the other day @anghraine got me thinking about having valid but relatively obscure/esoteric reasons to nope out of a thing and thereafter possibly maintaining a somewhat irrational longterm loathing for said thing based on That Beyond Which You Cannot Get. it also happened that i was reading something not particularly good but not terrible enough to quit -- kind of like watching reruns of a show you don’t like all that much but it requires very little energy to ingest and it passes the time well enough. so i kept reading. i kept reading, that is, until i got to a line of dialogue in which character B tells character A that she should soak the stain on her silk dress in hot water. and it was at this point that my brain pulled the emergency brake and yelled, “HOT WATER?! ARE YOU MAD?! YOU DON’T SOAK SILK AND YOU NEVER PUT IT IN HOT WATER!” it was like a mental wall slammed down out of nowhere. i really wasn’t aware i had such passionate feelings about the proper laundering of silk but this is the thing that broke me.
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Steve’s known to be very good at charming girls.
He’s used to making them blush and giggle at his sweet words. Used to them giving him the bedroom eyes as their delicate hands slowly moved up his arm, squeezing the muscle there while begging for him to take them to his room and fuck them.
He never left them unsatisfied.
So, it wasn’t any different when he used the same technique on Eddie.
They had been sitting on his couch, a movie playing in the background when Steve had finally made the first move after months of them tiptoeing around each other and their feelings.
He’d made the older boy laugh at his dumb jokes before he had scooted closer, slowly moving his arm to rest on the back of the couch, very close to the Eddie’s shoulder and then… he had leaned in.
And Eddie had responded so well.
He kissed Steve back with the same type of desperation, arms finding their way around Steve’s waist and Steve felt like he was buzzing with excitement as he deepened the kiss, softly caressing the back of Eddie’s neck.
”Let’s go upstairs,” He had said, voice deep and low and it had made Eddie moan.
When they got to his room, Steve was all but ready to push Eddie to his bed and make him stay there looking all pretty while Steve did all the work.
But instead, he felt Eddie pushing him towards the bed and soon he was the one laying there, big brown eyes looking up as Eddie came to lay between his spread legs with a wide grin. He grinded down on him, making their clothed dicks brush against each other and Steve let out a soft moan out of surprise.
It was a total switch up from the nervous Eddie from earlier and it had made Steve feel many, many things as older boy started to kiss his neck.
Steve had to bite back a moan when he had licked his pulse, but Eddie wasn’t having any of that, apparently.
”C’mon, let me hear the real you, sweetheart.”
Steve hadn’t known what he had meant by that. Wasn’t this the real him?
When he has had sex before, he’d always focus on his partner and their pleasure over his as he’d try to make them as loud as possible when they cum. That’s what he does and what he loves.
But once Eddie was cock deep inside Steve’s tight heat, holding onto him and praising him of being such a good boy and the most gorgeous creature he’s ever laid his eyes on, Steve couldn’t help the way he whined.
Couldn’t help how he moaned with every thrust his lover was giving him. How he begged for more as he held onto Eddie’s shoulders and cried when Eddie answered to his pleas and fucked him harder.
How he came untouched for the very first time.
After that, when they were laying in his bed, both sweaty and panting from the sex, Steve realized he’d been so so wrong about himself and the sex he loved.
It made him a little irritated how much he had held back his own pleasure.
So, it hadn’t taken long until he was already up for a second round, riding Eddie with earnestness as he took control of the pace this time, listening to his own body and the things it liked. The things it needed.
Which was the way Eddie’s dick felt inside him. How full it made him feel and how it always hit that spot inside him that made his whole body tingle.
Yeah.
Steve was never coming back from this.
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sometimes i read something so good that i feel a despairing sort of uselessness because how could i have thought ? and sometimes i read something so good that i feel like the top of my head’s come off, in an explosion no less astonishing for being invisible, when all the light and air gets in, and everything’s rinsed by clarity and scoured by motion, and my stomach swoops as if i’m on a rollercoaster’s descent: breathless and frightened but in a way that’s eager for more, because once again, for just a little while, it seems possible that just maybe i could
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