Tumgik
#sorry for the bony elbows
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Franz Kafka, The Diaries of Franz Kafka
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Allie Ray, Holler
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Richard Siken, Crush
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asthmasam · 2 years
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inoreuct · 3 months
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thinking about zoro being the crew's main protector.
it’s quite literally his role amongst the straw hats; luffy's captain, usopp's their sniper, sanji cooks, nami navigates, chopper's their doctor, franky's their shipwright, jinbei's their helmsman and brook's their musician but zoro? zoro's their swordsman. zoro’s their guardian. his job is to be the first line of defense and protect everybody else so they can focus on doing their own thing and sure, none of them really need protecting— but they don't have to worry about defending themselves, either, because whoever they can't or don't want to handle zoro will finish up (if he hasn't gotten to them first).
like imagine a bunch of idiots cornering one of the crew (bad idea.) and picking nami because she's the woman without a devil fruit, as opposed to robin (BAD idea.). they've got her surrounded in the dead end of an alleyway and have somehow neutralised her clima-tact and she’s not worried, she’s not.
but against twelve men and with her weapon essentially now just a regular staff, she might be panicking. just a little. she’s gotten a couple of them good enough that they’re down for the count before a chain wrapped around her ankle trips her. it pulls at enough memories, faded but never forgotten, to bring up a sickening wave of fear and anger— and nami decides that she’s had enough of the bullshit.
she takes a deep breath and screams. “ZORO!”
the silence afterwards is deafening. the wind shifts, gently lifting the pieces of hair stuck to her sweaty face, and the men laugh uneasily. one of them yanks hard on the chain and she spits at him, heels scrabbling against the dusty ground even as he starts reeling her in like a fish on a hook. “he can’t hear you, little missy,” he snickers, grin widening the longer nobody shows up.
it’s still on his face when his head slides right off his neck.
blood sprays right before his body crumples like a doll. it takes a second for the others to realise and then the screaming starts— none of them get any farther than three steps before zoro’s cutting them down, swift swings of his sword and almost surgically precise slices rendering them incapacitated if not plain dead.
“sorry i’m late, witch.” the swordsman’s breathing hard, gore dripping off his blades even as he arcs one down and snaps the chain off nami’s leg with a growl. “did they hurt you?”
“no. no, i’m fine,” nami breathes, her smile quivering just a little— not because she’s shaken, no. because she’s pissed.
zoro’s voice is gruff as always, but his hands are careful if not outright gentle as he kneels to inspect her ankle before pulling her to her feet. “stay close,” he mutters, making sure that she’s nodded before cutting them a path through the fray. they bump into chopper next, and the doctor’s out cold over zoro’s shoulder in his regular form by the time sanji joins them to guard their flank. nami’s taken to just using her clima-tact as a bat for now, and it’s admittedly efficient.
she knew zoro would come. he always does. for all that they bicker and snip at each other, zoro has always protected his crew— even when said crew was just three people on what could barely be called a boat. he’d fought for her at arlong park and he fights for her now, his sword slicing over her head at an enemy she can’t see as she ducks low to jam her staff into another’s stomach.
they’ve moved closer to their ship when they find jinbei, then robin, then usopp, then brook and franky, and then zoro’s yelling luff, time to go! and their captain’s launching them all back onto the Sunny with a gleeful cackle that makes nami wheeze a laugh as they land in a mildly painful pile of limbs. somebody’s elbow digs into her ribs and she’s pretty sure that’s sanji’s bony kneecap pressed into her lower back. the swordsman swears as he sets about trying to pry them all apart and luffy seems to be actively fighting him, based on how his cursing’s getting more and more colourful.
behind them, their enemies burn, sliced to pieces. they debrief in the galley and zoro refuses to come away from the door until nami drags him by the ear and sanji threatens to personally shove dessert down his throat. they both know it’s because zoro’s still guarding them from a threat that doesn’t exist anymore.
they know he pretends not to care as much as he does. they know he keeps his words blunt and his swords sharp, but zoro lets luffy hang off him, unfazed, and makes a marginal effort to stick to nami’s budget even when he’s getting booze, and he eats his dessert. every last bit. he lets usopp fire moving targets to slice through so they can both practice. he keeps collateral damage when sparring with sanji to a minimum. he stitches whoever needs it up himself when chopper’s a little too tired.
and when his crew calls, he answers.
(now with a part from nami’s pov!)
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A huge dog pile of batfam on the floor.
Duke: So....what's going on?
Dick: There you are! Pick a spot and get comfy!
Duke: Usually when someone asks a question, they'd like an answer
Alfred: Apologies, I forget you are still new to some of the family's traditions. While Master Dick is a very successful interplanetary diplomat, he finds being off-world to be quite trying.
Jason: The fastest way to calm down Big Bird is to squash him with the weight of everyone B refuses to kick out
Bruce: Half of you don't live here. Although there are rooms for you all if you'd like
Duke: You're in there too Bruce? I don't see you
Bruce: Apparently I'm too heavy to be anywhere but the bottom. Now hurry up and join in
Duke: Alright. How long are we cuddling?
Steph: Until the man of the hour feels better or someone's ribs pop out. Which won't be long because SOMEONE didn't get rid of their guns and one is right in my ribs!
Jason: That would be Timmy's bony elbows
Tim: I'm nowhere near you two!
Cass: It's me. Sorry
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suuuupernovaaa · 9 months
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Requested by anon. Hobie Brown x f!Reader. 'Open Arms' by SZA, Travis Scott.
I know this is all bad, but please, put a leash on me. Who needs self-esteem anyway?
Rated M. 18+. Mostly fluff.
Samantha's elbow, unbelievably sharp and bony, grinds into my side. I let out a yelp, and yank myself away from my best friend. "What the fuck, Sam?"
She's grinning at me, and then her gaze slips away, following something over my shoulder. I follow her eyeline and see him - Hobie Brown, walking towards us across the grassy lawn of the park. His guitar is strapped over his back and his hands are in the pocket of his studded leather vest. He's walking towards us and as his gaze meets mine, the corners of his mouth turn up just a little bit - which is a beaming smile for Hobie.
We've only just started dating. It's been three... dates, if you can call them that. The second date was helping Hobie and his friends paint a mural. The third was dinner, which I burnt, on the floor of my apartment, because I'm waiting for my new kitchen table to be delivered. The first, Hobie told me on the third date, was the time we ran into each other at the grocery store and he asked me on what I thought was our first date, but then learned was apparently our second.
Though I've dated plenty before, there is something distinct about Hobie. When I first met him, I assumed he was the kind of guy who could not settle down, who could not commit, and who wouldn't be interested in sharing his feelings with anyone.
You could have nearly knocked me over with a feather when, as we sat on the floor eating burnt roast chicken over my coffee table, Hobie looked me right into my eyes and told me he was feeling nervous every time he saw me.
"Dunno," he'd told me, "I just think... that you're special, Y/N. This is somethin' special, and I don't want to mess it up."
I nearly choked on my dry chicken, and the tears that gathered in my eyes as I took a sip of water. The truth was, since the moment I'd been introduced to Hobie Brown, I'd known I was in trouble. Everything about him screamed for me. I was obsessed. I was trying to play it cool, but hearing him call me special, call the budding relationship between us special, nearly sent me into a fit.
"Jesus," Hobie said, hitting my back gently. "You alright?"
I wiped the tears from my eyes and set my water down. "Yes. Sorry. Shit. I really like you, Hobie."
We smiled at each other like two idiots who were bound to fall in love.
As he walks toward me in the park, I'm smiling like that again. I can feel Sam rolling her eyes next to me. "Oh, my god, are you going to fuck him in front of everyone here?"
I shrug, and elbow her back. "If he asks."
She shoves me. "I gotta run. See you tonight?"
"What's tonight?" Hobie asks as he reaches us, and Sam begins her departure.
"See you!" I holler. "Sam is going to help me put together my table and chairs. She's handy."
"I mean this in the most pro-feminist, anti-sexist way possible, but you've got a man now. I can put together your furniture," Hobie says with a teasing grin, and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me close to him. "Or, I can bring you a pizza after you work. Christen the new table."
I press a soft kiss to his cheek. "Perfect. Around 8? Shouldn't take us too long."
It's embarrassing, how I melt in this man's arms. When he mentions Christening the kitchen table, I don't think of eating food there. I think of myself, laid back, legs spread, Hobie between them...
But pizza with Hobie and my best friend is good, too. Jesus, I need to pull myself together, hold on to my dignity and self-respect as long as I can.
Hobie dips me backwards a little bit, and presses a firm kiss to my mouth, letting his lips linger on mine for a long time. My head is spinning when he finally sets me upright again. "Maybe once Sam leaves, we can Christen the table another way," he whispers, and a shiver runs up my spine.
I don't really need self-respect, do I?
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seoafin · 9 months
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shoko x f!reader (main pairing); gojo satoru x f!reader x geto suguru 1.2k words; no warnings just general high school clownery!!! part of the summertime record series
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There's an unsettling feeling that creeps over you as you approach the door to your classroom. It's so potent that you pause for a second, hand lingering in the air before you slide the door open.
You take in the scene before you.
It’s an unusual sight, but you’ve come to realize that unusual has become the norm when it comes to your new classmates. Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru, two powerful jujutsu sorcerers who had taken to each other immediately, for better and for worse.
Geto is gripping Gojo’s wrist, pinning the white haired boy’s outstretched right arm to the desk, the weight of his body hunched over and leveled against Gojo's own to ensure he stays put. Gojo is struggling to use his remaining hand to pull his other one away, but it’s futile against Geto’s ironclad grip.
There is a knife in Shoko’s hand. A regular knife for food preparation that must have been swiped from the kitchen.
The knife is poised right above Gojo’s wrist.
"Let’s just—” Gojo’s voice pitches high, “wait wait wait wait—"
You stare.
Three gazes turn to you. Gojo’s sunglasses are askew on his face, face feverish with a rising panic.
"Ah, perfect timing." Shoko smiles pleasantly. You stare some more. Then in a perfectly amicable tone she gestures to the katana slung over your shoulder. “We're testing Gojo’s limitless. Can I borrow your katana?"
You wordlessly slide the sheath off your shoulder and hand it to her.
"Sell out!" Gojo condemns, squirming and floundering underneath Geto’s body. You observe that he looks like a miserable fish gasping for air on dry land.
Shoko turns to you, straight faced. "This is for science."
Despite the arduous task of restraining the aforementioned male, Geto only looks slightly winded as his lips curl into another perfectly pleasant smile matching Shoko’s own. “Please,” he says congenially, in a tone that would suggest anything but the cold blooded torture about the ensue. He nods at an empty seat in front of a spare desk. “Enjoy the show.”
“This is my hand we’re talking about—!”
A particularly bony elbow slams into Geto’s chest as you take a seat. Geto remains unfazed. You sit with a wide yawn in an attempt to chase away the last stubborn dredges of sleep.
"I can reattach it." Ieiri says. You can sense the flow of reverse cursed energy in her fingertips as she flexes them. She shrugs. "I think."
Gojo balks, whiter than a ghost. "O-kay. I'm sorry. Hear that Suguru? I said I'm sorry! I won't do it again!”
Even to your ears, it doesn’t sound particularly sincere.
Geto must come to the same conclusion, because he pretends not to hear.
The apologies take a sharp turn. “It’s not my fault you tripped like an idiot into that curse’s mouth—” 
“Let’s get started, shall we?” Geto interrupts. 
He turns to Shoko who holds your unsheathed katana with steady hands. Light dances over the blade, sharp enough that a stray finger on the flat edge could easily draw blood. It’s a beautiful blade, on loan to you from the Kamo family. Your favorite one out of the many that have passed your hands. Most katana users you’ve come to find, are particularly possessive over their blades, like they would a lover, but you think this one looks right at home in Shoko’s elegant hands.
Gojo eyes the prized blade as if it’s the evilest thing to have graced his presence. You know this because it’s an even worse, beadier look than the one he used to give you. Now he only looks at you as if he doesn’t quite know what to say to you now that the two of you have settled into a tentative kind of relationship-not-friendship. You don't miss his antagonism. It's a welcome change.
Shoko levels the sharp blade of your katana against Gojo’s long index finger, above the knuckle. In response, as a last resort, the fingers curl against the desk, ensuring a messy cut.
"Hm,” a slow smile spreads over her face. “A finger? Or the wrist?"
Geto's smile is merciless. It comes easier to him than you would have originally expected. "All of it.”
There’s a yelp. Something utterly incomprehensible leaves Gojo’s mouth. You think it could be his spirit ejecting itself from his body, floating into the air.
There’s a glint in Shoko’s eyes. "Roger that."
A rush of cursed energy fills the katana, imbuing it with malicious intentions.
There is no clear indication of the infinity shrouding Gojo’s body other than the presence of his cursed energy, but you know it has to be in effect because as Shoko furiously saws at the appendage, the blade never sinks into flesh. Sweat forms on Gojo’s brow as he stares intently at the portion of invisible space right above his wrist.
With bated breaths, the three of you stare.
The sawing stops. “Huh, it really doesn’t go through.” Shoko remarks flippantly, stepping away with a shrug. “A shame.”
Geto sighs, loosening his grip.
Gojo springs away with a shaky bark of laughter, too far away from Geto and Shoko and you to be anything but the intention to maintain a distance.
“Of course it wouldn’t have gone through,” he snaps. The relief is evident on his face as he straightens his wrinkled uniform. He waves an accusatory finger at the three of you. “Now you’ve all had your fun!”
Geto and Shoko look too disappointed, without any hint of remorse on their faces.
“Pfft.”
It slips from your mouth before you can help it. Your lips wobble despite your attempt to stifle the laughter growing in your stomach by firmly pressing your lips shut.
Your loud laughter envelopes the room as Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko stare at you, slack mouthed.
“I’m…” the remnants of laughter wrack your body, “sorry…” 
You hadn’t meant to laugh. You think it’s been a long time since you last laughed. 
Gojo’s usual black sunglasses have slid down the bridge of his nose, revealing the wide blue expanse of his eyes. “You laugh?”
“I do,” you answer seriously.
Then you smile widely. The motion is still unfamiliar to your lips but you find it’s a bit easier now. There are things to smile about now. The friendly shrine cats, the warmth of the sun on your skin when you settle down to take a nap, Shoko’s laughter. There’s a raised empty bed of soil in front of the dorms. No flowers or plants. Yaga-sensei had told you that the contractors had been recalled before anything could begin. Then he handed you a book on horticulture.
You don’t know much about plants or flowers or gardening, but you’d like to start.
“You’re dumb,” Shoko directs towards him as she takes the seat next to you. “And you,” Shoko says to Geto. “You’ll catch flies.”
Geto’s mouth snaps shut. You find that he doesn’t meet your eyes, but Shoko easily leans her head against your shoulder and you don’t think much of anything but the weight of her and how good she smells.
In the next second, Yaga-sensei steps into the class, and levels the four of you with a suspicious look.
“Class is starting,” he says, raising an eyebrow when he sees Shoko pressed close to you. Before he turns to the blackboard, you catch a glimpse of a smile. “The four of you in your seats.”
For the first time in a long time, you stay awake through a lesson.
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sixteenth-days · 3 months
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Vampire pearl for a prompt?
"Hey, guys, have you seen- oh!"
Pearl raised her head, long ears twitching in surprise, and Impulse glanced back over his shoulder towards the entrance, wincing slightly as he did. "Oh, hi, Gem!" he called. "What's up?"
Gem, standing in the doorway of the keep, had her eyes notably averted, staring very hard at a patch of floor. "Sorry!" she said, flushing. "I didn't realize you were, um. Busyyyyy?"
Impulse blinked, confused. He stayed confused as Pearl started to shake with silent laughter where she was kneeling over his lap, clapping one hand to her mouth to keep from making a mess. "What? Gem?"
Pearl, after a moment, finally managed to swallow her mouthful of blood and gasp out, still laughing, "No, it's not like that, Gem! Promise!"
Gem's eyes flickered back up, finally, and widened. "Impulse! You're bleeding!"
"No! ...Well, yes," Impulse admitted. Pearl twitched, apparently reminded of the line of punctures now freely bleeding down his neck, and dove down to hastily lick up the drips with approximately the same haste as someone eating a rapidly melting ice cream cone. "It's fine, though! I'm fine!" he hastened to add. "This is, uh. An arrangement we've had since last season."
Pearl nodded against his neck, licking the bite mark clean before sitting up to face Gem over his head, propping her bony elbows on his shoulders. She looked, to her credit, distinctly sheepish. "It's a vampire bat thing," she said. "I don't need a lot of blood, but about, eh, once a month or so? And Impulse is a big guy." She patted him on the shoulder. "He can usually spare me plenty."
"You only love me for my robust circulatory system, is that it?" Impulse said, grinning.
"Excuse me! You're also good for moving heavy objects," Pearl objected.
"Ohhh-kay," Gem said, finally leaving the spot where she'd been frozen by the door and walking over. "You should've just said! That's way less weird than what I thought I walked in on."
"...Is it?" Pearl asked.
"Wait, what did you think you walked in on?" Impulse said, at the same moment.
"Well, sure," Gem answered Pearl. "Deer are omnivorous, you know!" She grinned, all teeth, vaguely threatening.
"Hm," Pearl said thoughtfully, crossing her arms on top of Impulse's head. "Say, do you know your blood type?"
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luveline · 2 years
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ive never done an ask before so sorry if i type it out wrong but could you do a eddie munson x reader where reader color's in eddie's tattoos i literally cannot stop thinking about it 😭 really just pure fluff and them goofing around
thank you for your request this is literally the sweetest idea ever! i didn't nail the goofing but he's a sweetheart and hot <3 0.9k
Eddie looks cute sitting in front of your desk in your soft backed chair. He's curious but careful as he picks over pen stands and coloured pencils. 
"Can I see some of your work?" he asks. 
You could kiss him right there for calling it 'work'. He's never once been dismissive about your art, though most everyone else in your life calls it a hobby or your 'little side job'. 
You stand up from the bed and move to his side. His arm wraps around your waist lightly, easy as you open the desk drawer for your current small sketchbook where you thumbnail paintings. 
"All my canvases are down in the garage," you say. 
"I'd love to see them." 
He opens your sketchbook with infinite care, arm quickly stolen from your skin. You hover anxiously by his side, waiting for his verdict. He's quiet as he turns each page, not patronising you in pretending that every single sketch is interesting, but an honest peruse of your talents. 
He stops on a drawing of him. Quite recent, you'd forgotten all about it. In his club shirt with the sleeves pushed up, a quick rendering of the planes and shadow of his arms, less detail but enough to make out his face through a curtain of curls. 
"Is it biased if I say this is the best one?" he asks, hands splayed over the page, face turned to you. He's grinning. 
"Very biased," you say. "I've messed up all your tattoos. You were moving too fast." 
He turns to the page and raises his eyebrows. "They look just fine to me." 
He's lying, of course. They're blurs of dark without detail. 
"You have to say that." 
"I don't have to do anything," he says. You shiver as his hand wraps around your back again, his touch featherlight. A ring scrapes your skin as he slips his fingers under the fabric of your t-shirt.
"If you'd only stay still," you whine. 
He tips his head back and pouts at you mockingly for a split-second before chuckling warmly. "You're tortured, bub." 
The pet name has your chest aflame with heat. You look at his shirt rather than his face, toying gently with one of his messy dark curls. "Whatever," you say, wanting to move on before he does something to tease you.
He pushes the chair back and encourages you into his lap. You sit tentatively on his leg, aware of every point of contiguity between you as his hand finds your soft tummy over your shirt. The other arm he lays flat on your desk.
"Take a look." 
You rub your face with your shoulder, unsure. Eddie squeezes you, reassuring. "Go on." 
Your relationship is new enough that you haven't seen every tattoo properly. You leap at the chance to study them. Despite your nervousness at this proximity you lean forward on his knees and take his arm into your hands. 
You like the first one over the smooth inner stretch of his forearm, it suits him, a demon of some sort puppeteered by a bony hand. Turning his arm over, you find his flock of bats tapering over his elbow. Familiar, you could likely draw them from memory. 
You're holding your breath as you turn in the circle of his arm, finger pushing carefully under his shirt sleeve to expose the scary bird/lizard amalgamation that you don't recognise, its frilled spines flared and its mouth open. 
"I like them," you say. 
He pulls you up his leg. "Yeah?" 
"Mm. Would you ever get something in colour?" 
"Sure, I'd love some colour. S'just expensive as shit, so…" 
He sounds embarrassed. It's not what you meant to do, and you rush to fix it with a spur of the moment thought. 
"Could I colour one?" 
"Could you?" he asks, voice low, laughing a laugh that's more breath than sound. 
You burn, shifting forward to take a marker into your hands. He keeps a good hold on your abdomen to keep you anchored. It's nice. 
You take a light red into your hands, slow and steady as you set it to his pale skin and fill in the majority of his demon. Then, with a slightly darker red, the midtones. You round it out with a dark purple in the shadows, giving the demon a more three dimensional feel. 
"Is it too cold?" you ask as you go, voice a murmur. 
Eddie rubs the tip of his nose against your shoulder. "It's fine." 
"You don't want to watch?"
"No way. Tell me when you're done, I want the full effect. Blow me away." 
You nod and flush with heat and finish up as the heat of his body soaks into yours, relaxing in his lap as time passes. 
"There," you say, capping a black fineliner. "I'm done, Eds." 
Eddie pushes his chin over your shoulder to take in what you've done. 
"Baby, that's fucking sick. Oh my god," he sounds sad, beggy, in that awful way boys do. "I want that for keeps." 
You smile because you're glad he likes it. You'd thought you'd done a pretty good job, too. 
"You have talented hands," he says into your ear, voice warped by a clear double entendre. 
You melt, a shiver coursing down your back as you lean towards him unthinkingly. 
"I'm not gonna shower. I need it forever." 
Spell quickly broken, you wrinkle your nose. "That's disgusting."
"That's punk rock, babe." 
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lilyrachelcassidy · 12 days
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'Accident'
Felix Catton x Reader
Summary: Where Felix inadvertently fingers his estranged cousin.
TW: well... yeah, som pretty strong sex references (and graphics); language; unpremeditated incest
WC: 1.7k
xoxoxxoxoxooxoxoxoxo
"He's been eye-fucking you for the past 15 minutes," muttered your friend, Camilla, next to your ear. At first, you merely winced at her coarse choice of language, but the interest got better of you.
"Who?" you asked, acting as if her words didn't evoke a spark of excitement in your system.
"Felix fucking Catton."
At the mention of the name, you choked on the bubbly champagne that moments before you had got a sip of.
'It was surely not gracious,' you thought.
Not very discreetly, you craned your head, taking in the surrounding while trying to localize... well, you know who. At first, all you could merely distinguish were some voguish gowns mingled with a black-and-white pallet of overpriced tuxes. It was a soiree orchestrated by Elspeth Catton herself. In your society, you knew that when an envelop with the invitation stated "a casual get-together," it was probably just a mock test to see who wasn't acquainted with the social code and etiquette well enough -- Saltburn parties always meant a great deal and you knew this customary footnote by heart.
That's why, a few days before the event, you had made a special reminder in your calendar to venture for some de rigueur gown that what you surely hadn't owned in your wardrobe. Once in the shop, your choice was something relatively simple -- a silky loose black dress on the very thin straps (at the end of the day, it was still August and even the nights were heckishly sweltering) and the elegant pair of heels of the same hue to match the top. Just enough to blend with the rest of the guests. Or so you thought.
"Over here, you dummy." Your friend poked you with her strangely bony elbow, making you gasp slightly but look in the same direction as she did. It required a 180 degree swirl of you to position in the same line as she did, so you were not very obscure with what the two of you were talking about.
That, however, finally allowed you to observe Felix, a two meter sweet little giant who was scrutinizing your every move while pretending to talk to one of the prolix guests. Upon discerning your line of sight, he took it as a silent cue to finally end a chit-chat with the stranger and approach you.
"Hey." He beamed. He made an almost instinctive move of extending his hand as a courteous way of meeting someone, but then rapidly withdrew it, presumably deciding that this kind of pretense was far too official for someone of his own age.
You couldn't help yourself but snort at this swift change of mind. For a moment, you thought that he was going to be offended by your reaction but he shortly joined you in laughter.
"Hey."
"I saw you over there and... God, I'm sorry to say, but you look ravishing."
You could feel an intense blush creeping on your face. "Thank you."
"Felix, by the way," he introduced himself, shoving his hands in the pockets while graciously dwarfing over you. There was something very causal about him; as though he couldn't be affected by the idea of embarrassment. He just innately had his way with other people, perfusing an aura of affability about him.
"I know who you are." You smiled. "Y/N."
He gave you a nod, his sight never abandoning your face. At such intense stare, you couldn't help it but feel scrutinized. With these eyes as your surveillance, you didn't mind though.
You didn't know how long the two of you had been gaping at one another, but it was enough to make your well-forgotten friend grunt beside you a couple of times.
"Camilla, pleased to meet ya," she exclaimed with the feigned enthusiasm and the theatrical hand waving near her face. "And now I'm going to fix myself a drink."
With that, she began to walk fluidly through the cobblestone pavement of the lawn, in the direction of the mansion, but not before twisting her head over her shoulder and mouthing to you 'use protection' with a wink.
You mentally shook your head with humiliation. Many people could have catalogued you as a rather old-fashioned person, if old-fashioned corresponded to not sleeping with guys after just a few hours of acquaintance.
But you also couldn't deny the way of your body reacted to the presence of the brunette beside you. In your head, you compared the size of your hands and how big his were in contrast to yours; you pictured the easiness with which he could pick you up and pin you to the wall; you imagined the softness of his lips which would be juxtaposed with the hungry, parched quality of the kisses that would turn you on...
Call it whatever, but he evoked some new types of kinks in you of which you hadn't been hitherto aware of.
It didn't mean that all of the sudden you were going to ditch the itinerary of your personal rules just because of some attractive, rangy, charismatic, mesmerizing, cute guy. Not to mention his enchanting brown eyes which were doing things to you. But, no, you were going to abide.
Probably.
No! Totally!
Or probably...
xoxoxxoxoxooooxoxox
It took a few hours of a conversation and several more glasses of champagne for you to give in to the utter charm of Felix Catton and his delectable aftershave.
Just as you had thought, Felix was a perfect kind of kisser. At first, he started a tad more slowly, smoothly devouring and exploring every taste bud in your mouth, his tongue graciously dancing in your mouth. For sake of whetting more action from him, you took the matters in your own hands -- one of your hands was gradually working on disheveling his hair, whereas the other one was stroking a chiseled line of his jaw.
The sweet kind kisses ultimately morphed into something of a ravenous nature; Felix was wolfish in his movements, one of his palms already cupping one of your breasts and circling your nipple with his thumb, and the other pinioning both of your arms to the wall. While his mouth was interchangeably traveling from your lips to your neck, leaving the silk tracks of saliva on your neckline, you felt as the surplus amount of pure want and rapture implode within you.
You arched your back, longing to be as close to the heat of Felix's body as possible. One of your legs proceeded around his torso, forcibly bringing him forth to you; surprised by your desperate actions, Felix grunted to which you moaned into his mouth. He smiled at that, never disturbing the kiss. At this point, your hair, which was previously tied in a messy bun, was now soaring in every direction due to the vigor of your movements.
Honestly, you couldn't care less.
"You like that, huh?" breathed Felix through the kisses. While saying so, he made a point of applying extra pressure in molding your breast in his hand.
In response, you merely moaned, Felix attempting his best to subdue the noise with another ferocious kiss. Out of nowhere, he removed one of his palms from your upper body and you were about to protest until you felt him touching the waistband of your lacy panties and then venturing even further. At first, he massaged your already swollen clit with his fingers through the material, simultaneously inspecting the extent of wetness that had pooled underneath.
Entirely relishing the sensation, you began moaning and moaning ever so loudly, eventually even ending up in pleads on how much you needed to feel him inside of you.
Felix solely smirked at your sudden vulnerability but decided to comply after a few more strokes across your sodden line of panties. His index finger started teasing with you but upon hearing your annoyed huffs, he finally put two fingers inside of you. And...
Oh boy. Oh boy, did it feel amazing.
He began with a steady pace but eventually started pumping his fingers faster and faster until you were loudly chanting his name and he too was moaning at your somatic responses to him. While gradually increasing the speed, you had a series of different reactions -- throwing your head backwards, your eyeballs rolling to the back of your head in elation, arching your back to the impossible angles, or incongruously trying to reflect the pace with your hips. Felix's lips were still planting parched kisses on your neck and now slowly descending to-
"Felix." A sonorous female voice echoed in front of you. The two of you instantly broke off, quickly trying to rearrange into a sufficiently seemly state.
"Mom!"
Holy fuck.
She raised her hand on the same level as her face, which was an evident signal to not interrupt her. "I do not care for your sexual affairs, son." She sounded unflappable and so was her expression. Almost too unflappable for a parent who had just caught her child working somebody up. The only evidence that the scene impacted her in the slightest was a scant quality of perturbance in her eyes. "Should it not pertain to your cousin."
Both you and Felix furrowed, and you were pretty sure that your brows reached the level of your hairline for a second. Your reactions would have been purely comical when disregarding the tragic setting of the situation.
"C-cousin?" Felix managed to choke out though the horror of the news.
"Yes," she said. "Although Y/N is not your closest relative, I hope you do realize that there are the family bonds between the two of you..." She then went on with explaining how the two of you happened to be connected, but -- truth to be told -- the whole bubble deeply confused you. And it's not like it mattered anyways.
Felix was your family. He was off-limits.
"I hope that the news of this escapade never comes to the light." With that matter-of-fact manner, she disappeared off the horizon, leaving the two of you throughly mortified.
The only thought that seemed to accompany you at that moment was that you were mutually screwed and there was no taking it back.
Perfect...
107 notes · View notes
riconas · 9 months
Note
rico, i must request my boys from you. mountain/rain, can u make them messy for me pls 🙏🙏
fuck yeah water ghoul slip n slide
tags: edging, orgasm denial, hyperspermia, so much cum you guys i do not even know how to tell you how much cum we are dealing with here
nsfw under the cut!
“Oh,” Rain moans, as another spurt of pre splatters onto his stomach. “Mountain, c’mon. Not fair.” 
“Life is unfair,” Mountain agrees. Propped on one elbow, stretched out beside Rain’s quivering body, he’s got the best view in the world. He drags a finger up the underside of Rain’s cock, watching it twitch. So sensitive. 
Rain sniffles. “How many more?”
“Haven’t decided.” He’s so messy. So wet. Absolutely covered in his own pre, covered in Mountain’s cum. It pools in the dip of his navel, in the creases of his hips. Mountain had made Rain jerk him off first, just to taunt him. Just to show him what he was missing.
Now he closes his fingers around the tip of Rain’s cock, teasing. Drags his loose fist up and down, nothing more than a brush of skin on skin. Barely any contact, but Mountain is sure Rain’s worked up enough that he could probably cum from that alone. 
That’s a plan for another day. 
Another glob of pre squeezes out of his slit. Mountain gathers it up onto his fingertips and smears it across Rain’s twitching stomach. He's been at it long enough that the smaller splatters have begun to dry, thick and tacky. It’ll be a pain to clean up later. 
“Mount,” Rain whines, and Mountain takes his hand away as that blushing cock twitches valiantly. Rain’s hips twitch right there with it, a sad little motion that has Mountain laying a palm on his thigh to soothe him. 
(He’d normally lay that palm on Rain’s stomach, but he doesn’t feel like getting sticky handprints all over everything.) 
“That looked close.”
Rain whimpers, miserable, fingers digging creases into the sheets. “It was.”
“How close?” Mountain takes the tip of Rain’s cock between his thumb and index finger, rubbing up and down. He’s really hard. It’s got to hurt. 
“Really close,” Rain gasps. 
Mountain doesn’t know why Rain does this to himself, really. Kinky little masochist. He grabs Rain’s cock and squeezes the base nice and tight, and Rain throws his head back, hitting the pillow with a muffled thump. 
“You're horrible,” Rain groans. “I wanna cum.”
“I know.”
“Let me cum.”
“Nope.” Mountain uses a finger to press Rain’s cock against his stomach, into the puddle of sticky white fluid. It springs back up when he lets go, and a string of pre follows, stretching upwards in a milky white line. “So wet,” he says lovingly. 
“Could be wetter,” Rain grits out. “If you weren’t being an ass.”
“Mm-hm.” He does it again, admiring the way it glistens in the soft light of his bedroom, and he swears Rain arches his back a little this time, bony shoulders pressing dents into the mattress. 
“What will you do?”
Rain blinks stupidly up at him. “Huh?”
“Can’t think now, can you?” Mountain slaps one of his nipples, gentle and playful. Again, no force, but Rain shudders all the same. “What will you do for me? If I let you cum?”
“Anything,” Rain says immediately. 
Mountain smiles. It’s always a fun question to ask, because Rain tends to forget what he says when he’s horny. Anything includes doing this again. 
“Promise?”
“I swear! Please, come on, let me—”
Mountain holds out his pinky, just for good measure, and he has to hold in a laugh at how desperately Rain links his pinky with Mountain’s, thumb-to-thumb.
“Okay,” he laughs, lacing his sticky fingers with Rain’s trembling ones. “Okay, you can cum. I’m sorry, tadpole. I’m sorry I made you wait.” He wraps his fingers around Rain’s dick, feels it drool even more slick. Gives it a little twist this time, just the way Rain likes it. 
“Promise you won’t stop,” Rain gasps, and Mountain does feel a little bit guilty. Like he’s broken Rain’s trust, or something—which he has, he supposes, but still. Guilty. 
He leans in to press their lips together, more to shut himself up than Rain. Rain whines into it, lips parting automatically, and Mountain gives him one cursory lick before pulling away. 
“Do you really need my hand?” he asks, and the way Rain’s face twists in despair has him regretting it immediately. 
Not sounding very threatening, Rain hisses, “I will drown your plants.”
That’s yes, then. 
“Please don’t do that,” Mountain says gently. 
“Gonna cum,” Rain chokes out, and Mountain doesn’t stop this time, just keeps jacking him until he’s squirting thick, hot ropes all over himself, all over Mountain’s hand, hips jerking into his fist. His stomach gets drenched with it, the sheets thoroughly soaked with the excess dripping over the sides of his waist. There’s so much, an honest-to-Satan impossible amount. A fucking sea of cum, Mountain swears. 
Rain’s got a hand thrown over his face, hiding himself, but Mountain can see the way he’s biting on his lower lip, and decides he wants to see the rest, too. He knocks that hand away, so Rain has no choice but to look at him with those wide, wet eyes, tears of overwhelm threatening to spill over. 
“Good?” he asks, and Rain manages a tiny nod. “Play with it,” and Rain brings a quivering hand to his stomach, dips his fingers into the mess. Something like wonder in his eyes as he holds his hand to the light, watches it glisten.
Mountain can’t resist. He leans in and takes Rain’s fingers into his mouth, tasting him, tasting them. He groans, stroking Rain even faster, like he’s trying to milk even more out of him. Rain pushes him away. 
“No more, please,” he whispers, so Mountain wipes his hand on the sheets, brushes Rain’s hair out of his eyes. That’s all he manages before Rain’s eyes are slipping shut. Straight to the post-orgasm snooze. 
“You made a mess,” Mountain says softly. He dips a finger into the splatters of cum on Rain’s chest, tracing it around his nipples, along the lines of his ribs. Playing with it. Making it worse. “Better clean it up.” 
Rain just nods, beyond words. His head lolls to the side, and all Mountain can see of his eyes are two dark slivers of blue, shining with unshed tears. 
“M’tired,” he says absently, still not quite there. “Feed it to me.” 
211 notes · View notes
gerrystamour · 9 months
Text
here i have found some peace of mind [chapter six]
Rated E | Steddie
[ FIRST ] [ PREVIOUS ]
Finally, the boys meet... AKA, the Fuckening I'M SORRY THAT WAS TERRIBLE Once again, Steve is a transmasc character, I am a transmasc writer, I base his transness off of my own and so I refer to his anatomy the same way I refer to my own. Steve, like me, does not have bottom dysphoria and enjoys vaginal penetration. Also, Steve can't get pregnant and though it's not mentioned explicitly in the fic, it's because his tubes have been tied. CW: There is just a lot of smut in this chapter.
[ READ ON AO3 ]
for once in my life i feel alive
The crowd around Steve and Will was absolutely buzzing with excitement, already sweaty and ramped up from the openers. Despite getting to the arena a bit later than much of the crowd, Steve and Will managed to make it to the barrier, largely thanks to Will’s bony elbows.
Even though Steve had no experience with metal outside of Corroded Coffin’s music, he could respect the energy the opening bands brought with them. It was all just a bit noisy for Steve, and the yelling made it hard to understand the words, but overall, he could enjoy it.
“The words aren’t the point, Steve,” Will said with a snort when Steve complained aloud to him about it.
“Then why even bother having lyrics?” Steve snapped back, rolling his eyes as he watched the curtains that had been dropped around the stage from a rig above them while it was set for Corroded Coffin.
“You read the lyrics later after you feel the emotion first,” Will explained and Steve let out a huff.
“Yeah, well the feeling I get listening to unintelligible screaming is annoyance,” he said with a teasing grin, nudging Will with his elbow as the lights dimmed.
With the lights lowering, the low din around them increased to a roar. If Steve thought the energy of the crowd was insane before, he didn’t have words to describe it now. Steve had been to concerts before, but he couldn’t say any of them had this level of engagement from the crowd before the music even started.
The arena grew so dark that only the emergency exit lights and the screens of phones were visible in the darkness, and if Steve hadn’t been so close, he wouldn’t have been able to see the curtain being raised. When a low, sustained guitar tone began to play, the noise from the crowd immediately dropped easily by half, just as a red spotlight lit up the center of the stage where there now sat an ornate altar.
And Eddie was on top of the altar, standing with his head thrown back, letting the tension build, his guitar hanging from its strap around his neck, slung low on his hips. Tilting his head forward to flash a toothy, almost maniacal grin at the crowd, he began to sing, soft and almost mournful.
Steve felt his breath leave him in one swift gust.
The thing was that Steve knew Eddie was talented. He knew the man could sing and he knew he could do it well. To hear it live, however, and in what was clearly Eddie’s element? That was something else entirely.
Suddenly, another spotlight shone on the stage, illuminating Grant as a quick bass line started up, slowly building in volume until the whole stage was lit up and the rest of the band joined in. It was loud, but amazing, just Jeff and Eddie practically dueling with their guitars while Gareth went crazy on the drums atop the platform behind Eddie’s altar.
The guitar battle bled so seamlessly into the next song that Steve almost missed the transition, and in the end only truly realized that the song changed because the lighting itself did.
The whole band was wearing outfits like the costumes they wore in the music video Steve watched, with dark, skin-tight leather pants and elaborate horns. A big notable change, however, was the brace that Eddie wore on his leg so he could stand for a bit without using his cane for longer. There was a sturdy mic stand on the altar that was built with a hook where Eddie’s cane hung from its wrist strap.
Once Eddie started singing again, however, Steve was swept up in the performance and energy of the crowd. He’d done quite a bit of listening to the newest album, making sure he knew the lyrics of the newest stuff well enough to not stand out too much in the crowd.
A lot of the guitar work was carried by Jeff as well as another person that Steve knew was not actually in the band. Steve remembered a few Tour Diaries that explained that while Eddie did all of the rhythm guitar lines on the studio version of the album, that was only because the recording timeline allowed for him to play guitar and recover. While touring, Eddie had to be careful so he didn’t trigger his nerve pain, so he only played guitar during certain songs, and even then only for specific parts.
Throughout the next several songs, Eddie was standing atop the altar, holding onto the mic stand with his guitar hanging around his neck as he swung his hips with the beat. The move was slow, sensual, even during the heavier moments and had Steve flushed and breathless. Luckily with how hot and sweaty he was just from being surrounded by hundreds of shouting and singing people, his reaction to Eddie’s hips practically grinding against a guitar wouldn’t be obvious.
Behind the band were two huge screens that seemed to alternate between live shots of the band and scenes from the music videos, and every time the cameras were on a specific member, they always knew exactly what camera to be looking at. Once again, the comments the boys made about ‘complicated choreography’ came back to Steve and he found himself feeling more and more impressed with them.
Naturally, Eddie’s relationship with the camera work was electric, the way he was so tuned into how good he looked, what his best angle was, how to stare down the camera, his little hand motions to the camera. The best one (while simultaneously being the worst) was a sultry come-hither motion with one finger during a song that Steve was fairly certain was about having sex in a cemetery.
The band played through the first five full songs before the lighting changed and the band took a break. It wasn’t obvious as a break, the band just stopping their actual playing while a quiet, ominous backing track continued. Gareth was chugging a bottle of water while Jeff wandered across the stage to stand closer to the other guitarist.
Turning his attention back to Eddie, Steve actually met the man’s gaze and gasped. Eddie was leaning on his cane, his guitar swung around to his back, giving the crowd an uninterrupted view of the long, perfect line of his body. With the way their eyes were locked, though, it was as if this whole performance was for Steve alone.
Chuckling into the mic, Eddie tore his gaze away and looked around the arena. “Good evening, Chicago!” he called, his grin nothing but teeth and dimples when the crowd roared back. “How’s everyone feeling tonight?”
The crowd exploded with excitement, somehow even louder than the first response.
“See, I’m feeling great tonight. This show’s a little bit different,” Eddie continued, shifting his weight carefully between his feet as Jeff wandered back to his spot on the stage. The crowd screamed back excitedly, and Eddie met Steve’s eyes briefly before he added with a smirk, “Got someone special in the crowd.”
To Steve’s utter disbelief, what sounded like half of the arena began wailing ‘Steve,’ making the entirety of the band laugh loudly. Steve’s entire face felt impossibly hot as Eddie looked back at him with a tiny wink.
“Jesus Christ,” Steve laughed, covering his mouth when Will looked over at him with a look that was somehow both sympathetic and jealous.
All of the people surrounding Will and him were joining in with the inside-joke with the band, and also looking around desperately as if they could actually find the elusive “Steve” from the Tour Diaries.
Gareth was squinting around at the crowd before he leaned over to his mic. “The hell are y’all looking around for?” he asked flatly, and the crowd just shouted back Steve’s name. “You don’t even know what he looks like!”
“Leave ‘em alone, they’re just excited,” Eddie said to Gareth as Jeff smirked and started playing his guitar, the backing track quieting as the lighting dimmed again. “It’s your fault they’re like this anyway.”
There was a bit more banter, but Steve had all but tuned it out as he watched Eddie goof off with his friends. They seamlessly shifted into another intricate guitar moment, one that Eddie took part in, even taking the lead at one point. He and Jeff had effortless chemistry on the stage, easily switching back and forth, never fumbling as far as Steve’s untrained ear could tell.
As Jeff took over the guitar solo, Eddie swung his guitar around to his back and held onto the mic with both hands. “This next song is Dark Altar,” he said in a low, sultry voice, and Steve cheered along with the crowd. Eddie was looking at him again, smirking as he added, “This one’s for you, Stevie.”
Then Eddie winked, and Steve was pretty sure he would’ve crawled up there to kiss that smug look off Eddie’s face if it wasn’t for the security guard standing just ahead of him.
Eddie was intense throughout the song, holding onto the mic stand and grinding his hips against the pole of it, throwing his head back and even groaning out some of the lyrics. Behind him, scenes from the music video played on the huge screens, including the scene of all of them with the priest. However, the shot was held longer, letting Steve see it in all its glory without squinting at the fuzzy frame on his phone. It was impossibly sexy, and once again Steve had the very vivid fantasy of being in the priest’s place.
The rest of the concert was a blur, Steve’s thoughts completely occupied with how good Eddie looked, how good he sounded, and how much Steve wanted him. He was vibrating with his excitement as every song brought him closer to the moment he met Eddie, face-to-face and in-person. It seemed like Eddie was just as excited, his eyes finding Steve’s every few moments. A few of those times, Eddie would reach down and grab himself, as if he was adjusting his erection in his pants, which drove the crowd insane almost as much as it did to Steve.
As Jeff and Grant chatted one final time with the audience ahead of the last two songs on the setlist, Eddie was carefully assisted down from the altar by a stage tech. Eddie stopped them before they could walk away and gestured vaguely in Steve’s direction while saying something close to their ear. The stage tech glanced over, squinting against the lights and frowning at him until Steve did a little wave. The stage tech smirked, turned back to Eddie and said something back that earned them a small shove and a laugh before the tech walked off.
Honestly, the moment was so short and quick that Steve was certain that he only really noticed it because he was completely focused on Eddie.
Now that Eddie was set up on the stage rather than the altar, he was closer almost as if he was in reach. With a jolt as the music started again in full swing, Steve realized that this was the closest they had been to each other. The second to last song started slow, Eddie singing almost sweetly for the first verse. Steve gazed up at Eddie, watching him sing and rock to the music, his eyes shut.
It was captivating, watching him feel the music like that, and Steve imagined a moment this sweet and intimate somewhere else. He imagined sleepy mornings with Eddie singing softly while making a pot of coffee, and Steve felt faint with the strength of his want.
When the song picked up, it didn’t lessen Steve’s want at all, especially as Eddie actually took lead guitar through the solo, his look of concentration intense. Steve couldn’t help but imagine Eddie sitting on his couch, guitar in his lap while he figured out a melody. Something soft and quiet, domestic even, that had Steve’s heart aching.
By the time the last song began to play, Steve was spiraling with his feelings for Eddie that he knew were too much for what was probably possible for them. It didn’t help that Eddie seemed determined to stare down directly at Steve, holding Steve’s gaze through the entire song, only breaking eye contact when he took the lead through the guitar solo once again.
Taking a deep breath, Steve shouted along with the crowd as the song came to a close and the curtain lowered around the stage again.
Before Steve could properly shake himself out of his thoughts to figure out with Will where they were supposed to go now, the security guard in front of them stepped up to the barrier.
“Come with me, please,” he said to them both, motioning down toward the end of the barrier where there was a space to slip behind it.
Glancing at each other with raised eyebrows, Steve and Will followed as quickly as they could with the crowd still milling about and reluctant to leave just yet.
Steve and Will sat in one of the fancy lounges overlooking the arena below, each of them too excited to actually sit down on the couches. If Steve was honest, he kept looking at the couches and remembering the filth Eddie moaned and he needed to stop getting so flustered about it.
With the security guard escorting them, they were the first ones to the room, even ahead of the band, which was likely Eddie’s plan. They would have a few minutes of semi-privacy before the other fans with the VIP tickets were allowed in to actually meet face to face.
“Steve, you’re pacing,” Will said stiffly and Steve immediately stopped moving, looking back at him. To his surprise, Will looked like he was about to freak out, picking at his thumbnail and bouncing. “You’re making me nervous.”
“Wh-why? I’m sorry, I’ll try to stop, just what’s up man?” Steve asked, immediately crossing the lounge to stand with Will.
“I dunno, just got all tense with the adrenaline dropping, I guess. Freaking out because this is literally my favourite band, like, what if they suck as people?” Will said in a rush, then immediately added, “Like, what if they think I’m weird and annoying especially if I can’t even say anything to them?”
“Will, dude, no one is gonna think you’re annoying, okay? Everyone loves you and so will the guys,” Steve said, grabbing Will’s shoulder firmly. Then, with a cheeky grin Steve added, “And hey, I have some connections with the band, so I can tell you with absolute certainty that they do not suck as people.”
Will laughed at that, shoving Steve gently, especially when he reached up to ruffle his hair. “Dude, fuck off,” Will laughed, swatting Steve’s hand away.
“Yeugh, you’re so sweaty,” Steve complained, wiping his hand off on Will’s chest.
Just as they stepped apart, the door of the lounge opened and Eddie practically clambered through it, grinning and breathless as he crossed the lounge to Steve. Will immediately took a huge step back with a loud, almost disbelieving laugh as Eddie stumbled into Steve’s space.
The air seemed to leave the room as Eddie fisted his hands in the front of Steve’s shirt, pulling him in so close they were almost pressed flush against each other.
Steve stared at him, wide-eyed and smiling, taking in the details of Eddie’s face that he didn’t get to see in the video calls. Like the beginnings of crow’s feet at the corners of Eddie’s deep brown eyes, and just how rich those brown eyes were, or the silver strands of hair shot sparsely through the brown. Eddie still had some of his make-up on his face, clearly only washing up enough to get the bulk off but leaving patches of foundation and dark body paint near his hairline and on his throat.
Eddie was so beautiful and real that Steve felt like he might start to cry about it. They were finally together, in the same room and in the same space, breathing the same air and so close to kissing it was driving Steve insane. With a soft, pleading sound just for Eddie, Steve tilted his mouth up and Eddie let out a gusty breath.
“We shouldn’t,” Eddie said quietly, his hands tightening in Steve’s shirt as he went to pull back. “You know we couldn’t handle it.”
Steve laughed, tilting his head back to groan at the ceiling. “Christ, you think we’re that bad?” he asked. When he lowered his eyes to look back at Eddie through his lashes, the man was staring at the column of his throat with something that could only be described as hunger.
“I for sure am,” Eddie admitted after a moment, licking his lips and turning his attention to Steve’s face. “Wanna wait ‘til we won’t be interrupted, okay, sweetheart?”
“Y-yeah, sounds perfect,” Steve managed to stumble out, finally putting his hands on Eddie’s waist and hooking his fingers into the belt loops there. “Can’t believe this is actually happening.”
“Jesus H Christ, me neither,” Eddie laughed breathlessly, and Steve felt himself swoon over his dimples all over again. “When I saw you at the barrier, thought I was fucking dreaming, like genuinely thought I fell off the stage and was in a fucking coma.”
“Alright boys, put some space between you two before security comes in with the other fans,” Chrissy said as she stepped up beside them.
With a sad sound, Eddie let go of Steve’s shirt and stepped out of his space. “I’m gonna sit down, care to join me?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows at Steve as he carefully lowered himself onto the couch. With a content groan, Eddie slipped his cane off of his wrist to lay it across his lap, then stretched his leg out in front of him.
Steve quickly sat down with Eddie, even if his mind was immediately in the gutter about it. Eddie smirked at him, as if he could hear Steve’s thoughts, and stretched an arm across the back of the couch behind Steve, letting his fingertips rest gently on Steve’s shoulder.
Looking up at Will, Eddie beamed at him. “Hey, man, you must be Will! I’ve heard you’re a big fan, yeah?” he greeted, and Steve could have sworn the whole room heated up with the force of Will’s blush.
But of course, Will immediately fell into a natural rhythm chatting with Eddie, and soon they were passionately discussing Dungeons & Dragons.
That was when the couch on the other side of Steve dipped with the weight of someone else. Looking over, he was faced with Jeff while Gareth and Grant stayed standing, all of them eying Steve thoughtfully.
“It’s great to finally meet you, Steve,” Jeff said warmly, holding a hand up to offer a handshake. “I’m Jeff, by the way.”
Steve laughed and accepted the handshake. “I know,” he admitted with a shrug. “Eddie talked a lot about you guys, and I watched the videos.”
Gareth laughed. “Oh, I know you have,” he said smugly, and Jeff rolled his eyes.
“Gareth keeps saying he got you and Eddie back together,” Grant explained at Steve’s questioning look. “Because of the Steve Spotting montages.”
Snorting, Steve rolled his eyes. Before he could respond though, the door opened and a handful of fans entered the lounge, all of them bubbling with excitement. Without hesitation, Gareth and Grant crossed the room to start engaging with them, and a few brave fans approached the couch to talk with Jeff. Eventually a fan interjected with Eddie and Will’s conversation (which sounded more like an argument about the validity of experience points versus milestones with leveling up a party), and Eddie changed gears instantly.
It was actually alarming for Steve, and even Will looked a bit taken aback. Eddie was, of course, absolutely pleasant with the person and on the whole, he was engaged with their questions and giving polite answers. But his smile didn’t quite have his dimples, and his entire demeanour shifted to that sultry, almost seductive stage persona. What was wild to Steve is that the fan didn’t even seem phased that Eddie seemed to become a completely different person.
Steve was startled out of his thoughts when someone tapped on his shoulder. Craning his head back, he frowned at the security guard looking down at him sternly.
“You can’t be sitting on the couch with the band members,” the man said quietly, and Steve made a face but decided not to make a scene about it. He would have plenty of time with Eddie later, so it was fine.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Steve said with a pleasant smile, and he started to get up but Eddie’s hand slid down to properly hold his shoulder firmly.
“He’s allowed to be here,” Eddie said, looking back at the security guard with a good-natured smile.
The security guard almost seemed to puff up at that. “Fans can’t be on the couch with you, Mr. Munson, even if you say so,” he said even more sternly, almost condescendingly.
“Eddie, it’s okay—” Steve started, but Eddie just squeezed his shoulder once.
“He’s not a fan,” he said, his eyes flicking to the guard’s badge, before meeting his eyes again. The expression on Eddie’s face was dark, challenging even. “He’s my boyfriend. Leave him alone.”
The security guard jolted back at the same moment Steve turned to look at Eddie with wide eyes. The security guard was apologizing, fumbling through it and Eddie was shooing him away, but all Steve was able to hear was Eddie calling him his boyfriend. Heat filled Steve, and not even just in the sense of lust. He felt warmed all the way to his toes, that maybe this wasn’t just going to be casual and fun, that even for Eddie it was serious.
“Gotta go, love, see you later.”
Remembering that term of endearment from just a few hours before had Steve blushing even more, and maybe grinning like an idiot.
When the security guard walked away, Eddie leaned close to Steve’s ear and said lowly, “I hope that was okay. Sometimes these rent-a-pigs get full of themselves and try to boss us around.”
Steve laughed and nodded. “Yeah, Eds, that was fine,” he replied, and when Eddie pulled back, his expression was so fond and affectionate that Steve wanted to hide from it. Instead, he just smiled and said, “We’ll talk about it more at our date, yeah?”
Eddie just laughed and nodded. “Fuck yeah, we will,” he laughed.
“Is this Steve?” one of the fans nearby asked, and suddenly all the strangers in the lounge whipped around to look directly at Steve. Will snorted, covering his mouth to hide his laughter.
“Hi,” he said weakly the attention, waving jerkily. He blanched when someone lifted their phone as if to take a picture of him, but then his sight was obstructed by Jeff’s head when the man sat carefully in his lap, effectively blocking any pictures anyone tried to take.
“No pics of Stevie, please!” Eddie announced to the room, patting Jeff’s shoulder in thanks. “He’s shy.”
“’M not shy, just not really ready for thirty random people to have pictures of me on their phones,” Steve said quietly, grinning when Eddie and Jeff both laughed.
The group of people all decided to back off when it was clear that Jeff wasn’t going to get out of the way. Soon enough, they were all distracted surrounding Grant and Gareth while they demonstrated some elaborate secret handshake they were making up on the spot.
Eddie patted Jeff on the back. “Alright, man, your work here is done,” he said, making a frustrated noise when Jeff just snuggled in tighter against Steve’s chest. “Dude, thanks but get off my boyfriend’s lap.”
“Nah, I don’t think I will. It’s a comfy lap,” Jeff sighed, tipping his head back to rest on Steve’s shoulder to grin sidelong at him. “You got a problem with me sitting here, Steve?”
With a smirk, Steve wound his arms around Jeff’s waist and said, “Nope, all good, man.”
“Steve,” Eddie whined loudly, which drew the attention of some of the fans again, and they all broke out into a chorus of wailing “Steeeeve”s that had Gareth nearly collapsing to his knees with laughter.
The rest of the meet-and-greet went by relatively uneventfully. Will ended up sitting on the couch across from Eddie and restarted their earlier argument about various DM things, which got a bit rowdy when one of the other fans wandered over and joined the discussion. Eventually, Chrissy returned to the lounge and announced that it was time for anyone to get the autographs they wanted as the boys had to head out shortly.
At that point, Steve got off the couch to make room for the boys, watching them all quickly sign the items that fans handed them. As the fans had their things signed and were ushered out, Steve eyed the security guard from earlier a bit warily as the guard beckoned for Will to leave immediately after getting his stuff signed.
“Just give us a minute, I’m his ride,” Steve called a bit smugly, and the security guard dropped his hand huffily.
Soon enough, it was just Will and him with the band, and Chrissy was gathering them all up to return to the bus. When Eddie stood up, Steve stepped into his space with a little smirk, hooking a finger into his belt loop again.
“Mr. Munson, I was hoping for an autograph,” Steve said quietly, just loud enough for Eddie to hear, batting his eyelashes up at him.
Eddie blinked down at him, his cheeks turning pink before his expression turned hungry. “Did you, now? What’d you want signed, gorgeous?” he asked.
Steve made a show of looking around shyly. “Can’t show you in front of everyone,” he said softly, sweetly even. He couldn’t help the smirk when Eddie’s nostrils flared with his next slow breath in.
“How about you meet me back at my hotel, baby, I’ll give you something better than my autograph,” Eddie suggested, his tone downright guttural he was speaking so low.
Steve pouted. “You know I can’t go back to your hotel,” he whined, and Eddie cursed.
“Then the bus. I’ll wait for you on the bus where we’re parking it. I’ll give you your autograph there,” Eddie corrected, reaching up to cup Steve’s cheek softly.
“I’ll be there, promise,” Steve said as he tilted his face up as if to ask for a kiss. This time, it looked like Eddie was going to give in to the impulse, so Steve grinned and stepped back. Eddie’s gaze was heated and locked on his as Steve walked backward to the door. “See you, Eds.”
Without waiting for his response, Steve turned around and practically dragged Will out of the lounge, giggling almost deliriously.
“So, what were you saying about it not being serious, Steve?” Will asked knowingly, his arms crossed.
“Oh, shut up, Byers. Not a word to Robin,” Steve said breathlessly.
“Already texted her. Literally the moment he called you his boyfriend,” Will said.
“Ugh, traitor,” Steve groused, knowing he would hear so much shit about that the moment he got home.
When Steve arrived at the tour bus, he was nearly shaking with his need to finally touch Eddie. He had parked his own car in the staff parking at the airport and walked to the oversized lot, excitement overcoming a lot of his nerves.
Opening the door, Steve climbed up the steps and found Eddie waiting, leaning against the kitchenette. He was in comfier clothes, a tank top and sweatpants, and Steve’s mouth watered at the sight of Eddie’s cock tenting the front of those pants.
Without a word, Steve crowded into Eddie’s space, pressing his lips and nose under Eddie’s jaw, mouthing at the skin there and tasting the salt of his sweat. Eddie let out a happy groan, wrapping his arms around Steve and grabbing his ass, hauling him in closer as Steve bit and sucked marks into Eddie’s skin.
“You’re so pushy,” Eddie groaned thickly into the air and Steve chuckled, licking a stripe up Eddie’s throat and nibbling on his earlobe.
“You’ve no idea,” Steve whispered before dropping heavily to his knees at Eddie’s feet and pulling at the drawstring of his sweatpants.
Eddie laughed almost incredulously as Steve yanked his clothes out of the way, a hand burying itself in Steve’s hair. “Shit, baby, did you come here with a plan?” he asked, and the sound he made when Steve mouthed at his cock through his boxers would live in Steve’s mind forever.
“Kind of. Just been thinking about getting my mouth on this since this morning,” Steve admitted as he found the head of Eddie’s cock through the fabric and sucked, moaning when the hand in his hair tightened roughly.
“Get to it then, sweetheart,” Eddie managed as he pulled Steve away by his hair, shoving his boxers down off his hips. “Don’t have all night.”
Steve shivered at the bossy tone, spreading his legs as he felt a gush of slick coat his boxers. He was looking up at Eddie’s face, pointedly ignoring the hard cock in front of him, as he asked, “What’s the rush?”
“The band’s operating on a tight schedule, sweet thing,” Eddie replied, smirking down at Steve as he brought back their little game from the lounge.
Steve moaned as a flash of heat lanced through his core and he finally looked down at his prize. The sound that was punched out of Steve was the furthest thing from dignified, but he refused to be embarrassed by it. The video Steve had been treated to that morning did nothing to prepare him for the real thing.
Eddie’s cock wasn’t huge, definitely a very easy length to take into his mouth and throat, but it was still big. More, it was thick in a way that made Steve’s jaw ache just thinking about wrapping his lips around it. Just like the rest of Eddie, his cock was solid and broad, perhaps in a way that most people wouldn’t expect. Lifting a hand up to wrap around it, Steve whined as his middle finger could barely reach his thumb.
“Not even fucking you with it yet, and you’re already singing for me?” Eddie teased, his voice thick with want, and Steve felt dizzy with the mention of being fucked. His cunt and dick throbbed, and he swore he could feel the beginnings of an orgasm already building in his gut.
Instead of answering, Steve took Eddie into his mouth, testing just how deep he could take him in one go. The weight of Eddie on his tongue, the spread of his jaw to accommodate his girth, had Steve groaning around him and pressing forward until he felt close to his gag reflex. Steve’s mouth was so full, and yet he hadn’t taken all of it in. Furrowing his brow, Steve was determined to swallow this perfect, fat cock by the end of the night.
Sliding back slowly, Steve swirled his tongue along the bottom vein and sucked noisily, the sound of it obscenely wet with how much spit was pooling under his tongue. Steve moaned and focused on the head, sucking gently while tonguing the slit to lap up the stream of precum leaking from it. Eddie’s other hand joined the first in Steve’s hair as he let out a low sound, and Steve looked up through his lashes to meet his gaze as he slowly took his cock back into his mouth.
Eddie’s eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open as he panted, soft sounds accompanying each hard exhale. When Steve paused as the head nudged at his soft palate and hummed, Eddie dropped his head back against the cabinet with a hard thud and a proper whimper.
“Fuck, baby, feels so good,” Eddie gasped, and Steve whined at the praise.
Pulling back a bit, Steve took a deep breath and pushed forward, opening his throat and pushing until his nose and lips were buried in the coarse hair at the base of Eddie’s cock. The weight of Eddie in his mouth and throat, the ache in his jaw and the way his throat was constricting, trying to push Eddie out or take him deeper, was intoxicating. Steve didn’t want to pull back off, even as he felt the gag coming, felt his whole body tensing, tears streaming down his cheeks. Choking, Steve finally pulled back, swallowing hard against the dry-heave and gasping for breath as his lips rested against the head of Eddie’s cock.
Looking back up at Eddie, Steve felt pinned by the heated stare he was under, Eddie’s nostrils flared and his mouth wet and red and hanging open with his sounds.
With a desperate sound, Steve went to work, fucking his face on Eddie’s thick cock with an enthusiasm he couldn’t remember ever having about sucking dick. Every few plunges, Steve would gag and choke, but he refused to let it stop him. Steve felt wet everywhere, with tears on his cheeks, spit coating his chin and throat, and his slick soaking through his boxers. It was filthy and perfect, and Steve wanted to add Eddie’s cum to the mess so desperately he buried his nose into the hair at the base again, swallowing around the fat head and not even pulling back when he gagged at first.
“Whoa, whoa, hold on, baby,” Eddie gasped through the litany of sobbing moans, pulling on Steve’s hair until he finally pulled back, his mouth slipping off Eddie’s cock with a wet pop.
“Why are you stopping me?” Steve complained, his voice hoarse in a way that made his own dick twitch.
“Gonna come if you keep that up, baby,” Eddie gasped, reaching up to wipe beads of sweat off his forehead and push his hair back out of his face.
“I want you to come in my throat,” Steve said firmly, his pout relaxing when Eddie groaned.
“Jesus H Christ, you’re really wanting me to come only five minutes in?” Eddie laughed, his face red with his blush.
“Yeah, if it’s in my throat,” Steve repeated, but when he tried to get his mouth on Eddie’s cock again, the hands in his hair stopped him. With a sob, Steve whined, “Eddie, please.”
“Babe, I adore your enthusiasm, holy shit, I’m just—” Eddie paused to take a deep breath, settling down a bit and Steve took that time to try and cool off as well.
“I know I said we didn’t have all night, but that was part of the roleplay, yeah? We absolutely do not need to rush any of this,” Eddie finally said, staring wide-eyed at Steve at his feet.
“Can you get hard again if you come right now?” Steve asked, swallowing and wiping his chin off, trying not to feel too smug when Eddie had to close his eyes and take another calming breath.
“Yeah, I can—it might take a bit, but I can definitely get hard again,” Eddie finally answered, sliding a hand down to hold Steve’s cheek, smearing his thumb through the tears and spit on his skin. “Feel like I’ve been hard for a week.”
“Same,” Steve moaned, fluttering his lashes up at Eddie. “Please, Eds, fuck my mouth on your cock. Want you at the back of my throat when you come, even if I choke on it.”
Eddie took a sharp breath, his hands tightening in Steve’s hair. “You sure, baby?” he asked, and the check-in touched Steve.
Instead of answering with words, Steve opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out a bit, whining softly as he nodded.
This time Eddie dragged Steve forward, feeding him his cock and guiding his head with rough tugs of his hair. Steve was in heaven, his eyes rolling back as he relaxed his throat as much as possible, timing his breaths, and gagging every time he messed up the rhythm. It was perfect, amazing even, and he wrapped an arm around Eddie’s thighs as he lifted the other hand to squeeze and tug gently at Eddie’s balls.
When Eddie sobbed prettily, Steve slid his hand further back to play with his taint, and his hand froze as he felt small metal balls just behind his sac. With a groan, Steve investigated what felt like a short ladder of curved barbells, three of them, down Eddie’s taint. Steve was overwhelmed with the fantasy of feeling them under his tongue, even as he gagged and choked on Eddie’s cock. Curling his finger, Steve rested the length of it along Eddie’s perineum, his knuckle resting just before his hole, and pressed.
The reaction was beautiful.
Eddie practically shouted, his moan a punched-out sob as he threw his head back and dragged Steve’s mouth onto his cock to the hilt. Steve had taken a deep breath, so he worked to keep his throat open around the head of Eddie’s cock while he massaged his taint, pulling all manner of whimpering pleas from the man above him.
With another shattered moan, Eddie shuddered and pulsed against Steve’s tongue, and Steve choked as the first shot hit the back of his throat. Tightening his grip around Eddie’s thighs, Steve didn’t let him pull him back, taking each pump of cum straight down his throat, tears streaming down his face as he gagged again. Needing to breathe, Steve pulled back, and his mouth filled with the rest of Eddie’s hot, salty load.
Eddie let out a whine and dragged Steve back to the hilt before he could swallow, and Steve felt a mouthful of cum and spit spill over his chin and down his throat. He hadn’t been ready for the way Eddie would bottom out again so quickly, so he choked and more of the mess of spit and cum in his mouth splattered in the coarse hair his mouth and nose were pressed into. Eddie didn’t relent, holding Steve there while he whimpered through the aftershocks of his orgasm, his cock slowly softening against Steve’s tongue.
When Steve gagged again, that seemed to snap Eddie out of it and he pulled Steve off of his cock.
Steve gasped desperately, his whole body shaking as he swallowed down a cough. “Holy shit,” he said, or at least tried to but his voice was gone it seemed. Swallowing again, he moaned at the salty aftertaste that coated his tongue, his cunt throbbing with need.
“Jesus Christ, Steve, how is it you never mentioned you give head like you’re fucking made for it?” Eddie panted, his voice high as he swallowed hard, trying to catch his breath.
“Flatterer,” Steve managed to choke out, blushing.
“Steve, you just sucked my soul out of my cock, don’t be fucking modest,” Eddie laughed, lifting his hands to dig the heels of his palms into his eyes. “We didn’t even make it to my bunk, Steve. I had everything set up, then you came in here and got on your knees like the perfect wet dream you are, and you’re gonna act like you don’t know exactly how good you are?”
Steve was beside himself at the praise, his dick so hard against his soaked boxers he could hardly stand it.
When Eddie finally looked back down at him, he let out a soft moan and Steve could see his cock give a valiant twitch. Steve preened under the implied praise, sliding his fingers up through the mess cooling on his throat and chin and sucking them into his mouth. It was filthy, and if it wasn’t for the hunger that darkened Eddie’s expression, Steve would’ve been embarrassed for doing it at all.
“We need to get horizontal if we wanna keep going, Stevie,” Eddie gasped, and Steve noticed for the first time how much Eddie’s leg was shaking.
“Oh, shit, sorry—” Steve started, his face growing hot.
“Do not apologize for giving me literally the best orgasm in my entire life,” Eddie interrupted, and Steve grabbed his leg and slung it over his shoulder. “Fuck, baby, see there you are being sweet and shit—why are you still down there anyway, big boy?”
“Honestly, I’m so fucking wet right now, I’m afraid to move,” Steve admitted, but it was only partially true. He mostly just liked looking up at Eddie when he was like that, soft with post-orgasm bliss and blushing.
“Jesus, you can’t just say that shit to me—I need you to get into my bunk while I sort my brain out. Through the curtain there, bottom one on the left,” Eddie said in a rush, covering his eyes again while he took a deep breath.
Smirking, Steve carefully slipped away and disappeared behind the curtain. He could hear Eddie muttering to himself back near the kitchenette—“He has to be a demon, an incubus or something, he can’t actually be real.”—and Steve couldn’t help his self-satisfied grin. Eddie hadn’t said anything about how he wanted Steve, so he quickly stripped out of his clothes, using his shirt to wipe off his chin a bit, before crawling into Eddie’s bunk. As a final touch, Steve closed the privacy curtains on the bunk and lounged back, spreading his legs lewdly.
As he heard Eddie shuffle through the curtain to the bunks and start removing his own clothes, Steve laced his fingers behind his head and arched his back, spreading his legs even wider and tipping his head back to look at the ceiling of the bunk.
“Why’d you close the curtain, Ste-eeve oh my God.”
Steve looked down his nose at Eddie who had just opened the curtains and was halfway in the bunk. His eyes were tracking the line of Steve’s body, his cheeks turning pink as they landed and froze on his cunt.
“See something you like, Eds?” Steve asked sweetly, lowering his hand to run two fingers along the slit of his hole, separating the lips and shaking as he felt more slick trickle out. Framing his dick with his fingers, he gently squeezed and tugged, shuddering with a soft moan.
Eddie clambered into the bunk, barely reacting when he very obviously hit his own head on the top of the opening. Before Steve could react fully, Eddie was on his stomach between his legs, using his face to push Steve’s hand out of the way. As Steve pulled his hand back, Eddie strained upward and caught his fingers in his mouth, sucking them deep and groaning.
Breathlessly, Steve pushed them as deep as he could without gagging Eddie, pressing down on his tongue when Eddie’s eyes rolled back with a moan. That was very interesting, and Steve would be happy to investigate that another time. Gently, he pulled his fingers out of Eddie’s mouth and buried them in his hair, firmly guiding Eddie’s face between his legs.
Without hesitation, Eddie took Steve’s dick into his mouth with a filthy moan, sucking on it gently, sweetly even. Steve arched his back again as pleasure shot through his gut, his thighs squeezing around Eddie’s head a bit. Sighing, Steve crossed his ankles on Eddie’s back, both hands in his hair to keep him in place.
From the blissed-out expression on Eddie’s face, Steve didn’t think he actually had to work that hard to keep him right there, sucking and licking messily at his dick. 
Steve knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help it, sighing at the heavy-lidded and dazed look that overcame Eddie’s blushing face. Eddie’s brow furrowed and he whined as he ran his tongue around his dick, then focused his efforts on the hood.
Steve arched sharply with a cry when Eddie worked the hood back and teased Steve’s frenulum with his tongue. At his cry, Eddie whimpered and doubled his efforts, opening his eyes lazily to meet Steve’s gaze, his expression hazy.
“Fuck, Eds, feels so good,” Steve sighed, breathless as his release gently built. Sighing happily, Eddie dropped his chin a bit to lap into Steve’s cunt before returning to his dick.
Grunting, Eddie shifted his weight on his elbows and lifted his mouth a bit. “S’okay if I finger you?” he asked and Steve nodded almost frantically.
“You can absolutely finger me, Eds,” he groaned, biting his lip as Eddie pressed two fingers inside.
Eddie’s fingers were thicker than Steve’s, so two of them caused a bit of a stretch that had him whining and spreading his legs. Something seemed to snap between them, and Eddie turned his face to bite and suck several marks into the soft skin of Steve’s inner thigh. Steve groaned as he did, rocking his hips to fuck himself on Eddie’s fingers, shuddering when the man pressed a third finger inside him.
Moaning breathlessly, Steve blinked hazily down at Eddie, startling when their gazes locked while Eddie mouthed his way down Steve’s thigh. He scraped his teeth along the way, teasing with soft bites before marking him up with a dark hickey. Steve was beside himself, tears springing to his eyes as he rocked desperately down onto the fingers fucking into him.
Then Eddie crooked his fingers perfectly into Steve’s g-spot and he cried out sharply, arching off the bed with babbled nonsense, mostly praise and pleas for more and “right there, Eds, don’t stop, God, please don’t stop.”
With a chuckle, Eddie went to pull his fingers out and Steve reached down to grab his wrist, so quickly that he seemed to actually startle the man.
“Why’re you stopping?” Steve asked, breathless with his want, desperately on the edge and shaking with his need to come. “I didn’t tease you,” he added with a pout, and Eddie laughed.
“Stevie, I’m just—I’m so fucking hard again, I was just gonna adjust myself,” Eddie explained, and Steve groaned, tipping his head back and letting go of Eddie’s wrist.
“Sorry, just—fuck, I’m so close,” Steve complained, throwing his arm over his eyes while he waited for Eddie’s fingers to return.
“All good, gorgeous,” Eddie hummed, turning his face to mark Steve’s other thigh up as he slid his fingers back into Steve’s cunt. “Good to know you’re a brat when you’re being edged,” he murmured against Steve’s skin.
“Not a brat,” Steve argued, but his petulance was short-lived when Eddie found his g-spot and worked it relentlessly with his fingertips.
Steve couldn’t help the loud, sharp cries that exploded from his throat as Eddie fucked his fingers in and out of him, finding his sweet spot on every slide in, his accuracy terrible and perfect. With both hands in Eddie’s hair, Steve dragged him back onto his dick, grinding it up into Eddie’s mouth when the man immediately began to suck it perfectly.
Eddie’s wicked tongue flicked at the head before slipping under the hood and caressing his frenulum again at the same time he massaged Steve’s g-spot, earning himself noises that could only be described as screams. Steve’s orgasm was barreling forward, his stomach tense and cunt squeezing around Eddie’s fingers, and Eddie wasn’t slowing down. The sounds Eddie’s mouth was making on Steve’s dick, his fingers inside Steve’s cunt, were obscene in how wet it all was.
Then Eddie nipped at Steve’s dick and the flash of almost-pain made him gasp, his cunt pulsing out another gush of slick. With a growly chuckle, Eddie did it again and Steve threw his head back, sobbing through his orgasm as his thighs clamped down hard around Eddie’s head.
Even though he came, Eddie didn’t stop, almost didn’t even seem to register that Steve came with the way he kept going against his g-spot, nipping and sucking his dick with even more determination. Steve shook under the attention, another release building quickly on the aftershocks of the first, his moans coming out in shattered whimpers. He knew his hands in Eddie’s hair must be painful, but Eddie didn’t complain, just sucked and bit at his dick happily, rutting against the bed with a moan of his own.
When Steve came again, he arched so sharply he nearly sat up, practically wailing into the heated air of the bunk. Tears were streaming down his face as he convulsed with each wave of his release, sobbing when Eddie still didn’t stop, his eyes gazing up the length of his body. It was too much—the mouth, the fingers, Eddie’s big brown eyes looking up at him, watching him shake and cry and beg—but Steve couldn’t bring himself to stop it either.
Steve babbled for mercy, pleading with Eddie while holding his pretty mouth against his dick, fingers tangled viciously in his long curls.
Eddie chuckled against him and shifted his weight on his elbows. The fingers in Steve’s cunt withdrew, and he whined shakily as his cunt grasped desperately around nothing. Then Steve felt pressure against his ass, just enough to get his attention.
When Steve looked down at Eddie, eyes wild and entire body shaking, Eddie swiveled his finger around Steve’s hole questioningly. “S’okay?” he mumbled against Steve’s dick, and despite his earlier pleas, Steve was nodding desperately.
Eddie wasted no time pressing one thick, long finger inside, the slide smooth with the slick from his cunt, but just barely wet enough. Fucking the finger in and out, Eddie bullied a second one in, winding Steve with the slightly painful stretch. With two thick fingers in Steve’s ass, Eddie pulled away from his dick to shove three fingers of his other hand into Steve’s empty cunt.
With a sob, Steve rocked his hips down onto Eddie’s fingers, shuddering at the smoothness of the fingers in his cunt and the rough drag of the fingers in his ass.
“Let’s get you nice and stretched out,” Eddie murmured, mostly to himself, and pushed the third wet finger into his hole.
It hurt, deliciously so, and Steve threw his head back with a pitiful sob. He was so close to coming, even with the aching stretch in his ass, almost especially because of the stretch, and he could barely breathe with it.
With that, Eddie lowered his mouth to rest around Steve’s dick, doing nothing for a moment. Then he spread his fingers slightly at the same moment the digits in his cunt crooked up, and his teeth scraped across the head of his dick.
Steve came nearly silently that time, his eyes rolling back as his breath got caught between a hiss and a groan. When he came back to himself, he was letting out little gasping sobs with each wave of his orgasm, both hands shoving at Eddie’s head as the pleasure became jagged momentarily. Eddie smugly pulled away, grinning up at him as Steve rocked his hips down onto the fingers still inside him, whimpering and crying as he came down.
“Eddie, please, need a break—” Steve gasped, and he whined at how empty he was when Eddie pulled his fingers out of both holes. “Holy fuck.”
“You can say that again,” Eddie laughed, his hair a wild mess from Steve’s hands and his chin shiny with his slick.
Steve was struck with the need to lick that mess up and kiss the man that made him feel so good he might as well have been floating. With a jolt, Steve realized they hadn’t kissed yet this whole time, and he whined softly. He had to fix that immediately.
“C’mup here,” he practically sobbed, and Eddie acquiesced instantly.
The moment Eddie’s face was level with his, Steve began laying open-mouthed kisses along Eddie's chin and cheeks, lapping up his mess and dodging Eddie’s lips. Finally, Steve couldn’t tease any longer and, holding Eddie’s face with both hands, pulled Eddie into a hungry, gasping kiss.
It was perfect, literally everything Steve had dreamed their first kiss would be and more. With Eddie on top of him, nestled between Steve’s shivering thighs and melting into him, Steve couldn’t think of a better way for that moment to be happening.
Steve sobbed against Eddie’s mouth as the man licked past his lips, meeting his questing tongue as he wrapped his legs around Eddie’s waist. With a groan, Eddie rocked his thick cock against Steve’s hip, dragging another wanton sound from Steve. He wanted that length inside him, he wanted to feel the stretch of that cock against the walls of his cunt, wanted to feel hollowed out by it. Steve needed to feel the heat of Eddie’s release inside him.
“Fuck me,” Steve whined against Eddie’s mouth, moving his hips to try and position Eddie’s cock, but he couldn’t get the angle right. “Please, Eds, want it—”
Groaning, Eddie pulled back. “Okay, slow down, let’s just take a deep breath for a second,” he suggested, and Steve froze underneath him, afraid he misinterpreted something at some point. Picking up on Steve’s budding anxiety, Eddie said, “I just need a drink really quick, maybe wash my hands. I will gladly fuck you into this mattress, baby. Been dreaming of doing just that since, like mid-May.”
Steve laughed sheepishly, unwinding his legs from around Eddie’s waist and letting him get up. “Okay, that’s—yeah, maybe cooling down for a second makes sense,” he admitted, his thighs still shaking from his own earth-shattering orgasms just a few minutes before.
Eddie was quick with washing up, and he brought two plastic bottles of water back to the bunk, handing one to Steve who drank his gratefully. When Eddie reached into a drawer underneath his bed and pulled out a strip of condoms, Steve frowned but quickly looked away to school his expression into something less selfish. If Eddie preferred to use a condom, that was fine. Steve wasn’t about to pitch a fit over a guy valuing safe sex.
“Hey, wait, what was that?”
Steve jumped when Eddie turned his face back toward him, frowning teasingly.
“What?” Steve asked, closing his water bottle and fiddling with it in his lap.
“You looked all disappointed. What’s up?” Eddie asked, cupping Steve’s face gently in his hands. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”
“It’s nothing, it’s just—I was—fuck this is so hard to say out loud when I’m not too horny to fucking think,” Steve complained, screwing his eyes shut as he blurted out, “I got really excited thinking about you coming inside me, so when I saw the condoms I just—the condoms are fine, we can absolutely use one, I was just briefly a little sad, and—”
“Holy shit, Stevie, I only grabbed the condoms because I didn’t want to assume you’d be cool with that, or there weren’t any, y’know, risks,” Eddie said, and Steve dropped his hand to smirk at him.
“Risks?” Steve asked, enjoying the way Eddie blushed.
“The last guy with a pussy that I fucked could still get knocked up if we weren’t careful, so yeah, y’know, risks,” Eddie said in a rush, scrubbing the back of his neck.
Steve smiled and reached forward to bury his hand in Eddie’s hair, pulling him in for a slow, sweet kiss. With a sigh, Steve slowly laid back in the bunk, coaxing Eddie on top of him and back between his legs. Groaning softly, Steve pulled away to meet Eddie’s eyes heatedly.
“No risk of that with me, promise,” Steve said quietly as he reached down between them to position the head of Eddie’s cock against the wet seam of his cunt. With a mischievous smirk, Steve added, “Happy to let you fuck me raw as often as you want, though. Try and make it stick?”
Eddie groaned and dropped his head onto Steve’s shoulder. “Fuck, baby, you can’t just say shit like that,” he practically whimpered before kissing and nipping Steve’s collarbone.
Sighing, Steve stroked Eddie’s cock, the head of it pressed against his entrance and driving him insane. With a shuddering sigh, Eddie’s hips rocked forward and the tip of his cock slid inside.
Steve wasn’t tight by any means, but it had been a while since Steve had taken an actual cock, and he didn’t use thick toys when he took care of himself. That all said, even though Steve wasn’t tight, Eddie was still thick, so the stretch wasn’t possible to ignore.
Breathing through it, Steve clutched at Eddie’s back and whimpered as Eddie rocked his hips forward, sliding inside inch by inch.
After a few moments of that, Eddie lifted his head to kiss Steve deeply, licking into his mouth and swallowing his soft sounds at each short slide inside him. Humming, Eddie tipped his head to sing directly into his ear, “Let the Devil in…”
Steve jolted at the singing, feeling his cunt grow slicker at hearing Eddie’s singing so close to his ear. Not only that but he recognized the lyrics as being from one of Eddie’s songs.
“Fuck, Eds, I’m trying,” Steve whined, dropping his head back on the pillow.
Grunting, Eddie asked, “Does it hurt?”
Steve considered the question and shook his head, gasping as Eddie rocked a little deeper. “N-no, it’s not.”
“Alright, let me know if this is too much,” Eddie said thickly, and with a soft whine, Eddie snapped his hips forward, hilting hard and fast against the lips of Steve’s cunt.
Steve arched up against Eddie with a punched-out cry, going cross-eyed at how full he suddenly felt. Eddie didn’t give him much of a chance to recover his full brain capacity before he set a brutal pace.
It was intense, the way Eddie moved against him, grunting with each slap of his hips against Steve’s core, his cock fucking Steve deep and perfect. The sounds of Eddie’s cock sliding in and out of his cunt had Steve blushing all the way to his chest. Again, everything sounded so wet and messy, and if Steve had the ability to care he would be embarrassed about it.
As it was, Steve was too busy trying to catch his breath, his moans coming out in short little cries with every plunging thrust into his core while Eddie sucked marks into the skin of his throat.
“Eds,” Steve sobbed, clutching at Eddie’s back as the man hissed and fucked him harder, faster. “Eddie, please.”
“Please, what, gorgeous?” Eddie asked breathlessly, lifting his head to kiss Steve deeply, pressing their tongues together before Steve could answer.
They gasped into each other’s mouths for what felt like hours while Eddie’s hips pounded against him, his thick cock spearing his cunt in an almost punishing pace. Steve whimpered as the coil of his release pulled taut in his gut, his toes curling with the impending force of it.
“Eddie, so close,” he managed to sob, the words muddled around Eddie’s tongue, his breath hitching with each hard push inside him. “Eddie, please, please, please.”
“What do you need, baby?” Eddie grunted, whimpering as he shuddered above Steve, his body shaking with his own approaching orgasm.
“Your hand—my dick, please, Eds, please,” Steve gasped desperately, his eyes rolling back as Eddie pushed all the way in and stopped moving.
With a low groan, Eddie propped himself on one hand above Steve, keeping himself hilted inside his cunt as he got a hand between them to work Steve’s dick between two fingers.
Steve stared up at Eddie, watching him as he loomed above him and focused on getting him off, his eyes closed and kiss-reddened mouth hanging open and panting. Eddie’s curls hung around his face in damp, sweaty ringlets, swinging with the frantic motions of his arm while he dragged Steve closer and closer to his release. Slowly Eddie’s eyes opened to meet his, his gaze hooded and heavy. Eddie refused to look away, as if he wanted to watch the moment Steve came undone, wanted to see him fall apart at the seams.
And who was Steve to deny him that?
With a broken sob, Steve arched off the bed, nails dragging across Eddie’s back as his cunt clenched almost painfully around the cock sitting deep inside him. The sound Eddie let loose was guttural, something Steve almost felt more than he heard, and soon Eddie was moving.
Eddie fucked him, harder and faster than before, driving into Steve’s spasming, wet hole with brutal thrusts that punched little, gasping screams out of him. It dragged his orgasm out, making Steve feel like it would never end, like Eddie was about to keep him there in that blissful, sensitive, painful place until he died.
Then Eddie’s rhythm stuttered, the thrusts growing erratic against him and Steve forced his eyes open. Eddie had hung his head, in a way that hid his face behind his curtain of hair, and Steve couldn’t have that.
Whining, Steve grabbed Eddie’s face, tilting it back up and pushing his hair out of the way. Eddie’s expression was soft, so needy and beautiful that Steve felt close to tears. Steve stroked his cheek with a thumb, and Eddie sighed, turning his head to kiss Steve’s palm softly.
The way Steve’s heart stuttered in his chest at that sweet gesture had tears springing to Steve’s eyes.
“Come for me, Eds, please, wanna feel it,” Steve murmured, breathless as Eddie’s eyes rolled back and his cock settled deep inside him one last time.
Steve moaned thickly as he felt the warm bloom of Eddie’s release inside him, Eddie letting out those perfect whimpers with each hot pulse into Steve’s cunt.
With a shaky breath, Eddie pulled out and flopped onto the mattress beside Steve, gasping for breath. Steve swallowed thickly around his own heavy breathing and looked over at him, smiling shyly when he found Eddie staring at him.
“How are you real?” Eddie asked, his voice awed and impossibly soft, as if they hadn’t been fucking like animals for what felt like hours.
“Could ask you the same thing, Eds,” Steve replied, rolling onto his side and shivering as he felt some of Eddie’s load trickle out of him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been fucked that good.”
Eddie laughed out loud at that, wiggling close to kiss Steve sweetly. “Same,” he agreed in a little whisper before a yawn overtook him. “Fuck, I’m sorry, the night’s catching up to me.”
Steve laughed and pulled away, reaching over the side of the bed to grab his boxers and slip them back on. “Let’s get you to bed then,” Steve said with a bright smile, even as exhaustion tugged at him too.
The two of them got dressed again, Eddie letting Steve borrow a shirt since his own had been thoroughly wrecked earlier. They got distracted a couple times when they would kiss each other and make-out a bit, but overall they managed to get dressed without any incidents. Even when Steve shivered at the sensation of Eddie’s cum trickling out of him and answered honestly when Eddie asked him what was up.
“Fuck, if I was able to get it up again tonight…” Eddie trailed off before kissing Steve soundly and pulling away.
Steve walked Eddie most of the way back to the hotel, holding his hand with their fingers tangled together. It felt perfect, natural even, walking with Eddie and holding hands, and it broke Steve’s heart to stop short of reaching the lobby.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Eddie asked quietly, almost shyly as he wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist and pulled him close.
“Yeah, of course,” Steve replied with a grin, winding his arms around Eddie’s neck and pulling him in for a soft, chaste kiss. “Wouldn’t miss our actual date,” he teased, and Eddie laughed loudly.
“Holy fuck, we actually did everything backwards, huh?” he said, laughing again when Steve nodded.
“Yeah, we kinda did. But I don’t mind, if you don’t,” Steve replied, and Eddie beamed at him.
“Not at all,” Eddie agreed before leaning in for a searching kiss, stealing the breath from Steve’s lungs.
[ NEXT ]
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Anna Quindlen
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Franz Kafka
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Shannon Wiersbitzky, What Flowers Remember
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Anna de Noailles, tr. By Norman R. Sharpiro, from “Your Hidden Fleshly Grace"
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Shirley Jackson, “Raising Demons"
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Katherine Paterson
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margowritesthings · 1 year
Text
Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?
pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader
word count: 2150 words
warnings: disgustingly cute fluff
anon requested: okay okay i have two!!! 1) “when it comes to you… i’m weak” and 2) a sweet and simple “may i?” so so hot omfg. Arthur just being a big strong man but so very careful and gentle with you because he has the biggest soft spot for you <3
a/n: sorry this is so late anon! hope you enjoy. I ended up really loving this, i've been feeling dead romantic lately so here is some disgustingly cute arthur morgan. I listened to this song a lot while I was writing it- for some reason my arthur x reader ideas often remind me of amy winehouse songs?
tagging: @cowboydisaster @cassidylynnj @musicallisto @reaveries
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The whiskey burns your throat and causes you to force back a splutter. You’re sure you’re never gonna get used to the damn drink, but that and beer were all the Van Der Linde's stock and… well, you are a Van Der Linde, now. Arthur looks on at you from across the campfire wearing an amused grin and you know instantly that he’s noticed your grimace. Of course he has; nothing gets past him when it comes to you and your little nuances. If it wasn’t for Javier’s sweet melody, joined with Micah’s somewhat less sweet, awfully sung words, you’re almost certain he’d be teasing you right now. It is a strange feeling, disappointment for lost jokes at your own expense, but strange feelings had been a staple of your life since you had started seeing Arthur in secret.
3 feet, a campfire, Javier, Micah, and John separate the two of you, but every time you catch his eye, everything and everyone melts away. The warmth in your cheeks each time he silently speaks to you through a raise of his brow or a cocky smirk puts the campfire to shame. You take another sip of your drink. It doesn’t go down any smoother, but you get a little better at hiding the fact. You look over to see if Arthur has noticed, but he’s turned to John, hunched over and speaking passionately, most likely about the latest job or the next one. Micah’s singing gets louder, completely drowning out Javier’s guitar just as his improvised song gets onto the topic of whores. You flinch as his drunken voice booms loudly in your ear, vibrating your skull. He smells like strong liquor, but not in the way that Arthur often does. This kind seems to make you feel nauseous. 
“Back off, Micah, y’hurting my ears.” You glare at him, before realising your mistake. You’d caught his attention, practically dragged his eyes to you, so he was serenading you personally now, his whiskey doused breath overtaking your senses completely in all the worst ways. Your not-so-gentle shove to the arm stops his song mid-sentence, his harsh laughter splitting what little peace is left in the moment.
“Oh, c’mon, baby, I-“
“Micah!” 
You’d never know how Micah was going to justify himself, as Arthur’s voice cut through the air like a knife thrown at the speed of light. He almost jumps out of his skin, like a rat caught in a crossfire, before attempting a recovering, forced laugh.
“Oh, calm down, cowpoke. I’m just messin’ with her. She ain’t yours.” The jab of his bony elbow into your side actually hurts, but not nearly as much as the beating Micah would have surely gotten had Arthur not worried he’d out your little secret before you were ready. He appears to weigh up the best course of action for you and your comfort, just barely managing to keep his fists to himself. You see the muscles flex in his hands as they ache to pummel the rat’s nose into his face, which you wouldn’t exactly hate to see, but appreciate the lack of a huge scene caused. 
“She ain’t no-ones but her own, jackass, and she wants her space, so get lost.”
And after a lifetime of eye rolls thrown at the kinds of women who swoon, you finally get it. 
But Arthur’s wrong. He’s so wrong. You are his, completely and truly. You love him, you’ve known that for a while now, even if you haven’t told him yet, but it isn’t until this very moment that you realise just how unfathomable it is. It hits all at once, the revelation that you will never again experience the banality of an ordinary life, could never again be one of those folk who settle. It can only ever be this: the bliss of a life with Arthur Morgan, or the torture of a life without. This would consume you, for better or worse, for the rest of your existence. 
And what an existence it’s turning out to be.
It knocks you, taking all the breath from your lungs when the intensity of it all truly sinks in. You hate that you’re sitting next to Micah Bell when it happens, especially considering his stench is spinning your head more so than it already is. You need air. You need space. You need… to get away from Micah.
You’re pulled apart like opposing magnets, the euphoria of your revelation and the discomfort of your physical situation fighting inside you. A brief smile is thrown in Arthur’s direction, a silent thanks, as you stand and turn your back to the fire and the people surrounding it, making a path straight for the lakeside.
There’s a purpose to your walk as you stride past the table, where Hosea and Lenny are in heated debate, past Dutch’s tent, all closed up with the glow of subtle candlelight bleeding through the canvas, all the way to the overturned log so many of the Van Der Linde’ found sanctuary at when they needed the space to think. It could never be considered ‘your’ spot, but there is something about the way the moonlight shines in the water and the trees rustle in a gentle wind that makes you feel like you could be the only person who has ever felt this particular way on a night like this. 
Crickets are chirping and you’re just far enough away from the hubbub of camp that Micah’s voice is wonderfully distant. You breathe in through your nose, beautifully fresh, cool air filling your lungs and leaving with a sigh. You can’t seem to stop the smile pulling your lips upwards when you think of what this profound love with Arthur Morgan will entail, all Micah-caused discomfort dissipating into the peace. 
Footsteps rustle the grass behind you. You don’t know how you know, but you do. It’s him. Your love. The smile he throws your way when you turn to him brings back the warmth inside you that you’re missing thanks to being so far away from the fire. You return it with ease. 
“Darlin’.” He greets, tipping his hat to you as he approaches the log, stepping over it and sitting right next to you, pulling his tobacco tin out of his pocket and popping it open, “Y’alright? I’m sorry about Micah, y’know I would’ve done more if-”
“I’m okay. Really.” Oh, how could he not know? He did everything. The smell of dried tobacco reaches your nose and you feel that rush of comfort that only something so inexplicably Arthur can bring. You watch as his expert hands roll up a cigarette. They work subconsciously, following Arthur’s little routine you’ve gotten mesmerised by so many times now. 
“He’s a jackass. I don’t know what’s gotten into Dutch that he thinks he’s any good for any of us. I’m just sorry y’have to put up with him.” His tongue darts out from between his teeth to run a quick line down the roll, placing it right between your teeth. You keep still while he takes a match out from the tin and cups his hands right against your face, lighting the cigarette. You inhale, coughing a little and handing the smoke back to Arthur, who is chuckling at you. You rarely smoked, but always seemed to ask to bum one whenever you’d drank too much whiskey. Arthur found it adorable, it was one of your little quirks, and apparently has started to anticipate your craving. It doesn’t go unnoticed, just how in tune he is with you. If anything, it confirms everything all the more. Arthur takes a long toke of his cigarette, exhaling with an ease you don’t think you could ever master. 
“Well, that much is true: he is a jackass. But you… You did more than enough, Arthur. Y’always do.” Your hand reaches to hold his, cupping over it and squeezing. His light laughter subsides, the tip of the cigarette glowing brighter and lighting his smile up each time he takes in the smoke. 
He looks as though he’s about to respond, wave off your compliments like they’re nothing, but before he can, your attention is captured by the music. It’s coming from Dutch’s tent, which isn’t too far away, so it’s loud enough that you can hear every crackle in the record as it softly plays. Arthur’s cigarette is stubbed out against the wood, flicked away in one swift movement. He stands, extending a hand to you.
“May I have this dance, m’lady?”
“Why of course.”
You’re quick to oblige, feeling that warmth in your belly only Arthur can heat. He’s so sweet, that man you’ve watched crack a nose with one swift punch. Those hands that have hunted and killed and robbed and hurt fit oh so beautifully cupping your own. He helps you up, pulling you a little closer to the source of the music before placing his free hand on your waist. 
Dutch’s tent is shielding you both from view of the camp, so you take advantage of the fact you can fully nuzzle into Arthur, your head falling to his chest. It's a perfect fit, your height against Arthur’s meaning he can fit his chin atop your head as he sways you both. 
The heat of him radiates through his shirt and your blouse, covering you in a comfort unmatched by anything on this earth. In his arms, you feel the safest you’ve ever felt in your life, despite the fact that you’ve never been in so much danger. Tensions were so high in the gang, the price on all your heads increasing with each job messed up by some dodgy tip off. But in this embrace, dancing with the man you’re sure you were made for, none of it matters.
“Arthur?” 
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“I… I got something to tell ya.”
Arthur pulls his chest away from you to look down, his eyes roaming you, a hint of panic mixed in with the curiosity. 
“Is everything okay? You’re not… you’re not ill or anything are y-“
“I love you.” 
The worry evaporates instantly, Arthur’s formerly knitted brows and forehead untensing as those three little words register. He stammers silently, mouth moving but no words reaching you.
“You don’t have to say it back.” You add quickly and honestly, not wanting to pressure him into reciprocation of the sentiment. “But I wanted you to know that I do. I love you. And if you’ll have me, I would love to spend the rest of my life with you, Arthur.” 
Both your hands rest on his chest now, the pair of you still swaying. The candlelight seeping through the tent behind you lights Arthur’s glistening eyes. You could stay in this moment forever, feeling your heart hammering against your chest, flushed against Arthur like it’s trying to break free and join his.
He's quiet for a second and your breath hitches. You mean it, he doesn't need to say it back, you just need him to know it's true. You’ll love him today and tomorrow and forever, if he’ll let you. 
“I love you too, darlin’. God, I love you so much. You’re… you’re everything t’me.” Before he can carry on whispering those sweet nothings, you’re on your tiptoes, arms flung around his shoulders to press a passionate kiss onto Arthur’s lips. His arms snake around your waist, pulling you even further into him, returning every bit of emotion in each and every movement. 
You only pull away when it absolutely cannot wait any longer, the declarations spilling out of your lips like you might explode if they don’t. 
“I wanna do this. Properly, I mean. Stop hidin’ because I love you and I don’t care who knows it.” 
Arthur raises a brow, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side as he considers you, “Alright. If y’think you can handle those idiots back there, then let’s do it. Properly.” 
“Oh, I’ll be fine, cowpoke. And so will you, you’re the strongest man I know.” Your hands, previously splayed on his chest, hold onto Arthur’s collar as he shakes his head.
“Not with you. When it comes to you… I’m weak.” It’s so cheesy, but Arthur being cheesy is one of your favourite things in the world, so you smile up at him and close your eyes, letting the purest of emotions soak into you and the music sway you. Arthur takes your hand, pulling it over your head and spinning you. You giggle, clumsily returning to his embrace. You both stay like that for a while: interlocked, Arthur occasionally humming to you quietly or spinning you around. It’s perfect. And when you return to the fireside, fingers intertwined, everybody looks, but nobody is really that surprised. They’ve all known it from the start. 
It was inevitable. The two of you are made for each other.
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2nd2ndalto · 6 months
Text
Squeeze
I have written Solangelo smut. I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, everyone is eighteen, they keep all their clothes on, and I’ve tried to keep the language as clean as possible. If you’re familiar with my writing style, you’ll know I’ve done my best to keep it sweet, silly and in-character. So there’s that. Also I completely stole this premise from an X-Files fic.
Nico passes the last crate of supplies to Austin, who manages to jam it into the front seat of the camp van, next to Argus. Austin shuts the front passenger door, finally knocking his hip against it to get it to close properly. He scratches his head.
“Yeah, this is definitely more than I thought I ordered,” he says apologetically.
Will shrugs. “It’s fine, Austin. Just means we won’t have to stock up again for a while.”
They’ve made this six-hour trip to Pittsburgh to collect supplies for the infirmary - Kayla, Austin, Will and Nico. And Argus, of course. The drive out had been easy - Austin in the front with Argus, and plenty of room to stretch out in the back rows. The drive home is evidently going to be… less comfortable.
“Well, I think there’s enough room for me and Austin in the first row,” Kayla determines, rising on her toes to peer around a pile of boxes. She elbows Nico. “You and Will will have to make do in the back.”
Nico peers dubiously into the back of the van, pressing his face and hands to the smoked glass window. “There’s barely room for one of us back there.” There are boxes of supplies crammed into nearly every inch of the van's interior, packed up to the ceiling and covering most of the seating space.
Kayla shrugs. “You can sit on his lap, you’ll be fine.”
Nico grimaces. Not that he doesn’t enjoy sitting on his boyfriend’s lap, but it’s something they do occasionally when they’re short on seating at campfire or Will’s feeling particularly silly at mealtimes. Not something Nico really wants to do for six hours straight. Newly eighteen, Nico has managed to grow several inches since he first arrived at camp and he feels he’s mostly outgrown lap-sitting.
“I could just shadow-travel back…” he begins. But Will’s face falls, and Nico immediately backtracks. He agreed to come along on this trip to keep Will company, and he’d feel like a jerk backing out now.
Nico shakes his head. “You know what, it’s fine. Although you might change your mind once your legs fall asleep under my bony butt.”
��Pff. As if. You’re light as a feather,” Will grins, tugging him in by his waist for a warm kiss.
Nico can’t help the stupid smile that spreads over his face, despite the many kisses they’ve shared over the last months. He sees Kayla roll her eyes in his periphery, Austin lightly gagging.
It turns out there isn’t even any easy way into the back of the van, and as Kayla and Austin clamber over boxes into the first row of seats, Argus leads Nico and Will around to the back doors and they climb over the seat backs into the third row.
Nico settles himself on the taller boy’s lap, leaning back to allow Will to pull the seatbelt over both of them.
“Are you sure about this?” Nico asks his boyfriend. Because it can’t be comfortable for Will with those long legs of his. Those long legs and the… strong thighs Nico’s seated on. Gods. Nico swallows.
“Yup,” Will says easily, wrapping his arms around Nico’s middle. He drops his chin to Nico’s shoulder. “I have a chin rest and everything.”
Will nuzzles into his neck, his face scratchy against sensitive skin. Nico gasps and Will giggles.
“I guess I can put us both to sleep if we get too uncomfortable,” Nico muses. The sun is just dipping below the horizon, and Austin and Kayla had mentioned catching a nap on the way back to camp.
“Mmm. It’s fine,” Will says. “I like cuddling with you.”
Nico’s stomach flip-flops pleasantly. He likes it too, of course. It’s what they do with their time alone, mostly. Cuddling, and kissing. Talking. Then more cuddling and more kissing. Neither of them has been in any rush to venture into anything bolder. This, the two of them together has only spanned about six months. And it’s… really good. It’s been enough just to have the comfort of Will’s nearness. His sunny energy and easy touches. Will makes everything warmer, lighter.
They settle into the seat as best they can, chatting for a while before falling into a comfortable silence. Nico turns his head to Will’s, breathing him in, sinking into the heat that always seems to radiate off the boy behind him. He probably could actually sleep like this, he thinks. He shifts a bit, trying to find the most comfortable position for both of them in this tight space.
And that’s when he feels it.
For a moment he thinks it must be Will’s wallet. Maybe a pack of gum? A roll of gauze? He’s reached halfway back to adjust whatever it is that’s poking him in the ass when he freezes. Because that’s definitely not a wallet. That’s -
“I’m so sorry,” Will whispers, tense.
“Oh. That’s - it’s fine.” Nico huffs out a laugh, a little embarrassed as he realizes that’s his boyfriend’s dick. “It’s um. It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose.”
“I’m really, really not,” Will says in a rush. “I’m so sorry, I just -”
“Hey. Will.” Nico reaches back awkwardly to pat the other boy’s cheek. “It’s fine. Really. Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.”
Will sighs and Nico feels the tension in his body ease, marginally.
But the thing is… it kind of feels like a big deal, and Nico’s never really felt it before, except for maybe the occasional brush or bump during times their kissing has become particularly heated. But at those times, Will’s always taken things down a notch, pulled back, shifted away. And that’s not really an option at the moment.
Nico tries, though, carefully tilting his hips to the side and trying to shift his weight forward. But Will hisses, his hands shooting to Nico’s waist, fingers gripping painfully.
“Maybe don’t… move,” he grits out.
“Sorry, I was just trying to -”
“I know, but can you just - can you just hold still?”
Will sounds desperate, pained, and Nico nods, freezing so abruptly that his muscles begin to ache with the effort after only a moment. He tries to focus on the landscape flashing by outside the window, but there’s not much distraction there. It’s fully dark now, and the only thing to divert Nico from the bulge pressing insistently into his backside is the occasional flash of light from a passing car.
Nico’s trying, very hard, not to let his own body get too… interested… in their current predicament. It won’t help matters. Will’s already tense, and Nico doesn’t want to make things worse. And besides, he feels kind of awful being turned on when Will is clearly uncomfortable. Nico tries to turn his attention to the boxes stacked around them instead, resolutely reading the labels.
Wrapped tongue depressors. Medium alcohol swabs. Nonwoven sponges.
It’s just… there, though, hot and hard against his backside, and he can feel every inch of it.
No. Stop it.
Non-adherent pads. Conforming gauze.
It feels really hard. And... big. Is it big? Or is it just because he’s sitting on it? Sort of… against it. Whatever. How big is it, exactly?
Nico shakes his head, a twitch. This line of enquiry is not helping matters.
Cotton-tipped applicators.
The thing is, the two of them have done a lot of kissing, for months now. Even more, lately. And, inevitably, there are the thoughts that follow when Nico’s alone in his cabin. Not to mention the dreams that sometimes wake him - so much warmer and softer than the nightmares that have plagued him for years. If he’s being completely honest with himself, he’s more than ready to move things to the next level with Will, whatever that might mean for them.
Have you considered, Nico’s brain offers helpfully, what it would be like if you were both wearing far fewer clothes right now?
No.
Nico’s in jeans, but Will’s penchant for cargo shorts even now, in February… well it’s difficult not to be extraordinarily aware of just how thin that layer of fabric is -
No. No.
Nico swallows, determinedly ignoring the way his jeans are becoming uncomfortably snug. Will is still stiff as a board behind him. In more ways than one.
Nico’s learned, over the last few years, that when Will is relaxed, it’s much easier for him to relax, too. And unfortunately the opposite is also true. He’s never been sure whether this has something to do with Will’s powers or if it’s just the bond the two of them share, this bond that’s grown closer and more certain with each year that passes. The way they know each other instinctively, inside and out.
Nico’s shoulders are in knots and he really wants to lean back again, but he doesn’t want to make things any more difficult for Will. But a moment later the decision is made for him as Argus floors the gas. Luckily the walls of boxes around them are packed in so tightly that they don’t shift much, but Nico is thrown back against his boyfriend’s chest, his ass pressing firmly into… well.
Will whimpers softly.
Nico cringes in sympathy. He turns to press a kiss to Will’s jaw. “You okay?”
“The more I try not to think about it, the more I… can’t stop thinking about it,” Will mumbles. His eyes are squeezed shut, breath shallow.
“Sorry,” Nico murmurs. “I’ll try to stop being so hot.”
Will breathes out a laugh. “Yeah, could you?”
Nico feels a little rush of relief. Because, look. They’ve been in far, far worse predicaments together, right? This, by comparison, is honestly funny. Or maybe it will be later, at least.
Nico turns his head and cranes his neck, letting his breath brush Will’s ear. “Star Trek is far superior to Star Wars. True crime is the worst kind of crime,” he whispers.
Will laughs nervously. “What are you doing?”
“Shh, I’m trying to help you be repulsed by me,” Nico answers, right in his ear. Will giggles. It sounds a little tense, but Nico decides it still counts.
Nico keeps it up as long as he can (Golden Oreos are an abomination, your dad is the god of too many things, sometimes when you ask me if I’ve eaten any vegetables today - I lie.), until Will is shaking with laughter, Nico giggling in whispers against his head.
Finally he runs out of ideas and he settles back against his boyfriend, gently rocked by the last of their laughter, the rise and fall of Will’s breath. Will’s arms are looped loosely around him.
Nico shifts his hips cautiously and Will gasps, sharp.
“Sorry,” Nico grimaces. “That didn’t help?”
“Well. I feel better,” Will says softly, “so thanks for that. But I’m still um… you know.” He sighs. “I’m really -”
“Don’t be sorry,” Nico interrupts.
“I’ll try,” Will murmurs. He presses his nose to the place where Nico’s shoulder meets his neck, and Nico can tell the other boy is trying to settle his breathing. He reaches a hand up to twine in Will’s hair, a gentle tether. From what he can tell, Will’s… issue… hasn’t improved at all. But his body feels more relaxed in most of the places they’re pressed together.
“You know I wanna… do stuff. With you. Right?” Nico murmurs, after a few minutes have passed in silence.
“What stuff?”
“Like, this kind of stuff.” Nico rolls his hips in demonstration and Will’s breath hitches.
Nico pauses. “Do you… do you not want to do that kind of stuff with me?” he asks, as it suddenly occurs to him that maybe he should be worried about it.
“Nico, no.” Will shakes his head immediately, pressing a kiss to the side of Nico’s head. “Of course I want to do that stuff with you. Just - not like this. Not because - not because I can’t control myself. I want us to do it because we both want to. I want it to be special.”
Nico considers. “Will you tease me if I tell you that everything we do together is special?”
Will huffs out a laugh, warm on Nico’s neck. “Maybe a little. But… I feel that way too. Obviously.”
“What do we do, then?” Nico asks.
Because the thing is, Nico’s first impulse, always, is to help Will, in whatever form that might take - just as Will’s done for him a hundred times over. And if they’re forced to be pressed against each other for hours, still, with the evidence of Will’s arousal trapped between their bodies… Nico can’t think of many solutions. Really just the one, honestly.
“What do we… do? What do you mean?”
“Well,” Nico swallows, trying to summon as much courage as he can. “We’ve still got a long drive ahead of us. The way I see it, we can… take care of this,” he presses his hips back gently, “and then get some sleep. Or, we can wait it out for another…” Nico reaches for Will’s wrist, turning it to squint at his watch, “five hours and twelve minutes.” He presses his lips to Will’s palm, an apology.
Will groans weakly, pressing his face into Nico’s hair. After a long moment Nico feels him take in a deep breath. “Even if we did… like, how…”
Nico squeezes his arms around Will’s where they’re wound around his waist. “You said you wanted us both to want to, right? I want to,” he says softly. “If you don’t, that’s totally okay. But I want you to know that I’m ready whenever you are. Okay?”
“Okay,” Will whispers after a long moment.
“Okay?”
“Okay. I - I think I want to.”
“Yeah?” Nico feels a grin blooming across his face, butterflies erupting in his stomach.
Are they actually doing this?
“Yeah,” Will breathes. “But like… how would we - what do we even -”
“Like this?” Nico rolls his hips once, then again. Slow, careful, trying to concentrate pressure on the bulge pressing into his ass.
“Oh,” Will breathes against his neck. His hips jerk up, just the tiniest bit, and Nico’s face floods with warmth.
“Is that okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Would that… work?” Nico asks, hoping very much that Will understands his meaning and he won’t be forced to explain himself more explicitly.
“Um. Yeah,” Will breathes. “Yeah.”
“Want me to keep going?”
“Yes.” Will sounds certain about this, and it makes Nico’s breath catch.
“Tell me if you want to stop?”
Will nods.
They’re actually doing this.
Then - “wait.” Will’s hold tightens, and Nico freezes.
“Kayla and Austin?” Will whispers.
Nico blinks, taking a moment to register what his boyfriend is asking. “Oh - sleeping. Both of them.”
“Okay,” Will breathes. “Argus?”
“Um. Not sleeping. But that’s what you want in a driver, usually.”
Will giggles, nervous. Then he shifts just the slightest bit under Nico, an invitation. Nico takes a sharp inhale, resuming the measured rolling of his hips, a slow grind into his boyfriend’s erection. Will lets out a soft, desperate sound, then presses his face into Nico’s neck, hard, as if he’s trying to pretend he didn’t.
“Okay?” Nico whispers. He wishes he could properly see Will’s face, have a better gauge of how the other boy is feeling. Next time, he hopes. The thought makes his stomach flutter pleasantly.
“Mmm,” Will responds, almost as if the sound is being pushed out of him. Nico feels him swallow, hears his inhale and the parting of Will’s lips, like he wants to say something more.
“Yeah?” he asks, needing to know.
“Yeah,” Will breathes. “You’re really really good at that,” he whispers in a rush.
Nico chokes down a giggle. “I’ve literally never done this before in my life.” His voice comes out incredulous, a bit squeaky, and Will snorts, then dissolves into a fit of giggles, his arms tight around Nico’s middle, laughter huffed out into Nico’s hair. It’s contagious, and they press against each other, giddy, shaking with soft laughter.
Nico turns his head for a kiss and though the angle is awkward, Will responds eagerly. He always does.
They part, and Nico presses his head against Will’s, resuming the motion of his hips, pressing down and back, and Will lets out another soft sound, his hands hesitantly moving to Nico’s thighs. Nico rests his hands on the other boy’s, encouraging.
“I love you,” he whispers, and Will takes a long, shuddering breath.
Sometimes, when Will’s feeling anxious, he’ll tell Nico, “talk to me,” and Nico will murmur any soothing thing he can think of - you’re okay, I’m right here, everything’s fine, breathe. He does something similar now, grinding against his boyfriend in the back of a van - I love you so much, Will, you’re so beautiful, I love the way you kiss me.
The effect on the other boy is intoxicating, Will’s breath coming rougher against Nico’s skin, his body tensing, not with nerves this time, but with pleasure, anticipation. There’s a rush of heat through Nico’s body, too, but he does his best to put that aside. This isn’t about him. Apart from the arousal though, this feels… good. Right. It feels really nice to take care of Will this way.
Will takes a shaky little breath in, pressing a hot kiss to the back of Nico’s neck, then another, and another, nuzzling. Nico’s eyes flutter shut.
“Um,” Will whispers against his skin.
“Okay?” Nico pauses.
“Yeah. Could you um… could you do that… more?” Will asks. Soft, shy, breathless.
“More?”
“H-harder?” Will whispers, almost too soft to hear.
Nico feels a dizzy rush of heat to his lips, tingling down to his fingers.
“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
Nico shifts forward a bit, bracing a forearm on the seat back in front of them and grinding back, hard. Will lets out a quiet moan, his hips jerking up, involuntary. Electricity sparks through Nico’s body and he digs his heels into the floor of the van. Harder.
“Nico. Fuck,” Will breathes. Nico can feel every ounce of tension in the other boy’s body, coiled like a spring. He’s squirming a little, a bit more with each movement of Nico’s hips, and Nico abruptly registers that Will’s squeezing his thighs in a gentle rhythm, tugging him in with each motion of Nico’s hips, guiding him into the rhythm that Will needs to get off.
Gods.
“Tell me how?” Nico whispers, unsteady, mostly just wanting the reassurance that this is still okay, that Will’s not going to regret this.
“It’s - it’s good. That’s - you’re - it’s really good. It feels - fuck,” Will gasps, sounding as if he’s having difficulty piecing words together. Nico glances back to see Will’s head tilted against the seat, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted. And fuck. Will is always, always gorgeous. Breathtaking, luminous. But this - knowing it’s the two of them together making Will feel this way, that it’s Nico causing this… gods. He’s hooked, lost in it.
“Keep going?” Nico whispers.
“Yes. Please.”
Will’s grip on his thighs is hard enough to bruise now, and Nico’s struck rather violently by the thought that he hopes it will, that he wants to see the evidence of this, later. It sends a rush of heat to his groin. Is that… weird? Now is probably not the time to examine that, he decides.
Nico’s sweaty, dizzy, his back beginning to ache with the motion of his hips. He leans back, turns his head towards Will’s, pressing messy kisses and murmured words wherever he can reach; “you’re so gorgeous, Will, I love you, it’s okay, baby, I’ve got you.”
“Oh,” Will gasps, sharp, and his hands shoot to Nico’s waist, fingers curling around hip bones. He pulls Nico in hard, thrusting up once, twice, and then Will’s body is trembling, hips jerking helplessly, mouth pressed into Nico’s shoulder as he tries to stifle a moan.
He finally goes limp, sweaty and spent, and Nico flops back as Will’s arms wind around his waist, his chest heaving. Will drops his head heavily to Nico’s shoulder.
Nico strokes Will’s arm gently, warmth blooming in his chest, a slow smile spreading across his face.
“Wow,” he whispers, finally. He feels light, warm.
“Wow,” Will giggles. He presses kisses to Nico’s shoulder, then his neck, finally burying his nose in Nico’s hair.
“Um. I really like it when you call me baby,” Will mutters, sounding embarrassed.
Nico blinks. Then, “oh.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll. Um. That’s - good to know.”
Will laughs, breathless.
Nico closes his eyes, still smiling, soothed by the sensation of Will’s breath rocking their bodies together as he floats back down. Just the two of them surrounded by the hum of the van and stacks of boxes and the night sky.
“I love you,” Will whispers, when he’s finally caught his breath.
“Love you too,” Nico murmurs, turning his head towards his boyfriend, pressing a clumsy kiss to his jaw. “That was - that was okay, right? We’re okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” Will says. “Better than okay.” He turns his head towards Nico and they manage a few clumsy kisses, off-centre, messy.
“Um,” Will nuzzles against Nico’s face, sounding shy. “I um… I want it to be your turn. Next time.”
“Oh.” Nico’s stomach flip-flops pleasantly. “Yeah, that sounds… yeah. Okay,” he manages. “Not like - not now, though.”
Will laughs, soft. “Not now. I was thinking somewhere with a bit more privacy.”
Nico can only manage a nod, then a couple of deep breaths, trying valiantly to focus his attention anywhere other than next time and more privacy. Will’s back to nuzzling, which doesn’t especially help.
Will sighs, breath brushing Nico’s skin. “I feel all… dopey and cuddly.”
“So just like usual, then,” Nico teases.
Will giggles.
“Feel like you could nap now?” Nico asks finally, soft. He can feel tiredness pulling at his own body, and Will’s right there behind him like a favourite pillow.
“Yeah, probably.”
“I’ve got you, baby,” Nico murmurs again, squeezing Will’s arms.
Will giggles, the sound drifting into a contented hum. “I’ve got you, too.”
___
Notes:
1. Weirdly, the next thing I plan to post has nudity but no sex.
2. Look, I have no idea why they had to drive to Pittsburgh to pick up medical supplies. They didn't tell me.
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july4thkisses · 2 years
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ok we all know that “you’re in a car with a beautiful boy and he won’t tell you that he loves you but he loves you” is a very samdean-core quote from richard siken, but why does no one talk about “i make you pancakes, i take you hunting, i talk to you as if you’re really there” or “sorry about the blood in your mouth, i wish it was mine. i couldn’t get the boy to kill me, but i wore his jacket for the longest time” or “tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us” or “sorry about the bony elbows, sorry we lived here, sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell and how i ruined everything by saying it out loud” likeeeeee. eric kripke and richard siken were on the same wavelength
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stxrshxpxd · 1 year
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"i'm not your trophy" || uni damon
pairing: 90s/uni damon albarn x reader
word count: 1.008
warnings: smutish
prompt: damon and reader have known each other forever but never got along. at last they have ended up in bed together.
* * *
Three loud knocks shook my brain awake. One thin stripe of sunlight nearly blinded me as I tried to open my eyes, and a thicker one was drenching my bare shoulder in warmth.
“Yeees,” I grumbled into my pillow and an arm suddenly moved from on top of me to lay next to my face. Shit. Every little detail of last night flashed before my shut eyes in an instant. I moved my head from the sunlight and tried again to open my aching eyes.
“It’s nearly 10! Do you want breakfast or not?” my best friend Cassie shouted rhetorically through the door. Two more knocks and I propped myself up on my elbows, my breasts nearly exposed to Damon next to me. He too had opened his eyes and was glancing at me smugly. I shifted slightly under the covers and came to the conclusion that I was fully nude.
“Stay here.”
“I want breakfast!” he introjected way too loudly. I hushed him immediately but Cassie was already giggling on the other side of the door.
“Is that Damon?”
“Fuck me,” I muttered and shoved my face into my pillow again. “Don’t!” I said and lifted my head again, stopping Damon’s inevitable comment.
“Come onnnn,” Cassie shouted between giggles and she knocked again.
His palm pressed against my rib cage and his lips refused to leave mine, shoving me into my dormitory back first. The sharp corner of my desk pierced into the side of my hip suddenly, but all I could do was laugh into Damon’s mouth. The last two shots had ensured my pain receptors were completely out of order for the next hour or so.
I spotted the bruise in passing as I shimmied past my full body mirror to my left, my duvet draped very poorly over my body. I rummaged through my underwear drawer desperately and managed to slide a pair on, just as I noticed my t-shirt from last night that hung off the top of my dresser.
Damon’s fingers tugged on the stretchy fabric and pulled my t-shirt over my head swiftly, only leaving my lips for a second. He tossed it across my small room somewhere behind him and seconds later I was on my back with my cool pillow against my neck. His hand had already found the button of my jeans.
“Don’t break tradition!” Damon protested and threw his own t-shirt at me. I looked down at the grey shirt by my feet and remembered all the girls that had paraded around in his baggy shirts and smug smiles all around the refectory during breakfast.
“I’m not your trophy,” I stated and slipped my own shirt on instead. It was closely followed by pulling my jeans on as well.
“Okay. Maybe I’m your trophy.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, and then Cassie banged on the door again.
“If I tell you it’s boring news you fucked Damon, will you come out? They’ll seriously close the kitchen in 5 minutes.”
“Oh, shout it a bit louder, would you?!”
”Can we- Can you-” I stammered and failed to finish my sentence, as I watched him squeeze into an oversized top of mine. It fit him tightly over the chest and the deep cut of the neck left his collar bones exposed.
I was sat on top of him, my knees digging into my soft mattress on either side of his bony hips. My lips were attached to his left collar bone and his soft pleased grunts fell into my tangled hair as I sucked a bruise into his skin.
I stared at the dark red spot for a second too long, while Damon slipped into his blue jeans again.
“Sorry, you have a few of those too,” he grinned. He wasn’t really sorry. I spun around to study the visible parts of my body and found two large hickeys down the side of my neck.
“I feel about 15,” I muttered and rolled my eyes as I turned back around.
“I feel hungry.”
Damon made a quick decision and dragged me with him, firmly gripping my wrist, and unlocked the door. On the other side of it stood Cassie with a massive smile and a giggle on its way out.
“This didn’t happen,” I stated and waved my hand around in the air between me and Damon.
“I think Damon’s been wanting this since year one, have you not?” Cassie laughed, stepping into possibly risky territory. Cassie didn’t know Damon very well, apart from having been dragged into multiple drunken arguments between the two of us. Damon and I had grown up together, always known each other but never gotten on. It wasn’t until we began going to the same parties, especially the uni ones, that we really began talking to one another. And those talks were always heated discussions to say the least.
“Been wanting this since I was twelve,” Damon singsonged jokingly and Cassie and him giggled in unison.
“Been wanting this since I was twelve,” he had drunkenly breathed into my ear, while his one hand clasped my two wrists, pinning them down above my head. Not a single giggle could be heard.
We paraded into the half full refectory and gained a few looks. I saw the whispers but couldn’t hear them over the rest of the loud rumbling of conversation.
I slid away to an empty table nearby and sank down with a heavy sigh. The hangover was catching up with me. Cassie gave me a questioning look and Damon copied it.
“I’m not hungry,” I said with a steady voice.
“I fed you enough last night, huh?” Damon said with an intentionally loud voice and some of the other voices died down around the room as a reaction. The silliness of the purple low cut top hugging his torso teamed with his smug grin made me exhale another deep sigh and roll my eyes.
“Plenty,” I settled and nodded my head reluctantly as I sank down further in my seat.
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