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qprstobin · 9 months

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Stobin Different First Meeting AU where they go to prom together. This was meant to be an au post and turned into a mini fic oops (written completely within a tumblr post so sorry for the poor quality)

(edit: realized I should link the fic I was inspired by for those who don't follow me and so didn't see me reblog it earlier)

Steve doesn't necessarily want to go to prom, right? Like yeah, he'd been imagining it for a while, but now that he was very, very single it just didn't have the same shine that it used to. And he really wasn't ready to start dating yet. However, he didn't want to just, not go to prom, and also knew it would seem really weird (and pretty fucking sad) if he didn't go.

Which leaves him in a conundrum.

He thought for a while that maybe he would go with one of the junior cheerleaders. While he didn't have any close friends anymore, he was still friendly with plenty of people. There were girls that wouldn't be going to prom unless they had a senior boyfriend - some he had even gone on dates with in the past who wouldn't think a single prom date meant that he wanted a new girlfriend.

However, he is pretty sure most of those girls would have... other expectations for the night. And honestly? He isn't quite sure that he was ready to get back on that horse either.

... Not that he thought women were horses.

He's pretty sure men are normally the ones called horses in riding metaphors.

Anyway.

That left him stuck. He couldn't just not go to prom, but also didn't want to wind up trapped on an actual date with someone. So who could he ask?

His solution ended up coming from an odd place.

Robin Buckley was... quite honestly, kind of a weirdo.

She was cute, in an alternative sort of way. She never took any of his shit (he wasn't completely sure she even liked him) but also reluctantly laughed at the snarky shit he said under his breath during their Film History class. And not in the fake giggly way girls did when they were flirting, but didn't actually care about what he was saying, just the way he said it. She actually seemed to think he was funny. Even if that revelation seemed to piss her off.

The only reason he was even in Film History that semester - and therefore, knew who she was - was for the easy A. He got to watch movies in class, and watch movies for homework. He was willing to plow through a couple of shitty essays in exchange for a class that he didn't feel like a complete idiot in.

(Well, he was pretty sure Robin thought he was an idiot about movies, but just because he had trouble remembering the names and shit of characters, didn't mean he couldn't analyze the themes, fuck you very much, Buckley.)

They had gotten assigned a project together early on, and it hadn't been completely terrible. She had quickly taken over doing most of the writing portions, but hadn't thought all of his ideas were terrible. By the end of the project he thought they were even sort of having fun together.

He'd always been one to try his luck, take a little more than he was given. So, after that assignment was over, he started sitting next to her in class, not wanting that easy, if sharp, camaraderie to end. Robin rolled her eyes at him and asked him what he thought he was doing the first time he did it, but she never sent him away.

They ended up chatting more and more during down times, passing notes to each other and sharing sly comments under their breaths during the movies. Steve often had trouble paying attention at school, his mind easily wandering away, and it was almost as bad during most movies, but Robin helped keep him on track.

The class turned into one that was done for the easy grade, a last ditch effort to improve his already hopeless GPA, and became one he actually enjoyed.

The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of going to prom with Robin. It made the night seem a little less unbearable.

He thought about making a big deal out of asking her, because he knows that's what girls (and even Nancy) had enjoyed for past dances. He quickly scrapped that idea, however, because not only did he not want to put pressure on her like that, but also she seemed to hate public spectacles like that.

Or at least when aimed at her, they both enjoyed watching drama unfold in the halls a bit too much to say she hated it completely.

So Steve waits until the end of the day, their film class being their last, to pull her into an empty classroom. She follows him without question in a show of trust he didn't realize she had in him. The notion warms him, and for some reason makes it more difficult to get the question out.

"Why do I feel like you're about to try to sell me drugs or something?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He squints at her in offense.

"Why is that your first assumption?!"

"I don't know! Why else are you pulling me out of the hallway all secretive like, making sure no one followed us, into an abandoned classroom," she asks, throwing her arms into the air.

"The classroom isn't abandoned, it's the end of the day! Also, who does drug deals on campus, that's just stupid?" He asks rhetorically, before waving one hand through the air, as if trying to erase the current thread of conversation. "That doesn't matter, you're distracting me."

"Well then, get on with it! Some of us have practice we need to get to."

"It's like talking to the kids," he mutters to himself, "Whatever. I wanted to ask - will you go to prom with me?"

That stops Robin up short. There's panic in her eyes now, though Steve isn't sure what exactly put it there. Was his reputation that bad that even band geeks are terrified of getting asked out by him?

"You want to go on a date? With me?" she asks slowly, disbelief coloring her voice, though it doesn't hide her unease.

"No, I want to go to prom with you," he scoffs, "Not go on a date with you."

"That is a date, dingus! The person you go to prom with is literally called your date!"

"Okay, sure, maybe, but I don't actually want to date you," he said, rolling his eyes at her.

Like, okay, he understood his reputation for being... what did she call him last week? A 'huge effing rake'? But that didn't mean that he was trying to date any girl that looked in his direction. A lot of girls looked in his direction. That was too many women, even for him.

Robin relaxes a little at that.

"Then why are you asking me to prom instead of someone you actually want to date?"

"Because!" he says, resisting the urge to flail his hands back at her. "I don't want to date anyone right now. Most people I ask are going to expect all these things from me - they're going to want dinner, and at the very least a kiss at the end of the night if not more, or another date the very next day. Because Steve Harrington is supposed to want those things!" He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair to calm himself. "But right now? I really don't."

"Well then, what does Steve the Hair Harrington actually want?" She had relaxed fully at this point, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

"I want to go to prom with someone I consider a friend, someone who makes me laugh," he says after a moment of silence. "I want to dance badly to really corny pop music and drink just enough spiked punch that I don't remember how much I hate wearing any sort of tie. Then I want to go get milkshakes or go see a really trashy midnight horror flick, just because I'm having so much fun I don't want the night to end."

That small smile has grown into a reluctant grin on Robin's face. It makes her eyes shine and her freckles pop. Steve thought that if he was in a better place, if they had met at a different time, he could have fallen in love with her.

But they had met now instead, in some shitty public school elective course, and she was the closest thing he had to a friend that wasn't a snotty middle schooler.

"That sounds... like a lot of fun, actually," she says, mischief sparking on her face. "Who would've known the hidden depths hidden behind all that hair."

"Hey!" he protests half-heartedly, unable to keep a grin of his own off his face. "So what do you say? Wanna go to prom with me?"

"I guess," she sighs, acting like it was such a trial to go to prom with him. Him! But her next words make up for it. "Since we're friends, and all. However, I still expect you to buy me dinner, though you can keep the kiss goodnight to yourself."

Steve can't help the giddy laugh from spilling out of him. For the first time in weeks, he is actually looking forward to prom.

#stobin #platonic stobin #st fic rec #mini fic #steve #robin #my writing #writing tag #this was got out of hand #all of the stuff about prom is pulled loosely from my own experiences with prom #both from it being seniors only (juniors at my school had their own dance) to what people did after prom #(i went to two proms and one group went and saw a bad horror movie after prom and i went to a diner with the other group)#also this is barely editted so there is some weird tense switches in here im sorry!#this wasnt meant to be an actual fic i had just meant to throw out the idea of steve asking robin to his prom #and steves voice got away from me quick #this was inspired by the fic i reblogged earlier today about steve taking robin to her prom

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ambrossart · 6 months

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Post Prom - "Pillow Talk"

☆ REWRITTEN WITH ADDITIONAL CONTENT

summary: spending the night at eddie’s house sounded like a good idea… until you actually had to sleep.

pairing: eddie munson x dwm!reader word count: 4,968 warnings: new relationship, very slightly NSFW, mostly just a lot of teasing, some suggestive dialogue, reader has a slight hand fetish, eddie is happy to indulge her, they get a little carried away, but no sex, because they don't have condoms

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When Eddie came inside and returned to his bedroom, he was instantly struck speechless.

He had fantasized about this exact moment countless times, in dreams so vivid they made reality feel like an unending, unbearable nightmare, but that did little to prepare him for the rush of emotions he felt when he saw you standing across the room in his Megadeth shirt.

A very good choice, Eddie thought, gratified, but honestly, between Slayer and Megadeth, there was no wrong answer. You could have chosen either shirt, and it would have fit just as perfectly as the other… almost like they were meant for you, like when Eddie found those shirts hiding inside a cardboard box in Reefer Rick’s garage last summer, when he tried to haggle for a good price and Rick said he could just take ‘em, when Eddie drove home, grinning, feeling like he’d just won the lottery, part of him always knew you’d be wearing one of those shirts someday.

And this sweet, serendipitous feeling caught Eddie a little off guard… but not as much as he thought it would. Frankly, he expected to be dumbstruck by the sight of you. He expected to step back, shake his head, and think, Holy shit, this is really happening, isn’t it? But when he walked through that door, all he felt was this wonderful sense of wholeness.

After years and years of waiting, you two were finally exactly where you were supposed to be.

Eddie leaned against the doorframe and observed you for a minute, unwilling to disturb you, afraid that if he spoke or moved in the slightest, this perfect moment would ripple away like a mirage. You were standing with your back to him, preoccupied with all the clutter on his desk. You weren’t snooping, though; no, you were just learning more about him, browsing through all of his junk like they were tiny sculptures in a fine art exhibit, handling each object so carefully, like you were scared you might break it.

Watching you do this, Eddie couldn’t help but smile.

That’s when you glanced over your shoulder and caught him staring at you with gentle, adoring eyes. Your face flushed and your heart started beating a little faster. It was embarrassing to be standing in front of Eddie while wearing his clothes.

Even more embarrassing was how long it took you to put them on.

You spent the first three minutes glaring at them from across the room, thinking (and you hated yourself for thinking this),

What if they don’t fit?

It was such a silly thought. You even laughed when it popped into your head. You weren’t that ugly, miserable twelve-year-old girl anymore, yet here you were, slipping back into those same bad habits: obsessing over whether or not certain clothes would fit you, changing with your back to the mirror because you were too disgusted to look at yourself.

It took you two whole minutes to convince yourself to turn around, and when you finally did, you were overwhelmed by this sudden surge of… joy? Relief? Those didn’t seem like strong enough words to describe it, but whatever that emotion was, it made you tear up as soon as you saw your reflection in the mirror. Then you spent another five minutes just looking at yourself with the goofiest, giddiest smile, mesmerized by how perfectly Eddie’s clothes fit you, how naturally they fit you. You felt stupid for even doubting it.

Of course, to be standing in front of Eddie now, to have him staring at you so deeply… well, that made you feel self-conscious in a completely different way.

You had to break his gaze and turn away for a second to regain your composure. As you did, you noticed a plastic skull sitting on top of Eddie’s desk, half covered by an old denim jacket, and your eyes widened with recognition. You picked it up and spun around to face him.

“You know, sir,” you said while smugly showing off your latest find, “there’s a production of Hamlet that’s been missing this for about three months now.”

“Yeah…” Eddie replied guiltily, holding in a laugh. “But it’s not technically stealing. Mr. Carlson and I have an agreement, you see. He agrees to let me raid his prop room for my campaigns, and I agree to not crash his dress rehearsals.” He punctuated this with a self-amused grin, like he was so terribly clever.

Rolling your eyes, you said, “Just admit you wanna be in theater, already.”

He returned your teasing smile with one of his own. “Pretty sure I just like bothering the girl in theater.”

Your face fell and warm blood flooded your cheeks. As the color deepened, you shyly tucked your chin into your chest and looked away. To Eddie, this was a sweet and irresistibly feminine gesture, its charm highlighted by your stubborn denial of its existence. You raised your chin proudly, as if nothing had happened, and placed the skull back on the desk.

While your back was to him, Eddie said, “Hey, how come you never try out for anything?”

The question made you pause, but only for a second. “Because I prefer to stay in the background and mock everyone.”

“Oh…” he said, “so it has nothing to do with your fear of public speaking?”

“Nope,” you said, and turned around. Eddie was looking at you with a skeptical frown, his dark eyes probing but patient. Frustratingly patient. He already knew the truth, but he wasn’t going to force you to admit it when you clearly weren’t ready. “I suppose I should be more like you, huh? Turn a simple English reading into a dramatic stage performance?”

“Well, no one else was committed. I had to do something.”

“Yeah, but did you really have to walk on top of the desks?”

“Uhh, yes,” Eddie said, and you both laughed. “Besides, whose desk did I always end up on?”

The answer caught you both by surprise:

“Mine,” you whispered, and then you both went quiet for a minute, reflecting on all those little moments that now seemed much more meaningful than they initially appeared.

“You know what’s weird?” Eddie said. “I don’t even think I knew what I was doing at the time. In fact, I know I didn’t. Believe me, it’s not like I was trying to seek you out or anything. I wanted nothing to do with you, but my body just sorta moved on its own… like muscle memory or something. I’d look down and there you were, staring back at me.” He flashed a bittersweet smile that made your heart ache. “Then, of course, you’d shove me really hard and I’d fall off the desk and almost break my neck.”

You smirked. “Well, your foot was on my notebook.”

“Mmm, I think you just wanted to touch me.”

“No, I think I wanted you off my desk,” you said, but there was no denying a small part of you had enjoyed it. Back then, you relished even the briefest touch. They were so rare, practically nonexistent. “I wasn’t really aware of it either, to be honest. I mean, I think there might’ve been a couple times where I thought maybe… but, I dunno, I guess I just didn’t wanna get my hopes up.”

Eddie frowned. “Yeah, well… I guess we were both pretty oblivious.”

“You especially,” you said, simpering at him, “you know, considering I made it annoyingly obvious that I was obsessed with you back in middle school. Seriously, how did you not figure it out? Everyone knew except you… well, you and Gareth, but that kid lives on another planet. He never knows what’s going on.”

Eddie chuckled bashfully. “Y’know, when I think back on it now, it was really obvious, but I swear I had no idea at the time. I definitely should’ve known, though. I mean, you sat outside the school every day, waiting for a chance to talk to me.”

“And some days I had to wait a really long time. In the rain and the snow. I was freezing my ass off.”

That brought a small smile to Eddie’s face. “Well, you don’t have to wait anymore.”

“Yeah,” you replied softly, and let that sink in for a moment.

You didn’t have to wait anymore. After six long years, your suffering was finally over. Thank goodness.

“Are you ready for bed now?” Eddie asked.

“Yes,” you answered, shivering a little.

While he closed the door and walked to the other side of the room, you climbed onto the bed and started crawling toward the middle. As soon as your palms touched down and your right knee sank into the mattress, you froze, looked up at the pillows, and thought with a sudden flush of excitement, Oh my god, we’re gonna be sharing the same bed. How the hell am I supposed to sleep tonight?

Nervously, you dragged your limbs a little further, rolled over to a sitting position, and scooted your hips back a bit more. When you looked up, Eddie was rubbing his face and staring at the bed with a gravely conflicted expression.

“What?” you said.

“Nothing,” he answered. “I’m just not sure how to go about this.”

“What do you mean?” you said. “Just do what you always do.”

“… yeah, I don’t think I should…”

“Why?” you asked, grimacing. “Do you sleep nude or something?”

“No, it’s just…” He scratched under his chin pensively. “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

Eddie gave you a pleading look, like you were supposed to read his mind and instantly know what great conundrum was plaguing him. Unfortunately, you weren’t that far into your relationship yet, so you were lost in the dark.

“I’ll be fine,” you insisted. “Just sleep how you normally do.”

“Okay…” Eddie said with a cautionary tone. Then he crossed his arms in front of him and grabbed the bottom of his shirt with both hands.

Your entire upper body flinched with surprise. Eddie was taking off his shirt right in front of you. Were you supposed to act all coy and innocent? Avert your eyes? Blush and cover your face? Look up awkwardly at the ceiling and whistle “Yankee Doodle” until the coast was clear? You’d never seen Eddie shirtless before. Naturally, you were a little curious. But was that okay? Was it ladylike to look? To actually want to look? Mrs. Cunningham would have said, Absolutely not, young lady. Now you go sit in the corner and pray those sinful thoughts away, but screw that! You weren’t a kid. This wasn’t sex ed (which Mrs. Cunningham did not let her daughter attend because it went against her religious values, and then she banished you from the house for like three days because she thought you were “unclean” and you would tell Chrissy everything… even though you already had, literally as soon as you got out of class). Why should you feel embarrassed? If you wanted to watch Eddie take off his shirt, you were going to without feeling any shame.

So you did watch, respectfully.

You watched him bunch up the fabric until his entire abdomen was exposed. Admittedly, you blushed a tiny bit when you noticed the faint line of hair that trailed down his belly button and disappeared under the waistband of his jeans. You weren’t searching for it; it was just there. But you kept your cool. You stayed calm. Even while your stomach fluttered and flopped, even while Eddie’s muscles flexed gorgeously as he rolled the shirt over his shoulders and pulled it over his neck, his head, while he dragged it off his arms and let it fall to the floor, you stayed perfectly calm. Yeah, up until that point, you had been doing very well.

But then, god dammit, you saw the tattoos on his chest and devolved into a horny monster of a girl.

God, I wish we had condoms right now.

“Yeah, me too,” Eddie said, cracking a smirk.

That’s when it hit you:

“Oh my god!” You gasped and clapped your hands over your mouth. “Did I just say that out loud?”

“Yeah, you did,” Eddie replied, unblushing, now standing before you with a full-on grin. “And thank you, by the way. Glad to know I’m not the only one struggling here.”

Yeah, you were struggling, all right. Struggling to hide your embarrassment. Succumbing to it, you drew in both your legs, grabbed a fistful of Eddie’s blanket, and buried your blushing face against it.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled, “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Eddie asked, bemused. “If I saw you topless, I’m pretty sure my jaw would be on the floor right now.”

You seriously doubted that. “Eh, they’re not that impressive,” you said, and Eddie’s brow wrinkled with utter bewilderment.

“Uhh, I humbly disagree… and to avoid sounding like a total creep, I’m gonna leave it at that.”

That made your face flare up again. Emboldened by his words, you poked your head out and said with a kittenish look, “So you’ve been checking me out, huh?”

“Oh, constantly,” Eddie replied with a playful, unabashed smile, setting your warm cheeks ablaze.

This time, however, you didn’t hide your face or look away. You wanted to, but Eddie’s deep brown eyes held you captive. Like two beautiful black holes, they sucked you right in and you got lost in them, hypnotized, while he slowly undid his belt, unzipped his jeans, pushed them down, and kicked them away. A flicker of desire twitched through him. Your eyes fell and your breath hitched in your throat.

With a long, tortured sigh, Eddie said, “We really didn’t think this through, did we?”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head, and Eddie’s face scrunched up with indecision.

“Do you want me to just take you home?” he asked. “I don’t want you to feel weird and not be able to sleep.”

“I’ll be able to sleep,” you said. “Yeah, I’m one of those people who can sleep anywhere, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

That was actually a lie, but…

“Look, I really don’t want you to take me home,” you said, wincing as you heard the fragility in your voice. God, you felt so pathetic. You hugged your knees to your chest and laid your forehead on top of them. “I swear I’m not gonna be one of those annoying, clingy girlfriends or anything. It’s just… I’ve had to go years without you, Eddie, and right now the thought of leaving you just cripples me. I don’t… yeah, I don’t really how to explain it.”

Reluctantly, you lifted your head and saw Eddie staring at you with a soft, empathetic smile

“You don’t have to explain,” he said. “I get it.”

He flipped the wall switch and the bedroom fell into darkness, the covered windows glowing with a soft, silver light. Your heart was pounding with anticipation as you watched Eddie cross the room and climb into bed. He came toward you slowly, wrapped his hands around your ankles, and tugged on them gently, dragging your feet across the mattress, extending your bent legs one by one.

“You can be clingy if you want,” he said. “I don’t mind.”

Eddie moved closer, planted his palms on either side of your hips, and hovered over you. Speechless, you raised your eyes to meet his. As soon as you did, he leaned down, tilted his head, and captured your lips in a slow, sensual kiss that made your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind. You closed your eyes and surrendered to him. Pleasure prickled up your spine. Goosebumps broke feverishly across your skin. Timidly, you lifted your hand to his bare chest and began tracing your fingers over his tattoos. Eddie shuddered at your touch, pulled away, and let out a low groan.

“What’s wrong?” you asked breathlessly. “Are my hands cold?”

“No,” Eddie answered, “I just, uhh…” He laughed under his breath. “I dunno how I’m gonna be able to sleep tonight.”

“Me either,” you confessed quietly. “This was a really bad idea.”

“Oh, it was a terrible idea.” He placed another kiss on your lips and drew back with a smile. “Now move over, crazy, you’re in my spot.”

You scooted over and Eddie settled into the space beside you, sitting upright in bed with the blanket draped loosely around his naked waist. He looked so beautiful like that, ethereal almost, his silhouette softly illuminated by moonlight. Meanwhile, you sat with the blanket pulled all the way up to your chin. Underneath it, your body felt hot and tense and your heart was hammering wantonly in your chest. It was almost four o’clock in the morning, yet you were wide awake. How could you be expected to sleep with Eddie lying half-naked next to you?

Yeah, this is gonna be a huge problem, you thought, nervous and a little excited.

(Because wasn’t this a wonderful problem to have?)

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and released it in a noiseless sigh. Then, just to be safe, you moved a bit closer to the edge of the mattress.

That didn’t help much, either.

Funny, you thought anxiously, somehow the bed seemed much smaller now than it did before. Not uncomfortably smaller, just noticeably smaller. Eddie was inches away from you, close enough to feel his heat mingling with yours, close enough to feel the vibrations of every little move he made, close enough to drive you absolutely fucking crazy. His last kiss still lingered on your lips, sweet and intoxicating. You wanted to be closer to him. You wanted to feel his lips on yours again. Feel his soft, smooth skin underneath your fingertips. Feel his strong hands on your hips, gripping you, guiding you. Feel deep brown eyes piercing into yours while you…

Oh boy, you thought, shuddering, I’m having a lot of thoughts tonight, each more dangerous than the last.

Eddie, unaware of your inner turmoil, switched on the lamp and started taking off his rings one by one: pinching the band between his fingers, gliding it over each of his knuckles, first one, then the other, pulling it off his fingertip and dropping it onto the nightstand beside him. One. Two. Three. Each ring clattered as it landed on the table. The soft rattling sound made you groan.

Dammit, Eddie…

Did he have to take them off so slowly? So teasingly? If you didn’t know better, you would have thought he was doing this on purpose. Couldn’t he sense the torment he was causing? You were teetering on the edge right now, both metaphorically and literally. You couldn’t move any further away from him. It was physically impossible… unless, of course, you wanted to end up on the floor. If he didn’t yank off that last ring quickly, you were gonna—

“What?” Eddie said, staring at you. “You okay?”

His deep voice jolted you from your libidinous thoughts. You looked up at him, blinking, your cheeks tinged with embarrassment. “Huh…? Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You sure?” Eddie asked. He sounded concerned but also, vaguely, amused. The final ring—a fanged skull—still clung loosely to his left ring finger. Eddie had started to remove it, but stopped when he caught you looking at him. Now you could practically hear it taunting you as Eddie said, “You seem a little… agitated right now.”

Agitated, huh?

Sure, Eddie, let’s go with agitated.

“I’m just tired,” you said. Then, in an obvious and pathetic act of bad theater, you covered your mouth with your hand and pretended to yawn.

Eddie’s face wrinkled with teasing suspicion. “Well, you should go to sleep,” he said, and started gently tugging on his ring again. This time you were certain he was doing it on purpose. Helplessly, you followed it anyway. Your mouth hung open as you watched the fanged skull move slowly up his finger, past his first knuckle, past his second knuckle… then slide all the way back down. A frustrated huff blew through your lips. As soon as it did, Eddie’s expression brightened with surprised fascination.

“Wait,” he said, smirking, “do you have a hand fetish or something?”

His accusation startled you. “What?” you said. “I don’t have a hand fetish.” That sounded creepy and perverted, albeit true. “It’s just your hands… and those rings.” Those damn rings. “You’ve been playing with them all night, Eddie. Do you even realize you’ve been doing that?”

“Yeah,” he answered bashfully, “it’s kind of a nervous habit of mine.”

“It’s fucking torture is what it is.”

Your eyes widened. Eddie’s widened, too. Then they drifted back to the skull ring on his hand and settled there for a moment, as if enchanted by some marvelous discovery. Eddie had just found himself some buried treasure and you led him straight to it. You had drawn up a map, marked the X, handed it over, and said, Here ya go, Eddie. Here’s some lovely ammunition to use against me for the rest of our relationship. Did you really expect him not to pull the trigger?

“Interesting…” Eddie said to himself, his voice dropping into that pondering yet provocative tone that meant nothing but trouble for you.

“Oh, don’t do that…”

“What?”

“Don’t say ‘interesting.’ It’s not interesting, it’s just…”

Embarrassing, extremely embarrassing.

Another loud huff escaped you. You turned away from Eddie, lay down, and threw the blanket over your shoulders.

“It is interesting, though,” Eddie went on, chuckling to himself. “In fact, it’s very interesting.”

There was a soft click behind you and suddenly the room collapsed into darkness again. Eddie had turned off the lamp and was now coming over to you. You knew because you could feel the bed shifting underneath his weight, closer, closer, and the closer he got, the deeper the mattress sank behind you. Eddie’s gravity was pulling you backward, drawing you into him. You gasped as you felt your back press up against his bare chest, and gasped again when you felt his right arm slip under the covers and settle snuggly around your waist. Instantly, your face flushed and your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t try to pull away from him… as if you even could. You lay quiet, captive, waiting.

Eddie lay behind you with his elbow resting on your pillow, leaning against it as he said, “I’m learning a lot of new things about you tonight. I’m learning some things about myself, too.”

A curious smile dragged up the side of your face. “Really? Like what?”

“Like… for instance…” He leaned down and whispered throatily against your ear, “I really like the sound of you begging.”

All the blood rushed to your face. You buried it into the pillow and said, “Okay, now you’re just being mean…”

Eddie laughed at that. The sound rumbled deep in his chest and sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach.

“I’m not, I’m not,” he said. “Listen, just hear me out, okay? I have a point, I promise. Now, this is kinda embarrassing to admit, but… honestly, I always kinda thought you would dominate me.”

“What?” you blurted out, beside yourself with shock. “You thought I would dominate you?”

“Well, kinda, yeah.” Eddie smiled in abashment. “Shit, how could I not? I mean… I mean… Look, it’s like this, okay: for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always had this really strong, intimidating presence. Naturally, I assumed that would carry over into the bedroom.”

His words made you blush furiously, but they also filled you with a strange sense of confidence. Encouraged by them, you sat up on your elbow, looked over your shoulder, and raised your eyebrows playfully. “So, what, Munson? You want me to climb on top of you, pin you down, and have my way with you?”

Eddie’s brown eyes bulged in the darkness, bigger than you had ever seen. “Do you wanna do that?”

You stared at him for a second, speechless. “Honestly…? I don’t know.”

It was hard to imagine yourself doing something like that.

And yet…

Your confidence fizzled again. Frowning, you sank down and laid your head back on the pillow.

Eddie smiled down at you, impressed by your unexpected boldness, short-lived as it was. “Well, that’s what I thought you’d be like, anyway.” He nuzzled his face into the side of your neck, his warm breath tickling you as he spoke. “But… not gonna lie… seeing you reduced to a quivering, whimpering mess, well… yeah, I kinda like that, too. I like it a lot, actually.”

He swept your hair out of the way and began planting light kisses along your skin. The feeling of his lips made you sigh.

“We should stop talking about this.”

“You’re right, we should,” Eddie said, but his kisses only got hotter and hungrier. Meanwhile, his right hand had slid down from your waist and started caressing your inner thigh, nails dragging, fingers curling, uncurling, occasionally stopping to tease the bottom hem of his boxers. “… except now you’ve got me a little curious.”

“Oh yeah?” Your voice was high-pitched and breathy, delirious with pleasure. “About what?”

“About this little hand fetish of yours…” But honestly, you were hardly listening to him. You were more focused on the warmth of his hand and the deliciously rough texture of his skin. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply. As you did, you felt Eddie’s lips graze the outer edge of your ear. His voice sent a delightful tingle down your spine. “… so, tell me, in all these little fantasies of yours… what exactly am I doing with my hands?”

His question coaxed a moan out of you. You placed your hand on top of his, intending to push it away, but as soon as you felt his hard knuckles underneath your fingers, you became possessed by savage, carnal desire. Your hand started moving on its own, rubbing across Eddie’s skin, scratching it lightly, sliding down and trapping itself in the soft webbing of his fingers. Pleasure rippled through you. All at once, images exploded through your mind like flashes of a camera. Turning around and smashing your lips against Eddie’s. Grabbing his face. Pulling his hair. Pushing him down on the bed and straddling his hips. Dragging your nails down his bare chest.

That knocked some sense back into you. “Eddie,” you said weakly, “may I remind you of the situation we’re in?”

Eddie chuckled against you, unbothered. “Yeah, see, I’ve thought about that and…” He pressed a kiss to your ear, drew back, and whispered, “We don’t need condoms for this.”

You bit down hard on your lip, holding in a moan as temptation tore through you. “Yeah, but do you really trust yourself to stop?”

Silence for a minute.

Eddie knocked his head against yours and grunted in defeat. “No,” he said. “No, I don’t.”

You frowned, equally disappointed. “Yeah, I don’t either, so…”

His hand went limp, fell, and died on your thigh.

“Aw shit,” Eddie hissed through his teeth. Guilt-stricken, he pulled away from you, rolled onto his back, and ran his hands over his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I swear, I normally have way more self-control than this, it’s just… shit, it’s just you, y’know? You’re here, you’re in my bed, and you look really good in my Megadeth shirt. Plus I’ve got like, y’know, four years of pent-up sexual frustration that’s just dying to burst outta me, so…”

You turned over, sat up on your elbow, and smiled at him. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

Staring at each other, you both shared a deep, content sigh.

“C’mere,” Eddie said, beckoning you with his hand. You moved closer and laid your head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you tighter against him, placing a soft, sweet kiss on your forehead.

You lay quiet for a few minutes, feeling his chest rise and fall, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat.

“What are you thinking about right now?” you asked dozily.

“Honestly…?” Eddie asked, his voice a low mumble. “I’m wondering how long it’ll take me to drive to the gas station and back.”

Laughter bubbled up from your throat. You buried your face against his chest and snickered.

“Well, shit,” you said afterward, “I’d probably go with you… and then we’d end up having sex in the parking lot.”

Eddie’s face broke into a grin. “Really?” he said humorously. “Well, in that case…”

He moved like he was trying to sit up. Giggling, you put your hand on his chest and pushed him back down.

“Easy there, buddy.”

“I’m just kidding,” he said, smiling. “I’d never dream of taking your virginity in a parking lot… well, I would dream of it, have dreamt of it, but I’d never actually do it.”

You laughed quietly and laid your head on his chest again. Humming softly, Eddie started tracing his thumb across your back slowly, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. With each stroke, your eyes got heavier and heavier, until…

“Hey,” Eddie began suddenly, with dull, drowsy panic in his voice “you’re not going anywhere, right? You’re gonna still be here when I wake up?”

You sat up and looked at him, confused.

“Sorry, I know this sounds really weird, but…” He frowned deeply, struggling to make sense of his tired, jumbled thoughts. “It’s just, I finally got you back in my life. If you left now, I don’t think I’d be able to handle it.”

Your heart dropped at those words. You picked it back up, leaned down, and gently pressed your lips to his.

“I’ll be here,” you said. “I promise.”

SERIES MASTERPOST

FANFICTION MASTERLIST

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