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hairmetal666 · 3 months

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Steve knows he falls in love too easily. Nancy told him, Robin too.

But falling in love with Eddie Munson is hard.

They're supposed to be friends after Vecna. They're supposed to be friends, but Steve can't get past what Eddie did in the Upside Down; how he put himself in a position to nearly die, how Dustin got hurt. It's not fair. He knows it's not, but it doesn't make the anger go away.

Eddie's part of the group now, though, and Steve won't leave him out, no matter how angry. They're all at movie nights, at pool parties, at Hellfire, at Corroded Coffin gigs. It's just that Steve and Eddie don't speak. And Steve is okay with it. If it's what it takes to make sure that they're all hanging out together, not talking to Eddie is a small thing. He's pretty sure Eddie doesn't mind. At least, he seems as uninterested in hanging out with Steve as Steve is with him.

It doesn't need to be anything more than that, and it isn't, not until Steve goes upstairs to get more sunscreen during one of the pool parties, and walks back downstairs to find Munson waiting for him in his kitchen.

"You need something?" He asks, unable to fully hide the way he jolts with surprise.

Eddie twists the rings on his fingers, something Steve's noticed he does whenever he's nervous. "You have a problem with me, Harrington?

"No, of course not," he answers too fast.

"C'mon, man. You can barely stand to be in the same room with me."

"That's not true! We're in one together right now."

Eddie rolls his eyes so hard that it has to hurt. "Don't do that. Don't pretend like you don't know what I mean. You can't stand to be alone with me for more than thirty seconds."

Steve splutters, searching for a plausible reason.

"Is it cause--" Eddie swallows, hand going back to cup his neck. "Is it cause you heard me tell Robin that I'm gay? Back at the hospital. Is it because--" he cuts himself off.

Something in Steve's chest clenches hard, warmth swooping dangerously in his stomach. "No," Steve says, means it. "I didn't hear. I didn't-- it has nothing to do with that. It's--that's cool. Thanks for--yeah, that's cool."

Eddie's smile is a brittle little thing. "Then, what else?" Eddie pulls a chunk of hair over his mouth. "I can't think of any other reason you'd hate me so much."

"I don't." And Steve hopes it's coming off as genuine. "I promise."

He can't help remember the camaraderie, the understanding, that started to grow between them in the Upside Down. The "don't cha, big boy?" of it all. They could be friends. They should be.

They shouldn't get into it. Not right here, not right now when the kids' splashes and excited screams filter through the sliding door.

"You're a shit liar, Harrington."

"Ed--I'm not--"

"You know what? Don't bother. I'll just--" He jolts in the direction of the front door.

"Don't be stupid, Munson."

"God, I can't believe I didn't see it before. You just fucking loathe me."

"I do not. Grow up."

"Oh, yeah? Then what's your problem?"

"There isn't--"

"Stop lying!"

"You didn't fucking think!" He shouts. Loud enough that the noise outside cuts off. "You pulled that shit in the Upside Down and you almost died! Dustin got hurt!"

Eddie blinks his big brown eyes in stunned surprise.

"I told you, I said, 'dont try to be cute or be a hero or something.' And you know what you said? Do you?"

Eddie won't look at him now. "I had to make a choice, Steve."

"It was the wrong one!"

"I would do it all again. No matter what you say. I would do it to draw the bats away. To protect Dustin."

"But you didn't."

"There was no other way to stop them, Steve! They would've gotten through, into Hawkins."

"It doesn't matter."

"You weren't there! You can't tell me--"

"Yes, I can! I know."

"You don't! You think--"

"I almost lost you!" He screams. "You nearly died in my arms, Eddie. And for what?"

Falling in love with Eddie wasn't easy. It was blood and near death; it was weeks in a cold hospital room while Eddie existed in a drug-induced twilight state; it was agonizing convalescence and physical therapy and changing bandages; it was Eddie leading dnd sessions with bright eyes and contagious enthusiasm, herding the kids to the arcade and video store, theatrically serving snacks at movie night; it was festering, senseless anger at the near loss of something.

Eddie's lips tremble. "Steve, I--"

"It doesn't matter." He turns away to slide a hand down his face in an effort to wipe away the emotion. "You're fine and we're--it doesn't matter."

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "Steve, I'm sorry. I wanted--I thought it would help. I thought--"

And Steve has to admit, he does, the whole terrible contradiction of it all. "I know," he whispers back. "I would've--I know."

"I thought I was protecting Dustin. I thought I was buying you guys time with Vecna." Eddie's voice breaks. "I didn't--I--" He squeezes his eyes shut.

In the quiet of the kitchen, they gravitate to one another, foreheads resting together.

"I should have been there, Ed. I shouldn't have left you two alone. You almost died, and I--"

"Sweetheart, I'm right here. We're right here."

They don't kiss, but they're close enough that their mouths brush with each breath they take.

"Don't do that, again." Steve clenches his fists into Eddie's cutoff t-shirt. "Promise you won't ever--"

"I promise, Stevie. I promise. I'll be by your side until the very end, whatever it is."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #angst #angst with a happy ending #getting together #falling in love #protective steve harrington #oblivious eddie munson #mutual pining #steve harrington is bad at feelings #not quite rivals not quite enemies but a secret third thing to lovers #it's angst but then it's sweet #we're all traumatized here

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djo · 2 years

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I wish everyone had gotten to know him. Really know him. Because they would've loved him. They would've loved him. Even in the end, he never stopped being Eddie. Despite everything. I never even saw him get mad. He could've run. He could've saved himself. But he fought and died to protect this town. This town that... hated him. He isn't just innocent... He's a hero.

JOSEPH QUINN as EDDIE MUNSON Stranger Things 4

#strangerthingsedit #eddiemunsonedit #tvedit #usermaguire #eddie munson #joseph quinn #stranger things #mine*#my sweet heroic eddie 🖤

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eddiesghxst · 4 months

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❆ Let It Snow - a christmas smutty special ❆

happy holidays lovelys!!! ilysm and i hope you all have a beautiful rest of your year, here is a cute n quick little Christmas smutty blurb as my gift to u <3

also, this is not proofread i apologize for any mistakes <3

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: roomate!eddie munson x reader

summary: your flight home gets canceled on christmas eve and Eddie just wants to cheer you up

contains: friends to lovers trope, reader loves christmas (she's so me), oral (f receiving), p in v (unprotected - be smart pls), creampie, lots of Christmas cheer, and eddie being the cutest most kindest boy there ever was <3

word count: 3.6k

-masterlist-

Christmas is ruined.

It’s Christmas Eve, and you’ve been rotting away in your room all day— it’s now almost six in the afternoon— and Christmas is ruined.

In the corner of your room, your bags lay in a pile, packed and ready to go for the flight home you were supposed to be on just less than an hour ago. Your mother was devastated when you called her to break the news that you wouldn’t be home in time for Christmas, and although she tried her hardest to mask it over the phone, acting was never really her niche.

You’d already cried once this morning, a pathetic sob that inevitably escaped the second you opened your blinds and saw the blinding-white thick blanket of snow covering Hawkins. It’s not common, heavy winter snows in Indiana, so when the news mentioned that there would be a chance of snow, you didn’t think much of it.

Wrong choice.

You should’ve changed your ticket immediately and got on the next plane to Oregon, where your family would be with warm laughter and endless amounts of food, not to mention the traditional tree lighting you’d miss out on. But now, you’re stuck in Hawkins, chest hollow and cold from the undeniable fact that you will miss Christmas with your family this year.

Suddenly, you hear a raspy curse from the other side of your wall, followed by haste movements and the rustling of sheets and clothes. Eddie’s finally up from his nap. You can’t wait to tell him how stupid you’d been to book a flight so late on Christmas Eve.

Before you can even think of getting up and going to Eddie’s room, the man bursts through your door with a frazzled look as his gaze darts around the room, “Why didn’t you wake me? You’re gonna be late for your flight!” He panics. It’s sweet, really. The way your roommate paces over to your bags and looks at you with a ‘Why aren’t these in the car yet?’ look. It almost makes you hopeful that somehow, now that Eddie’s bright and sunny self is awake, he can find a way to get you home just in time for Christmas.

Obviously, it's not happening, considering Eddie isn’t a god, but one can dream.

You groan, tossing over in your bed to burrow your face deep into your sheets as you mumble into the soft cotton, “I’m not going anymore.” You grumble.

You can hear Eddie’s frown when he responds, “What? What do you mean you’re not going?”

You huff, heart aching as you reply, “Have you looked outside by any chance?”

You don’t turn to watch, but you can hear the shuffling sound of Eddie walking over to your window, shucking the blinds open, and peering out into the parking lot of your apartment that’s covered in that godawful snow. Eddie lets out a sound, something between surprise and sympathy, and it only makes the frown on your face deepen.

“Well… shit,” Eddie says.

You turn over and sit up, huffing as you shove your sheets out of your way, “Yeah. Have fun trying to figure out a way to get me across the country with that type of weather.” You grunt, kicking your legs over the side of your bed to stand and shuffle over to the packed suitcases. You figure you may as well unpack since you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.

“So when are the airports gonna clear, did they say?” Eddie asks.

You huff as you unfold jeans and tops, mind reeling with scenarios of what you should’ve done to prevent this. “Not until tomorrow afternoon. Christmas will be done by then, and most of my family will be back in their respective homes, so… looks like you’re stuck with me, Munson.”

Which, sure Eddie practically threw a fit when you told him you’d be out of town for the holidays, but you still feel as if you’re intruding. Eddie was supposed to have Wayne come over tomorrow, but you’re going to be here probably sulking, and it’ll be awkward and pitiful, and it’s just not at all what you’d wanted your or Eddie’s Christmas to be like!

“...Okay, well,” Before you can fully register what’s happening, Eddie is closing your suitcase and grabbing your hands, dragging you up to your feet and ignoring your confusion as he speaks, “You can’t spend Christmas like this, sweetheart. You’ll end up like the Grinch. Do you wanna be the Grinch? Don’t tell me you wanna be the Grinch.” Eddie rambles as he drags you out of your room.

You try to fight a smile at Eddie’s rapid fire of words, but you fail as you shake your head, “No, I don’t want to be the Grinch, asshole.” You grumble as he drops your hand.

Eddie drops your hand and claps loudly, a bright grin spreading over his lips when he turns to you, “Wonderful! Then we have to get in the Christmas spirit.”

Eddie leaves you confused in the small hallway of your shared apartment, watching as he chaoticly prances over to the kitchen. He slows down and turns back to you once he sees you’re not following him, a confused expression painting over his face. “Well? Are you gonna leave me to bake alone, or are you gonna join?”

And well, you’ve never seen Eddie even pick up a baking pan, so it’s safe to say this will be interesting.

Eddie is absolutely terrible with ingredients.

You and Eddie both decided to bake cookies, but instead of regular chocolate chips, Eddie pitched in the idea of using red and green M&Ms for the holiday effect, which you thought was pretty clever. The only problem is Eddie can’t measure for shit.

The recipe calls for two tablespoons of cornstarch, Eddie two and a half— damn near three. The next step says to mix in a third of a cup of cooking oil, but Eddie puts in much too little. It’s odd, considering his past with drug dealing, but you don’t mention it and instead opt to discreetly correct his mistakes whenever he turns his back to grab something else.

You both end up covered in flour because the pesky powder honestly just doesn't under the concept of gravity, and you laugh when you see some coating Eddie’s eyelashes. “What’s so funny, chef?” He asks.

You smile, “Nothing, you’ve just got… you got some on your eyes.” You reach up with a gentle hand, the sleeves of your sweater long enough to pull over your thumb so you can carefully dust off the white powder.

Eddie’s eyes are so bright and attentive this close, watching your every move with a type of sincerity you’ve only ever seen on screens from Grammy-nominated films and such. It makes your chest warm, and your knees quiver as his lips split into a smile, “Thank you, princess.” He softly says. You nod, and you swear Eddie’s eyes fucking twinkle.

You clear your throat, blinking away and stepping back to clear whatever trance from your mind, “Well,” You heavily sigh, “The cookies are in the oven for the next hour, so… I think I’m gonna go read.”

“Actually,” Eddie pipes up, softly reaching out and letting his fingers brush against yours, “I was thinking we could watch a Christmas movie. Unless if you’re sick of me, I totally get it; I’ll call you when the cookies are ready.”

Which couldn’t be further from the truth. You didn’t want to read. Hell, you don’t even have a new book to read; you’ve gone through your entire reading list.

“Oh! Well, what movie did you have in mind?”

“Home Alone. Obviously.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re a Christmas amateur, Eddie, did you know that?”

Eddie waves a dismissive hand as you begin to smile, reaching out to spin you around and shove you toward your room, “Just go get in some comfy clothes.”

You snort as you follow his instructions, shuffling over to your room to change out of your flour-coated clothing. It takes you some time to dig through your suitcase, but you eventually find the cute pajama set you bought for the holidays and slip it on, eager to return to the living room and join Eddie.

When you step into the living room, you don’t expect to see furniture pushed out of the way and Eddie standing in the middle as he pushes his queen-sized mattress down to lie right in the middle of the room—your heart races when you realize what Eddie’s done.

“Eddie, what are you doing?” You softly ask.

Eddie looks up at you, heavily breathing as he places his hands on his hips, “It’s Christmas Eve!” He beams. You tilt your head with a scolding expression, “I remember you saying you did this with your family, so I figured we gotta keep the tradition going.” He shrugs.

And god, Eddie’s so lovely. Too nice for his own good, really. Your entire body warms at the gesture, watching as he bustles around the apartment, grabbing blankets and pillows to make a comfy nest-like bed.

Seeing Eddie prepare the room wasn’t confusing because you kind of figured that’s what he was doing when you initially saw it, but you became concerned when you saw him drag a tall fake plant across the room.

Eddie steps back and gazes at the fake plant, face twisted in concentration, “Where should it go? The corner, right?” He turns to you. Your brows scrunch in confusion, “Uh… you’re losing me.”

Eddie blinks at you as if you’ve just asked him if the sky is blue, “The Christmas tree, doll. Where should it go?”

You raise an eyebrow, “That’s not a Christmas tree, Eddie, that’s a fake Cat Palm.” Eddie makes a face as if you’ve insulted him, “Says who?”

“Says anyone with general knowledge of the world.” “Why can’t this tree be a Christmas tree? As far as I know, they both have the same qualities that allow them to classify as a tree.” And you’re not going to argue with Eddie on that because he’s being sweet, and you’re interested to see what wacky plan he’s concocted in that brain of his.

So, for the next hour or so, you and Eddie sit on his comfy bed in the living room and use copy paper to cut out shitty snowflakes to put on the ‘Christmas tree’ as you watch Home Alone.

It’s undeniably the most fun you’ve had in a while, and you and Eddie turn your craft into a competition to see who can make the best snowflake, but you keep snipping the wrong spots to create an absolute disgrace of a snowflake. Eddie thinks they’re ‘fucking insane. In a good way!’ though, so you can’t complain.

“These are fucking awful.”

Home Alone 2 is playing, the Christmas tree is fully decorated, and you and Eddie have settled in his bed with a plate full of cookies. It’s a cozy little setup you’ve got, and your cheeks are warm from laughter, and you’ve never felt this content with anyone besides family. And to make matters even better, the cookies taste like absolute shit.

You look at Eddie, gazing at his horrified expression momentarily before bursting into a snort. Eddie looks at you, terror written across his face as you fold in laughter.

“These are seriously the worst cookies I’ve ever tasted.” He reiterates.

You manage to calm your laughter down just enough to respond, “They’re not that bad.”

You and Eddie share a look before you burst into laughter again, “Yeah, they’re pretty bad.” You admit. Eddie joins you in laughter, shaking his head as he offers you the plate of cookies so you can put your half-bitten cookie away. “Remind me to never enter a bake-off,” Eddie grumbles as he reaches over to set the cookies on the coffee table pushed off to the side.

You and Eddie settle into his cozy bed then, content on holiday cheer and the comforting presence of one another. You’re pressed close to each other so you can share the bowl of popcorn you’d made, and you try to ignore how the close proximity makes your insides squeal. You glance at Eddie as you roll an unpopped kernel between your fingers.

“Thank you.”

Eddie turns to you, eyebrows raised in alert. You gesture to the atmosphere of your apartment, “For this, I mean. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

Eddie makes a face and waves you off, “It’s nothing, princess. Couldn’t have you sad on your favorite holiday of the year.”

Your cheeks warm as you gaze at Eddie, chest feeling so much appreciation for his efforts today. Eddie didn’t have to do any of this. He could’ve just said sorry for your shit luck and called it a day, but he took it upon himself to make your ruined holiday into, arguably, one of the best Christmas you’ve had in a while.

“I mean, come on, you heard how badly I was begging you to stay home anyway. Some might even say I got Mother Nature to ring in a favor.” He jokes as he gently nudges his shoulder against yours. You roll your eyes, briefly returning to the movie as you respond, “You’re dramatic, Eddie. I was gonna be gone for two days.” You point out.

“Two days too long!” He stresses, “What was I supposed to do while you were gone?”

You snort, tossing popcorn in your mouth before speaking, “You were gonna be with Wayne anyway; you’d hardly even think about me.” You wave.

Eddie makes a displeased noise, poking at the popcorn in the bowl, “That’s not true.” He softly responds. You glance at Eddie, heart racing when he locks eyes with you. “Wayne isn’t half as pretty as you, so.” He jokes, a small smile spreading across his lips.

You shyly smile, “You think I’m pretty?” You tease.

Eddie smiles with his eyes, “I think you’re gorgeous, actually.”

And god, you think you imagine it when Eddie’s gaze falls to your lips, but then he’s reaching out to gently drag his thumb across your bottom lip. You lean into him on instinct, body aching for his touch, lips crying out to feel his lips on yours, and thankfully, Eddie doesn’t make you wait long before leaning forward.

Eddie’s lips are soft and perfect for kissing. Plump and addicting to the touch as he moves in tandem with you, hands gently caressing your face as you press into each other. You can’t contain the whine bubbling in your throat, and you almost feel embarrassed, but Eddie responds with a moan, hands moving south to softly grab your waist and pull you closer.

You almost can’t believe this is happening— you making out with your roommate on Christmas Eve— but you figure it was about time that you two shattered the thick wall of tension and desire that’d been building between you both. Stolen glances and lingering touches in the kitchen, too-close dancing at parties, and almost kisses during goodbyes have all led to this very moment as Eddie shifts to lay you back into the mountain of pillows.

You shakily breathe against Eddie’s lips when his fingers dust across your stomach, softly pressing into your warm skin to pull a squeal from your lips. You can feel the spread of his smile against the corner of our mouth, and you squirm as he peppers a few kisses there, “Gonna let me taste you, princess?” He asks, fingers caressing the skin just above the waistband of your festive shorts. You swallow heavily and nod, eyes dancing with his when he leans back just enough to see your face. “Words?”

“Yeah. Yes, please.”

Your voice hardly even sounds like your own. Needy and higher pitched and almost humiliating, but Eddie’s smattering kisses down your chin and neck, hands riding your shirt up your stomach so he can kiss the warm skin there. You softly exhale, reaching up to sink your fingers through his hair and gently tug. He groans against you, softly nipping the fat of your hip as his fingers curl over the band of your shorts. He drags the pants down your legs, sitting up to take them off and toss them to the side. He parts your thighs, a smug grin spreading across his lips as he gazes down at you, your socked feet digging into the sheets as he runs his ringed hands up your legs. “Stop staring.” You grumble.

Eddie chuckles, leaning forward to kiss your stomach and then the band of your panties, “Candy canes, huh?” He peers up at you as he plays with the tiny bow on your pelvis. Your face warms, center throbbing as you squirm beneath him. “Hey,” You frown, “It was a matching set and I thought they were cute.” You explain, nudging him with your foot. Which is true, the set came with a bra, panties, and socks, and it was on sale, so of course you bought it.

Eddie laughs as he settles on his stomach, “Oh, you’re fuckin’ precious,” He beams to himself. Your chest warms, and he leans forward to kiss just over your covered clit, “I love them, sweetheart.” Another kiss pressed to your hip this time. “I love them a lot, actually.” A kiss to the other hip, and you squirm. His lashes flutter when he peers up at you, fingers squeezing your hips as he speaks, “Unfortunately… they’re kind of in the way.”

You playfully roll your eyes, losing the fight to your smile as you respond, “Just take them off, Eddie.”

Eddie’s eyes light up, hands moving quicker than you’ve ever seen to get rid of the candy cane printed barrier, happily settling back on his stomach and curling his hands around your thighs to pull you closer. He doesn’t give you any warning when he dives in, licking a thick and wet line from your entrance to your clit. He circles the tip of his tongue over your clit, grinning when you moan and twitch from the sensation. He hums as he suckles your clit into his mouth, licking and sucking as if his life depends on it, fingers squeezing at your thighs and hips. You’re drowning in pleasure, but you think you can hear the muffled sound of Eddie mumbling, ‘Fuck, you taste so good’ against you, and it makes your head spin.

You’re a goner when he sinks two fingers into you, expertly curling up against that toe-curling spot to have you crying out his name and arching up into him. He hums against you, nodding his head in encouragement as you cum on his tongue.

You’re blinking through a pleasure-filled haze when Eddie kisses up your body, sticky lips smearing wet pecks across your stomach as he pushes your shirt further up.

You help each other undress the rest of the way, your limbs shaky and clumsy from your orgasm, and Eddie chuckles but kisses you when you glare at him. Your hand wraps around his cock, but Eddie shakes his head, grasping your wrist as he pushes you back into his bed, “I can’t wait. Next time, yeah? Need you now.”

You wouldn’t dream of saying no.

The stretch of Eddie is so much yet so good. It burns, and it takes your breath away, but it sends chills up your back with the heavenly sensation as he presses into you, balls pressing against your ass as he leans over you and moans against your lips. “F–fuck. Jesus, you feel so fucking good.”

You mewl, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pressing your body into him. “Please, Eddie. Please fuck me, please.”

“Yeah,” He gently coos as he pulls out. He pushes back in, watching as your eyes flutter shut and your lips part in ecstasy, and he hums, “There we go. Taking me so well, baby. Gonna give it all to you— h-holy shit.”

He builds his pace slowly but surely, and you’re so embarrassingly close by the time he’s steadily pumping into you, the loud sound of your sex echoing between your bodies in tandem with your moans.

You moan, nails digging into Eddie’s shoulders as you breathe him in, digging your face into his neck and finding solace in the curtain of his curly strands as he holds you close. Eddie groans when you throb around his aching cock, and he nods, “Give it to me. Cum on my cock, baby. Let me feel it.” He gently encourages you, a warm hand pressing into your back as he kisses your neck. You don’t know if you could get any closer, your chests pressed together, skin sticky with sweat as you grind against one another.

You tip over the edge quicker than you’d want to because you want this to last forever, but Eddie coos and holds you through it all, and you feel like you’re floating through clouds of stardust with Eddie kissing you and thrusting into you.

You’re out of it when Eddie cums. So far gone and high on pleasure that all you can do is moan and nuzzle into his neck to kiss and lick and bite as he empties himself into your pulsing cunt.

You’re both breathing heavily, Eddie collapsing against you but holding himself up just enough so he doesn’t crush you. You’re both silent as you catch your breath, softly running your fingers through Eddie’s hair as the ending credits to Home Alone 2 roll. Against the skin of your neck, you feel Eddie’s lips spread into a sleepy smile, and you can’t help but smile as well as you speak, “What?” You softly ask.

Eddie breathes, shifting so he can nuzzle his face further into your neck, breathing in the scent of you and sex.

“Nothing, just… I’m so fucking glad it snowed.”

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stevebabey · 1 year

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part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")

So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.

Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.

Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.

So, it’s an Eddie thing.

But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.

Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.

Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.

And this thing with Eddie… is not that.

So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.

(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)

And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve notices though. He always notices.

It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.

It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.

Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.

But he can’t fucking tell.

To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.

Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.

Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.

Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.

It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.

So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.

Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.

But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.

A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.

After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.

But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.

It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.

So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.

It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…

Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.

And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.

Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.

Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.

It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.

“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”

He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”

Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.

“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”

Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.

Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.

“Mm?”

“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.

But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.

Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.

“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—

Unless…?

“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!

“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.

“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.

“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.

Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.

Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.

Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.

“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.

“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”

There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.

“Do you want to try again?”

Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.

Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”

‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.

It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.

And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.

“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.

“Can I... have a hickie?”

now with a part three !

#at this point call this the 'can i' series #sweet boys asking each other for things they most certainly would be given <3 #but don't think they will <3 #tried to flip it and make it so even tho eddie is used to touch. the romantic touch? he's got none! that's where he's touch-starved #ALSO EVERYONE'S TAGS WERE SO NICE ON THE LAST ONE #trust i am. not feelin so bad nowadays (me saying this like 4 days later lmao)#but <3 thank u all #gay ppl in my phone.... you know what to do #ruby writes steddie #steve x eddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #touch-starved steve harrington #not rlly anymore hehe #does anyone notice that it ends with yet another 'can i?" question? HEHE #yet again stib gets kisses where ruby doesn't but alas <3 dis is way fluffier this time #nearly went the angst route! and went hmmmm naur #ok ok i'll be quiet now

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bettyfrommars · 10 months

Text

Touch my cheek before you leave me, baby

gigolo!Eddie x virgin!older!Reader

(part 2) (part 3)

18+Only, mature themes, intimacy smut, protected p in v, oral (f receiving), paid sex, pet names, insecurities, reader is wearing a skirt, f & m orgasm. WC: 2.8k

Summary: Reader is a 29 year old virgin introvert in need of a confidence boost. Eddie is hired to make our first time a good one. Eddie catches some feelings that he wasn't expecting. Tummy rolls are briefly mentioned, but not in a disparaging way.

A/N: I had this idea last night about him needing the intimacy as much as reader. And then my head started running with all of his possible other clients and the debauchery they could get into together, but this one is just sweet.

Today is your 29th birthday, and your friends pooled their money together to get you the one thing you desperately wanted: to not be a virgin anymore.

You hadn’t been holding onto your virginity for any particular reason, but there had been several factors at play. First of all, you didn’t like to leave the house much, aside from going to work and the rare meetup with friends, and so the chance of bumping into a promising sexual partner in your hallway was remote. Secondly, you considered yourself to be fairly plain; you weren't one of the babes that men drooled over or tripped over themselves in the street for. The crushes you’d had thus far were never reciprocated. No one had openly pinned over you or held a boombox over their head outside your window, and on the occasion that someone did show interest, they often did not earn your affections.

Your friends decided, and you agreed, that your first time should be with a professional, a guy who could give you the best first time that money could buy.

Enter, Eddie Munson.

Covered in tattoos, he played in a band, and had a reputation around town for being a favorite sexual companion for bored housewives and curious young women alike. He was notorious for being particular about the clients he took on, though, and he didn’t just advertise in the paper—you had to be referred by a friend.

That friend came in the form Robin Buckley, one of the baristas your friend Nellie worked with at the coffee shop.

“He’ll treat her right,” Robin assured her, jotting the number down. “Now, I’ve never needed his services, personally, but I’ve never met an unsatisfied customer. He makes women feel…desired. As they should.”

So, there you were, two glasses of wine later, perched at the edge of the sofa in the lobby of the hotel where you’d been told to meet him. Your friends knew exactly where you were, and there had been paperwork to fill out and sign—you didn’t know gigolos needed official signatures, but all the same, it stripped it down to a business transaction which is basically what it was. There were a few boxes to check off regarding things that turned you on and, conversely, triggers that he should avoid saying or doing during your time together. Did you have a praise kink or a daddy kink? Did you enjoy the use of pet names within intimacy, or was that something he should avoid? Hair pulling, choking, spitting, ass play, all of it was available for a check mark and you felt like you had the potential to compile one seriously huge fuckfest ice cream Sunday.

He knew you were a virgin, and that you might not even know if you’d like some of the things offered, and he promised to take that into consideration to enhance your experience on the whole.

Once he had accepted you as a client, he gave Nellie a safety list of things that would make your experience more enjoyable, and one of them had been not to drink too much, because he didn’t want you to engage in any activity you might regret. Another one was to dress comfortably; there was no need to try and impress him—he was the one who needed to impress you.

And impress you, he did.

He showed up earlier than expected, beard stubble grown in and a little scruffy (because you said you liked it that way), long hair tied back, button down black shirt cuffed at the elbows exposing his tattoos, and black jeans. He also had a bouquet of yellow daffodils clutched in his fist, wrapped in cellophane.

His eyes locked onto you immediately and you watched them light up; a smile breaking the sigh that hitched in his chest. He put the palm of his free hand over his heart as he walked toward you.

“Damn, baby, you are a sight for sore eyes,” he was beaming genuinely, as if he really meant it. “Even better in person.” Your friends had shown him a photo of you so that he would know what you looked like, but you had no idea which photo it was.

You didn't feel like you looked good, though, so you lowered your eyes as you got to your feet on wobbly legs, feeling frumpy and bloated, taking in the sharp reminder that he was being paid to lie to you. You were so nervous, your palms were sweating, and the wine was churning sour in your stomach from the swarm of butterflies in there.

“Hey,” he got close enough to crook his finger under your chin and tilt your head up; his golden flecked, rye bread eyes were serious. “You know how beautiful you are, right?”

All you could do was nod under the kind assessment of his stare, and it made a smile stretch across his lips. “That’s my girl,” he said, introducing himself properly, handing you the daffodils.

He knew that daffodils were your favorite flower, because of the paperwork you filled out, but you never expected to receive any, since they weren’t even in season. There must’ve been a flower shop somewhere that had them, and Eddie had found it. He offered his elbow for you to take.

There were two other people in the elevator, and he pulled you back flush against him, possessively holding you by your hips.

Eddie had a key to the room, and once he pushed the door open, you could tell he’d already been there. The lights were all off, but for a lamp on the opposite side of the bed near the window, and two candles lit on the desk near the TV. What you assumed was his leather jacket was the only thing hanging in the closet. You even spotted Magnum condoms and a fresh bottle of lube on the nightstand.

“How’s the lighting, sweetheart? You want me to turn that lamp off?”

You specified that you wanted the room to be dark, maybe just enough light to see what each other was doing, but you didn’t want him to see you in full brightness. This whole time, you’d been too nervous to say more than one or two words.

“Because, if I’m being honest,” he slid his hand up the side of your neck, palm warm against your skin. “I really want to see you.”

“It’s fine,” you choked out, unable to hold eye contact with him for too long. God, you bet he was already regretting taking you on as a client. What a waste of a boring evening for him; but, at least he was getting paid.

Yet, not even a flicker of his enthusiasm for you left his eyes. He took the daffodils from you and put them on the dresser at the foot of the bed.

When he turned back around, he cupped both hands around the sides of your throat, thumbs at your jawline. “You can trust me baby. If things start moving too fast, you let me know okay?”

You nodded.

“Have you ever been kissed before?”

You bit your lip and then, “a couple times. I had a boyfriend once, but it was long distance and it—”

But then Eddie’s hands slipped up to cup either side of your jaw, fingers slotting at your ears. He nudged your nose with his, then then he kissed your top lip, parting them with his tongue.

You closed your eyes, letting him move your head from side to side, and you couldn’t help the moan that squeaked out of your throat as arousal built between your legs. He smiled against your mouth, nuzzling your nose. “You’re a good kisser, baby.”

Deciding you liked it when he lied, you allowed yourself to become an active participant and slid your hands up his ribs, clutching him, pulling him closer. He kissed you softly a few more times, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs, and your hand found the courage to travel down yonder and see what was below his belt.

What you found made your eyes fly open: not only was it huge, but it was hard.

Eddie chuckled. “See what you do to me?”

The one thing you had done several times was given a few blow jobs here and there, and so you were working his belt open and dropping to your knees at the same time when he stopped you, catching you at your ribs to pull you back up.

“Tonight is all about you, angel,” he assured, urging you back to drop down to take a seat on the bed. You stared up at him while he straddled your legs and unbuttoned his shirt. Once the defined muscles of his chest and scattered tattoos were exposed, he helped you take your shirt off, pulling it over your head, and then he knelt before you.

You braced your hands behind you as he pushed your skirt up your thighs, maintaining eye contact. He caught a glimpse of the lacy underwear you had on and he lifted an approving eyebrow.

You swallowed hard, and then he was sliding the underwear down your legs and off, kissing your knees as he went. He came closer, arms nudging your legs wider, taking a glimpse at the glistening gift you had for him underneath.

Eddie bit his bottom lip, making a hungry groan. “You gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?”

“I think so, um, yes?” your hips twitched forward a bit, begging. Normally, you were too shy to let others go down on you, but you were determined to get all you could out of this night, knowing it was a rare opportunity.

He brushed his lips along your thigh as his hands worked your skirt up higher. You shivered when you felt the warm breath on your swollen lower lips, and then he was watching you as his tongue flicked out in a few kitten licks. After a taste, enjoying the way you writhed, he buried his mouth, moaning, fingers clutching your thighs.

“Grab my hair, baby,” he said. “Tell me how much you like it.”

So, you did just that. His ponytail tie was off, so his hair was around his shoulders, and you slid your fingers in to hold on as he took you in his mouth and rolled your bundle of nerves around with breathtaking accuracy.

He'd only intended to tease you a bit, but once he tasted you, he couldn't stop. He had his tongue buried inside as soon as he was able, feeling the tip of his cock leak at the gift of your arousal.

It wasn’t long before you could feel yourself beginning to unravel, at it was the first time another person had brought you to that peak. The tension mounted in your belly, going taunt, before it sprang loose and a fizzy warmth gushed through your nerve endings. “just…like that,” you told him. “I think you might make me…”

You held his head as you were cumming, leg jerking, head falling back, pining his ears wth your thighs.

He wanted you to kiss him right then and there so that you could taste your release on his mouth, and you obliged, holding his face as you did so, melting into the moment.

For the next minute, you helped each other undress, and it was all happening so organically—it felt so real—that you could almost imagine he was actually your boyfriend, or someone who at the very least, wanted to be.

Both naked now, he held you close as you stood next to the bed, tracing a finger down the side of your face. “Are you ready, baby?”

Truly, you’d been ready your whole adult life, and you were glad you had waited for Eddie, even if this was a paid arrangement and you’d probably never see him again.

His lips tended to your neck and your breasts while he worked the condom on, making the educated decision that you were so soaking wet, he wouldn’t need any extra lubrication.

It was the intimacy that you’d specified wanting to feel; like he was no stranger to you and this moment was something special between two people who felt deeply about each other. So, he came down close and gave you exactly that, putting his forehead to yours. “I’m gonna go slow at first, okay?” He breathed. “You tell me if it’s too much?”

“I will, baby.”

He smiled at the way you returned the use of the pet name, feeling your body open up beneath him as anxiety and doubt morphed into trust.

“Shit,” Eddie broke character for a second as the tip sank in, caught off guard at how tight you were, and he had to pull out again for a second to catch his bearings.

It was the closeness that he loved, too---he craved it. He’d never had a client who wanted it this way, and it was the main reason he’d taken you on. It wasn’t the virgin aspect—surprisingly enough, he’d been a first-time experience for a good handful of his customers. It was the opportunity to pretend he was someone’s boyfriend for the night—a role he hadn’t played in real life for far too long. The chance to pretend that you both cared deeply for each other and no one else in the world existed.

He sank in this time a little further than the tip, and you cursed, but then nodded for him to keep going. “All of it, baby,” you urged, leaning into your role.

Your core was rippling around his length, aching for more.

He went half in and dipped it back and forth a few times, pausing to watch your face.

“I’m worried that I–” he started, but then he realized he was breaking character again, and the vulnerability made him stiffen.

“What are you worried about?” You whimpered as he stretched you out a bit more. Your legs were wide, bottoms of your feet planted on the bed.

He thrust in with a shudder, both of you gasping. “I’m worried I might like this too much.”

Inside, there were party streamers exploding in your soul at the mutual yearning that ebbed between you. As you gave yourself over to him, there was a feeling that he was also giving himself over to you, and it felt so real, that you rode the wave with every fiber of your being, wrapping your legs around him, kissing him deep.

The kissing and the endearing moans were about to make him cum, so he sat back, shaking his head, and hooked your knees over his elbows.

He took you in from under hooded eyes as he made long, slow thrusts inside. “You’re so fucking hot, sweetheart."

You were so deep in it, you actually believed him this time.

“Harder, baby,” you coaxed.

That elicited a coy smile and an eyebrow wiggle from him. “Oh, that's my girl,” he breathed, and then he was fucking you so hard your tits bounced, as did your belly rolls, and you could tell he was getting off at the sight. His thumb found your nub and worked there, making you expose your throat with a whine, enjoying the wet slap of your arousal as your bodies met.

The connection and intensity between the two of you was palpable, and you couldn’t tell if it was manufactured or real, but regardless, you could feel another velvet bomb inside of you about to explode.

His eyebrows were pinched when you found his eyes. “I’m close, I’m close, I think I’m…”

The closest you’d ever been to knowing the sweet pull of a mounting orgasm be gore that night was from those moments alone with your vibrator, and having your hole satiated by Eddie thick cock enhanced it in a way you could’ve only imagined.

“Fuck, me too,” he grabbed your thighs with both hands and buried himself over and over.

It never happened this way. In fact, there had been several times when he had never cum at all: he was always very content to make it about the other person. He fully intended to wait for your second orgasm before he even tried to relieve himself, but this time it felt too good; he wanted it too fucking bad.

Your head snapped to the side as you came, babbling his name, walls clenching around his cock in a way that sent his hips jerking, pounding against you, pretending his seed was filling you up instead of a condom.

Eddie bit his lip as you both chased the high, and then his sweaty forehead was on yours again, long hair grazing your cheeks. He needed to kiss you when he was done, and that was how you liked it, too.

Your friends had only been able to pay for two hours' worth of Eddie’s time, but you ended up staying for much longer than that, at his urging. He coaxed you over to lay all of your body weight on him, and the two of you stayed like that, listening to each other breathe. You called to give them this update, and the confusion in Nellie’s voice was priceless.

When you were both getting dressed, Eddie started buttoning his shirt while you sat down to put your shoes on.

“Hey, so, if you ever want to do this again,” he swallowed, thinking of his words while you waited, head turned to look at him. He couldn’t meet your eyes, he just kept fumbling at a button. “You wouldn’t have to be a client. I mean, I wouldn’t charge you.”

Part 2

#Eddie munson #eddiemunsononeshot #Eddie munson smut #fem reader #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #sweet eddie munson #Spotify #gigolo!Eddie

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