day—was still traveling with Grogu, the sweet child that had begun his journey across the galaxy, hiding from the Guild. But you'd quickly decided it was nice to have another partner in crime, to interact with whenever Din was in the middle of one of his quiet days.
As the days had turned into months, and subsequently into years, the inability to meet Din face-to-face had become less frustrating, although sometimes you wished you could sneak a glance at his hands, or his wrists, or something that might resemble the human underneath the armor.
Once in awhile, deliciously, you could tilt your head just the right way and look forward at him when he was in the cockpit, his helmet pulling away from the cloth under his armor. Between helmet and armor, a sliver of golden skin would glimmer back at you, just begging to be touched. Of course, you never gave in to your silent desires.
This was not the Mandalorian way; you knew this well. Even when you felt his head turned toward you, even when you were sure his hands were reaching for you when you needed his help climbing somewhere, you kept your distance.
Well, for as long as you could. Until he forced your hand.
It wasn't long before you were unable to keep your hands away from him; going up and down the ladder on the Crest, or climbing over the occasional boulder on the routes you walked along when forced to take a respite on an unknown planet. His gloves were always rough in your grip, but you couldn't ignore the way his hands seemed to squeeze yours, tighter than might have been necessary.
And you'd begun letting your hands linger on the beskar of his armor for moments longer than you should—his helmet, tracing the indented curves of the spot where his cheekbones rested underneath, or on his chestplate, where you swore you could feel him lean into you, as if pressing your hands closer and closer to his skin beneath the armor.
You stood beside him as he sat in the chair in the cockpit, guiding the Razor Crest through the galaxy once more, aiming for some undisclosed location he'd neglected to tell you. He usually did things like that; you'd learned not to be offended by his unbreakable instinct to keep things to himself.
It hadn't occurred to you just how long he'd been wearing that helmet until you looked toward him again and noticed the soft curl of a few brown strands of hair that crept from the edges, kissing the back of his neck. They were short strands, but they were long enough to wink up at you as they curled around each other, begging to be touched.
"Din?" you asked, hoping to distract yourself from the thought.
He didn't look at you, but he tilted his head in your direction, just a centimeter. It was enough.
"Why'd you let me stay with you?" you gripped your hands together, as if they had a mind of their own and couldn't be trusted to remain at your sides. "I was horrible at any aspect of being a bounty hunter."
You were used to the way that it always took him a few seconds to answer, coming up with an evenly-expressed response. This, of course, gave you more time to stare at the tendrils spilling from the edges of his helmet.
"You were a risk," he admitted with a shrug, the helmet (of course) not betrayed anything. His voice was calm, even as he continued softly. "I have a particular...proclivity for picking up foundlings," he said with a tilt of his head toward Grogu, who cooed at the mention of him.
You lifted an eyebrow. "I'm not a foundling, though."
If you could have seen his eyes, you were almost positive that they'd be giving you a look that said, are you sure? Instead, he only spoke in his perpetually smooth voice. "You were lost, though, mesh'la."
You still weren't sure what each word in Mando'a meant—he'd been dropping a few words here and there, as if he knew you couldn't interpret them—but you blushed all the same. Before you knew it, your hands were releasing their grip on one another and reaching up to comb through the curls at the base of his neck.
They were softer than you'd imagined; smooth and thick in your grip. "Alright," you said gently, "maybe I was. I never got to thank you, you know."
Your hands were moving on their accord now, silently twirling the curls around the tips of your fingers. You were used to his silent, immobile exterior, so you didn't think he'd be able to feel the way you pressed your hand to the back of his neck. He'd never said anything before that gave the impression that he was aware of your ministrations, so when he leaned back into your touch then, something strong and addiction bloomed in your gut.
When he spoke, you were surprised to hear how shaky his voice was. After three years of hearing nothing but steady syllables fall from his masked lips, you nearly flinched at the stutter in his voice.
"Thank me?" he said quietly. "For..." you could have sworn you felt his heartbeat flutter rapidly in his neck when he trailed off. "For what?"
You pulled your hand away, pretending not to notice the way he shuddered at the loss of touch, his shoulders slumping as if in a pained relaxation. You hid your smirk. "You're not seriously asking that, right? Without you, I'd probably be dead by now." Or worse, you reflected with a quiet pang in your chest.
Din's response was quick this time, an unusual—but not unwelcome—surprise. "And without your perfectly timed luck, I might be without a ship." His voice was thick, trembling with something that might have sounded like desire had it been someone else speaking.
You didn't even think Din had the capacity to know something as heavy as desire. Well, not that he was incapable of feeling desire, just...you'd never thought about what he might do if he did feel it. Would he shove the temptations down, destined to die in the corners of his mind and body?
Your cheeks warmed at your next thought. Perhaps he took care of it himself in the dead of night on the Razor Crest, or on those mysteriously long patrol walks that he insisted on doing alone.
"Yeah, well..." your answer was pitiful and you knew it. But you were too busy looking at the way his body was slumped in his seat, facing forward despite every limb beginning to turn toward you, as if you were a magnetic beacon.
His fingers twitched in his gloves, angling toward you just as his knees began to do the same thing. "Will you..." he trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Mesh'la," he breathed, and he leaned to the side, as if his shoulder was chasing your touch. "Put it back."
You were going to ask what he meant, but you didn't have to. Even with his helmet on, you could practically see the pleading in his body language. Here he was, a devout Mandalorian, begging you to put your hands back on him.
"Please," he said quietly, almost a question. It sounded so unlike him that you wondered briefly if he'd been killed and replaced with an imposter. But by the way that his hand trembled as he took his focus away from flying the Crest and moved it toward you...this was Din.
"You...okay?" you asked, but you obliged his request in return, replacing your hand at the base of his neck. You watched in an unfurling dizzying sense of satisfaction as he reached up his own gloved hand to cover yours, squeezing it gently. "Din," you started, but he shook his head.
"I've never disobeyed the Way of the Mandalore," he said, his voice muffled under the mask. You strained your eyes, wishing you could see beneath the beskar. "I've never wanted to. Not before..." he brought your hand around to rest on his chestplate, and you could feel the pressure of his chest leaning into your touch. "Not before I knew what it might feel like to want someone like this."
Your eyes widened, but you didn't pull your hand away. "You...what?"
His head tilted down. "For once, I don't know how to manage this." He stood up, and suddenly he was towering over you, the cloth under his armor making your fingers itch to tear it off. "How do I manage this?"
"I..." you couldn't hide your shock. "I don't know. It's...isn't it against your religion? It's not the Way."
Din shook his head. "No, it's not." He spread his hand down your wrist and extended it toward your own chest, the leather of his glove seeping into your skin. "But I've also never told anyone my name. Never heard it spoken since I was a child."
You swallowed roughly. "So?"
He huffed a chuckle. Lifting your hands to his helmet, he let your fingers find the divots of the beskar. You didn't miss the way his chest shuddered with a stuttering breath at your touch. "So," he said, "to hell with the Way. For tonight, at least. I need to know you in every way I wish I could."
Such a harrowing request, given the circumstances. But you couldn't stop your hands from tracing the lines of his masked face. "Din..."
"Please." His voice cracked over the single syllable, and it was all you needed.
To hell with the Way, your thoughts echoed his words, and you nodded softly. "Alright," you acquiesced. With one look down, you saw the tent growing in his pants, sending a spike of desire down your spine, settling in your core. "How'll you have me?" you asked.
He let out a soft noise that sounded like a whimper. "Any way that I can," he choked out, his hand returning to your wrist and enclosing it in his grip. "I'll have you any way you'll have me."
You could hardly speak, so you didn't. With a gentle nudge, you pushed him back into his seat. When he sat back, his legs fell open; there was an inviting space between them.
Standing in the spot, just inches from his face, you stared into the black mass of his helmet, hoping you'd get a glimpse of his face. Of course, you knew he would only go as far as he wanted to. If the mask was destined to remain, then...so be it.
With your eyes on his, you moved his hands to your waist, pressing them to your skin and enjoying the feeling of his leather against your body.
He shook his head. "Take them off," he said, again with that whimpering voice. "Please."
You nodded wordlessly and shed his hands of the barriers, heat pooling in your core at the sight of long, thick fingers, his skin finally exposed to you. Returning his hands to your waist, you tilted your head back at the sensation. You were never going to forget what his skin felt against yours.
The melody of shuddering breaths that fell from his lips was unreal, and you wanted to soak up every second of it. Without more than a second thought, you slid your legs over his, straddling his hips and pressing your chest to his chestplate. His hands remained on your waist, but he let them wander, curling them around to cup your ass.
The feeling of his hands on your body made you unconsciously roll your hips forward, which released a strangled moan from his lips. "Oh, god," he mumbled. "Mesh'la, please take it off."
You paused. Your hands fell to your lap, and your eyes were wider than saucers in the reflection of his helmet. "What?"
He picked up your hands in his own, the rub of skin against skin an intoxicating intimacy. "Please," he begged. "If I'm going to touch you like this, I need to see you, cyar'ika. Nothing in the way."
You were going to argue further, but you couldn't ignore the pulsing need that was clouding your thoughts, the same need that pushed your hips further down into his lap. It was impossible to miss the way his cock twitched against your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.
“Are you—”
“Don’t fuckin’ ask me if I’m sure,” he begged, and he squeezed your hips under his hands. “Never been more sure, mesh’la.”
This time it was your turn to let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whispered, more to bolster your own confidence than his own. His resolve was clearly rather strong in this matter, and nothing would change his mind.
With a hand on either side of the helmet, you gently pulled it up and away from his face, hardly able to believe that he’d agreed to let you rid him of his every barrier. For a moment, as each inch of skin was revealed to you, you caught yourself frantically wondering what he might look like.
Would he look like anyone else? Would he look familiar to you in that way that only lovers can? Or would he be hiding a deformed brow bone or an abnormally small nose or a crude smile?
Of course, you shouldn’t have even worried. When the helmet lifted off of his head and you let it fall to the floor with a hard thud, you smiled at the face that blinked back at you in wonder. With those brown strands that were just long enough to hang down over his forehead, and the matching brown eyes that twinkled with the moonlight in his pupils, Din Djarin was exquisite.
“I knew it,” you hummed, your eyes tracing every line on his face, every strand of hair that clung charmingly to his forehead.
His response was a strangled moan, and his eyes fluttered closed of their own accord when you dragged a finger along his jaw, then the hooked line of his nose. “Knew what?”
“I knew you’d be one of the pretty ones,” you grinned, and you leaned down to press your lips to his, swallowing his groan of ecstasy.
You drank it down like the sweetest liquor, the sound pulling your own moan from your chest. His lips were chapped and dry from lack of care, but his mouth was warm and wet and his tongue was deliciously shy as he darted it towards yours. His hands stuttered as they pressed further up your chest and felt for your breasts. You weren’t sure how long he’d last; his chest was already heaving.
“Din,” you pulled back with a grin. “Din,” you repeated when his eyes remained closed. “Thought you wanted to look at me?”
“I do,” he said, his voice choking in his throat. “I do, mesh’la, I just…I think I might come in my damn suit if I look at those lips too long.”
You cooed, letting a hand search for the roots of his hair, finding a home on his scalp. You curled your fingers in the strands and watched his eyes squeeze shut, his jaw go slack, and felt his hips buck up into yours. “You’re so sensitive, baby,” you hummed, your mind running wild with thoughts of what this could mean.
“Never been touched like this,” he mumbled, voice cracking again. “Feels perfect, mesh’la.”
“I need you to look at me, Din,” you nodded. “It’ll keep feeling good, I promise. I just need you to look at me.”
When his eyes opened, you could have fallen apart right there at the sight of his glassy brown depths. His lip quivered and you almost thought he’d cry, but then he was letting his hand fall from your chest to your waistband, trailing his thumb along the skin there. “Can I?” he asked gently.
Nodding, you stood up. “Just keep breathing, pretty boy,” you said softly. “I’ll make you feel good. Show you just how good it can be.” You guided his hands to your waist and let him pull your pants to your ankles, revealing the front of your glistening slit to him.
Din was just starting to understand the drug-like effects of physical touch, so you weren’t surprised when he leaned forward, fell to his knees, and pressed his forehead to the soft skin of your stomach, breathing deeply as if he were a zealot bent to pray at the altar.
“C’mere,” you whispered, though unable to hide the growing smirk on your face. There seemed to be nothing more addicting than the sight of the Mandalorian on his knees before you. “Sit back down for me, baby,” you said, tilting his chin up to look at you. “Take those pants off, they look awfully restricting.”
He nodded quickly and obeyed, slipping his pants down to his knees as he sat back on his chair. It was downright sinful—the beskar on his chest but his helmet removed and his cock springing free, the tip red and angry and leaking. “Please,” he begged. “I—”
“I know,” you breathed, stepping closer to him. “We’re gonna make each other feel good now, yeah?”
Din nodded once more, his eyes fluttering shut. “Please, please.”
Well, how were you going to deny him then?
You straddled him once more, your clit throbbing at the sight of his cock underneath you. But rather than shock him with the feeling of your pussy milking him for all he was worth, you hovered over him, just enough that the head of his cock lay just an inch from your entrance.
“Mesh’la,” he begged, “please don’t tease. I’ll be good. I’ll make you feel good, I swear to everything I’ve ever believed in—”
A finger pressed to his lips, you shook your head. “I know,” you repeated. “Deep breaths for me, Din.”
He inhaled sharply and shoved his breath out of his chest. For a moment, his eyes cleared.
“Good,” you encouraged him, relishing in the look of his wide eyes at the praise. “Such a pretty boy, baby.” You moved his hand to your core, guiding his fingers to your clit. “Rub little circles for me, baby. Make me feel good and I’ll make you feel good.”
He obliged quickly, rubbing tentative circles to your clit in a way that had you smiling gently, loving the sacrilege you were participating in. “Is that g—oh!”
Din’s question was interrupted by your hand reaching down to grip his cock, delivering a quick stroke and making his hips stutter. He tried his best to lift his hips from the chair, clearly aiming for your entrance, but one hand on the beskar on his chest had him sitting back.
“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, “just like that. Just touch me for a while.”
Ever the gentleman, Din kept his eyes on you and his hand on your pussy, pulling sweet sounds from your lips just as you wrecked him beneath you. Your thumb slid against his tip and he almost came; you could tell by the way his breath caught in his throat and his eyes squeezed shut, lip trapped between his teeth.
You wanted his fingers to wander toward your dripping entrance, but you knew he might not last long enough for any more foreplay. Next time, you thought smugly.
Now…now you needed him inside you.
“Gentle, baby,” you reminded him when he gripped your hip too tightly. You didn’t want to tell him you enjoyed the near-bruising strength; that would be for another time. You could already see that you were close to losing him, and you weren’t going to end this experience without riding him until the both of you saw stars. “One more deep breath, yeah?”
He was a mess of tumbling words in Mando’a that you didn’t understand, and his brow was furiously furrowed, as if it was taking all of his focus not to come on your hand. As a matter of fact, it probably was taking all of his focus. “Please, mesh’la,” he said again.
You wondered briefly if you’d begin answering that now; treating it as your name. Mesh’la.
“Deep breath, baby,” you reminded him, and when he obeyed, you sank your hips towards his. The tip of his cock slid in with no resistance; you were wetter than you’d ever been in your life. “Good boy,” you moaned as you kept your hand on his neck, softly cupping the underside of his jaw to look at you. “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”
The stretch of his cock inside you was delicious, and pleasure licked sharply at your insides, begging for a quick release. You knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself together much longer based on the whimpers that still crumbled from his throat, broken and jagged.
“So fuckin’ pretty?” he repeated, his voice a high squeak. He gripped your hips and threw his head back. “So fuckin’ pretty for you?”
Your breath rushed out of your chest in a strong blow and you had to take a deep breath yourself to calm down. “All for me, Din, that’s it,” you continued, and you lifted your hips up. Dropping them back into his lap, you soaked up the feeling of being filled so completely by his cock. With every shred of patience left in your body, you pushed your lips back to his and tasted his moans on his tongue.
His hips began lifting into your own, the only clue you’d get to his desperation for more. Without a word, you began moving faster, more rhythmically, as you bounced gently on his cock. With the base of his cock pulsing against your clit at every drop of your hips, you were approaching that edge quicker and quicker. “Din,” you moaned, “baby, I’m gonna—”
“Please,” he said, “I want you to feel good, mesh’la. Use me, please, use me, please…”
You were sure your brain short circuited. With no more patience left in your bones, you picked up the pace and chased your own orgasm, knowing he wasn’t far behind. With every squelch of your pussy on his cock, your moans became less coherent, and you leaned your head forward against his neck.
Pulling back to press a kiss to his jaw, you felt his loins tense beneath you. Something nearly snapped inside you at the sound and sight and sensation of his pleasure so close to release; at the knowledge that it was you who had done this to him. “Good,” you mumbled against his jaw, getting closer to his ear. “Pretty boy, just for me,” you mumbled.
Din’s chest tightened and his moans became longer and more high-pitched, true whimpers if you’d ever heard one. “Mesh’la,” he begged, “Mesh’la, I—”
You dipped your head down and, while grinding your hips back and forth on his cock at a feverish pace, you darted your tongue out to his neck. Licking a stripe from the crevice of his neck to the spot just behind the soft part of his ear, you groaned in his ear as you crumbled on him, releasing the tension in your body as you came hard.
Din was ruined beneath you, with his neck bobbing and his eyes shut, his head thrown back. Mouth opened in a wide moan, his voice broken over the sound, you felt his release sink into your fluttering walls. He let out a deep cry of words that you didn’t recognize, but you blushed all the same. With the way that his eyes glossed over when he said it, you were sure it was something that reeked of sin and sweat and sacrilege.
“So good,” you mumbled again, “you’ve done so good for me, Din.” Your face tucked itself into the crook of his neck, and you inhaled the heady scent that belonged only to him. You sat motionless on his lap, but you could still feel his head pulse inside you at the overstimulation. “Did that feel good?” you asked, your hand reaching up to smooth down his hair comfortingly.
He let out a breathless laugh. “If this is sin, I’ll want more of it,” he replied, his arms snaking around your middle to tug your chest closer to him. “I’ll never know how to thank you,” he finished, sighing deeply. His eyes twinkled at you when you pulled away to look at him.
You shook your head. “No need,” you assured him. “Just catch your breath, brave Mandalorian. Then we’ll talk.”
He nodded, his eyelids growing heavier with the expense of energy now catching up with him. His cock had grown soft inside you, but he made no move to lift you from him. “I did well?” he asked. This wasn’t surprising; you’d known him to be quietly confident, but the Mandalorian was never one to pass up the opportunity for someone to reassure his talents.
You grinned and leaned forward to press your lips to his hooked nose, fighting the urge to nip at it with your teeth. Next time, you reminded yourself. “You did well,” you nodded. “Feeling okay?”
He splayed his hands on your back and inhaled near your chest, his face buried into the soft skin of your breasts. “Never better,” he reassured you, rubbing his hands along your spine. “So sweet to me, baby,” he murmured, repeating your own affection back to you.
The two of you remained like that, just wrapped together in a mess of limbs and sweat and come mingling together. When he began to wince with the overstimulation, you lifted off of his cock but remained in his lap. You pulled back and leaned your forehead against his. You watched his lips, plump and sitting perfectly, waiting to be kissed again.
“What does mesh’la mean?” you asked instead, the word strange and unfamiliar on your tongue.
He looked at you for a long time, bringing a finger up to trace the line of your mouth. “Put your lips on mine again and I’ll teach you,” he offered casually, as if his pupils weren’t still blown wide, his eyelashes still fluttering from the power of his release.
You smirked. “This is the Way, huh?”
For once in his life, Din Djarin smiled at you. “This is the Way.”
tysm for reading! so glad to be back, i'm sorry if the smut scene seemed rushed and out of pace! again: i was hungover. pls forgive. lemme know what you think!
adding tags here cause i'm going grocery shopping at 8:30pm BYEEEE
this is a good morning fic for @thetriumphantpanda and the aftercare bit at the end was specifically for @cavillscurls i know u crave it girl
the rest of the taggies: @mingiast @iluvurfather @cupofjoel @morning-star-joy @darkroastjoel @tightjeansjavi @chaotic-mystery @dinsdjrn @huffle-punk @tommymilllers @milly-louise @struig @butiknewyoudlinger @alejaa-a @worhols @thegreat-annamaria @easaud @country2212 @sleepdeprived-feelalived @pertinentpostmortem @lailaispunk
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contains…established relationship. fem!reader. mutual masturbation. virgin!reader. college au. no curses / sorcerers. reformed player!geto <3. messy making out. cum shot. lovesick!geto (i’m serious). praise. so much fluff. not proofread.
your boyfriend is just so hot.
you have eyes, you have common sense, you have a brain. you’re not oblivious to the stares he gets, and the late-night messages he receives that he’s never once responded to.
you’re fully aware of the countless girls who talk bad about you, whining about how a man such as geto could possibly settle down with a prude like you, and how he’s likely getting what he doesn’t get from you somewhere else.
it doesn’t matter, however.
you know he’s not like that anymore. in fact, he’s far from it.
he’s wrapped around your finger, so whipped you’re practically walking him on a leash at all times. he’s so obviously infatuated with you—that’s why people talk.
he’s in love with you—point blank. he’s incredibly infatuated with his beautiful girlfriend, oblivious to the girls who wantonly text him despite his experiences because, in his mind—if he’s in love, so is everyone else!
the thing is, though, geto has no idea just how similar you two are.
he knows that obviously you love him too, and there is a reason you’re still dating him. but he doesn’t know the entire extent to how much you love him. how much you long for him.
he doesn’t know the nights he’s away, you spend with your thoughts wavering and your mind all foggy.
he doesn’t know you spend your nights apart the same way he does—flushed, aching, and desperate for a release.
it’s not like you haven’t given him any reason to believe you’re sexually attracted to him—you let him know just how handsome he looks all the time. but due to your abstinence, he doesn’t let the compliment spread too far.
he keeps his hands clean, until he can dirty them when you’re apart.
he’s probably a little dense for not realizing you’re just as desperate as he is—there’s just the matter of you being emotionally—or physically, for that matter—ready for such a change in your life.
and if he’s being honest, he doesn’t mind the waiting. there’s a newfound want he’s gained. it’s not the want to get his dick wet, it’s a want to please you.
to make you feel good, to see just what makes your head spin—not his.
you’ve known it from the start that geto suguru will be the man who takes your virginity. but now wasn’t the time—despite how needy your body was reacting to him.
“you’re so—god—annoying,” you pant, lips moving sloppily against his, knuckles growing white from the grip you held on his large t-shirt.
he snickers against your mouth, hand wrapped tightly around your lower waist to keep you pressed below him. you taste so sweet, like the soft serve you were innocently licking just minutes ago that he had absentmindedly asked if he could have a taste of.
it resulted in you childishly eating the rest of the ice cream, claiming there was “no more” he could have. you were giggling about the mess you made, before he assured you there was definitely a way he could still have some.
despite how cold your lips were, he held you tight against his chest, palm cupping your cheek and making a mess out of you desperately.
he’s so painfully good at kissing you. at getting a rise out of you. if you weren’t so scared of the intimacy sex endures, you’d for sure have already done it with him. countless times at that.
he just made you so needy.
“ya should’ve let me have a bite, sweetheart.” he teases, nearly stealing every ounce of your breath and nibbling on your cheeks.
despite the cold sweet was (somehow) still lingering on your tongue, you could feel the sheen of sweat accumulating on your forehead.
he guides his open-mouthed kisses to your neck, wantonly nibbling and sucking on your skin he’s grown to find was sensitive, letting your head topple back while he does so.
your legs were loose where they wrapped around his waist.
“suguru—“ you breathe, mind racing a mile a minute.
he takes a moment to respond, allowing your back to arch and a short whimper part your lips before he pulls away to admire the small purple hickey he charitably made. “what, baby?” he hums, grinning down at his work before leaning back in to pair it with another one.
“what do you do when you get like…really horny?”
he pauses, cutting his new lovebite short before he’s leaning over you again, and this time looking at you in your eyes.
he slides his thumb across your swollen lower lip, fighting a smirk.
“i masturbate.” he says assuringly.
your breaths were still even—still quick. your chest rose each time you inhaled until you exhaled, and the taste on your tongue was a mixture of two things—the ice cream, and your boyfriend.
“and, do you think of me?” you ask.
he’s never told you—mainly because he was always kind of afraid you’d be upset by the fact that he does, indeed.
which, certainly you’d have the right to feel upset. he’s nearly violating your privacy—but then again, he can’t really control his subconscious. it’s not his fault he goes into autopilot as soon as he’s alone with his hand, and the thoughts of his pretty little girlfriend.
he lets out a short laugh, leaking with nervousness, while his eyes waver with maintaining contact.
“well, i mean—“
“because i think of you.” you interrupt, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. your gaze falls to his—how glossy and plump they look.
his eyes widen.
“really?” he can’t help but wonder, and that smirk he was fighting had won.
“all the time. every time.” you whine, your knuckles tightening their hold on his shirt.
he could gape, but the sly grin on his face was overpowering. he loved hearing you say that.
“i do too—every time.” he confesses, sliding his tongue across his lips.
he notes the small specks glowing in your eyes, and how your irises grow just a little.
“what do you think about?”
he smiles down at you, raking his mind for every thought he’s had of you—and there were many. he knows just what he thinks about, every single time.
he doesn’t want to walk on eggshells anymore, not after knowing you think of him the same.
“pleasing you. just how you’d react if i did certain things. how you’d sound, look, taste, feel. everything.” he says honestly, sliding his thumb across your cheek.
you couldn’t deny the heat that spread to your face, and just how dryer your throat has gotten. but more specifically, just how dizzy your head had grown.
“what about you? what do you think about?” he asks before you can say anything in response.
you lick your lips, a small chuckle leaving to fan his cheek. “what it’d be like. how you’d feel, and make me feel.” you murmur, flattening your hand against his chest.
he couldn’t deny the way his ego—already overflowing—grew at your words. he knows about his large sexual history, and how people think of him, but this confession instantly made it to the top of his list. he might never forget it. especially since it’s you admitting it.
he can’t help but grin at the image, because he knows he’d make your first time worth your while. worth all of the time he’s patiently waited—and how much longer he’ll wait ahead.
you sigh, gliding your hands up his chest to link around his neck.
“god—i just want to do it. get it over with. you make me crazy,” you admit, chuckling quietly while keeping your gaze set on his lips. “but i can’t yet. i just—i don’t know why. i just can’t.”
he smiles, sliding his palm down the side of your face, brushing short pieces of hair from your eyes before he cups your cheek.
“and i’d never ask you to. i’m happy with waiting, my love. just being in the same room is enough.” he reassures, and despite deep down knowing this, you couldn’t help the feeling of a weight being lifted from your chest.
you swallow nervously, trying your best to ignore your hands which were growing weak and your stomach which was starting to tighten due to a lack of friction your core has been craving for a few minutes now.
“and—but i’m just so horny right now. i’m so—i need you.” you whine, your breaths picking up and chest heaving against his.
he lets his hand that was tight around your waist loosen a little, cupping your waist and looking at you deeply. he almost groans at your words, something he’s never heard come out of your lips.
“what do you want me to do?” he asks, lowering to press a deep kiss to the opposite cheek he was holding, and then another one to your jaw.
you chew on your lower lip, clearly contemplating something in your mind with the way your eyebrows furrow and your gaze wavers. your body was flushed, hot and sticky underneath your clothes—combining with his weight and warmth over you.
you carefully press your hand against his shoulder, using small force until he gets the message and confusingly lifts himself from you, crawling back onto the cushion of the couch that wasn’t occupied.
“i, just—“ you begin to stutter, your sparkling eyes flickering with a certain want—a need—that geto has never seen before and he feels himself swell in his sweats.
“i want you…to, just—“ you trail off again, sliding your pink tongue across your plump lips and he finds himself staring.
that is, until your knees that were previously pressed together slowly begin to separate, and his eyes subconsciously fall to your hand that is weaseling it’s way down your clothed body.
his eyes instinctively widen, watching your dainty and nimble fingers disappear between your shorts and underwear, and the moment your lips part and you gasp ever-so-quietly—he feels his body light on fire.
oh god, you were touching yourself.
right in front of him.
he feels like he might go crazy, the way your head tips back to dangle over the armrest, and the way your chest heaves as your hand picks up its pace.
he wonders why you tilted your head back. is it just a reflex, is that how you always react? or is it to hide your face which is undoubtedly on fire, and avoid eye contact with the man who’s nearly about to short circuit in front of you?
a little part of you is probably embarrassed. but why pay attention to that right now when he makes you act like this? when he gets you so worked up?
“nghh—” you whimper, and geto’s hand moved all on his own. he wraps his hand around his length through his sweats, his eyes lidding when looks at you.
“fuck,” he moans your name, half-trying to get your attention and half-subconsciously just talking. your teeth nibble on your bottom lip when you lower your chin, fragile gaze growing a little more confident when you see just what you’re also doing to him.
when you get to see how you make him feel every time he sees you. he’s never been driven so insane.
your eyes fall to his hand, watching him pump himself through his clothing just like you were doing, before your gaze meets his.
“kiss me.” you mutter, a little more commanding then intended but hey—who’s he to deny?
he surges forward, his free hand cupping and sliding towards the back of your neck as his lips connect to yours.
and it’s so messy. so sloppy, he can immediately taste your saliva. your tongue, so soft and slippery, and there’s moans pushing from your lips while you continue to touch yourself. he makes a silent effort to press himself against you—and the groan he lets out from the feel of your hand rubbing your clit against the back of his nearly makes you laugh around his lips.
“c-can i—do it too?” he stutters, mumbling into your mouth.
you could melt.
“yes—sugu, yeah,” you pant, nodding your head which unlatches your lips. your eyebrows pinch together as the pad of your finger presses against your clit, feeling your wetness soak through your thin pair of underwear.
geto groans, sloppily fumbling with the waistband of his sweatpants before he moves to pull them down his legs.
he hovers over you again, hand continuing to palm himself through his thin boxers. he keeps his eyes on yours, watching how the grow a little heavier, and your head rolls to the side to rest your cheek against the cushion.
your hand has picked up its pace, and even though he’d never ask—he wishes he knew exactly what you were doing to yourself because whatever it was makes your chest heave, and another desperate whimper push through your lips and fill the steamy, thick air.
“s’it feel good?“ he sighs, dipping his fingers into his boxers to officially give himself some skin-to-skin contact.
you nod, whimpering. “mm, yeah—i’m s’wet.” you moan, fluttering your eyes closed as you sigh.
his head hurts. he’s aching to know just how wet you are. he’s dying to know how it feels.
but he’s a patient man. in fact, just hearing the way you touch yourself is enough.
his cock is throbbing, it almost hurts to grab when he frees himself from his thin restraint, and pumps his hand quickly along his length.
you open your eyes to peek when he lets out a stifled whimper.
your eyes widen at what you see—and not just because his dick is the first real one you’ve ever seen, but because of how large he was.
his hand was so much bigger then yours, and he couldn’t even fit the size of himself.
his angry red tip, throbbing and leaking. he’s so long, and there’s a pretty pale vein running alongside his length that makes you suck in a breath. you wonder how it’d feel inside you.
he didn’t see the way your eyes widen, only the way your hand seemingly picked up speed below your shorts and he slides his tongue along his lower lip.
“y-you’re—“ you whisper, your eyes moving to trail up his physique you’ve already seen a handful of times, until they meet his gaze. “you’re so big.”
he can feel stars in his eyes, his length twitching immediately, while the compliment puffs up in his chest. he wants to reach out, kiss you all over, make it apparent that his lips were against your skin to anyone who’d be nearby.
“yeah?” he chuckles, rubbing his thumb across his slit. you marvel in the quiet whimper that he involuntarily lets out, watching his lips purse together before his foggy gaze meets yours again.
you nod, but before you could say anything you quietly stifle a moan when your fingers roll over your clit in a particular way, causing your breath to hitch and your head to fall back once again.
geto thinks he can watch you forever, with the way your breaths grow staggered, and your clothed chest heaves when you inhale. his vision grows dizzy when he sees the way your eyebrows pinch, and the way you desperately press your teeth into your lower lip to muffle your quiet whimpers and moans.
he wants the image to be burned into his brain forever—because god, this is what you look like when you’re touching yourself. this is what you look like when you’re alone in your bedroom, thinking of him just like he does to you.
he almost feels embarrassed when he can feel the all-too-familiar build up in his lower stomach.
his eyes roll when he lets out a low groan, subconsciously leaning forward and pressing his free hand to the armrest beside you.
“‘m close,” he whines, embarrassingly so because usually he could last much longer—but you made his will fly out the window.
you nod slowly, picking up your pace before a quiet sob of, “m-me too,” wobbles out of your throat.
his eyes warily open at your words. he needs to see your face when you cum. he peeks his gaze down to your hand, and it’s only then when he realizes—he’s actually about to cum.
“where should i—i dunno—“ he’s stuttering, panting while he speaks and he’s surprised it’s even intelligible.
but when you arch yourself a little more, bringing yourself closer into him and your eyes move to meet his—he thinks he might burst right then and there.
or was it when you silently use your other hand to raise your—his—shirt, securing it just under the mound of your breasts to reveal your soft, plump stomach and you look him dead in the eyes when you say, “here. do it on me.”
“what?” he breathes, eyes lidded.
you scoot in closer to him. “cum. on me.”
he doesn’t know exactly what it was that did it for him—the gesture, or your persistence? whatever it was, that was enough for his eyes to roll back and deep, low groan force it’s way out of his throat.
his dark tresses fall around his face, despite the way he kept it in a loose bun. his jaw breaks open, pinched eyebrows and lidded eyes molding across his features the same moment the pumping of his hand staggers.
you moan on your own, nearly grinning under your matching expression when your hand matches the speed of your breaths, and the warm splatter across your stomach is enough to make you finish.
“fuck,” he drawls, voice croaking and head dangling.
your body grows limp, head falling back onto the cushion of your couch. your breaths suddenly become very audible, both yours and geto’s matching as they slowly calm down.
although geto has had countless sexual experiences, this was by far the most intimate thing he has ever done.
he couldn’t stop himself when he leans in to cup your cheek, pressing your warm lips against his and stealing every ounce of breath you had left in your lungs.
your knee presses against his hip, caging him close and pressing his soft lips to yours. you let out a short moan, accepting his endearing kiss despite the fact that you were still trying to catch your breath.
“i love you,” he mumbles, peppering his kisses to your cheek. “y’didn’t have to do that…”
“well it wasn’t really for you.” you snort honestly, smoothing your fingers through his long dark hair. “i needed that.”
his stomach flips, his short kisses never faltering until he raises his chin to plant a longer one right on the middle of your forehead.
“let me get you a towel.” he sighs, using his weakened strength to lift himself off the couch, taking a turn down the hallway where he knew you kept your spare towels in the bathroom. he grabs a small wash cloth, dampening it quickly.
his cheeks were red and flushed, much like the rest of his skin. his forehead was sticky, long black strands sticking to his skin but he paid no mind.
you purse your lips, letting one of your legs lay across the cushions of the couch while the other props next to you, your eyes fall to the rather large, thick, white ropes of cum sitting on your bare stomach. you hardly stifle your chuckle.
something about tipping him over the edge like you did—it made your ego explode.
that’s never happened to you before.
he returns a mere few seconds later with a damp towel in his hand. you allow him to gently wipe it across your own sweaty and flushed skin, leant back against the armrest in peaceful silence.
his soft, smooth hands slide against your dampened stomach, gently pressing his thumb into the plush endearingly.
“are you feeling okay?” he asks, and when you make eye contact you don’t miss the way his pupils grow.
“why wouldn’t i be?”
he shrugs, but inevitably accepts the way your arms open and your knees part to make a slot for him to lay. he presses his face into your upper chest, cheek smushing.
“because you’ve never done anything like that. not with someone else, at least.” his voice comes out a soft mumble. “i just wanna make sure you’re really okay.”
he melts into your loving hold, your legs wrapping around his torso and fingers running through his hair.
“i really am. i love you, suguru—i promise, that was exactly what i needed.” you press a small kiss to the top of his head. “i want to do more, i really do. but—baby steps.”
he gives you a tight squeeze, raising his head to press his cheek into the crook of your neck fondly.
“take as long as you need, my love. i’d never ask you to.” and you know he’s being honest.
his eyes open to lock with yours when he raises his chin. “but i hope you know that if you let me take your virginity, i’m not going to let you just ‘get it over with’.”
you head lulls when you let out a short chuckle, relaying the quote in your head before your hand meets his warm cheek, and you lower your chin just a little to press a kiss to his pink lips.
“when,” you correct. “there’s no other man i’d want to experience my first time with then you, suguru.”
sorry if this is so cheesy and corny and rushed ugh i haven’t posted in so long </3
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