Purely Transactional
First time really publishing anything I've written for Eddie. No stranger to smut. just to him. Go easy on me.
Eddie Munson smut. The one where you fake date. Picture the 90s. Slow build.
Word Count: 12,872
Picture this; youâre being forced to attend your sisters engagement party, itâs a weekend event a couple towns over. Youâve got a room booked for two, yourself and your boyfriend. Your family canât wait to meet the man whoâs stolen your heart at last. Itâs actually the second biggest event in your family history for years. The issue: you donât have a boyfriend. You havenât had one since you were 16. You only said you did have a boyfriend because you thought you would have by now. You never saw life going this way at all. Now you either have to fess up to being a single mother of two beautiful little dogs or find a last minute lover to feel less alone. Yay.
You asked everyone you knew. The neighbour, the neighbourâs neighbour. His cousin from out of town, his cousin from out of townâs neighbour. Every single one of your friends and only one of them gave you something or more, someone to work with. âWhy donât you ask Eddie?â Youâre slouching on his sofa, sinking into the leather as he strums away at his guitar a joint hanging dangerously from his mouth. âI donât know him.â You say it like itâs obvious, kicking your feet up. âWhich is exactly why you should.â You catch his drift, but you donât want to. It wasnât as ideal as he thought it was. âIâm gonna get asked questions.â You deadpan. âSo, make some notecards.â You tug the joint from his mouth, bringing it to your own. âYes you may have that.â You flick him. âRude.â You take a drag before slotting it back gently between his lips, returning to your seat.
âHe wonât do it.â Gareth doesnât respond. âI know he wonât, he doesnât like me.â He huffs. âYou hadnât given him a chance toâ is what he says in his mind. âHas he told you that?â He quit playing, giving you more of his attention. He really did want to help. âNot exactly, no.â He leaned over his guitar, placing the joint down in his hand painted ash tray on the coffee table. The one you made for him for Christmas the year before. The one that he loved and guarded with his life. âAsk him.â You shake your head. âAsk him.â He says again, the guitar now being rested carefully against the table alerting you that he meant business. âNo. Way.â You continue. He moves over to you; you slot your legs across his lap, and he leans back into his seat comfortably under the weight of them. âIâm gonna ask him.â You think heâs joking. You hoped he was joking. He wasnât joking.
-
âEdward, we donât know each other that well so I thought youâd be perfect plus youâre kinda the only other single one left, so it had to be you.â There were no lies told. You were the only ones; it might have been the only thing you actually had in common in your little inner circle of friends. You werenât close but you also werenât complete strangers. You were a little more than acquaintances, but not really friends. He was your only shot at this, that much you did know. âI resent that.â You roll your eyes, âyou would,â you think. Youâre running out of options, he was your last chance, you had a week to prepare, this had to be it. You considered throwing in the towel moments before he arrived at your place. Half an hour late. It should have been enough of a sign not to go through with it but then he did arrive. Meaning that somewhere deep down inside him, he was interested. You could work with interested.
âIâll pay you.â You canât imagine anything worse; you were desperate sure, not desperate enough to actually pay him but desperate all the same. He seemed reasonable enough though. He had more money now than he knew what to do with and he was close with Gareth. Gareth was good people; heâd turn your offer down; you were sure of it. âHow much?â He perks up, stroking his chin now his attention was caught. âYou werenât actually supposed to want payment.â You panicked, feet shuffling, hands tapping your thighs relentlessly. He was smirking. âIsnât that how this is supposed to work?â He steps in close, a couple feet between you, not enough. âWant me to act like an escort? Youâre gonna have to pay me like one.â If you hadnât ever had a conversation with him, you might have found that attractive. He was tall, dark, and handsome. His jawline so picturesque you may have thought about kissing it once or twice. You also liked his eyes, even if he was cold and callous beneath them, only out for himself. But he wasnât that attractive, and he didnât intimidate you like he thought he did. Much.
âLike you donât have more money than my entire family combined.â You dig. His rock star era made a hell of a name for himself. This was never going to happen. You donât know why he even entertained it this far. There wasnât a single helpful bone in his body, no matter how much you wished there were. âHow bad do you need a boyfriend sweetheart?â He shortens the space between you even more. Your chest feels tight, the confidence dripping from his tongue was actually working on you, you were out of your depth. The way he looked at you too. Eyes flicking down to your lips and back, head tilting slightly, almost robotically, like he was sizing you up. Seeing if he could make it work. Make you work for him. You felt a heat on the back of your neck. You felt gross.
â100 bucks if they believe it, 50 if they donât.â You couldnât believe you were even saying it. Youâd have to make him forget you agreed to any of that. âFor how long?â He quipped back. âYouâre so greedy. Iâm gonna have to make a note of that in our very public lovers spat.â You lace it with venom as well as humour, standing your ground. The corner of his lips begins to curl. He fights it. âHow long?â He repeats again, just as steady in tone. âA weekend.â You breathe. âLike Saturday and Sunday.â He asks. âLike Friday to Monday,â you respond just as deadpan. â200.â He takes a dangerous step closer. You donât flinch. â150 and no black eye.â His brows furrow, forehead creasing in confusion. He kind of reminded you of a neanderthal. Dumb little boy.
âWhy would I have a black eye?â You raise your fist. âOKAY PUT YOUR FIST DOWN. Jesus woman, Iâll do it.â He admits defeat. âPerfect. I made some note cards, things about me you may get asked about, read them, memorise them, guard them with your life.â You tug the notes from your back pocket, pushing them into his chest abruptly. He looks down at them quizzically. âWhat if they ask about me?â You shrug your shoulders. âIâm sure youâre not that complex.â He doesnât attempt to hide how insulted he is by that.
âWhen is it?â You point to the cards. âAll the information you need is in the notes.â He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again, âhow are we-â you go to open your front door, youâd had the entire conversation in the hallway, not wanting him to go any further into your home than that. âIn the notes Edward.â He takes a look down at the cards in his hands, he hated reading other peopleâs handwriting, made him feel dumb when he couldnât understand it as well as heâd liked. You joined your letters all curly too which didnât help. He actually half expected you to dot the Iâs with hearts, you seemed like that kind of girl. He wasnât sure if he was disappointed that you hadnât.
Youâre ushering him out the door, waving your hand to make him move faster. He pauses in your doorframe. You were so close. You could just kick him; heâd be off your property in no time. You wouldnât have to think about him for another week then. You could pack your bags in peace. âYou spelt my name wrong.â He points to the card; youâd done it on purpose. âNo, I think your parents did.â He frowns. Before he can respond again you give him that much needed shove out the door. âBYE Eddie!â You slam it behind him, leaning your back against it as if that would prevent him from getting back inside and on top of your nerves again. He found the whole ordeal just as unpleasant as you had but he still finds himself on the other side of that door with a smile on his face. He read every single card you wrote for him. You were way more annoying than he thought.Â
-
âWhat part are you guys having trouble understanding?â You ask the table, leaning over, reaching for your cocktail to distract your mouth before you can step your foot in it. You were being tested way harder than you ever anticipated you would. You really never imagined theyâd care let alone put you on trial for the crime of getting a boyfriend without their prior knowledge or approval. Itâs nice to know how friendly and welcoming they really are when push comes to shove. Youâd have to keep that in mind for the real thing, whenever that might be.
Youâd laugh the nerves away, but you were afraid you might never stop laughing. Youâd just manically laugh until you sank under the table, down into the ground, right to centre of the earth, burning up at the core before passing away painfully. You wished you could laugh. Instead, you just took the longest sip, looking to your left and right as subtly as you could muster under the immense pressure placed upon your shoulders by your sister and her fiancĂŠ. Deep breaths, itâll all be over soon.Â
âI donât buy it.â She states matter of factly. âYou go from a single dog mom to suddenly in love with the perfect guy.â You open your mouth to speak but you daren't even try, sheâs not finished yet. âItâs a little conveniently timed donât you think?â She waves her hands to illustrate her point in that annoying fashion that only she could. Waving her fresh manicure right in your face, whether accidental or on purpose, still ridiculously annoying and yet another reminder that she had her life together and you didnât. She turned to her fiancĂŠ before glancing towards the rest of the table for back up, all nodding along with her instantly as if she were a puppet master stringing them along. Cowards.Â
Your gaze remains steady and ice cold, colder than the slushy cocktail in your hands. The only thing that made the weekend worth it was the free bar and the adorable outdoor beer garden. You release the straw after a long sip with an âAhh.â You try not to enjoy the twitch of your sisterâs right eye at the sound. Sheâd always loathed when people did that. Anyone who made a noise of satisfaction after a drink no matter how delicious or refreshing it may be, was a colossal pain in her ass. You think she just despises other peopleâs enjoyment. She thinks itâs an unnecessary sound that people tend to use to exaggerate how nice something is as a performance for other people rather than for themselves. She also thinks itâs incredibly unladylike, which gives you a bigger kick to try it out every single time.
âWhy would I lie?â You place your drink down harder than you intend to, wincing as the glass clangs on the table so hard you thought it may shatter. âYou know I love you sis, but I donât think Iâd go to the length of faking a relationship just because youâre getting engaged.â Which would be such a wonderful sentence to throw out into the universe if that werenât exactly what you were doing. âI just met the right guy.â You try not to grimace at the cheesiness of it all, that, and the fact you still hadnât decided if youâd even liked him more than just a piece of eye candy. Because there was no denying that he was attractive, from the start heâd had that going at least. Youâd only been admitting it because of the influence of alcohol too. It was just the rest of the package that gave you a headache.
âBut heâs-â You scowl before she continues that sentence, you almost will her to continue. âHeâs what?â You push. If anyone were going to come for Eddie they had better make it good because that was an area you excelled in and would absolutely love to be a part of even if you did have to defend him right now. You could always use any good material at a later date when left to your own devices though, a pen and paper would be wonderful.
âHeâs not your type.â You donât believe thatâs what she planned to say, it came out far too polite to be something sheâd actually thought of. âWhat is my type then?â You probably shouldnât have asked her this, but your curiosity trumps all reason. She flails her hand around in her lap, trying to think of the correct way to phrase it. You had no doubt your past relationships were displaying in her mind, enough horrendous options for her to choose from right out of a hat.Â
âNerds,â she begins to list on her fingers, which is quite alarming because you really didnât think you had that much of a track record. âGamer boys,â which basically comes under ânerds.â âSkinny guys,â that was absolutely not exclusive, âGamer boy nerds.â She throws 3 fingers up. Thatâs if she was classing âboyâ as a type which you assume she was. You had to hand it to her, she wasnât entirely wrong about your past dating pool, but Eddie wasnât exactly far off that. Allegedly, back in his school days, he was the biggest nerd of them all, right before his band took off, he was participating in DnD tournaments and if that wasnât the epitome of gamer boy nerd then what was? He just happened upon a glow up in his mid-twenties, something you still desperately waited for yourself. âEddie just, doesnât seem much of a nerd.â Youâre certain thatâs not what she intended to say, and you thought she might stop herself there, but she doesnât, why would she? âHeâs, well I hate to say it,â you bet she doesnât though, âheâs out of your league.â Ahh, there it is. Thatâs more like it. She even says it with an apologetic expression to make you consider it for a millisecond. If only he were here. Oh, how heâd love this.
Eddie was the lucky one in this scenario, whether it was fake or not, you were a catch. One that no one had ever caught and kept hold of but a catch, nonetheless. Your mom would agree, probably not the best argument but itâs there and it counted. You reached for your drink once again and prayed he returned soon; you were drowning out here and you werenât even out of the shallows. âThen lucky me.â You sip as aggressively as one can with a shitty paper straw wedged between their teeth. You were so glad the sea turtles were safer at the hands of recycled paper straws, but you so missed being able to drink a cocktail without the added ingredient of paper mache sinking at the bottom of each glass.
âWhy are we in luck?â His voice swings in joining the conversation as he walks back over to your table, the chain on his jeans jingling as it swayed while he walked. Youâd asked him to remove it, he swore he would, he didnât. His hearing was impeccable, you wonder what else had slipped by him on his way over. Youâd honestly never felt so relieved to hear his voice either, even if his steps closer bought the smell of cheap cigarettes and your early twenties. Youâd have loved him back then. Back in college, your first taste of freedom, the option to date whoever you liked, to experiment a little. Youâd have eaten up that bad boy, leather jacket, fingers coated in metal, cigarette smoking musician act he had going for him. Quiet and brooding too, oh yeah, your knickers would have never left the floor. Good thing you grew up since then.Â
He grabbed his chair, pushing it right next to yours, as close as he could get without sitting directly on top of you and for a second you ponder about why he bothered with his chair at all. His eyes burned into the side of your face, and you plastered a smile wide enough to match his as you leant into him. âWhat took you so long?â You whispered while maintaining that sickeningly sweet smile that hurt your face to pull. âYou miss me that much?â He licked across his bottom lip, and you mentally scold yourself for looking at it. âIâm getting eaten alive out here.â He grinned wider. âMust be because youâre so damn delicious.â Your stomach fluttered. What the fuck?Â
He pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek. You felt yourself relax into him, like his lips had sucked all of the tension from your body. You may not like him very much but you sure were glad he was here right now. Even without the facade, it was hard being in environments where you had to face your entire family alone. Itâs not that you werenât close with them, or didnât love them, it was just difficult standing your own ground sometimes. You needed that extra shield for the invasive questions and high expectations, the anchor to keep you firmly in place, sure of yourself. It was a tough act to balance.Â
He couldnât deny that heâd gained some respect for you for how well youâd handled things. He wasnât entirely sure heâd manage a family dynamic like this alone, even if he were part of it. He was kind of developing a soft spot for you, probably more than you were anyway. Okay, definitely more than you were. He wasnât sure when it started. Heâd had the message exchanges throughout the last week. He had the detailed notes about your life from start to finish to divulge. The 3 hour car journey where you refused to play music, instead forcing him to answer questions about you in preparation for the event. It was somewhere amongst there. Maybe even when youâd shared a room the past two nights without killing each other. In seeing a vulnerable side of you that made you appear a little more human. Heâd also seen a larger portion of you without clothing, that certainly helped.
Yes. Perhaps somewhere around there heâd liked you. All he knew now was that in watching your interactions with your family, it made him want to stick to you like glue and support you the best he could for however long you would let him. You had it covered, and youâd tell him that too, afraid of showing any weaknesses, but thatâs exactly why he felt like he should support you, he didnât want you to feel so alone, you didnât have to be so alone. Heâd known all too well what that was like.
He didnât even have to force himself to kiss your cheek that time, heâd just wanted to rid your face of the frown that threatened to grace it, even if he found it adorable. His issue now was that he had trouble moving away. His lips lingering, breath tickling your cheek, until you coughed under your breath for him to shift away. For a moment heâd wished it werenât all play pretend. That he could stay there and have it not feel so strange. He couldnât pin point when his eyes started to soften at the sight of you. All he knew was that they had. It was getting increasingly easier to act enamoured by you, because, well, he might have been.
âSo, what did I miss?â He tilts his head towards the rest of the table, it felt like such a difficult task to withdraw his attention from you. You yourself took the opportunity to catch a much needed breath. You also needed to pat your stomach to hold off the swarm of butterflies scrambling around in there. There was this dizzying, uneasiness in the pit of your tummy, like you were fighting the emotions within yourself. Those damn love bugs were wasting their time going crazy for this situation. It wasnât real, not worth the energy. Surely you didnât need to be convinced of that, it was clear as day. You didnât need this unnecessary nausea. âWe were just talking about what a wonderful couple you are.â Your brother in law speaks, directing his attention towards the man at your side. You really thought youâd liked that man, he betrayed you. You kept a special scowl just for him. He felt hot under the collar when he felt the intensity of it. Good, you thought. Traitor.Â
Eddie bravely dipped his hand down onto your thigh where heâd noticed your hand was already resting, slipping his fingers between yours, resting atop your knuckles effortlessly for all to see. Youâd felt your breath hitching in your throat. The simplicity of the action shouldnât have caused such a stir, but it was just so easy for him. He was so touchy feely like it was the most natural thing in the world. He loved to touch, and you never expected it from him. It was one of the main reasons that made it so hard to remain sure that this was all an act. Was he like this with everyone? Youâd half hoped he wasnât, even if your other half screamed at you for that naivety. It wasnât exactly your love language, but youâd wished it were, you wanted to touch him. Too many drinks maybe.
âWhy do I feel like thatâs sarcasm?â He threw back with nothing but charm, sweet like honey dripping from his tongue. If he werenât in a band you could certainly picture him as an actor with some of the crap he pulled. Sometimes he even had you believing this whole thing, lines blurring like no other. Especially when nuzzled his nose into your neck eliciting a squeal from your lips. All before deciding to stay there, sitting with his chin resting on your shoulder happily. Like the most casual position in the world.
Your heart pounded against your chest. His arm slunk around your waist. His mouth opened for you, signalling you to bring his cocktail and straw between his lips to take a sip. A ridiculously over the top public display of affection you swore youâd never partake in. Yet for some reason your hands were ignoring every judgment your mind was making, allowing you to feed him his drink like some kind of mother to a parched child. It was interesting to you how fast youâd been able to communicate with him like that without it ever needing to be said or asked for. âYou owe me.â You whisper. âNot how this transaction really works.â He says between sips rather impressively. It might even be considered cute if it wasnât such a threat. Your cheeks burned.
âIt just seems so sudden.â Your sister just canât bite back her tongue for more than two seconds huh. Youâre literally sat there with giant, red, beaming heart eyes for each other. So, close your personal space would never be described as such for as long as you shall live, ever again. Literally feeding each other. Squeezing each otherâs hands. Hating every second youâre apart. Feeling like you may break without the other. Whispering sweet nothings (more like threats but no one else had spotted that) into each otherâs ears. Youâre both so over the top, overwhelmingly infatuated (although falsely) with each other you may as well claim this engagement party as your own and YET, no one believed you for a second. Hell, even you thought you might be falling. Thank you vodka.
âWhen you know, you know.â You say, lifting your hand to pat his cheek after putting his drink back on the table. He squeezes your other hand instinctively. Heâd almost forgotten he was holding it in the first place, it felt so nice and soft, like it belonged in his. It could belong there. âWhat will it take to convince you?â He offers. You squeeze his hand even harder, this time hoping to pump the breaks on this one. As much as you appreciated him sticking up for the relationship. You werenât up for a quick fire round of questions that you werenât prepared in the slightest. Especially since he refused to learn the answers to any potential enquiries a day prior. Deeming the impromptu quiz session in the car âenough learning for a lifetime.â
âEd,â is all you warn while you beg him to shut up with your mind instead. âNo, no sweetie, we can answer all the questions they have.â He grinned at you so menacingly; you wanted to wipe that smirk right off his adorably smug little face. Woah. When did he become adorable? Scratch that. Shush. Youâre so pissed you donât even fawn over the pet name, much. You may as well pack your bags now and return home though, you were done for, the hoax was over. The end.
âWhatâs her favourite band?â Okay, weâre actually doing this. âOr singer, if thatâs easier.â Ryan, your least favourite brother in law and your only brother in law, fires out. He only knew the answer himself because he tried to impress you one Christmas by buying you a limited edition vinyl. Of all the people at this table, you thought at least he wouldnât be sceptical of you. Unbelievable.
âThere isnât just one, its multiple, depends what mood sheâs in.â Youâre intrigued already on where this is going. Your sister jeered at the response, already less than impressed. Eddie turns his head, lifting his hand to silence her before she can say anything. You almost pat him on the back for it. âBut, if I had to choose.â Which he did. He really did. âQueen, Black Sabbath, and Iâm going to add Corroded Coffin in there because sheâs our number one groupie, aint that right babe?â You allow yourself to roll your eyes at the last part, even if you were dating you doubt youâd let him describe you as a groupie, dick.
âThatâs easy, theyâre pretty generic choices.â You had to give them that one, it wasnât the most cut throat list of indie artists you could only associate with your taste and yours only. Youâd been a bit of a basic music lover your whole life and there was no shame in that. You liked what you liked and that was okay. You were still impressed he knew any of your list though. Maybe he actually had read your notes, lying shit. Definitely not adorable. âFavourite food?â Okay, still going. You lean back, may as well get comfortable since youâre going to be here for a while.Â
He snorted before answering that one and you wondered what was so insanely funny that could make him move his hand away from your thigh to explain it properly. You missed his touch the second you were without it. Gag. âBread.â He giggled just saying it, the kind of giggle where the creases beside his eyes really stood out and his cheeks bunched up all precious and pudgy underneath them. You canât help but smile.
âBut not just plain bread right,â he looked to you before continuing as if to say âhey, watch this, look at me.â He thinks he has you down. You indulge him. âSo, bread in its many forms,â he lifted his fingers to start listing, âsandwiches, toast, brioche, fried bread, french toast, pizza dough, the list goes on right but at the height of it all,â he really gestured above his head to signify the detailed tier system of bread options. He added a small and useless breather to gain anticipation, it wasnât working. âGarlic bread.âÂ
You snorted a laugh yourself this time. Not because he was wrong either, because he was 100% correct in fact. You were mortified that, that was your own answer. He locked eyes with you in a way that he hadnât done before, with genuine affection, maybe even a glimmer of hope that heâd done you justice. He was captivated by you, your cheeks bursting with redness, your smile tight, starting to hurt you in fighting it. You looked so pretty right now. The glow of the lamps out in this beer garden just added to the radiance he already thought you had. He couldnât believe a girl as pretty as you considered bread your favourite food.
He also found the noise you made to be one of the cutest things heâd ever heard, and he wished he could make you do it again someday. He really didnât consider himself that funny though. He might have to get some drinks down you for another laugh like that. âI thought your favourite were sour patch kids?â Your sister argued, using her nails again to assist her point. Eddie quickly chimed in before you could go to correct her.
âActually, that was her hyper fixation for a little while, ate every flavour except lemon. Which are my favourite, so it works out pretty well.â Your jaw may as well have hit the floor. Heâd only known that from the car ride up here. You were about to throw the packet out before he stopped you, complaining you were wasting money and food since you left all the yellow ones. You were shocked he remembered. If you were impressed by him right now, surely everyone else had to be too, right? Wrong.
âCelebrity crush?â He answered this quicker than you or he would like to admit. You also just didnât  know how he came to the conclusion he did and how he was so correct with it, suspicious. âHarrison Ford hands down, canât even knock it, heâs a handsome man.â The next question went swimmingly too. âFavourite hobby?â He gave it a thought for a second, glancing to you and back, âpainting, sheâll say sheâs no good at it but actually sheâs got a gift. Iâve never seen anyone use colour the way she does. Actually, considered using some of your work for album art.â  He turned to you towards the end, and you struggled to decipher whether it was bullshit or not. Your heart actually ached at the thought of it being true.Â
âFavourite movie?â Your brother in lawâs turn to ask. You threw your head back in exasperation. âWhat is this, the Spanish inquisition? Is this really necessary?â You looked to your sister and her future husband. âYes!â They admitted in unison. Eddieâs hand returned to your thigh, patting it softly, his thumb rubbing soothing shapes into your bare skin. It was working. God it was working. He was like ice against your fire, the way he cooled you.
âIâve got this.â He assured you. âYeah, you kind of do, thatâs why itâs so fucking weird.â You admitted quietly but not enough as to hide it from anyone else, deeming it safe for public consumption. He smirked. âScared I know too much about you?â You were. You were terrified. This time you do lower your voice. âJust didnât know you could actually read. Guess my notes were a great help after all.â You stuck your tongue out. For a second he thought about taking it in his mouth, probably some other filthier thoughts floated around his brain too. It was something about the proximity and the cocktails youâd shared, you could always blame those.
âAnything Tim Burton but her favourite would have to be the one with Winona,â he knows he has it right, but he just canât think of the name, turning to you momentarily for help, you mouthed âEdward Scissorhandsâ before he nodded and repeated it. Considering it featured his own name, youâd think he would remember it. He then paused, not for dramatic effect but so he could smile to himself as he thought about why that was your favourite. âIt depicts the whole Frankensteinâs monster thing just finding his way into suburbia but we as the audienceâ he gestured to his chest, âsee a lot more heart than that, an innocent kind of love, one we all want to make us feel worthy, naive really, but ultimately sweet and sacrificing.â
You leant in, your lips close to his ear. âIf we were really dating, youâd be getting your dick sucked so hard tonight.â It took every bone in his body not shut the evening down and carry you back to your hotel room with that false promise in mind. He instead tried to ignore the now throbbing sensation in his trousers. Had you always done that to him?
âOk those are fairly standard.â In what world was his last answer not specifically catered to you? âHow about a random trivia round?âŚâ The suggestions just kept going. If this were the only worthy form of entertainment they could find, married life was going to be abysmal. âOr.â He began and this is when you really, really started to panic, like exponentially. There was nothing that could have helped him out now. Your notes only consisted of the likes, dislikes, and the fake scenario in which you first met. There was nothing else. That was the end of the script. He couldnât be that good at improvisation. You didnât want the opportunity to find out either. You were no casting director. He no longer had to impress you or anyone else. If they were still at odds with the situation then so be it. You couldnât please everyone. It really shouldnât have taken you that long to realise it. Huh. The more you know.
âI can tell you about how she makes me feel.â You really, truly would rather you didnât know. If itâs the truth, it would hurt. If it was a lie, well that might hurt even more. You begged the universe to keep him quiet. Whatever he had to say was going to blow your cover and throw this whole shit show up in flames. Your sister seemed so keen and intrigued enough to let him continue. You however, said your final goodbyes to any future you had where you werenât a laughing stock for the entire family. A future where Eddie Munson couldnât reject and discard you publicly. Now it was a very real possibility, you were far more upset than you ever thought you would be. Eddie glances at you briefly, bucking up the courage to put on the biggest and most detrimental show of his entire life.Â
He doesnât face your sister when the words come tumbling from his mouth. He faced you, addressing you like he needed you to hear this and fuck, maybe he did. You actually felt touched about it until he opened his mouth. âYouâre kind of a fucking weirdo.â You went to shut him up as the embarrassment crept in, but he spoke louder as he often did. âYou are, youâre a freak- and itâs so, itâs refreshing.â Your mouth closed but oh, so slowly. You began to listen to him, decided to trust him. âYouâre fucking nuts.â You rolled your eyes. How many ways were there, to describe you as crazy? Why did he feel the need to use all of them? âBut I like it. I do. I feel like I can be myself around you.â He talked with his hands a lot as he scrambled the words, rings clinking against each other. You reached for them, settling them in your lap and he silently thanked you for it. Everything got a whole lot easier when you held his hand.Â
âYou make it feel okay to be a bit crazy. You donât have to be so straight or basic, you can just, be.â Just as you started to smile, you saw that you werenât the only one. It was working, his little speech was actually working. âI like who I am around you. Even if sometimes you donât. I like that you tell me when I piss you off. I like that you act like you hate me when you donât. I like that youâre so fucking stubborn and headstrong youâd never rely on anyone else and that pisses me off.â You felt tingling racing across your chest. âI love that no moment with you feels forced. That, that smile, right there could make flowers bloom.â He gestured to your face with both of your hands linked together. âThat your glare could cause a fucking storm or something.â You tried not to get swept up in the fact heâd stopped saying âlike.âÂ
âI love that everything feels okay when your hand is in mine, even when you try and say you donât like holding hands, youâre too good at it to hate it. You know exactly the right moments.â He shook his head with a disbelief. It started to feel so real. âI think Iâd miss you even if Iâd never met you.â His hand tightened around yours when he said his last sentence. âAnd Iâm glad I met you. I hope one day youâll be glad you met me too.â The rest of his speech hadnât mattered when he uttered those words. The words that knocked the breath out of you, leaving you fighting for your life in the seat next to him. You donât think anyone had ever referred to you so kindly in your life, even if he did call you fucking mental at least 5 times throughout.Â
He couldnât even breathe. Heâd said it. Heâd let it all out and now he just saw the look of shock on your face and couldnât take a single breath, not knowing how youâd react. It was news to him too though. He could play it off as a lie, say he saw it in a movie, some chick flick or something. Heâd copied it because of course he had. But then again, on the off chance you werenât horrified, he wasnât sure if he had any more guts left to tell you it was true. He just knew that he needed to do something. He had to fill this painful silence somehow and thankfully, he didnât have to do it alone.Â
You kissed him. You scraped your jaw off the floor, and you kissed him. Youâd not kissed him like this before. Like your life depended on it. Like he was the very air you needed to breathe. Like heâd meant every word heâd just said, and youâd believed it. God you might have even felt the same. You were also slightly ashamed to say, it had your panties soaking between your thighs. Not to mention your heart thundering in your chest.
Eddie kissed you as if he were tattooing his words across your lips for all of eternity. Because for the first time throughout this whole charade, he was actually allowed to mean every word he had said, whether he knew this was how he was feeling at the start of the evening or not. Neither of you could have predicted a confession like this. Even after giving one, he wasnât quite believing it himself. But fuck, there was freedom in it. There was a lovely form of permanence. Him knowing his words were out there for the universe to take and make with what it will. He felt weightless. It wasnât the cocktails. Something just clicked in his brain, and he knew it. You were everything.
You melted into each other when his lips found yours. It was sweet and slow but confident, with purpose. Each stroke of his lips against yours carefully considered and carried out like clockwork. Youâd felt a rush from this kiss. It was hungrier than any other youâd shared. Quite frankly it was starved. Youâd pressed up against him so hard and heâd done just the same to you. His hands coming up to tilt your chin up towards him for more. As if you hadnât been close enough already. Its only when you gasped at his touch did he slip his tongue into your mouth. You knew heâd had so much practice kissing women like this, but you couldnât care. You allowed him inside, welcomed the way he licked into your mouth delicately. Blissfully enjoying the taste of his last cigarette on his breath, shocked that itâs not even a put off for you right now.
His words had gotten you drunker than the cocktails youâd been knocking back all evening. You almost whined when he dragged himself away from you. It was way too premature for your liking. Your eyes remained on him and only him as your hands fell back from their place atop his shoulders. You werenât even sure when theyâd gotten there in the first place, just swept away with nothing but him to guide you.Â
He smiled at you; a smile you know he hadnât been pretending. You were about to lean back in, sealing that gap between you, before you were reminded of exactly where you were. In public. Very much in public. You sank back into your seat sheepishly, heat rising to your cheeks, burning hot like lava ready to erupt. Eddie threw his arm around you, and you seized the opportunity to hide your face in the crook of his neck out of embarrassment. He thought it might be the cutest thing you could possibly have done. He even struggled to wipe the blush off his own cheeks. He felt like a school boy again. âOkay, fine, we believe you.â Your sister threw her hands up in defeat. Youâd forgotten what you were even aiming to prove, your head was so flooded with hormones. It remained that way until you were back inside the hotel.
-
Back in the safety of your room, deep in the darkness, the only light being from the glowing orange streetlights outside, you found yourself nervous for what would come next. You needed a moment to think. âIâm going to take a shower.â You said softly. âDo you mind?â He shook his head, unable to speak. Youâd think that after heâd already lay everything down on the table, that heâd find it easier to approach you, but he resorted back to silence. âGo ahead.â He offered. You wanted to ask him to join you. You didnât. You just thought about it while you locked the bathroom door behind you. When you wiped off your makeup. When you turned the water on and waited for it to heat up before stripping and stepping inside. You thought about it even under the water, arm stretched out to reach you shampoo. You still didnât.
Heâs already tucked away under the sheets, while youâre in there. He thought about falling asleep, willing himself into a trance before you could return, he couldnât. His mind was swimming with thoughts. He instead insured that the wall of cushions youâd built on night one, was as high as it ever was. There to wedge a distance between you once more. Which is what you wanted, right? It was your main housekeeping rule for sharing a bed.
âHey." He breathed, as you returned from the bathroom, steam seeping out after you. He was nervous. You ignored it. He lay flat, facing the ceiling, his arms fastened at his sides above the covers. You shouldnât let your eyes wander but the light had given you a clear path to follow, leading you to the tattooed arachnid of his chest. You wanted to touch it, youâre not sure why. You slipped silently into bed beside him, only you turned your back on him, willing the conversation to end. But you didnât actually want it to be over.Â
He rolled over without so much as a creak being made on the old bed. He barely even tugged the cover from you. Itâs like a move too sudden would spook you and send you running, it might have, he couldnât be certain. âDo you think the great wall of prevention might be ready to come down?â He nudged it into your back for emphasis. He didnât want the night to end. You didnât either. And yet, your stomach twisted to think of an excuse, a reason for it to stay very much where it was. Only you didnât find one. âOkay.â You spoke softly. âOkay.â He repeats just as low, just making sure. You hardly felt him moving them. It was so unlike him to be so gentle, so light handed, treading carefully. He was so cautious and calculated, you never thought he had it in him. The cushions were gone. Now what?
âIâm gonna ask you something, you donât have to say yes, but I really need to ask it so please just hear me out.â There were a million different things he could have asked you; youâd never have enough time to predict it or rehearse the correct answer, you could only breathe as you anticipated it. âCan I hold you?â It felt good to say it, even if his breath was shaky and his heart felt like it might just pack in. He really wanted to touch you. That was before he even saw you there, lay in the warm glow of the light, hair still a little damp, loose over your shoulder, your t-shirt clinging to your body.
The sheets werenât covering your lower half as well as youâd thought they were, not now the barrier between you was down. Now he could see the lace band of your panties peeking bellow your sleep shorts. He was about to abandon the whole ordeal. Just a peek shouldnât have been enough to stir him between his legs and maybe it wasnât, not on its own. But if heâd counted every other occasion tonight where youâd looked too pretty, sounded too sweet, it all added up and he guessed it contributed to the problem.Â
He started to worry when you didnât answer him. You obviously werenât asleep. You were clearly fiddling with the sheets, your fingers tugged at the material anxiously. Heâd completely overstepped, he should have expected that. You werenât together. You wouldnât ever be together. That was all this entire weekend was supposed to be after all. Just an opportunity to fake it. How could he be so stupid? âCome here.â He looks down to see you half turned back to him, the duvet lifted, giving him even more of a view of your shorts, but he tried not to look at you too much. To just see the invitation, which was what mattered the most.Â
He wasnât sure how to approach, you couldnât help him either. You would spoon, that was a given, you hadnât budged your position, left him no choice but to mould his body around yours. He shuffled closer, awkwardly trying to stretch his right arm underneath your pillow without lifting your head, hurting your neck. He curled around your back, leaving inches between you, like he couldnât quite make himself grow any closer. His left arm rested on his own hip, too afraid to reach out and touch yours. Heâd asked to hold you. Why canât he hold you?Â
You took matters into your own hands. You blindly reached behind you, hands finding his. Your one superpower. You interlock your fingers with his and bring his arm around your waist, the heat of his body coming with it. You could probably feel his heart pounding chest now he allowed it to press against your back. You definitely felt the goosebumps climbing his arms when you pressed a feather light kiss to his knuckle. His heart leapt in his chest.
âWhat was that for?â He lifted his head, you donât know it, but he can see enough of your face from this angle to catch the blush on your cheeks and the smile that crept onto it. Heâs reassured by it. âJust felt like it.â You shrugged. Only he doesnât buy it, but he wonât push his luck. His head hit the pillow, only this time, heâs closer to you. His nose is nearly buried in your apple scented locks. You were so sweet smelling at all times, but that apple was just so incredibly you. He knew youâd only used the stuff because it came in a green bottle too. Because only you would map your product selection on the colour alone. It was one of the first facts in your note cards, that your favourite colour was green.
Fuck. He thinks. He really fucking liked you. He wouldnât even curse himself for it. You werenât what he expected, and he liked that. He liked that this didnât go to plan. He liked that he couldnât pretend any longer. He was grinning to himself, chuckling even. He boldly buried his head in the crook of your neck like heâd done a couple of times that night but more invasively now there wasnât much space between you.Â
âWhatâs so funny?â You shook his hand in yours. âHmm?â You fought a laugh yourself; his laughter was infectious; it was just stupid and cute and stupid. âGareth was right.â He said. You turned your head back slightly, unable to see anything really, before giving up and leaning into the pillow again. âBout what?â He leaned his head on your shoulder, lips nearing your ear. âTold me this wouldnât work.â Interesting really, since he ushered you into asking him into this at the start. Youâre suitably confused. Heâs holding you, giggling in your ear, body warm against yours in this stupidly large bed that heâd made feel tiny, after convincing your family how in love you are, and he said it wasnât working. That Gareth, your biggest influencer, had also predicted it. Well, youâd have said the opposite.Â
âThis isnât working.â You have a questioning tone. âDidnât seem like that downstairs.â You were defensive, rightly so. âNo, not like that.â He started. Your grip on his hand loosened and he panicked. âJust say what you mean, say what you mean,â he tells himself. âTurn over.â He leant himself up, still firmly on his side. âWhy?â He rolled his eyes. âPlease turn over.â He pleaded. âWhyy?â You say again. âFuck, would you just-â he shook his hand free from yours, placing it firmly on your hip and he twisted you, so you were flat on your back, facing up at him with surprise. He didnât expect that to work as well as it did.
âYouâre so fucking annoying.â He huffed. âThanks.â Your arms crossed over your stomach, you tried to avoid his gaze, but he manoeuvred himself so that he was directly above you. He decided you couldnât be trusted to keep you gaze anywhere but on him. You had to give him a shot. Your expression had softened at the sight of him. Just like heâd hoped. His stupid round cheeks. The dumb smile. Why was he always smiling?Â
âI wanna kiss you.â He said. You thought he was childish. âIs holding not enough?â He shook his head. âNever enough.â He leaned in close, but he doesnât kiss you, not yet. His forehead just pressed against yours, his lips hovered, breath tickling your own mouth. âCan I?â He begged for it. âYes.â You breathed. He does. His lips brush yours and itâs just as nice as every other kiss heâd given you. Youâre not sure why you expected it to be different all of a sudden. You just had the idea that maybe it would be. Now that you, well now that you actually liked it.
But it wasnât different, it was exactly the same. âEddie.â You whined. âYeah?â He was upset that youâd interrupted such a crucial moment. âIt doesnât feel like I thought it would.â Your fingers stroked over his cheek; he arched a brow to question you. âWe have kissed before; you remember that right?â He teased. You couldnât have been that drunk. âYes. Shut up. Thatâs not what I meant.â Heâs still not on the same page although relieved somewhat that you were in fact sober like he thought.
In his mind that kiss was perfect, electrifying, mind blowing, the best kiss yet, youâd have known it too if you didnât stop him so quickly. âWhatâs it feel like?â He tried to understand. You thought for a moment. What did it feel like? Warm, soft, sweet, he was one of the sweetest tastes. Where most men would taste of mint, Eddie didnât. He tasted like cigarettes and the kiwi and strawberry gum he chewed to mask the scent of them on his breath. It didnât work completely, it more meshed together into its own unique flavour.
It felt nice. âFeels normal.â You said it like it was a bad thing and he canât understand why. âWhatâs so wrong with that?â You tried to shake your head. Shake some sense into yourself. You were blowing it. âKiss me again.â You didnât have to ask him twice. He pushed his lips against yours, harder than the first time, much harder. Barely leaving a gap between you. Suffocating you with his kiss. He feels like this time he has to try harder; he needed to give you his all. There had to be more.Â
His lips glided over yours, his lips rough but still careful. His tongue poking out slowly, licking gently over your bottom lip. You part it instinctively and the second his tongue slithered across your teeth, you finally felt it. You donât know why it took you till the second try. Youâre so grateful you felt it at all, but you were panicking for a second, thinking youâd made this huge mistake because how could you let yourself fall for him after all this nonsense? Then you felt it, that spark kicking you to life. That fire in your belly, burning you up inside, begging for his coolness to dampen it down. You fucking needed him.
Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails tucking into them just a little. Heâs feeling the heat radiating from you, your energy pouring into him. Heâs smiling against your mouth as your tongue meets his briefly. He just knows that this time, heâs got you. âYou had me worried there for a second.â He panted, not wanting to pull away but needing to say something. You kissed him over and over, distracting him. Now youâd started, you couldnât stop. âI know, Iâm so cruel.â He smirked, kissing you back just as vigorously, hand coming to your throat, resting gently on it before tilting your chin up towards him.
You captured his eyes, so dark, nearing black in the dim light. If it werenât for the golden flecks youâd be convinced they really were that dark. âHad to be sure.â He pecked your lips. âYeah?â You did the same. âYeah.â Heâs so close that every time his eyes closed and reopened, you felt his lashes fanning your cheeks. âAnd now?â He asked so hopefully, heart on the line as he waited on your answer. You wanted to make him wait, torture him a little, not tonight, tonight you were kind enough to put him out of his misery. âNow I want you.â You said. He could have punched the air with excitement.Â
Youâre kissing again. Scrambling around, his body lowered on top of you, one hand resting on your cheek, the other grazing your hip bone. His body shuddered when you whimpered under the weight of him. You let your legs widen as he slipped between them, all before he lifted your thigh, depositing it safely around his waist. You prayed that he didnât immediately feel the dampness in your shorts but youâre not the only one struggling.
His hard on rubbed into you, your lips parting with surprise. âFuck.â He muttered, momentarily halting your make out session, the heat between your thighs overwhelming him. You sensed his embarrassment, his cheeks burning with it. âMe too.â You breathed. Lips pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose as your hand slipped between you, coming down to cup his bulge boldly through his shorts.Â
The groan he released is sinful, maybe even painful. He felt big. He felt impossibly big. He wouldnât fit in your hand, maybe not even in the two of them. He thrust into your hand when he felt you touch him. It was his first instinct; he couldnât fight it. âShit, sorry.â You caught his lips, tugging his bottom one between your teeth, releasing it slowly. âGonna move my hand, want you to do it again.â If he thought he was embarrassed at his neediness before, it was about to get a whole lot more mortifying.Â
Your hand moved away, he was grinding his hips down into you as youâd asked, and you felt the way his cock jumped into action. âBaby.â You panted. Heâs sure his heart is going to explode, maybe his cock too, probably that first. âSay it again.â He needed it. âBaby.â You kissed him. Heâs rocking his hips into you, you started rotating your own, rubbing yourself over his cock, hand moving out of the way. âBaby, baby, fuck.â Heâs covered your lips with his, nose mashed up against you, you canât breathe, you donât even want to, you wouldnât miss the feeling. All of this felt so much more important. âFeel so good.â You whine. He never would have thought youâd be so vocal. You didnât seem like the type. Thought youâd be a bit of a brat maybe but not this, not confident and sexy and so sure of what you wanted. He could love that; he could love you.Â
âMore, need more.â Youâre eyes rolled back when heâs lifting your hips with both hands, pulling your core over him. His cock slipping through your folds through too many barriers of clothing. âShit Ed.â You felt the sensation of fire burning into you, setting you alight. Youâre dizzy and hot and you just felt so good against him. The friction of his shorts might have been frustrating, but it was also, so rewarding. It was such a good roughness against your clothed mound. âAre you?â He canât even say it, too busy dragging you over his cock. âIâm, fuck, Eddie.â He doesnât stop, not for a second, not for a beat. He makes you ride it out. Heâs so stupidly proud of himself. Heâd barely touched you and youâd come undone. Youâd actually fucking came. âFucking unreal for me.â He slowed himself down before he followed a similar path to destruction.Â
Heâs pushing your hips back down, letting your body sink into the mattress, pulling away from you to catch a breath. âI canât believe that.â Your hand floats through your hair combing it back. Heâs resting back on his knees, still between your legs. âYouâre so fucking hot.â His eyes donât look anywhere but your face. Your shirt is half way up your chest, bare tits poking out for him to see and yet, he doesnât look.
You canât say you share the same sentiment. Your eyes raced to the outline of his erection in them grey basketball shorts. You drank in the sight before you and your teeth clamped down into your lower lip. He reached down to squeeze your thigh. âMy eyes are up here.â He gestured with his index and middle finger. You smirked up at him. âKind of wish they werenât.â You didnât miss a beat. âYeah?â You nodded. Eyes falling back to his very, large problem that he now palmed through his clothing. Shit, even his own hand wouldnât cover him.
âGonna keep looking or do you feel like helping?â His voice was awfully steady for someone ready to come apart at the mere thought of your touch. âYou want me to?â Youâre not sure what youâre asking. âNeed you to.â He said. You sat yourself up. âGonna take this shirt off me first?â You looked up at him, eyes wider than heâd ever seen, somehow so innocent even though you were anything but. âOf course, I am.â His hands didnât waste any time lifting the material off over your head. You felt the bite of a chill rush over you, your nipples hardening, perking up with it. âSo, very, sexy.â He canât believe his luck. Youâre amazed that you donât feel shy, being so exposed to him. Guess that was good, it felt natural, you felt safe.Â
âGonna help you.â You warned, hands slipping down into his shorts. You gasped at the immediate contact with his bare skin. âNo underwear.â He smirked down at you. âFucking slut.â Your hand cupped him just like before, yeah, definitely needs more than one hand. âYou love it.â He chanted âI do.â You confirmed, squeezing him hard. The rush of air that left his mouth, oh it made this all so worth it. You tried to be bolder, you took his length in your palm for the first time. You gripped him tight and moaned in unison. He moaned at the feeling of finding home in your soft touch. You moaned; at the way your hand canât even wrap around him fully. Heâs too thick, too girthy, there wasnât enough of you to take it all.Â
âDo something.â He urged, forehead leaning on yours for stability more than anything else. âAh right, thatâs what I was doing.â You play as you sprang to action, your hand lifting to the throbbing head of his cock, letting the trickles of beaded cum roll into your palm before you can cover him in it using it whilst you twist your hand up and down his length. âOhh, fuck.â It came out gravelly. Heâd never thought much of hand jobs, said no to many throughout his life, never being worth the time, never feeling as good as his own hand. This though. You. Your hand. You touched him and he swore your hand was made to hold his cock. Even if that sounded ridiculous, there had to be some way of it being true because he felt so good. His cock was slick and hot, it glided through your grip with ease and your tightened fist on him, it was incredible.
You knew to tug him hard at the base, to loosen around his tip. To constantly use his pooling arousal to your advantage. You worked his cock better than anyone else could, maybe even better than him. You werenât rushing, you didnât wank him hard begging for it all to be over, getting bored of the feeling. No, you just touched him. Switching your pace. Listening to his hot little sounds. Paying attention to what made him twitch, what made him rut his hips into your palm. You loved touching him, you wanted to touch him forever, every which way you could.Â
He started fucking your hand. Heâs not sure he can stop himself and youâre so turned on by it you actually moan. âWhat are you doing to me?â Heâd never felt like this before. Youâd made him so weak. He was desperately thrusting into your fist like a pathetic little virgin, and you were moaning. He had to be making this up, you werenât real, none of this could have been real. âFuck Ed.â Youâre soaked at the idea of it all, you even clenched down on fucking nothing, the thought of him inside you instead of just the palm of your hand, itâs too much to bear. âNeed to fuck me.â You quicken your pace, your hand tugging at him desperately. âFuck, fuck. Stop, you gotta stop.â He doesnât want you to, God knows he doesnât, but if you donât, heâs gonna fucking bust all over your perfect little hand.Â
He forced your hand out of his shorts and you have the audacity to pout up at him when he does. âYouâre something fucking else.â He pushed you back, your head drops happily onto your pillow. âSomething good I hope.â You toyed with him, and he is about to lose it. âTake these off.â He tugged at your own shorts, and you didnât budge. âOff.â He commands, climbing off the bed, feet hitting the cold wooden floor of the hotel room.Â
You shifted behind him, pulling your shorts and panties down your thighs, tossing the material to the general vicinity of your shirt. Your hands are once again in your hair, combing through it with nerves just eating away at you. You ached for him. Your thighs were squeezed so tightly shut you thought he might never pry them open again. You were on edge, literally dying there waiting. Heâd dropped his shorts; theyâd hit the ground quietly. He stepped out of them quickly, hand lifting to touch himself, he let out a quiet hiss when he did. He was so turned on, cock so tight and hot in his hand, heâd bury himself in you and never wish to leave.Â
He climbed back onto the bed, settling on his knees like he had before. His hand rolled delicately across his tip, soaking himself still, using his own arousal to ready himself for you. His cock had a wet sheen in the light. You thought it looked even more delicious now with a coating like that. Perhaps your legs would part after all. âYou sure?â He thinks he knows your answer, but heâd hate himself if he didnât check. This had all been so perfect, better than he could have ever imagined because God, his imagination wasnât half as creative enough to make you up. You were far better than anyone heâd ever known. The more he knew you, the better you got. Each and every layer, prettier or wittier or more perfect. You must have been real. Real and a gift made just for him because you had him hook line and sinker. He was dumb to credit himself for thinking he imagined you a few moments ago.
âFuck me.â You spoke. He shook his head. Leaning over you, tip throbbing hard when it breached your walls for the first time before making a heady retreat, running through your slick, wet, lips instead. âCanât.â He said. Running his cock up and down, eyes flickering shut, throat drying with his pure fucking thirst for you. âWhy not?â You furrowed your brow. Heâs right there, all he had to do was enter you. You could just lift your hips and heâd slip his fat cock inside. âCanât call this fucking, not when you feel this good.â You think you might have passed out when pushed inside of you. âOh, fuck.â He covered your lips to catch your moan. He didnât think about the fact heâd be sinking in further, bottoming out, pelvis to pelvis with you when he did.Â
Your legs wrapped around him so tightly your heels began to dig into his tasty, round backside. You fasten him in place intentionally. You needed to feel him. Needed to feel him in his entirety, pulsing inside you. He bit down on your shoulder till he tasted a metal zing of fresh blood, heâd apologise at a later date. For now, he needed it. You were sopping wet around him, engulfing his cock in a warm, tight sleeve. With each breath you took he slipped a little bit further inside. You felt so full youâd felt him bulging in your stomach, so far inside you it even hurt you.
âI need to move, gotta let me move.â He locked eyes with you before you nodded, loosening your legs, letting him withdraw his hips, pulling right back away from you, tip nearly leaving the crevice of your wetness. Then he pushed back in, all the way, hips against hips and you fucking moaned. You moaned so loud he thought he hurt you, ready to withdraw and panic at that thought. But then you lifted your hips to meet his. You meet his next thrust and then the next, and the next. You donât let him do a damn thing without your involvement. You needed to be in this together because whatâs the fucking point if you canât give each other your all?Â
âYouâre so wet, soaking me.â You can only sigh, youâre not sorry, he got you so damn good he ought to be proud. âSo damn hot. Gonna need to change the fucking sheets.â He rambled on. His hands dig delicious bite marks into your hips. Yours place a similar attack atop his shoulders. âFeel unreal.â You captured his lips in a needy kiss, chest pushing up as your back arched involuntarily. âVery real, so fucking real.â You muttered. As your back arched further, Eddie found a place within you, a sensitive spot he angled into unexpectedly. A place youâd only ever touched yourself. You shook, and you clenched down on him, hard.Â
Heâd be an idiot not to notice it. You were clamping down so much he worried heâd lose circulation all together. âYou want me dead donât you?â He slammed his hips down into you. âWonât be happy till Iâm not fit for anyone else, that it?â His chest flattened against yours, his cock reaching that angle even more intrusively than before and youâre about to scream for it.
Heâs got so much pressure leaning against it youâre about to crumble and he doesnât even know it. âEddie.â You panicked, hands snaking into his hair, tugging his brown ringlets. He couldnât get any closer to you and yet you needed it, wanted him covering you. âFuck, youâre, fuck are you cumming?â He leaned his head back, looking down into your eyes, you have tears brimming in them and he canât believe it, he was so right. âPlease, please donât stop.â Your voice came out so weak, soft, precious, and broken and he thought you sounded like a needy little princess when you begged for him like that. âAnything, anything for you.â He meant it too.Â
His hand wrapped around your throat loosely and tenderly as he coaxed your second orgasm from you. Your scream caught in your throat. He kissed you hard, breathing life erratically back into you. The way you tightened around his cock has his eyes roll back into his skull, his teeth biting down hard on your plump, cherry lips. Heâs so close to cumming himself, but he will not let himself go until youâve done it first. He had to make it through. He had to feel the way you came around his dick for the first time. Needed it imbedded in his brain as the religious experience it certainly felt like it would be.
âEddie, Eddie,â youâre not even aware youâre yelling his name out there. You just do it. Thatâs what gets him in the end. Your pretty little voice wrapping around his name, securing the idea that he was in fact the guy whoâd made you crumble into a mess in these sheets, twice. It was all him. âWhere, fuck, where do you-â he canât even say it, canât get the words out. âIn me, need it in me, please baby.âÂ
He did as you asked, his hips pulsing into you, cock sputtering, leaking his hot cum inside you. You felt it all. Deep inside, covering you, damning you. You were claimed from the inside out. There wasnât a single piece of you that wasnât marked as his now. If you hadnât felt full before, you certainly did now. His cum filling you entirely, anything his cock couldnât previously reach was now pressured by him cum flooding inside you and it was so unbelievably good. You sighed heavily at the thought of it. âSo, fucking good.â You muttered. Him filling you was just so erotic to you. Heâd felt exactly the same because of course he did, he was made for you. He loved that youâd let him take you like that. It felt heavenly pouring himself into you, coating you in his colours. Pulling out might just be the hardest thing heâd ever have to do.Â
His body covered yours. Heâs no strength to hold himself above you, but no way of pulling away just yet. Youâd not minded his weight at all. Youâd actually enjoyed it, felt comforted by it. Even if your bodies were sweat soaked and desperately in need of another shower, it felt nothing but perfect lying here a little longer. Your fingers massaged into his scalp, he hummed at the relief of your touch. His breathing slowed down, softly blowing over your chest where his head lay comfortably.
You decided you loved the sound of him breathing. You canât explain exactly why that is, but it offered you some kind of comforting stimulation that you think youâd listen to happily for hours. The mere existence of him, being enough to soothe you. âSo that, uh-â he licked his bottom lip, wetting the dryness there. âThat happened.â You heart leaped and you know he felt it. âDonât make it weird.â You nearly begged. âIâm not making it weird.â You poked his head. âYouâre making it weird.â You accused, poking him again. âWould you stop?â
He lifted his head this time to avoid another attack. Well fuck. If he thought you looked beautiful before, it had nothing on the way you looked now. You were flustered and tired, your eyes wet with tears and probably sweat and yet, gorgeous. âYouâre staring.â He hated you. âI canât stop.â Heâs lying. He could, he just never wanted to. âWhat will people think?â You gasped. âHow will we tell them?â He continued, following your train of thought like heâd conjured it himself.
âWell, what do we actually have to tell? You know, to get our story straight.â He knew that was your not-so-subtle way of asking what you were, after all of this, but he doesnât mind it because he���d also liked to know. As clichĂŠ as it was. It really did happen that fast. âWell,â he rubbed your cheek with the back of his hand, watching as your face leaned into his touch. âYour family think weâre in love so, thatâs kind of handled.â You laughed. âThat youâre way of confessing your love for me?â You dig with a smile. âNo.â Yes. But it was way too soon to verbalise that. Sure, youâd known him for a while, but this weekend was the closest youâd ever been. And yeah, he may have felt it in his bones, but he wasnât crazy enough to admit it to you. Jesus Christ. âSo, itâs just, everyone else.â He nodded, then repeated after you. âEveryone else.â Easier said than done.Â
âWhat if I uh, slip you another 200?â He rolled his eyes. Only you would ask that. âOh, because I havenât whored myself out enough?â You grinned. âWell, if the shoe fits baby.â He nudged your nose with his own. âNo but seriously, what would 200 get me?â You tried to deadpan but the smile refused to leave you. âIâm refunding it by the way.â You feigned shock. âMy money not good enough for you Munson?â He looked at you with a âyou really asking me that?â look on his face. Though technically, you hadnât actually given the money to him yet. âOnly asked for it because I knew itâd piss you off sweetheart.â That hadnât surprised you at all. âI dragged my ass to the bank for nothing.â He thought he might howl with laughter.Â
âYou got cash out?â There he goes, those chubby fucking cheeks, the crinkling eyes. âYou actually withdrew 200 bucks for me?â You wanted the bed to swallow you whole. âI DONâT EXACTLY HAVE YOUR BANK DETAILS EDWARD!â You yelled and he laughed harder, nearly rolling off you all together until he remembered he was still very much inside of you. âIâm so fucking dumb.â You face palmed with the embarrassment of it all. âYou kinda are.â He agreed. He knew youâd hate his lack of support. âI like em dumb though.â He also knew he deserved the flick you gave him. âWeâll get you to the bank tomorrow, donât you worry babe.â This time you didnât flick him. âNot going anywhere tomorrow.â You sighed, arms wrapping around him. His stomach fluttered when you held him like that. âWhy, what you got planned?â He nuzzled his face happily into your breast, his spare hand squishing the other nicely. âGonna get my fucking moneyâs worth thatâs what.âÂ
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