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pinkrelish · 1 year

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶When Eddie gets a call at work telling him Adrie is sick, he rushes to pick her up from school, accidentally leaving his black notebook behind. Being you, you find the means to return it to him. But while at his trailer, you ask him the question he's been avoiding for months.

"Let's get down to those rumors, hm?"✶

NSFW — strong tw for a dark conversation surrounding eddie's past (accusations of murder, rape), heavy angst, comfort, drug/alcohol mention/use, slow burn, fluff, flirting, 18+ overall for eventual smut

chapter: 8/20 [wc: 14.1k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 8: The Munson Name

Leave it to Eddie to make your day special not two minutes into work.

Upon entering the garage, the back door was ajar as usual, but instead of phantom wisps of smoke swimming in the sunshaft, a shadow moved, and Eddie’s arm curled around to knock on the aluminum siding for your attention. His chain bracelet clinked from the motion, and his rings caught the light as he gestured for you to come over.

You peeked through the opening and saw him standing against the wall, but his morning smile wasn’t aimed at you, it was elsewhere, off to the side. You wrapped your fingers around the doorknob, and followed where he was looking.

A bright red cardinal sat perched on the round side mirror of Eddie’s car, chirping and hopping while fluttering its wings, spinning around in search of something, and after several twittering singsongs, it flew away.

“That was precious,” you whispered, breath fogging in awe.

“I’m glad you got to see him before he took off.” Eddie grabbed the door from you and pushed you both inside, shaking his arms in an intense shiver, and shrugging his jacket up around his neck while he hugged his hands around himself in his pockets. “Uhm..”

The goofy smile he wore was mutual, as was the dear silence. The energy between you had changed; it was charged with a new development in your relationship. One that did not need to be articulated in words. It was there, in his well-rested eyes owning a playful gleam when you looked at him, and his need to rock from foot to foot in a measured sway, like a subconscious impulse to recreate that beautiful night.

Then, he cleared his throat. You averted your gaze to the floor.

“You, uh, you said it was one gift,” he recalled with an audible wince squeezing the oxygen from his sentence.

Unsure on how best to approach you buying his daughter a generous amount of presents, and hearing the impassive edge to his voice, you shut one eye and opted for a joke, “It was one gift.. bag.”

“It was too much.”

Your demeanor sagged. “Oh.”

“No, no! Not in the bad way–No.”

You perked up. “Oh?”

A soft laugh poured from the snuggly place he had his chin tucked behind the tan canvas. He dropped his shoulders, and drove his weight forward into jaunty little steps towards you, closing the gap between your bodies. There were affectionate nuances to his fond expression when he corrected himself, “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound that way. The gifts were great. Like, real home runs. Uhm, she loved them, and they were really thoughtful. Just.. really sweet of you.” Immersing himself in the steady eye contact you were both proud to uphold, he licked his lips, and raised his eyebrows. “You’re so sweet, in fact, it’s piling onto that thank you I owe you at a ridiculous rate.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I just like doing things for you and Adrie. Besides, I live rent free in a tiny town with an abysmal lack of nighttime entertainment for me to waste my money on, so I figured why not spoil my favorite four-year-old.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know I don’t owe you, but” –he moved his hand around in his pocket– “I’m gonna figure out a way to repay you. Do something nice for you. Something big. Until then, your favorite almost-five-year-old made you this.”

He presented his palm to you. Cradled in it was a bracelet made of plastic beads in an assortment of colors, some shaped as stars, some with glitter, and at the middle was a name arranged in white blocks with black lettering. M-O-U-S-E.

“I had to help her spell it,” he said, tugging up his sleeve, “but it matches mine.” D-A-D-D-Y.

There was no masking the effect the bracelet had on you; breath hitched on a raw noise, chest falling on the exhale, muscles tensed on the cusp of a bigger reaction–but you tamped down the wealth of feeling wanted, and spoke beyond the heaviness in your heart, through the strain in your throat, and behind the blurriness of tears, “A true Adrie Original. I love it, tell her thank you for me.”

You slid the elastic band over your trembling left hand. He wore his on his right.

Eddie leaned in to get a better look at you, and the amusement in his face was replaced by genuine surprise. “Are you crying?”

You crossed your arms over your chest and gripped your shoulders, laughing, smiling through the embarrassment of being caught. “Maybe! It’s–It’s really sweet.”

“I’m gonna tell her you cried!”

“Don’t!” you yelped, running away from his evil fingers advancing towards your ribs.

“But it’s cute!”

“Stop chasing me!”

Luckily for you, refuge was on the other side of the glass door you managed to lock before he could grab the handle. You guarded your safe space with a glare. He pouted, and said something. You cupped your ear. He grew more passionate, flapping his lips at a rapid rate and putting his hands up in a prayer, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. You shouted you’d only let him in if he apologized for making fun of you. “I’m sorry.” The sincerity was lost on his smirk, but you gave in so you could make coffee and get to work, and so he could get said coffee and take your pen cup and put it just out of reach on the ledge of your desk while on his way out to the garage.

And unluckily for you, the first thing on your to-do list after the break was checking the flashing buttons on the phone. You picked up the receiver, pressed the playback for messages, and listened with a pen hovered over your new set of index cards.

The first one began with a startled, “U-uhm, right.”

The second one began with a confused laugh.

The third was a long pause before telling someone else in the room they’d try again later.

Dread pooled in your stomach. The recording button. The fucking recording button for an outgoing message taunted you. Faded yellow, and ugly.

With a clenched jaw, you prepared your racing heart, and pressed it. And oh God. You covered your eyes, more and more mortified as it played.

“We’re currently closed for the Holidays, and will open at 8AM, Mon–” Raspberry. “You! Why! That one was perfect. God, you are so–freaking–annoying. I swear. Obnoxious little..”

————

Standing at a respectable distance from where Eddie sat at the breakroom table with his notebook, you held up three calendars for the new year. “I’m replacing the one in the garage. Which do you want? Mythical Creatures drawn by Eric Carle, Coca Cola, or hot chicks posing on sports cars?”

He dropped his head back, and tipped his chair to balance on its rear legs. His bangs fell, showing his wrinkled forehead as he looked at you upside down. “Interesting options,” he commented.

“The mall didn’t have much left.” A lie. The calendar kiosk at the mall was stocked to the brim, you just had a hunch Eddie would go for one in particular.

“Does the mythical creature one have a dragon for a month?”

“Yes,” you said without checking.

“I’ll take that one, then.”

Predictable.

“Cool, I’ll give Mr. Moore the hot chicks, and I’ll take the Coke for me.” Speaking of–the front desk phone was ringing, and it was in your job description to answer it, you supposed.

You left him to get back to his writing, and put the receiver to your ear. The voice on the other end was politely stressed in the customer-friendly way. You left it in the cradle on hold, and called down the hallway, “Hey, Eddie, it’s Adrie’s school calling for you. I’m sure–” Stumbling out of his way, his jacket softened the blow of his shoulder knocking into you. He reached his hand back in an apologetic gesture, but his focus manifested in the flash of panic crossing his pale face. “I’m sure she’s fine,” you finished sympathetically.

He answered the woman on the line, and you waited along the wall, eyeing the scuff marks around the floorboards you should probably buff off at some point, and after his short conversation, he hung up.

“Adrie’s sick,” he said quickly, patting down his jacket. “Wayne’s not answering the phone, so I gotta go pick her up, and uh, I–” He pivoted in a circle, glancing around, fumbling for his keys in his pocket. “I–I’m sorry. She needs me.”

You drew your eyebrows in, and waved him off. “Yeah, it’s okay. You can leave. I’ll clock you out and let Carl know when he’s back from lunch.”

“Thank you,” he said in breathless earnest, leaving so quickly his boots left black streaks on the tile.

~~~

Lunch came and went. Carl came and went. The end of the hour posted under the CLOSED sign came and went. Eddie had yet to call the shop to update you, which was fine and dandy (aside from your anxiety over whether or not Adrie was okay), but in his rush, he left behind something important..

His black notebook with the devil-horned skull laid in the middle of the table like an ominous item from a horror movie.

And much like the horror movies, you as the final girl should leave it alone, right? Just.. walk away, and forget about it, and leave it for him to pick it up tomorrow, or whenever he’s able to come back to work..

But.

You were worried about Adrie, and when you went to the garage to replace the trash can liners, you saw his rings still on the black tray near the tool cabinet. Now, it’s not like he needed those either, however, what if you just.. returned them for him? And the notebook fell open while you were at it?

It was wrong. Everything about what you were doing was all so very, very wrong. Going inside Mr. Moore’s office and flipping the lightswitch, making your way to his desk in an innocent saunter, and–oops!–kneeling down to pick up a stray pen, and if the bottom drawer happened to be opened, and the plastic folder with the employee’s details from when he hired them was inside, who could blame you for taking the quickest, tiniest glance before closing it?

Yours was in there, of course, along with–

“Edward Munson,” you snorted. “Dorky name.” Duh his full name was Edward, but it was still funny to see.

You read over the top of the file where his address and phone number were. Thankfully, from your various car rides with Robin, you recognized the street name, placing it in your memories as the rusted sign next to the Forest Hills Trailer Park entrance.

The phone number you imprinted into your brain as a recreational activity, and put the folder away.

Closing the door behind you with a hefty jingle of heavy rings in your pocket, you approached the notebook, and gave it a pitied sigh. Having committed many sins in the past minute alone, you figured why not. You didn’t even feel shame opening the stupid thing after months of being teased by it. Besides, what’s the worst he could be hiding in it? It couldn’t be that embarrassing, right?

..Right?

“Okay, can honestly say I was not expecting a big tittied bird lady.” The drawing wasn’t overly detailed, but the artistry was above average. Small details etched the feathers covering her avian legs, and a gleam shone on her talons coming to a sharp point, posed to attack with milky white irises. Above her was Eddie’s stylized font: HARPY, with abbreviations and numbers in a column. His rushed handwriting filled the rest of the page. Reading it over, it appeared you opened to the middle of a story.

Thumbing through, you encountered your first dog-eared page.

IF CHEST IS CHOSEN, GO B

IF DOOR - ROLL FROM INDEX CHART POISON

Absolutely lost, you did see a box labeled B further down with a short bullet point list of what would happen, and more options to choose from on the next dog-eared section.

Flipping deeper towards the back, it was pages and pages of his handwriting. Names of characters fighting dragons. Fantasy towns housing creatures you’d never heard of. Countries with too many syllables and apostrophes. Whatever it was, you were more than happy to hop on your bike and ride it over to the trailer park, only second guessing your sense of direction three times, and releasing a grateful, “Thank God,” when you spotted it up ahead.

The place had an eeriness to it despite the slanted beams of afternoon sun gracing it in gold. Homes were tarnished with dents and algae staining the outside. Trailers slumped on their cinderblocks, buckling under the weight. RVs had permanent brush growing under their parking spots. A child’s scream echoed around the tree-less lot, but you couldn’t see them through the orderless blockade of dilapidated residences and abandoned cars. People watched you: glancing out their windows, or gathered around a charcoal barbeque. Curious eyes followed your trail down the main road. Bumping your bike around potholes, avoiding tetanus ridden nails and petrified clothes molded to the ground as if they’d been there for years.

Dogs walked their fences as you passed.

You were beginning to have some regrets when a beacon welcomed you. After a curve, an old van parked out front of a blue and white trailer came into view, but more importantly, dwarfed next to the Chevy behemoth, was a black car you’d recognize the red interior of anywhere.

The heat of parent’s concerned stares burned into the back of your neck as you rode up to the concrete stairs, leaned your bike against the metal handrail, and approached your fate.

Even though you were absolutely sure this was the correct address, you knocked with as much confidence as a dormouse. Any harder and the sound of your knuckles striking the aluminum would’ve been too loud in the creepy-quiet trailer park.

No answer.

You knocked again. Harder. Louder.

There was movement inside. Footsteps. A muffled voice. Your heart leapt. In your throat. Closer. Closer. This was so stupid. This was a mistake. This was a bad idea. The excuse in your mouth was weak, and you were about to embarrass yourself in front of your coworker by surprising him at his house, which you only knew where to find because you were snooping, and there was no amount of explaining that would help you out of your spot in hell–

Eddie swung open the door, and his heavy-browed, distrustful, annoyed, apprehensive, suspicious glare jumped to wide-eyed shock.

Your cheeks went hot.

“Nope!”

You winced at the slam, but nothing–no God’s will, no Devil’s agreement–would convince you to blink at the shuttered window where he once stood. No. No, no, no. No, never. Never would you want the searing glimpse at Eddie’s naked chest out of your sight before it was engraved into every second of every day of every night of every dream for the rest of your years.

In some part of your mind, you knew your gazes connected long enough to see the blood drain from his face, but your attention was soon urged downward, to the overwhelming amount of skin.

His hair was tied back, exposing a poetry of shadows. Hollow of his throat, to his clavicle, to the swell of his shoulders. Biceps twitching under a prominent vein when he caught himself on the trailer’s frame, and gripped the door handle. Muscles straining with fear, then soft with relief, then strong with fear again when he realized it was you who caught him in this shirtless state, discovering the beautiful line between his pecs when he flexed. Witnessing the fine wisps of softly auburn hair on his chest, juxtaposed to the wiry dark curls creating a blessed trail to the top of his sweatpants. Drooling over the eclectic collection of tattoos sporadically placed over his body. Too many to decipher in the brief encounter, aside from the dragon crawling up a sword etched into the subtle planes of his abs and curving around his slight stomach, with the blade ending at his waistband–a full picture of the tattoo you spied at the grocery store when he stretched his arms above his head.

The door creaked open again, and you’d yet to recover. But thinly obscured in the darkness of his home, he was visibly flustered as well.

Eddie hunched over, struggling to get the zipper of his tan jacket up, tugging it harshly, grinding the metal teeth in his anxious fight to cover his chest; and when it was snug to the splotchy kiss of pink on his neck, he squinted at you. “What’re you doing here?” he asked, voice gone hoarse from his dry mouth.

Knees locked, and oh so staring him directly in the eyes, you took the black notebook from under your arm (not remembering when you tucked it there), and showed it to him. “You left this at work.”

He took it from you slowly without a thanks.

“And, uh,” you continued, gathering the clinking jewelry in your jacket. “These too.” You dropped them into his cupped palm, brushing your pinky over a scratchy callus, experiencing the zing of intimacy of skin on skin.

And he felt it too, with how he curled his fingers in to seal the fleeting sensation.

Pocketing his rings, he stood meek in his doorway. The pain of expecting someone different to be knocking at his trailer had dwindled, but the tension was there in between his eyebrows, weighing on the slope of his gentle frown, painting brilliant highlights on the long line of his nose in the blazing dayglow threatening to invade his home.

The dull brown of his eyes glinted aside the honey as his mouth hung slightly open, tip of his tongue curled against the pearly dam of his teeth. The lined pages of the well worn notebook fanned out, flopping in his grip. “Did you read what was in here?”

Shifting your gaze to the sharp edge of the tin roof decorated in elaborate dangly fish hooks, you clasped your hands behind your back in a cute way, and delivered the answer he awaited with an inflection like it was a question, “No..?”

“For an actress, you’re bad at lying.”

“Or I’m being obvious on purpose so you tell me what it is.”

Working his jaw back and forth, he bided his time, each grind a consideration at his options in regards to how vulnerable he should be, and if this would be the final nail in the corroded coffin where you’d realize what a giant loser he was. “It’s..” You leaned towards him in interest, and he looked away. “It’s notes and stuff for Dungeons and Dragons,” he admitted in a mumble.

“Nerd! Nerd!” You jumped up and down, pointing, shouting, “I knew it! You’re a nerd!”

Twisting his mouth in a sarcastic sneer at your childishness, he snatched the side of the door and began shutting you out. “Okay, okay. I get it. See why I didn’t want to tell you?”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you exhaled, switching on a dime from your teasing to a serious tone. You caught the door, and pleaded for him to stop being an idiot, “I knew you were a dweeb when you held me hostage for an entire thirteen minute lecture about your song lyrics. The Dungeons and Dragons shit is the third least surprising thing you’ve ever told me.” You clasped your hand over your heart. “Truly.”

“What’s the second?”

“Your music tastes.”

“And the first?” he asked, despite his better judgment.

“That you’re single.”

He announced his displeasure in a deadpan expression. “And I’m beginning to see why you are, too–” All of him went rigid, withdrawing slightly into the trailer with his head lowered, ear angled towards the right of him, listening as his gaze went unfocused.

After a few seconds, his lungs reawakened with a relieved breath. “Just coughing,” he said to himself. Dragging his attention back to you, he gestured weakly at his jacket to indicate his lack of clothing, still embarrassed at the situation. “Adrie, uh.. She puked on me earlier. That’s why I wasn’t–uhm–dressed.”

Worry edged its way into your question, “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s fine. Kids get sick from daycare all the time. Basically just sentient germs running around, licking their hands after touching everything.”

Your eyebrows ticked up at the memory of the awful Dayquil hangovers following the weekends you worked as a clown for children’s birthday parties.

You asked, “And what about Wayne?”

“Hm? Oh.” Recognition, and the ease of a casual conversation overtook the near-permanent anticipatory hardness to his features, softening his bristly nature around you; finding you comforting when he was in the place where he was supposed to feel safest, but didn’t.

Home wasn’t home for Eddie Munson, and you felt that icy statement behind your ribs as you watched him pat his pocket as a way to check his rings were there for reassurance, acutely aware there was an hostile world at your back, and you chose to only see each other.

There was a tender innocence to his lip crooking up in a lopsided grin as he remembered you asked him a question. “Typical old man. Wayne was outside and didn’t hear the phone ring, that’s why he didn’t answer. He’s at work now, though.”

“Mm,” you hummed. ��Do you have soup?”

“Soup?”

“For Adrie,” you clarified.

He glanced over his shoulder, assumingly at the kitchen, and after some mental deduction, he shrugged in vague nonchalance. “Yeah, there’s probably soup for her.” As if you didn’t know him well enough at this point to read past the nervous habits weaving their way into his fidgety unsureness.

You backed down the stairs as you spoke, “Okay. Well then, guess I’ll get going since you have everything on lock down here. Got your sick kid, got your soup, got your notebook, and your uncle’s at work. Sounds like everything’s in order.” Hopping off the last step, you swung around the handrail and guided your bike to the road, beaming. “See ya!”

“Yeah, see ya,” he replied, settling into his usual side-ways glance around the trailer park, challenging the gawkers who watched a girl willingly walk up to his home and leave it smiling. They did not dare to say anything, of course; returning to their lives with sealed lips, pretending to pay him no mind. Just how it should be.

He held his chin high.

————

And when Eddie next answered the door, it was in the low blue hue of a setted sun, and he did so in his black jeans and a white tank top. His unzipped work jacket swayed prettily around his torso, low bun at his nape loosened to a mess, short curls in a frizz over his ears, and cheeks flushed. “I figured you’d be back,” he forced out evenly, doing his best to disguise his panting breaths.

You hugged the brown paper grocery bags to your chin, and grinned.

He stuck his foot behind him in an awkward curtsy, and swept his arm for you to enter.

Walking into his place for the first time there were many things to comprehend, absorb, fawn over, and ask about until he was tired of explaining their origins–and since you were already crossing an entire notebook’s worth of lines today, you inquired about the most obvious. “You, uh, like collecting hats and mugs?”

“They’re Wayne’s,” he grunted, unplugging the vacuum he left in the middle of the living room by yanking the cord out of the wall, and dragging it on his way to the hallway closet where he kicked and shoved things aside to make room, rattling the thin door that definitely had been punched through at one point, patched and painted over, and was now a canvas for crayon squiggles along the bottom. “Before he worked at the power plant, he was a trucker. Collected them at every rest stop in every state, that sorta thing.”

“Ah.”

In a quick spin, he surveyed the rest of the trailer, and made a similar “ah” sound when he saw the cleaning products and balled up paper towels on the tiny table squeezed against the wall. He lunged for them, stuffing the evidence and other garbage into the overflowing trash can. “I still keep up the tradition by getting him a mug for Christmas.” Jerking his chin at the shelf above him, he specified the one on the end. “This year was Looney Tunes.”

“How cute.” The bags crinkled in your arms as you stood in the entryway, nodding expectantly.

“Shit–Sorry.”

You smiled. He finished clearing a space on the wrap-around kitchen counter for you to set the groceries down, scooting a candle out of the way, flickering the flame he may have burnt himself on while lighting, if the red mark on his thumb was anything to go by. And he was back to pivoting, scanning the area, desperate to latch onto the object which would jog his memory on where he was in his cleaning: dishes dripped in the drying rack, Wayne’s grilled cheese endeavor was out of sight, the bathroom radiated the nose-burning scent of bleach.

He snapped his fingers at the overflowing trash can, and almost slipped in his frenzy to tie up the bag and rush for his boots, saying he’ll be right back on his way out, leaping down the stairs.

“Alrighty..”

The steady rumble of a washing machine rattled every loose bit of metal in the museum of belongings.

You waged war with your tennis shoes, wiggling out of them with the laces still tied, and stepped off the carpet dividing the trailer in half. The bubbling vinyl kitchen floor stuck to your socks, still damp from being mopped, and heaved the groceries onto the pale blue countertop, sliding them across decades worth of scratches scarring the material. Once you were sure you could let them go without a toppling situation, you took the goods out one at a time, but your attention was nosy and undivided.

Acting as foreground to the walls of hats and mugs was the rest of Eddie’s life. Laundry baskets occupied a couch with flattened cushions. A coffee table supported stacks of his daughter’s playthings after picking them out of the vacuum’s path. There was a fold out bed in the corner, and a modest TV situated on top of a VCR. To compensate for the lack of overhead light was an abundance of mismatched lamps on each surface.

It was a hodge podge, and it was cramped, and it was incomprehensible, and it was his house.

Turning, you began to guess at which cabinets he would store a bag of rice when you spotted the artwork hanging on the fridge.

Pinned under a teddy bear magnet was a decoupaged version of your Thanksgiving turkeys, cut out and glued to a single piece of construction paper, complete with the castle in the background. And secured safely under a smiley face magnet was a stick figure drawing of two people–one in a pink dress, one in all black scribble–and dated in neat ink by someone with less messy handwriting: 5/7/92.

Eddie came back to your wide grin, and two cans of baked beans held up in a question.

“They go over here,” he said, nodding at the skinny door next to where he stood at the small green table set for three chairs, organizing today’s mail in his hand.

You opened the pantry next to the recessed oven, and stacked the rest of the cans inside. Towards the back there were two white cereal boxes with plain blue text and nothing else, leaving you to deduce no one in his family stooped to eating unsweetened cornflakes even if that’s all they had. Meanwhile, he arranged overdue bills into a ladder style letter holder hung on the wall beside the phone, periodically taking one out and placing it down a rung, ordering them from most to least important.

“I was supposed to go grocery shopping yesterday, but I had to buy and install a new hot water heater,” he told you suddenly. Whether he was saying this because he was coasting on the fumes of his Christmas bonus until December’s child support arrived, or because he was simply too busy to go shopping, neither of you addressed it more than necessary. He accepted your help, and you didn’t pry.

“Unexpected shit sucks, huh?” you added for his benefit.

“Yeah,” he huffed in a short laugh, playing the same game.

And it was him who rested his forearms on the edge of the pale blue wrap-around counter, watching you commit good deed after good deed, guessing where groceries went in the cabinets, acclimating to his kitchen’s set up, and making room for a bag of grapes and three apples between his six pack of Pabst and block of Government cheese.

“Can I ask you kind of a weird question?”

You brightened at his voice, teetering on the edge of a smile just from that alone. “Always.”

He drew absent-minded circles with his finger as he tried to find the best way to word something he wondered about since the week you met. “When you saw Adrie for the first time, you had this really, uh, surprised look on your face.. Why was that?”

Your tone was dismissive in the wake of something that appeared to haunt him, “Oh, that?” You folded down the empty paper bags, and placed them on top of the fridge after he said Adrie would use them for arts and crafts. “Well, it’s like, Mr. Moore has dozens of pictures of his family on his desk, and Carl told me–approximately–ten different stories about his sons an hour after meeting him, and Kevin carries pictures of his dogs in his wallet. It just seemed like if you had a daughter, you would’ve shown me a picture too, like most dads.” You waved your hands around, and contorted your mouth in a silly manner. “I mean, it was just weird you never mentioned her.”

He took your assessment to heart, and opened the drawer closest to him. Amongst the clutter of junk was his black wallet resting on a coiled chain with clips on either end. Taking out the cheap leather, he cradled the width in his palm, and wiggled out a picture kept sealed behind a plastic window. He said, “Actually, I do carry a picture of her,” and handed it to you.

On instinct, you pored over the image of him first, prizing the crown of his head sporting the same wild haircut. He had his face tipped down to the newborn wrapped in a pink blanket in his arms, crooking her in their safety as he held a bottle to her lips. His knees were on display behind his ripped black jeans. His shirt was sleeveless. She was tiny and precious. He was decidedly emotionless from what you could see, sat on a couch that was not the same as the one across the room from you.

“That was taken at Harrington’s place,” he answered your unstated question, keen to the recognition washing over your face as you placed it as Nancy’s ugly pink floral loveseat.

You gave it back to him.

He looked over the captured moment in time, bleak gaze set on his little girl when she was so fragile, and small, and when he was so weak, and teetering on a long overdue breakdown.

“It took me a long time to carry this around,” he said, tone heavy with disappointment, regret, and shame. “Wayne and I were fighting constantly. And I mean, I don’t blame him. He gave up his life to take care of me when I was twelve, and I put so many gray hairs on his head that he went bald from my bullshit, and then there I was, bringing home a screaming infant I didn’t know the first thing about taking care of. Y’know, just proving I was a fuck-up right when he thought I was smart enough to get my act together.“ Tracing the sharp edge of the photo trimmed to fit his wallet, he placed it in its windowed slot and tossed it back in the drawer, closing the past from his sight. “I don’t have a lot of good memories from that time. Shit fucking sucked.”

“I can imagine,” was all you could say.

“I love her,” he said in the event you doubted him.

“I know you do,” you offered in return.

Steering the conversation in a different direction, you swung your index fingers at the extensive cabinetry, and asked, “Where’s a cutting board?” Right of the sink, he answered. “And a knife?” Top drawer next to your hip, he responded. But it took until you shook out the washed celery stalk, and snapped the ribs off, lining them up on the white plastic cutting board did he become suspicious.

He leaned more of his weight on his forearms, and kept his tone carefully neutral, “What’re you doing?”

Keeping your expression indifferent aside from your arched brows, you cut the celery into manageable sticks and began slicing them lengthways. “I believe I’m in Edward Munson’s trailer making him and his daughter soup.”

The crimson guitar pick at the end of his necklace swung forward, jostled from where it was stuck to the healthy sheen of sweat glistening along the top of his chest. “How do you know my full name?”

“A little birdie told me.”

He shifted his shoulders, head lowered, eyes narrowed, voice deep, “Better question. How do you know where I live?”

“A bigger birdie told me.”

“Someone told you about me?”

Rightfully confused, you pulled a face. “Huh? No. I was kidding. No one talks to me. Anyway, back to the soup.” You harnessed all your charm into impressing him by meeting his stare while you diced the celery, using your knuckles as guidance. “Are there any vegetables she won’t eat? Or stuff she’s allergic to?” Your flagrant insolence irked him: reading his notebook, inviting yourself to his residence, filling the voids in his kitchen with groceries, and now making him soup without ever asking if he wanted you to do those things.

Because of course he wanted you to do those things.

He surrendered to your kindness. “No allergies, and she’ll eat anything as long as it’s diced small–Yeah, like that–and cooked down to mush. It’s the one thing she’s always been good about.”

“And you?”

It took a few sad seconds for him to understand you were asking about his allergies and his preferences, not used to his needs being taken into consideration. “No, no, whatever you make is good. Uhm. Hey, you don’t have to do all of this. Don’t roll your eyes, I’m being serious. Adrie’s sick and I don’t want you to catch what she has.”

“Please,” you implored in thick sarcasm, “I’ve been coughed on by every disease known to man on the Q train. There’s not a cold or flu in existence I haven’t succumbed to. I’m immune at this point.”

You found a stock pot from the cabinet at the junction of the wrap-around counter and the sink, and set it on the cooktop to come to heat while you peeled and chopped an onion. Eddie dwelled in his observations; listening to you recount tales of working in kitchens because they were always hiring, collecting horror stories from being a dishwasher, a waitress, a morning food prepper; moving from title to title; birthday clown, bartender, craft store cashier. Flighty, flighty, flighty. He watched your hands move in quick chops and long sweeps down a carrot with skill he didn’t have the patience nor time to learn. He told you as much, how when he comes home he’s fucking tired, and doesn’t have the energy to make dinner.

“Now what’re you doing, sweetheart?” he asked in what he hoped was an exhausted tone, but he knew it was futile. The timidness was there, sneaking its way into his words when he made the leap to calling you an endearment in his own home. And how could he not when you pulled out a stack of tupperware, divided the piles of chopped vegetables between them, and wedged them into the freezer, still tending to the sweating mirepoix with a wooden spoon.

“It’s so next time you want soup they’re all ready to go. You don’t have to waste time cutting vegetables. Just dump a container in a pot and add broth and noodles, and call it a night.”

He made a fond noise in the back of his throat, looking at you through his lashes. “You’re really doing everything in your power to extort me for this ‘thank you’ I owe you, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one who promised me something good,” you reminded him.

Water splashed, sputtered in the pot, steaming into a cloud of savory humidity, filling the living space with earthy aromatics. You added bouillon cubes, and stirred the stock together while turning the dial on high to bring the soup to a boil.

“Yeah, guess I did,” he said, petering out into a mumble, straying further from the current topic. He wasn’t finished talking about the previous one yet, and he made it known.

Tracing his thumb along his plump bottom lip, he tested a boundary, tiptoeing into a realm he did his best to ignore. “So, uh, you employ the same strategy with jobs as you do dating, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” you grinned. “Having an endless well of stories about shitty customers to pull from is perfect for stand up. Everyone loves the perpetually single girl who works in service or retail, and just can’t seem to find the love of her life, despite going on an insane amount of first dates with New York’s most average. It’s funny, and relatable.”

“And now you’re stuck as a boring receptionist in a nowhere town in a nowhere state.”

You released a sugary, syrupy, sweet giggle. “And now I’m stuck as a boring receptionist in a nowhere town in a nowhere state, and it’s the longest job I’ve ever held.”

His eyelashes fluttered from the nerves–the strong ache in his chest pressing down on him, stealing his breath. “And what about the dates? Gone on any with Hawkins’ finest?”

“Just one.” Though your back was to him while you washed and dried the cutting board, your smile was outlined in your banter. “But it was awful,” you emphasized in a dramatic sigh. “Worst date ever. He drank my Icee, wouldn’t stop talking during the movie, and, get this! He didn’t even tell me I was pretty. Not once.”

“What a jerk,” he agreed fullheartedly, scrunching his nose and twisting a curl of his hair over his stupidly smitten grin. “Sounds like a real asshole.”

“Actually, he was my favorite,” you corrected him, turning down the dial to where the coils lost their fluorescent glow. “Huge, huge nerd. Like, the biggest dork ever, but he was definitely my favorite out of any of my dates.” On your way to the green table, you bent close to his ear, and begged him in a whisper, “But don’t tell him I said that. He’ll get a real big ego about it.”

He made a zipping motion over his mouth.

“Soups gotta simmer until the potatoes are done. Might as well sit.”

He unzipped his mouth. “When did you cut up potatoes?”

“When you were staring at me all dreamy-like,” you supplied, words dipped in coy and flirt.

Undecided on which way to balk at your claim, he did them all: rolled his eyes, clicked his tongue, muttered a small “was not,” and slung himself into his usual chair at the table. He expected you to do the same, to match his silly theatrics with your own impassioned eye roll and smirk, but you didn’t. You sat across from him, poised, hands clasped together with the black notebook beside you.

The mood of the evening dipped visibly in your serious gaze set on him.

You tapped your knuckle on the metal spirals binding the worn pages of his latest campaign together. “No more secrets,” you punctuated. Three short words let go on an exhale. Three little words standing taller than the final barrier he built to keep others out. Not an ask, but a necessity if you were going to continue your relationship–platonic or not.

Your posture and expression were stern, but gentled by patience. “Let’s get to those rumors, hm.”

It was time.

No going back.

Whatever happens, happens.

Eddie took a shaky breath, and invited you over to the vulnerable truth. “Has anyone ever told you anything about me? Not like Harrington’s stories, but actual rumors?”

You shook your head. Between spending most of your time at work, or at Robin’s place, you didn’t have much opportunity to speak to random people, apart from small talk. And chit chatting about the weather was nowhere near as grave as what rooted itself in the solemn slow blink wherein he closed his eyes, and dipped his head.

“I’ll tell you everything, but can I ask you not to say anything while I explain?” he hesitated, knowing how it sounded. “I don’t know how else to word that to make it less rude, but this shit is difficult for me to talk about, and I’ll probably ramble, and go on tangents, and jump around the timeline, but, please, don’t interrupt me or say anything until I’m finished, okay? I don’t want to forget any of the details, and have to discuss this again. Can we do that?”

Digging your thumbnails harder into the flesh of your fingers, you agreed to the terms with a solid nod.

He swallowed. And when his tongue remained too thick in his dry mouth, he swallowed again, and sat up straight, pressing his back into the chair. “Okay.”

Two anxious stomachs twisted at once.

He cast his vacant stare around the room; never allowing it to land on you. This conversation was with himself and the green table and the shelf of mugs and the soup bubbling away on the stove and the washing machine entering its spinning cycle and the containers of Play-Doh on the coffee table; speaking to the non-judgemental objects instead of the person across from him.

“I’ll start with my reputation in school,” he said. “Probably doesn’t take much of an imagination to picture me as I am now with the same hobbies and opinions, just a lot louder about them. Heavy metal was the only music I listened to, and people called me weird for it. And I thought ‘weird?’ Was that supposed to bother me? I loved being weird! I wore the title ‘weird’ with pride. I didn’t want to be like everyone else. And when they saw I played Dungeons and Dragons, they called me a Satanist. Satanist? Like Ozzy, and all the bands I looked up to? Hell yeah! I thought being called a Satanist was so cool I sewed a Leviathan Cross on my jacket.” The corner of his lip jumped at a memory, smiling at something from long ago. Then, it faded. “Goes without saying I didn’t make many friends until I found other outcasts who shared those same views as me. We started a band together, and after some convincing, we made a DND club with me as the Dungeon Master. Of course people called me a cult leader for it, but being a cult leader sounded fucking awesome, so I encouraged it. Antagonized it. Weird, Devil-worshiper, cultist, freak. I wore them all like armor.”

He paused to crack his knuckles, expression falling blank as suppressed scenes unfolded in his head. “I got bullied a lot. Not that surprising. I was so aggressively opinionated about everything and never shut up. But the worst of it stopped when I got held back enough grades that I made “grown-up friends” and started dealing to help pay for my guitars and stuff.” He shrugged a single shoulder in apathy, and the tan jacket slipped down his arm, revealing a faded stick-and-poke viper above his armpit. “Unless it was Steve or someone in that friend circle, I was never invited to parties except to bring drugs. Weed, pills, whatever low scale stuff, nothing that serious, but I wasn’t very popular outside of that context.” The washing machine buzzed at the end of its cycle. “And as much as I told myself I didn’t care, I did. I did care when my friends were out on dates with their girlfriends, and I was alone, stuck in front of a record player learning a song just to give myself something to do, and something to say I did over the weekend when they all talked about the movie they saw together.. Made me feel like I was the outcast even amongst the outcasts.”

Listening, but not responding, you smoothed your thumbs over the divots in your skin your nails left behind.

Swallowing again, he faltered, “Girls didn’t like me. Even if I was the cooler, older guy who was so confident in everything he did, I was still off-putting. Or just weird in the bad way, because I didn’t know how to act, and came on too strong, or too–I don’t know–fucking dorky, doing shit like opening doors and bowing for them, laughing too loud at my own jokes when they didn’t find them funny.” It took everything you had to not to break your promise–to stay silent, and indifferent, and not gather him into a hug and assure him all those goofy mannerisms were exactly why you liked him. “I dated, y’know.. Had girlfriends here and there, but they never lasted more than a month.”

To close one chapter of his life and open another, he rubbed at his eyes, and ran a hand down his face, scrubbing over his chin as he spoke to the ceiling, “Now onto my old man.”

The hand he used to wipe the loneliness from his somber visage came to a rest on the edge of the table, and he ran the side of his palm along it as a way to fidget.

“He was in and out of jail for a number of things my whole life, but when I was twelve, he murdered someone. She was a nice lady. Well known in town, and well liked. Popular. Prom Queen, cheerleader type. Everyone loved her.. And he murdered her.”

Silence, silence, you remained in white-hot, visceral, sweat dripping, jaw-clenching silence.

“According to my criminal record, I was following in his footsteps. I had a penchant for stirring up trouble. It was fun. Stealing dumb shit, hotwiring an old car to drive us to the woods to get drunk when we were teenagers, dealing, begging Steve to throw ragers every weekend so I had an excuse to get shitfaced and run from the cops.. Yeah, it really looked like I was following in his footsteps. Following the Munson name.”

Eddie sat forward. Sleeved forearms sliding across aged coffee rings staining the green collapsible tabletop, and rubbing the backs of his fingers along the other. He was close enough for you to reach, to hold, to comfort when this was over, and the ghosts were put to rest from clouding his softhearted brown eyes.

“There was a New Year’s Eve party I was invited to” –he jumped his fingers in quotations– “on the rich side of town. It wasn’t one of Harrington’s, and I was out of my supply anyway, so I skipped out and spent the night here with my friends playing DND, and setting off fireworks in the trailer park, just having a good time.” The next inhale quivered his bottom lip, “I woke up in my bed to three cop cars blaring their sirens, and someone telling me I was being arrested for-for murder. Ah..”

You steeled yourself from blinking away.

“A girl died at that party. Prom Queen, head cheerleader. The type everyone knew, and everyone liked. And.. A-and, Jesus, I-I just need to get through this, I’m so sorry–but stuff was done to her body.”

The frankness hung in the room.

He screwed his eyes shut, and let the ugly reality spill from his mouth, “A guy from out of state went to that party with way harder shit than I sold, and she wanted to try some. They went to the bathroom together, he gave her too much, drugged her, she overdosed, and h-h-he..” His eyelids twitched with movement, and the tendons in his neck strained. You weren’t sure if he could hear the small, involuntary noise you made, but he chose the same words to avoid what you could infer. What all women could infer. “He did stuff to her body.”

His voice continued to crawl up an octave as his muscles braced in a reflexive cringe. “H-He left her there, and when her body was discovered, and the police were called, it didn’t take long before someone said they thought they saw me there, and once one person said they saw me there, suddenly everyone saw me there.” Hard swallow, palms wiped on jeans. “I was arrested the next morning, and even though I had three alibis, I didn’t have any hard receipts or any of that shit they wanted to establish where I was and at what time. And when my alibis were a bunch of Satanic cultist shithead troublemakers like me, they were brushed off. And why wouldn’t they be? It’s my friend’s word against thirty people who swore the long haired guy they saw at the party was me. Cops thought they caught their man, booked me, and had me in interrogation in under an hour from kicking down my door.”

He licked his lips.

“January of ‘88,” he said with an unsteady cadence, shooting out the sentences as they came to him, lurching faster and faster towards the horrid scars he’d never heal from. “I was so fucking lucky, so fucking lucky. DNA testing had only become a thing the year before. Mhm. That’s what saved my ass. But even then, it wasn’t like it is now. That shit took weeks to process.” He lifted his hands–fingers loosely curled, trembling. “For weeks they made me look at the pictures of her. H-Her body. The b-bruises around her neck.” He gestured at his own, and his voice swung higher pitched, “Interrogated me over and over again. For days, and weeks. Trying to get me to confess. It took weeks to prove I was innocent, and clear my name. Weeks, and weeks. A-A-And in those weeks–”

The trembling escalated to uncontrollable shaking.

“–Fuck–I don’t want to talk about this,” he said, volume fluctuating.

The air was too thick to breathe.

The wrinkles between his brows deepened, as did the lines bracketing his mouth. Red flush overtook his shuddering chest, his strained throat, his scrunched face with his eyes closed in refusal to acknowledge you sat opposite him, your expression slackened by dread.

“In the weeks between waiting f-for the DNA results,” each word wobbled worse than the last, “I found out Adrie’s mom was four months pregnant. And if I knew, then all of Hawkins knew. Everyone knew I knocked someone up, and.. and more rumors started..” He lifted his eyebrows, and his hands developed a violent shiver, hovering over the table, palms open, afraid and begging. “Because of.. what happened to the body.. People thought that she was.. That I..” each pause was a short wheeze.

Your blood ran cold with the slow realization of what word he was avoiding.

Desperation influenced his stammer, “I swear to you, w-what happened between us was consensual,” he stressed the last word in a whimper delivered straight to your dropped stomach. “She doesn’t answer my calls–but I could try, if you need to hear it from her–I promise, I promise, as soon as the rumors started, as soon as they started, she denied them. She tried to stop them from spreading. She tried. She told everyone it-it-it wasn't–that we both chose to–” he sniffed back the croaky sob, and without the grace of respite, he coughed the rasp from his throat, and ushered you into another apology you didn’t know you were owed, “I should’ve told you before we went to Adrie’s school. You had a right to know why people were staring. I’m so fucking sorry.”

In the room at the end of the dark hallway, his daughter who he sacrificed everything for rolled over in her bed, bringing the covers with her. In the belly of the trailer belonging to his uncle, you kept your feet tucked under your chair, letting the information wash over you in worse and worse crashes. In the lousy home he hated, Eddie held his breath until the aches reached their peak, and released them in a cough; and another, and another, until the pain subsided.

Deep breath, deep breath.

Your chair creaked from your uncomfortable shifting.

With time, the tension in his body waned to where his composed words could be heard in all the clarity they deserved, “I know this has been a lot to hear, and process, and I’m so sorry for unloading all of this on you at once, but I wanted you to know the whole story so you could make an informed decision.”

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to speak yet, but your whisper broke through, “Informed decision?”

Cheeks hot, but dry, and lower lashes clumped together from the rescinded tears, he answered you indirectly at first, “It took months to find and arrest the guy, and by then Hawkins didn’t care. Babe, you can be anonymous in the city, but this is how small town mentality works. All it took was one person to say I was at that party, and like that, my life was ruined. My name was stained. No one cared if I was innocent. The culprit was some other guy they’d never heard of from another state whose picture they flashed on the 6 o’clock news once. He might as well not even exist.” A pause. A change. A regret. “I want to protect you.”

There was pressure building behind your eyes, and you moved your gaze to the shelves above you in an effort to stifle the well of tears from falling–for him, for the dead girl, for what he was about to say next.

Eddie alternated between weakly slapping his hands flat on the table, then turning over to show his palms, then slapping them down again; guilt and shame and loneliness and fear working its way into every part of his gentle nature. “My name carries a stigma, and if you’re going to be coming around to my place, or be seen with me in public, you need to know there are consequences. Assumptions are going to be made about you. People are going to speculate, warn you, judge you. You don’t deserve that shit, so please, tell me, and I’ll accept just being friends at work, and leave it at that. I won’t ask questions. I won’t bother you. I won’t ask for more.”

“What?”

“I’ll understand,” he said, eyes tightening in a flinch.

“Eddie–” It came out broken. His encouragement for you to end the burden of this relationship at coworkers for the sake of your image stung like the tender throb of rejection–except, it was worse. It was him giving you permission to break things off because he didn’t see himself as worth the hassle.

Your poise collapsed. “You’re right, it is a lot to process, and it’s all I’m gonna be thinking about for the next week, a-and yeah, I wish you told me sooner, but Eddie–” His knuckles made a harsh sound when you grasped for his hand, knocking them on the table with the force of your messy coordination through the blur of true friendship disrupting your vision. “This changes nothing between us.”

Graceless under the circumstances, you took his right hand and wrapped your fingers around his thumb, fitting the meat of your palm into the curve of his. You delved your other fingers under his sleeve cuff, stroking them down, then up, slotting them beneath the stretchy bracelet. D-A-D-D-Y. He cupped his free hand over top of yours, enveloping them both, and waded through the entanglement to caress the prominent callus at the tip of his middle finger over the white blocks with black lettering. M-O-U-S-E.

“I’m with you,” you said. “I’m here. And whenever you want me here, whenever Adrie wants me here, ask and I’ll be on my bike pedaling as fast as I can.”

His face pinched in sentimental yearn. “Baby..”

Instead of suffocating the intensity of his emotions as he normally would, he slid his chair back and buried his head in the hollow of his outstretched arms; and in the pocket of space where he felt safest, he allowed himself the relief of two hot tears streaking through the fine sweat overtaking his puffy face. They clung to the tip of his nose, and dripped to his jeans in a loud splat.

He snorted, but it came out as a muted huff due to his stopped up sinuses. “Can’t believe I made it all the way through that sober and without crying, and then you just–went ahead and said something like that.”

You smiled. He probably did, too. Then as yours ebbed, his probably did, too.

The intertwined pocket where you clasped each other ran hot with body temperature, humidity, and the loaded implications of his confession and your subsequent acceptance. Heavy with the context for why people stared at him. Their significant glances at you, and the new depths and meaning beyond people thinking he was weird, and you were weird by association.

But at the same time, their stares didn’t last long. They were glances by every definition. A look over, a judgment, and then away, back to their own little world and their own little lives.

You asked, “Are the rumors still as bad as they were?”

The short curls at the crown of his head waved back and forth with his slow head shake. “I don’t think so. I think they’ve gotten better in a weird, fucked up way.” He sniffled, and wiped his nose on the inside of his sleeve before returning to the darkened confines of his arms, refusing excess stimulation until he could handle it. “Ever since Home Alone came out, my friends joke that I’m like that old man, y’know, the one all the neighborhood kids target, and turn one rumor about him into this entire narrative where he’s slayed over a dozen people, and keeps the bodies in his basement.” He laughed, truly. A warm, muffled thing. “That’s the sorta rumors going around now, I think; that I’m some Boogieman that gets blamed for every bump in the night. Adults probably know the accusations, but, like I said, Adrie’s mom did try to stop the other ones, but I guess I don’t know for sure if–when people look at you and me–that’s what they’re thinking. Uhm, I don’t know if I’m making sense anymore.”

“You’re good,” you consoled him. Your thumbs whispered sentiments on his skin, smoothing over the rough terrain from his labor, and catching on the excess sweat, wicking it away and creating more with each hindered brush across his inner wrist, trapped under the weight of his heavy hand copying you; running his fingers over wherever he could, needy, grounding himself to your presence, and seeking closure. “Thank you for finally telling me.”

“Thanks for listening,” he responded quietly.

Eddie shrugged his shoulders to his cheeks, and dried his face on his jacket to the best of his ability. Together, you sat in silence for a while longer, holding each other. Thinking. Decompressing. Plunging into the ice water of yet another development in your relationship, and emerging to the surface in unison, breaking the surface tension latched together by the same lifesaver.

You squeezed.

He squeezed back.

“I think I need a minute,” Eddie said, throwing his head towards the bathroom and letting go of you to inelegantly wipe at his runny nose. He drew further away from the table, standing up and walking in his odd, awkward way; playing with his bangs, and taking his hair out of the ponytail. “I’ll see if Adrie’s awake and wants soup, too.” The edge of the bathroom door flooded with yellowed light and a faucet was turned on high.

There was a nice moment where you nodded at the homely kitchen, lost in thought, absorbing the sounds and smells of the thick bubbling brew, and tomatoey pungence. Until it dawned on you.

“Shit, the soup–!”

Thankfully, as you stirred, the potatoes stuck to the bottom of the pot dislodged themselves, and nothing appeared burnt. Because, honestly, you couldn’t take the wound to your pride if the first time you ever cooked for Eddie Munson resulted in you burning soup.

After searching, you discovered the cabinet above the dish rack housed the dinnerware. You grabbed two mismatched bowls and hesitated on the shallow Little Mermaid one, until hearing the click of the bathroom door swinging open, and a squeak from the adjacent bedroom.

Soft footsteps announced his excitement before you could turn and see Eddie’s silly hand wave.

Come here, he mouthed, peeking from around the wall.

You dropped the serving spoon on the–had to be homemade–ceramic ashtray masquerading as spoon rest, and followed, hungry for new discoveries; the first being the (offensively ugly) pirate ship wheel chandelier hanging above the washing machine you had to have been an idiot to miss earlier. Deeper into the carpeted hallway was the coat closet with crayon squiggles, a shelf of kitschy knick knacks, and a thrifted painting of a lake scene with the curled-edge price sticker still on the corner of the glass. Passing the bathroom, you got a glimpse of a dark green shower curtain, a wet rag on a packed sink of various spilled products, and a bucket of rubber ducks next to the tub.

Eddie slowed, and you were confronted with his back. Slim shoulders on display from his oversized jacket falling further down his arms, thick canvas folding over itself around his tapered waist. The white tank top was stretched to fit him, hem of the armholes digging into his flexed lats as he eased the bedroom door open, back muscles contouring in the heavy shadows as he hunched and held his breath at the creaky hinges broadcasting his entrance. Edges of tattoos taunted you while he blinked into the darkness. And when the one who usurped his bed nearly five years ago didn’t wake, he straightened up and shook his hair out of his face.

He angled to the side, opening himself to you with his arm outstretched; an unspoken suggestion in his fingertips finding the edge of your cable knit sweater. You understood the glossy shine of unfiltered love in his gaze, and fit yourself between him and the doorway, stealing the soft filtered light brushing Adrienne’s sleeping form in tender illumination–made sweeter by the curls falling over her closed eyes, and the pale blue unicorn hugged in her arms.

‘Oh,’ you sighed in surprise, and clasped your hands on either side of your cheeks, craning to look up at him.

Just like the time he helped you hang decorations in the breakroom, your head made contact with the stick-and-poke viper, and his grin was instant.

His inhale cradled you. “She loves that thing,” he said, chest rumbling against your nape, stomach pressing to your side with an amused grunt, filling the gaps between you and him with warmth.

It was as if nothing changed. Not really.

Eddie canted his forehead to you with an expression of mild jealousy over your plush toy wrapped in his little girl’s arms when his cold plasticy ones sat at a miniature table in a pink playhouse pretending to have a tea party. His eyebrows were the same–raised, hidden beneath the wet stringy pieces of his bangs skimming his wrinkled forehead. His damp cheeks, jaw, and neck were the same after his cold water wake up call, splashing himself over the bathroom sink. His full lips were the same, pink and pulled back to show his teeth. His strong chin was the same, peppered with a recent shave. His handsome nose was the same, albeit red. The crinkles at the corner of his eyes were the same, if not slightly fuller from his recent cry.

But everything had changed.

Before, you lacked the understanding of the fear in his eyes when Mr. Moore had walked into the shop. How he had risked a painful bruise on his hip from the chair he knocked over in his scramble to get away from you. The tremble in his hands when he ran them through his hair in an urgent act to appear composed, and not like he was doing something worse with you. To you.

Everything was different, but it was felt, not seen.

The leftover adrenaline from the confrontation at his kitchen table faded, and in its place, rising from the truest, barest, rawest vulnerabilities of himself, was trust. A candid expression of respect in his palm at your back, fingers curled in to stroke his nails along the knitted design of your turtleneck. He confessed his secrets, you knew him to be an innocent man, and despite his worry for your reputation becoming infected by his, you promised him the same loyalty you always had, because there was not a lie in existence that would break the bond you facilitated months ago, born from your sheer desire to annoy the one mechanic who wouldn’t speak to you.

Felt, not seen.

A promise, and an urge.

The tingly pleasure of his nails scratching over your sweater advanced to a divine expression of affection.

He wrapped his arm around you, settling his hand in the curve above your hip. It lasted all of two seconds, long enough for him to bring you into the crook of his body for the purpose of whispering something in your ear, but it was a phenomenal improvement over the usual nervous flittering his fingers performed when in your company.

His voice was candy sweet after watching your face break into a smile for his daughter, “Maybe we should let her sleep, hmm?”

You leaned into him. “Yeah,” you sighed, rolling your head along his shoulder, guiding your silly grin from him to Adrie. “She looks so peaceful.”

“And quiet,” he observed in the wise tone of a single father after long hours of soothing his child’s headache when her cries created one of his own, and juggling the duty of cleaning up her puke from the floor, her clothes, his clothes, and bathing her while wallowing in the misery of doing it all by himself.

Eddie persuaded you into the hallway, and closed the door behind him, letting his arm fall to his side, ending the cocoon of warmth he provided with the harsh drag of the metal zipper scratching across the back of your jeans. He followed you to the kitchen and opened the fridge, muttering a string of words about deserving something as he snapped a silver and blue can from the plastic ring holding them together. “Want a beer? I don’t think you can get a DUI on a bike.”

“You actually can in some states.” You didn’t elaborate, and continued spooning soup into the bowls in questionable silence. “But no, thank you.”

Crack, tss. He held your stare over the rim as he tipped back a long gulp, pressed his lips together, and swallowed with a satisfied ‘ah,’ giving you ample time to ignore him. Finally, he moved his hand about, and asked, “Not gonna tell me why you know that?”

“Nope.”

“Okay.”

Moving on, you located two spoons from the absolute chaos of the cutlery drawer, and brought the bowls to the table while he reached into the pantry for an open sleeve of saltines, tossing them between the both of you and falling into his chair with a soft grunt.

“This looks great,” he complimented in earnest, voice and face alight with appreciation as he thrashed his arms to get out of his jacket, and took another sip of beer before crowding his side of the table with elbows, forearms, and hands; always holding the Pabst, or the soup, or reaching; always in motion, dominating the space you shared between your bowls, and beneath, where your legs were slotted in tight between his wide-spread knees.

His manners were about what you would assume after eating lunch with him many times, but that’s not what had you breathless.

He just.. took off his jacket like it was a completely normal thing he did dozens of times in front of you, sometimes accompanied by a hand rolled cigarette hanging from his lips, or joined by a sneer at some bad joke you told.

But it wasn’t normal. Not this time.

Hungry, hungry, hungry, you devoured the sight of his bare skin.

While he stirred the finely diced carrots and potatoes, you were afforded the time to admire the art no longer hidden by coveralls. Guessing at the older blotchy etches on his inner arm, theorizing about the origins of the souvenirs done in various stages between professional and very not professional, probably by himself or a friend. He didn’t have many, but it was easy to get caught up in the collection of motifs spanning from the top of his shoulders, and crawling in disorder downwards, to a tiny dagger at the apex of his bicep, two dice above his elbow, and a classic twist of barbed wire. Very cool and tough, but your roving stopped at one tattoo in particular.

Rather, one cluster of tattoos making up a whole.

“The bats..”

He perked up at your whisper–”Hm?”–and looked down at his arm. “Oh, yeah. These were my fourth, I think? Somethin’ like that. You like ‘em?” he asked, mouth cutting into the same delighted place a smirk originated from, but with more fascination as he too realized this was your first (technically second) time seeing his exposed arms.

Sucking in your cheeks to curb your habit of smiling at everything he said, you nodded in response, falling into a rhythmic head dip as you thought back to your first time meeting Adrie, and the picture she drew for you, and her Halloween costume, and how she chose not to dress as a princess like all her friends, but as a bat instead, because her daddy liked bats. “Yeah.. Yeah, I like them.”

He removed the twist tie from around the crackers and counted out three, stacking them neatly between his palms and, without warning, crushing them into his soup, sending a fine powder into the air.

It was obvious you were watching him on account of your untouched food, but it was beyond your control. Winter created a barrier between you and his skin. You needed to reap the beauty now while you could. Learn what you could, like the scorpion above his collar bone opposite the viper, and the eyeball monster with tentacles twisting over the bulk of muscles laying dormant in his solid forearms, and whatever the hell else was peeking out from under his tank top.

He scraped his spoon along the bottom of his bowl, and determined he needed one more cracker to make his soup as thick as he liked, and collected it from the crinkly pack. Yet another simple movement he had executed hundreds of times in front of you, and yet..

You stared. And stared. And stared. And made a sound of disgust. Rising from your chair, you loomed an impressive shadow over Eddie’s face as he gazed up at you with an expression of open confusion.

His eyes were trained solely on the pretty glint in yours.

Shiver. Goosebumps.

He jumped at your bold finger slipping under the strap of his tank top to move it aside. You pinched your brows, narrowed your eyes, and pressed your palm to his skin, enthralled by the sensation of him existing under you, aware of the full breath he took to fill out his chest as you introduced the touch.

Humming, you studied your hand cupped over the black widow spider inked onto his naked pec, and concluded, “That one’s smaller than my palm.”

The pale saltine cracker shattered in his grip.

Acting oblivious, you scooted your chair under you, sat, smoothed your hands over your lap as if a napkin existed there, and slurped your spoonful of soup as if you had done something as natural as point out the weather.

He released his surprise in a huff, and brushed the crumbs from his palms. “You are the lamest person I have ever met.”

“Have you met yourself?” At his weak glare, you slurped more of your soup. An amicable silence followed–the sort of camaraderie communicated through full bellies–but there’d been something on your mind since he willingly opened himself up to you and shared his past, expecting his name to become a forgotten word in your mouth and nothing more. “Hey, since we’re like, baring our souls and shit tonight, do you want to know why I created my ‘yes’ policy?”

Instead of a comically over-quirked eyebrow, he showed genuine interest in listening to your story. He set down his spoon, and turned his full attention to you. “I’m intrigued.”

“I’m tellin’ ya now, it’s not as riveting as yours, but uh,” you faltered on a pause, and fostered the same sort of nervous shrug he did. “Growing up, my parents were really.. negative, I guess is the best way to put it. Like, they wouldn’t let me hang out with friends, told me I’d never amount to anything, said I was a disappointment. Y’know, normal stuff. Uhm, I wasn’t allowed to do much, only really leaving the house to go to school or go to my job when I was old enough to have one. They said I’d never live up to their expectations, I was a failure, I’d never get a boyfriend, I’d be a bad wife, I’m going nowhere in life, and I’m an annoyance and take up too much of their time, and I was never wanted.” You swiped your tongue along your top teeth, and popped your lips after perhaps sharing too much. “Anyway, I made good grades in high school, so I took a lot of electives, and one of those happened to be Drama class. This may come as a surprise, but I was really shy at first, but after a while I got used to playing different roles, and fell in love with the freedom of becoming whoever I wanted on stage. And one day my teacher taught us a lesson in improv, and yeah.. the moment she explained the concept of ‘Yes, and..’ I was hooked. Just the mindset of nothing being rejected, and no idea was made fun of, or shot down was brand new to me. And as you can infer by now, I adopted that ideology for my own life, and, uh, yeah, I’ve been saying ‘yes’ to everything since then and never looked back. Literally, I’ve talked to my parents like, once since moving out, and that was about my insurance.

“Uh, anyway,” you said, still talking a mile a minute, “it did kinda create a people-pleasing complex for a while. I wanted to say ‘yes’ to everyone because it made them happy, since, y’know, I was always told ‘no’ and it did the opposite. But it’s whatever. And, uh, while we’re doing this, I wanted to apologize for always pointing out that you’re single.” You avoided eye contact. “Kinda harsh in hindsight.”

He broke into a laugh–a loud clap like thunder, and curling in on himself–finding the humor in your flustered state.

“Well, I’m glad you find it so funny,” you deadpanned.

“No, no, sorry–” He concealed his giggles behind his knuckle crooked to his lips. “I, yeah, I’m sorry for pointing out that you’re single too.”

“Appreciated.”

The brief teasing commenced to a slight frown between his eyebrows. His gaze drifted to his soup, worry twisting at his lips as the bubbles of oil sloshed across the surface of the reddened broth, trembling in ripples from his bouncing leg.

Eddie was emotionally fatigued. Words weren’t coming to him–none that carried the weight they needed–so he offered an alternative to hollow apologies.

He brought a shaky spoonful of soup to his lips, and dribbled some off the side as he overcorrected the angle he needed to slide it into his mouth. The next dive for a potato proved just as awkward, trepidatious, but the struggle of eating with his non-dominant side was worth it.

Your fingertips brushed over saltine dust as you accepted the proposal of his hand resting at the center of the table, palm open, and fingers coaxing you to reunite skin on skin.

“I like your policy,” he said, voice gone gruff with the exhaustion of the day.

“Really? On more than one occasion you’ve called it stupid, irresponsible, absurd, the dumbest thing you’d ever heard of, naive–”

He shut you up by curling his fingers over yours, setting your cheeks ablaze with his unashamed thumb pressed to your bracelet. “You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your policy.”

A powerful move, and you matched the intimacy.

You hooked your thumb around to the scars lining the backs of his fingers, and lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace, giving yourself to him with each circle you massaged over his knuckles and between the joints. He did the same. Touching, touching, touching. Trusting. Melting into each other's palms. Holding hands with a man accused of so much, and forgiven so little. Holding hands with someone, just months ago, he brushed off as flippantly as her parents did.

He was sorry for the way he treated you.

You were sorry for the way the world treated him.

He squeezed.

You squeezed back.

~~~

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” you asked with a whine.

The pot of leftover soup still sat without a lid on the stovetop, and the serving spoon had a layer of scum dried to it. The dirty bowls and spoons were stacked in the sink, and Eddie hadn’t moved his wet laundry from the washing machine yet. Surely, you could help by wiping up the crumbs on the table, or cleaning up the spilled toothpaste on the bathroom sink, or–

He clapped his hands on your shoulders. “No,” he stressed slowly, “it’s late, and I’d prefer it if you got home before Buckley’s mom starts filing a missing persons report, and adding another rumor to my ass.” You cupped his elbows–barricaded from his body heat by his jacket–and opened your mouth, ready to argue. “And I swear if you don’t turn on your bike’s headlight, I’m gonna–”

You threw your head back, and groaned, “You’re so annoying.”

With the trailer’s door open, the quiet night penetrated the mix of air colliding from his warm kitchen and meeting the windless cold from the season, joining where your bodies connected on his cement steps. Your shoes dragged on the pebbly concrete in a woeful goodbye, making your effort to leave appear utmost arduous, tacking on a classic bottom lip pout when you both relinquished your holds on each other, and he shooed you off.

Not like you actually wanted to clean his house, it was just fun to annoy him into thinking you did.

Leaned against the doorway, he crossed his arms and tilted his head, mirroring your fondness in his gaze. “Yeah, yeah. Get out of here before people start gossiping about the pretty girl leaving my trailer, alive.”

The sudden belly laugh escaping you reverberated off the metal boneyard.

You slapped your hand over your mouth. “Sorry,” and after a thought, you asked gently while crouched to unchain your bike from the handrail, “Do you normally joke about what happened to you?”

His shadow shrugged over the hubcap hidden amongst the crunchy brittle grass. “Makes it easier, sometimes.”

“Noted.” You threw your leg over the seat, and made a big production of clicking on the headlight situated between your handlebars. “See you at work tomorrow, pretty boy.”

The scoff he was going for devolved into a snort. “Bye. Be safe. Please.”

Eddie locked the door behind him.

For minutes he stood at the center of his uncle’s trailer. It looked much the same as any other day when he came home from work, if not neater. But things had changed. As much as he liked eating across from Adrie, the two bowls in the sink were adult-sized, and it wasn’t the scent of stale smoke clinging to Wayne’s flannels that had Eddie throwing his arms over his head, locking his grip around his wrist, and twisting back and forth on the spot.

“Not exactly what I meant when I said I was gonna invite her over,” he informed no one but the darkness behind his closed eyes, remembering he promised Adrie that you’d come over soon.

Inhaling deep, he expelled a loud sigh and addressed the leftover soup. “But what a fucking night, huh?”

Inundated by the heaviness of feeling wanted, he opened the fridge and grabbed a tall boy stuffed behind the shelf of condiments. It wasn’t a drink of sadness as it usually was, but in celebration.

Afterall, he had much to celebrate. He held your hand. Twice.

And, not to mention, you know, how he showed you the gruesome details of the reality he lived in–his home, his reputation, his daughter sneezing into his open mouth when he was instructing her on how to take her temperature while you gagged from outside her bedroom. You knew it all, and you’d see him tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. Morning smiles, afternoon laughter. Maybe he’d even ask that question he’d meant to before you left.

But for now..

He ran his fingers over the old tattoo on his shoulder, and pressed his palm over it, replicating the weight of your head resting there when you so lovingly witnessed Adrie being his best wingman, hugging her stuffed unicorn while she slept. It’s what gave him the bravery to wrap his arm around you. And what did you do in return? You leaned into him with a smile, utterly charmed by his forwardness, if his cynical eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

A voice in the back of his head whispered a seed of doubt, but after a sip, he dismissed it.

“Still fucking got it, Munson,” he complimented himself, downing a long gulp.

————

See you at work tomorrow..

You definitely didn’t see him tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next.

“Here you go, my lovely,” Robin cooed. She entered your room on tiptoes, ever so quiet, and placed your requested bottle of Nyquil on the bedside table with a glass of water. “How’re you feeling, sweetheart?”

You broke from your nest of blankets for the lone reason of glaring at her saccharine voice; somehow sweating through yet another t-shirt, while still shivering as if you’d just emerged from an ice bath.

“Aw, don’t look so grumpy, baby,” she comforted you with a pinch to your cheek. “It’s what you get for locking lips with Eddie.”

“I did not–” You cut your own self off with a round of coughs, making your attempts at speaking scratchier, and scratchier. And by the time you’d recovered, Robin had escorted herself out of your vicinity.

Her giggles haunted you from downstairs.

“Yeah, she’s fine!” She yelled to her mom. “Just lovesick.”

You rolled over, and sighed.

Goodbye extra sick day.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #the yes policy

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copias-girl · 1 year

Text

To Catch a Cardinal: Chapter X

This is the song playing at the beach! <3

A/N: Ok it’s finally here!! Get ready for some fun in the sun! ☀️ Also fun fact I’m a certified lifeguard and trained in first aid and CPR so everything in this is actually accurate! Except for the fact that I made it ridiculously horny lmaoo

All chapters here <3

•♥︎𖤐♥︎•

You’d finally arrived at the beach, you and your friends scrambling to get out of the car and grab your things from the trunk.

Copia was slower than the rest of you due to being so self conscious after Rob’s comments about him in the car. He was apprehensive to be in the pit of snakes that was your friend group, however he didn’t want to disappoint you.

Like a good trooper, he took a breath before getting out of the car. He carried his boombox and the black and white striped umbrella, and once you found a good spot, he stuck it in the sand. Rob put the cooler in the shade, and you all began laying your towels down side by side.

Taking a deep inhale of the balmy sea air, a bright smile spread across your face. It was so wonderful to be back by the ocean.

•𖤐•

The last time you’d been at the beach was the previous summer, when the Papas were going and Terzo insisted on bringing you along. You smirked to yourself at the memory; of how Terzo had faked drowning so you’d rush into the water and save him. You had worriedly dragged the unresponsive man onto the sand, beginning to perform CPR on him. However, as soon as your lips brushed his to give him mouth to mouth resuscitation, you felt two arms snaking tightly around you while Terzo stuck his tongue into your mouth in a passionate French kiss.

Surprised, you had squealed into his mouth, swatting at him as you tried to pull away.

“You pervert! Get back here!” You shouted once he had finally released you, laughing and chasing after the man as he ran for his life, wearing the smallest speedo you’d ever seen.

“Fratello, tu coglione! Stop harassing Sorella or she’ll leave the ministry because of you!” Secondo barked at his brother, crossing his arms and flicking his shades back on in annoyance.

“You’d really miss little ol’ me?” You giggled, huffing in exhaustion as you and Terzo stopped chasing each other around and sat back on your towels with the other Papas.

“Of course. I’m not losing my favourite Sorella just because questo carciofo can’t keep his hands off her.” Secondo sniffed, not taking his eyes off the book in his hands. As much as he tried to act serious and scary, he just couldn’t hide his soft spot for you.

Primo had spent most of his time in the shade, slathered in sunscreen and trying to shoo off seagulls when they tried to steal his peach slices. However, his mismatched eyes lit up in interest each time you came back from the water, dumping a bucket of seashells and sea glass next to him so the two of you could sort through them together.

Coincidentally, you’d found a green piece of sea glass which you gifted to Secondo, a violet one that you presented Terzo with, and a red one that you excitedly gave to Primo. To this day, they all still had the little pieces, keeping them on their desks as a reminder of you.

Overall, the four of you had a ridiculously fun day, and you wondered why you didn’t go to the beach more often. Perhaps it was because of the terrible sunburn that Terzo developed after that day.

“I told you not to use all that tanning oil!” Secondo had scolded his younger brother as he drove you all home.

“The Emeritus bloodline does not tan well.” Ghostly pale Primo solemnly nodded in agreement from the front seat.

“Come fottutamente ovvio! I think I fucking know that now! Ow, cazzo!” Terzo groaned while you comforted him, the two of you sitting in the back seat.

And for two whole weeks you’d been assigned to slather aloe vera all over Terzo while the cheeky bastard coyly smirked at you. You always wondered if he got that sunburn on purpose.

•𖤐•

“Where’s your towel?” You asked Copia, noticing he didn’t have one with him.

“Ah, shit…” He mumbled, averting his gaze shyly. “Ho dimenticato…”

“You could share with me. I didn’t realize this was a bigger one when I grabbed it.” You offered, gesturing to your big square beach towel, the black one with the white grucifix on it.

“I-I don’t want to pester you, Sorella.” The Cardinal shook his head timidly.

“Nonsense! Otherwise I’ll be lonely on this big towel all by myself.” You giggled. Everyone had taken their clothes off, having their swimsuits underneath, and Copia began to do the same. He anxiously took his hoodie off, then his sweatpants, then pulled his t-shirt over his head and sat down on your towel to remove his shoes and socks. Funnily enough, the man looked the most bashful when he removed his gloves. Copia felt terribly naked without his gloves.

You gaped at him for a moment, having to hide your grin. Your friends were already snickering to each other about it, and you didn’t want the poor man to think you were laughing at him too. But sweet Satan, he was wearing one of those old fashioned black and white striped men’s one-piece swimsuits. It was basically like a tank top with shorts attached. Of course Copia would wear one of those. Part of you was disappointed that you didn’t get to see the man shirtless, but you were also delightfully amused at how on-brand it was. Besides, it was fairly tight, and obviously allowed you to see much more of him than his cassocks did.

Before you could study Copia any further, your friends were all chanting for you to give them a fashion show with your new bikini.

“Alright aright, gimme a second!” You laughed, going behind the umbrella to undress. You shoved your clothes into your beach bag before stepping into view.

“Well, here it is!” You shrugged, giving them a little twirl.

You looked like an infernal goddess. And the tiny black bikini hardly left anything to the imagination. The top- with ‘See you in Hell’ cheekily written on it- cupped your breasts perfectly; barely containing them as they slightly spilled out, creating a delicious cleavage. And the bottoms- if you could even call them bottoms- were basically just a little black thong with the grim reaper on the front.

Rob wolf-whistled as your girlfriends hollered and cheered at you, causing you to laugh at their reactions.

“Unholy moly, settle down!” You giggled, turning around and giving them another view of your voluptuous ass, coyly looking over your shoulder before beginning to laugh.

“Unholy moly is right…” Rob murmured with a smirk.

“Haven’t you guys ever seen a girl in a bikini before?” You asked in amusement.

“Not like you! Ugh, body goals.” Mable sighed dreamily.

“I know right? What was the Dark Lord thinking when he made you??” Lilith added.

“Speak of the Devil, when we get home I’m going to make an offering to Satan so he’ll make me look like you!” Ava beamed.

“You guys are too much.” You giggled, waving them off. You noticed how Emily was a bit quiet, side-eyeing Rob while he drooled over you.

Your eyes finally flicked to Copia, but you were immediately alarmed as you saw blood gushing out of his nose while he stared at you, his cheeks red and his wide eyes trained intensely on you.

“Cardinal!” You gasped, rushing to kneel beside the man. “Are you alright?”

Copia was unresponsive, continuing to gape at you; his lips parted, eyes practically popping out of his skull. He was under your spell, totally and utterly entranced by your body. Had he died? Was this chthonic paradise? It felt as though Satan had rewarded Copia for his unholy works, bestowing you upon him as a gift; the prettiest little succubus in the whole inferno.

Reaching into your bag, you grabbed a tissue before worriedly turning back to the man. Meanwhile, Rob and your fellow Sisters of Sin sat on their own respective beach towels, gawking at Copia in a mix of confusion and amusement, exchanging hushed, speculative whispers of judgement.

“Cardinal, are you okay??” You fretted, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, wiping drips of crimson blood off his moustache, lips, and chin.

“I-I-I’m s-sorry, I-” The man shook his head, trying to snap out of it. “I-I don’t- ehm-” He couldn’t help it; his painted eyes roamed your body as he stuttered out nonsense. He had never seen a girl so undressed before, especially not so close to him like this. And, Hell, this wasn’t just any girl. This was you. Copia never ever thought he’d get the chance- the privilege- to see you with so little clothes on. However, he felt ever so disgusted with himself for making such a big deal about it. He really was a depraved pervert, wasn’t he?

It dawned on you then, with the way he was uncontrollably ogling you. And when you stole a glance downward, you bit your lip at the sight of the very visible bulge in his swimsuit, the black and white striped fabric only accentuating it.

You had literally just given this perverted old man an anime nosebleed.

You had to hide your smirk, wickedly snaking an arm around his shoulders as you moved to straddle his lap.

The Cardinal’s breath hitched in his throat as he bit back a moan; the feeling of you seated on top of him like this was sure to make him pop. He felt hot, too hot; but not from the scintillating sun beating down on him, no. You put the sun to shame, your radiant beauty beaming millions of times brighter than that pendant of fire in the sky.

“Poor little mouse. Let me help you.” You cooed, leaning in close as you gently dabbed away the blood. Rob’s eyes widened at the sight. Was this how you were acting at the sleepover? Why were you indulging the dirty old man in his sick fantasies?

“G-g-g-grazie, Sorella, m-mi dispiace…” Copia stammered quietly, embarrassed. He prayed to Satan below that you wouldn’t be able to feel his cock hardening and straining against the thin fabric of his swimsuit.

You could.

“Why do you think that happened, hm?” You asked.

“I, ehm… I-I don’t, eh- …ehm..” Copia mumbled, his astonished gaze fixed directly onto your tits, which were dangerously close to his face now that you were perched on his lap.

“Because he’s a dirty old pervert who’s never even seen a girl in a swimsuit before!” Emily interjected, crossing her arms with a scoff.

“Gross.” Lilith wrinkled her nose.

The Cardinal’s cheeks burned with shame, the lines on his face deepening with guilt as he knew their words to be true.

“I mean, I’m pretty used to seeing girls with little on, but…” Rob sniffed. “your body is fire. Kinda takes a man off guard, ya know? So give the depraved virgin a break.” He smirked.

Impressive, Rob managed to compliment you and insult Copia all in the same breath.

Your poor Cardinal flinched and averted his mismatched gaze as Rob prodded at his virginity, which was obviously a very sensitive topic for Copia that caused his self esteem to plummet. Finally finished wiping up the nosebleed, you removed yourself from the man’s lap and sat on your towel next to him.

You scooted a bit closer, snaking an arm around Copia’s neck to pull him towards you. His eyes widened, alarm flashing in those beautifully odd irises as you leaned in in in, your lips ghosting over his ear and causing him to shiver.

“Between you and me, I wouldn’t ever want a man who’s been around the block as much as Rob claims to have been.” You whispered with a little smirk before pulling away.

Copia only stared at you, a pitiful look on his blushing face as he mulled your words over in his head. He didn’t want to overthink things, because he knew you definitely didn’t mean anything by your remark. You were just a kind Sister of Sin who took pity on an old man. You were simply trying to make him feel better after Rob hurt his feelings. Copia stared down at his lap; he would be a fool to think that someone like you could actually like a man like him.

All settled in and enjoying the hot sun, you opened the cooler, everyone grabbing an ice-cold bottle of cherry coke.

“Salute!” You chirped, holding your drink up, the glass bottles all clinking together as your friends toasted with you.

“Salute, Cardinale.” You giggled softly, warmth in your eyes as Copia gave you a shy smile and clinked his bottle of coke against yours before taking a sip.

•𖤐•

You reclined back on your towel as Florida Kilos by Lana Del Rey filled the sweet summer air, playing from Copia’s radio. You flicked your bat wing sunglasses on, taking the opportunity to really get a good look at the man.

He was pasty pale- obviously from constantly being covered up in his cassock- with a smattering of endearing little freckles on his flesh, matching the ones on his face. Your eyes scanned over his form, biting your lip before taking another sip of cherry coke. What a treat, the swimsuit had a crew neck collar, so you could actually see his neck and a little bit of his collar bone! Oh how you longed to kiss and bite at his neck, leaving dark hickeys there while he made love to you, laving your tongue over the bruises later as you both relaxed after several orgasms. You’d ask Copia to give you matching ones, begging him to mark you as his.

Your hungry eyes trailed lower, then, taking in the way his waist pinched in and the softness of his tummy. And of course, the very nicely sized package between those surprisingly muscular thighs. Your gaze followed his hand as he nervously ran his fingers through his greying hair, and oh what beautiful hands your Cardinal had. They were just perfect. You licked your lips, salivating as you imagined them inside you; two of his elegant fingers down your throat and two stuffed in your tight, wet pussy as you moaned and mewled for him.

“You know, you’re pretty modest for a Cardinal of the Satanic Church.” You remarked, hooking your finger in the collar of his swimsuit, giving it a teasing little tug.

“Eh? Oh.. W-well, there is, ehm… T-there is not much to show…” Copia responded timorously with a sad little chuckle, gesturing to himself.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Cardinal.” You responded softly, causing the hot blush on Copia’s cheeks to spread to the tips of his ears. He stole a shy glance at you, then another, followed by another. Satanas, the man couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off you. You could feel his gaze all over your body before studying your pretty face.

Copia was entirely in awe of your beauty, so needy for you. He longed to kiss your fruit punch lips in the bright sunshine. The poor man wanted nothing more than to work up the courage to pull you onto his lap and share cherry cola kisses with you until the sun was smouldering low in the sky. He inwardly cursed himself for being far too diffident to do so.

Releasing a sigh, he tried to relax, taking another long sip of his coke.

“Have you ever had sex on the beach?” You asked abruptly.

The Cardinal gasped, then immediately began sputtering and coughing, choking on his drink as your friends stifled laughter. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before looking at you incredulously.

“N-no, I have obviously never… done that anywhere…” Copia murmured.

You burst out into giggles. “I meant the drink, silly! You know, a sex on the beach?” You clarified. “I think we’ve already established that you’re a virgin, Rat.” You added with a kittenish little smirk.

Copia’s cheeks burned with shame. “Ah… W-well, no, I have not had the drink either…” He responded.

“Maybe next time we could have sex on the beach together.” You offered. “You know, the drink.”

Copia’s eyes widened, nearly getting whiplash from how quickly he turned to look at you. Alarm coursed through his veins as he felt his cock beginning to harden again.

“You naughty devil, you!” Lilith laughed. “You’re almost as bad as Papa with your innuendos! And you aren’t even old enough to drink!”

“Naughty? Me?? Never!” You giggled coyly. “Besides, I’m not making any innuendos, that’s just what the drink is called! And what about the unholy communion wine every black mass? One drink wouldn’t make a difference!”

“Why would she be making innuendos anyway, Lil? It’s not like she actually wants to fuck a 50 year old virgin who literally looks like a rat.” Emily laughed, causing you to frown.

“Hey, rats are cute!” You pouted, throwing your arms around the humiliated Cardinal and giving him a squeeze. Oh, this man was so cute with those big mismatched puppy dog eyes, his lower lip flushed from biting it out of nervousness. You swore he’d probably squeak like a chew toy if you hugged him too tightly.

Copia tensed up, heart rate rising and gaze darting all around at the sensation of your soft, bare flesh pressed against him, but the contact was a soothing balm to the hurt he was feeling at your friends’ cruel words. The Cardinal knew he looked like a rat; that was a comment people had often made throughout his life. He was already so self conscious about his looks, why did your friends feel the need to constantly point it out, especially in front of you?

Emily rolled her eyes. “Get your eyesight checked then.” She murmured.

“My eyesight is perfectly fine.” You quipped, mindlessly petting Copia’s hair and scratching at his scalp. Lucifer, he really did feel like your pathetic little pet, helpless and piteous while you defended him.

“Well maybe you have heatstroke and it’s causing you to not think straight, babe. The sun beating down on you like this could fry your brain like an egg, ya know.” Rob suggested with a grin, earning a cacophony of giggles from the other sisters.

You gave them a dirty look, opening your mouth to respond snidely, when you suddenly pulled away from Copia. “Oh shoot! Speaking of the sun, I almost forgot to put sunscreen on!” You gasped, rummaging around in your bag and pulling out the bottle of coppertone.

You flipped the lid open and began squirting the white liquid onto your arms, legs, and chest; the distinctive, synonymous-with-summer smell delighting your senses.

Copia awkwardly sat next to you and watched as you began to rub it into your skin. Biting his lip, he tried to focus on anything else but you. The sky, the sand, the ocean waves. But his gaze just kept getting pulled back to your stunning form, and the way you were almost sensually working the sunscreen into your smooth, supple flesh. He tried- Satan knows he tried- to ignore what the white cream looked like. Poor Copia tried so hard not to imagine you signing in delectation while being painted with a big load of his hot cum, gazing up at him with those pretty bedroom eyes of yours.

His lip quivered and his cock twitched at the mere thought, saliva pooling in his mouth as he imagined capturing you in a deeply passionate kiss. The Cardinal craved you, he needed to taste your sweet lips again. And Copia was ashamed to admit that he was also thinking about tasting you in different ways too.

He swallowed thickly, attempting to control his indecent thoughts; but there was just something about the balmy, halcyon summer air and the sultry vision of you so close to him wearing that sinfully small bikini that nearly drove him mad.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than leer at an innocent young girl?” Emily glowered, startling Copia from his thoughts.

“Oh! I-I-I- N-no, I was just- eh-” Copia stammered, mouth hanging open in surprise.

“Well obviously he doesn’t have anything better to do, Em. I think being a pervert is his hobby or something.” Rob sneered.

“Close your mouth, Cardinal, you’re gonna start drooling any second!” Mable added, causing Lilith and Ava to burst out laughing, making comments about how hilariously shocked the man looked after being called out.

Copia not only felt humiliated, but also utterly disgusted with himself for being such a lecherous creep. He could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from the embarrassment, his face flushed and pyretic, chest tight with shameful anxiety.

But then you were gently tapping his arm, drawing his attention back to you.

“Could you get my back?” You batted your thick eyelashes at him, holding the bottle of sunblock up to him.

The snivelling Cardinal’s attention snapped to you, staring at you with an expression comprised of both shock and panic.

“I gotcha, babe!” Rob interjected, beginning to get up, but you only waved him off.

“Don’t trouble yourself. Like you said, the Cardinal doesn’t have anything better to do.” You stated with a smirk. “Right, Co-Co?”

Copia glanced uneasily at the now vexed Rob before turning back to you and nodding quickly, trembling hands taking the bottle from you.

The other sisters looked at you like you had spiders crawling out of your eye sockets. Who on earth would simply wave off the opportunity to have dreamy, handsome Rob rubbing you down??

You removed your sunglasses and flipped over, situating yourself on your stomach and resting your head on your arms, giving the sweet man a delicious view of your ass.

Copia looked utterly dumbfounded as his pitifully wide eyes scanned over your perfect curves. He no idea what landed him in this golden position. Copia felt as though he had no charm, no charisma, and that his looks were quite laughable. And yet here he was, squirting an ample amount of sunscreen into his palm, nervously licking his lips and unsure of what to do next.

“I don’t have all day, Rat.” You glanced back at the poor man with lusty eyes and a playful smirk. Before laying back down, you reached around and untied your bathing suit too, leaving your back completely bare for Copia.

The Cardinal sucked in a sharp breath. Somehow, the absence of that thin little strap going across your back made the situation all the more obscene, forbidden, naughty. Shaking the perverse thoughts from his mind, the man hastily rubbed the cream between his shaking hands before gently pressing his palms against your back.

Slowly but surely, he began smoothing the sunscreen into your silky flesh, being mindful to not touch you too excessively. He didn’t want to mistakenly enjoy it too much; didn’t want to take advantage of you like that.

“Mmm, that feels good.” You sighed sensually, and Copia’s heart skipped a beat at your praise. He truly wanted to make you feel good; he really wanted to be the one to make you feel good.

Gaining a bit more confidence, he smoothed his hands over your back a bit more firmly, but murmured pitifully desperate apologies whenever his fingertips brushed against the sides of your breasts. Copia tried in earnest to do his best for you, giving you a sort of massage while he worked in the cream; sweeping up up up to your shoulders and down down down, a hot blush burning on his cheeks as his hands timidly ghosted over your lower back.

“Ah~!” Your breathy moan was almost obscene, causing Copia to stutter in his movements. He was in such a daze that he had nearly forgotten the two of you weren’t alone; and when he stole a glance upwards, he was met with the judgemental countenances of your friends glaring right at him. Especially Rob. That dangerous look of envy in the boy’s eyes frightened Copia.

He stared at them like a deer in the headlights before you grabbed his attention once again.

“Cardinal, you’re so good with your hands.” You purred. “Keep going?”

Your praise stoked a hot fire of desperation within the man, so eager to please as he immediately continued his ministrations, deciding to ignore your friends. After all, you wanted him to do this for you, and Copia was beyond happy to obey your wishes.

His cock jumped with each little moan that tumbled from your sweet lips, and soon, you were murmuring something about going lower.

“Eh… M-mi dispiace, Sorella. Ch-che hai detto?” He asked quietly.

“Can you go lower?” You asked again with a another deeply relaxed sigh.

The Cardinal remained silent, warily moving to rub his hands along your lower back, his thumbs pressing into the dimples there as he moved to gently knead the flesh of your hips. The man bit his lip, shaking his head slightly and letting out a shaky exhale as he caught himself relishing in the moment far too much to be appropriate. He lessened his grip on your hips just as you began to murmur something else.

“No, like… Go lower.” You told him.

“S-Sorella, forgive me b-but… If I go any lower I… I-I’ll be…” He stammered awkwardly.

“Yeah go ahead. I didn’t get my bum earlier and I’m too comfy to move now.” You replied nonchalantly.

Copia’s mouth went dry, his head spinning and heart pounding violently in his chest as he hesitated. A million thoughts were going through his mind at once. He had never touched a girl there; or anywhere for that matter! And he had never even thought it possible since everyone found him to be so revolting. What should he do? What would he do? What if he accidentally orgasmed in front of you and your friends?

He mistakenly came when you were sitting on his lap in the car that one time, but he was thankfully able to hold in his moans and disguise the audible ones as being gasps of surprise at the terribly bumpy road. But this time- Oh, Satanas- he wouldn’t be able to hold anything in; he’d be a pathetic, whimpering mess. You’d all laugh at him and call him a dirty old man. You’d never speak to him again. You’d be disgusted by him just like everyone else.

Copia could already feel his sensitive cock filling out more and more at the thought of getting to feel you up like this.

Bracing himself, he grabbed the bottle of sunblock and squirted some more into his palm. And then, slowly and carefully, the Cardinal placed his quivering hands on your ass, one on each cheek. He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, swallowing back a moan that threatened to erupt from his mouth as he felt precum beginning to ooze out of his cock.

“What a fucking creep. I think I’m gonna puke.” Emily shuddered.

Copia was frozen in place, the whole world having had fallen away as he stared down at the sight of his hands on your perfect ass, almost in disbelief at the reality of the situation.

Not wanting to keep you waiting, he timidly began to grope your plump flesh, so smooth and soft and round, blushing furiously at the fact that your bikini was practically non-existent in the back. He rubbed his hands in slow circles, only pausing his ministrations to wipe away the sweat that was beading on his brow.

He fought to stay level-headed, but in all honesty, Copia felt like he was going to pop a vein any second. Lucifer, he hoped he wouldn’t have another nosebleed; one was embarrassing enough.

Rob looked as though he was actually turning green with envy, watching with crossed arms and a scowl tugging at his features as the pathetic rat man worked his hands down to your shapely thighs, squeezing slightly before going back up to your voluptuous ass, your girlish sighs only seeming to encourage the man to continue fondling you. Rob clenched his jaw. Was the Cardinal abusing his position as a higher member of clergy to take advantage of you? Why else would you let such a disgusting little man touch you like this?

And just when Rob felt like he was going to snap, the timid man pulled his hands away, wringing them nervously in his lap before speaking up.

“Well, ehm… I-I think you’re all set there, Sorella…” Copia murmured once all the sunscreen was soaked into your skin.

“Mmm, thank you so much, Cardinal! That was a dream!” You sighed with a smile, turning over onto your back and stretching. “You give a great massage. I’ll have to return the favour sometime.” You grinned up at him wickedly before sitting upright, looking like some sort of Satanic pinup girl. “I know sitting at a desk doing paperwork for all those hours must not feel great on your back.” You pouted, ghosting your fingertips down the poor man’s spine and causing him to shiver and flinch, his gaze darting all around as he stammered out a bunch of random syllables in an attempt to respond to you.

“I- w- eh- th- ehm- I-I- eh, w-well, y-y-y-yes b-but, ehhh… heh heh, y-you don’t have to, eh-” He stuttered horribly, but you only giggled.

“I insist!” You chirped.

“Ya know, it’s not just sitting at a desk that’ll ruin your back. It’s also probably because he’s so old. Greying hair, wrinkles, sore back, etcetera. It all sorta goes together.” Rob chimed in casually, trying to disguise his jab as a helpful observation.

Copia’s shoulders slumped in self consciousness; he hated his age being pointed out to you. It seemed as though your friends had quite an impressive knack for sniffing out his biggest insecurities and waving them around right in front of you.

“Well, all the more reason to do it!” You didn’t miss a beat. “I guarantee you’ll feel like a million bucks after I’m done with you.” You grinned naughtily.

Before the pathetic man could respond, Ava spoke up. “Didn’t you bring the camera? Let’s take some pictures!” She beamed.

“Yup! Here you go!” Mable replied, fishing the Polaroid out of her bag.

The sisters took turns snapping pictures of each other and Rob, and soon you were in the middle of a little solo photo shoot, striking cute pinup poses in your teeny tiny bikini. For a few of the shots, you even used your bottle of cherry cola as a prop, the striped straw suggestively between your glossy, pouty lips.

“Papa’s gonna love these.” Lilith chuckled.

“You wouldn’t!” You gasped, moving into another innocent-yet-sexually-charged pose.

“I will! I’m gonna put them under his napkin at breakfast tomorrow and watch him spit out his coffee!” The girl responded, laughing.

“Lilith no! You’ll give poor Papa a heart attack like that!” Mable giggled.

Copia shyly sat to the side during all this, mindlessly poking his fingers into the warm sand, watching you through his lashes. He felt a pang of jealously stab through his heart at the thought of Terzo getting pictures of you. He tried to shake it off, but it was enough to make his lower lip quiver and his eyes well with hot tears that threatened to spill onto his flushed cheeks.

“Rat man! Can you take a group picture of us?” Emily waved the Cardinal over as you all got into position. Copia sniffled, blinking wetly before pulling himself to his feet and taking the camera. He focused on your gorgeous, smiling face as he looked into viewfinder, snapping the picture. Once it exited the slot, Copia pulled it out and waved it around so it could develop, but Rob plucked it out of his fingers before he could see it.

The Cardinal turned, dejectedly trudging back to his spot, but that’s when your sweet voice called out to him.

“Co-Co, come here! Take a picture with me!”

The man turned, gazing at you with those sorrowful puppy dog eyes. “M-me?” He asked pitifully.

“Yes you, silly. Come here.” You grinned, beckoning him closer with a come-hither motion.

Copia’s freckled cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red as he frantically smoothed his hair back, wanting to look his best.

“Do you want him in the group pict-”

“No, I want it to be just me and the Cardinal.” You cut Mable off with a smile.

“Ehm… Okie dokie..” Copia hesitantly shuffled over to you, his hands anxiously clasped in front of him, making him look even more like a pitiful little rat than usual. You rose to your feet, biting your lip coyly and grabbing the Cardinal’s lovehandles, pulling him closer until his hips were touching yours. The man released a trembling exhale as his cock pressed into you, his painted eyes glued to where your bodies were connected.

“Let’s do one like this.” You decided. Copia stiffly stood facing the camera, and you took his arm and placed it around your waist while you wrapped your arms around his middle, looking back at the camera with a coquettish smile. Yup, a shameless ass shot. But who could blame you when you looked that good? With the pretty ocean view in the background, Mable snapped the picture.

“Take another one!” You said, and with an additional bright flash, the auburn-haired sister captured an additional photograph.

You took the Polaroids from her, waving them around until they developed. You studied them closely, a grin spreading across your face.

“Do I… ehm- D-do I.. look okay?” Copia murmured nervously.

“You look very handsome, Cardinal.” You giggled, handing him one of the pictures. You loved the nervous, deer-in-the-headlights look that Copia had in the photos, his cheeks flushed bright red as he awkwardly stood there with his arm around you.

“T-thank you, Sorella, a-although I would beg to differ…” Copia shook his head, incredibly flustered at your compliment, his eyes widening considerably when his gaze scanned over the picture. With your ass towards the camera and your kittenish smirk, the Cardinal felt as though he was seeing something he shouldn’t. He tried to hand the Polaroid back to you, but you shook your head.

“One for each of us.” You told him.

The Cardinal looked at you with those big, eager puppy eyes and parted lips, a spark of excitement coursing through him. He followed you back to your beach towel, studying the precious Polaroid intently before tucking it away safely with his things. He would definitely be looking at it every night before he went to sleep and every morning before he pulled himself out of bed.

You sat down, watching as the other sisters carded through the pictures from your little photoshoot.

“Wow, these turned out fantastic!” Ava commented, with Rob leaning over her shoulder to get a closer look.

“Yeah, I’m sure Papa will appreciate them!” Lilith giggled wildly, reaching to grab as many as she could.

“No!” You laughed, scrambling to grab the rest of the Polaroids before she could get them.

Lilith smirked triumphantly as she tucked away half of the photos into her bag, causing you to roll your eyes. You looked over your copies before handing them to your dear Cardinal.

“Ehm- Wh-”

“You can keep them. They’re all just ones of me anyway.” You shrugged before turning back to your friends. “I’ll take one of the group pictures though, for my diary.”

“The one you write in with the pink glitter gel pen?” Mable teased.

You gasped at her spot-on guess. “Duh! What else would I ever use?” You giggled.

Copia’s expression was priceless as he flipped through the photographs, his feverish flush spreading to the tips of his ears and chest as he bit his lip, taking in your flirtatious expressions and seductive poses. Sweet Satan, he’d cherish these forever!

The Cardinal decided then that he would make it a nightly routine to raptly examine every detail of these pictures before he fell asleep. That way- he hoped- he’d dream of you. And perhaps he’d also… No, no, he couldn’t. Copia couldn’t possibly pleasure himself to your image. He couldn’t bring himself to take advantage of your kindness like that; he didn’t want to act like a depraved pervert. But lately at night Copia had been feeling so hot, so needy, utterly consumed with thoughts of you. He desperately sought some sort of satisfaction, sometimes even thrusting against his mattress while he muffled his whines with his pillow, tears pricking at his eyes while they rolled back in his head. He tried not to finish- although a few times he accidentally blew his load- because he didn’t want to tarnish your image by cumming to the thought of you. The poor man just needed a few thrusts to alleviate the throbbing ache in his hard cock, just enough to satiate him through the night. It always left him whimpering and febrile as he drifted off to sleep.

“What, don’t I get one? I’ll trade you!” Rob asked, gesturing to the photos you had just handed to Copia.

“If you wanna play Pokémon cards with my swimsuit pictures, you’re more than welcome to do so with the Cardinal. And Papa I guess, whenever Lilith gives him his stash.” You smirked, causing your other Sisters of Sin to laugh.

“Sorry Rob, but I doubt the Cardinal would ever give those pictures up. You’d probably have to pry them out of his cold, dead hands.” Emily remarked in amusement.

After realizing he had been intensely staring at your pictures for an inappropriate amount of time, Copia scrambled to deposit them in his wallet along with the one of you and him, careful not to bend or crease them in any way.

After a while, you stood up, your pouty lips quirking upwards into a kittenish smirk as you caught Copia staring at your buxom figure, practically drooling.

“Well, I think I’m gonna go for a dip in the water!” You announced. “Care to join?” You asked, your eyes catching Copia’s.

“S-Si…” He nodded, rising to his feet and trailing alongside you as you waded into the sparkling, viridescent water. It was refreshing yet still warmly inviting, lacking the usual cruel bite of chilliness that the seawater sometimes had.

“Oh, it’s wonderful!” You sighed, taking a deep breath and relaxing into the water. You stole a glance back at Copia, pleased to see that he was enjoying himself, a small smile having crept onto his countenance. After being so hot and bothered by you, the man gratefully welcomed the revitalizing sensation of the ocean.

You made your way into the water until you were about chest-deep, the two of you sharing a comfortable silence as you both swam around a little bit, dipping under the water and splashing around. You taught Copia how to do a somersault, giggling at his attempts and cheering for him when he finally got the hang of it.

You admired Copia as he slicked his wet hair back, the sultry summer weather making you feel frisky.

“Thank you for bringing us here, Cardinal.” You gazed at the man with your big doe eyes, drifting closer to him.

“It- ehm, i-it was nothing, Sorella… T-Thank you for having me.” Copia shook his head, nervously running a hand through his hair.

“Aah!” You suddenly yelped, jumping into the Cardinal’s arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

“W-what??” Copia asked you worriedly, his hands subconsciously finding your waist as he held you protectively.

“I felt something touch my leg!” You told him. You knew it was most likely a clump of seaweed, but being in your darling Cardinal’s arms made you feel safe and warm, among other things.

“W-well, don’t worry, Sorella, ehm, I’ve got you.” Copia reassured you, his deep blush quickly returning. You only tightened your legs around the man, stifling a pleasured gasp as you felt his stiff throbbing and twitching right against your clit.

“What if there are sharks?” You mused, brushing a stray lock of wet hair off the man’s forehead, noticing how the lines on his face began to deepen as he let out a strained exhale.

“I-I-I will p-protect you, Sorella.” He nodded, doing his best to dispel your fears while also trying so hard not to moan or grind against your core. With each flowing ocean wave, your body was pressed against him more, shifting back and forth deliciously. Your touch was enough to drive the man insane; he was hyper aware of all the places that your body was connected to his.

“You’re going to protect me… from a shark?” You smirked, raising an eyebrow, shaking your arms around his shoulders just a bit tighter.

“Well, I- Ehm-” The Cardinal suddenly felt silly.

“What if it takes a bite out of you?” You asked. “Like this?” You leaned in close, grazing your teeth against Copia’s neck, giving him a gentle nip.

“Ah-!” He whimpered, his arms encircling your waist even more tightly, drawing you impossibly closer. You met his eyes once more when you felt his big cock jump.

“Are you alright, Cardinal?” You giggled seductively. “Is everything copacetic?”

Copia nodded, dazed by you, intoxicated by your close proximity.

And you, well you had to admit that you weren’t in much better shape. You couldn’t help the excited little gasp that tumbled from your lips at the feeling of the Cardinal’s thick cock pressing into your hypersensitive clit.

“Poor Cardinal.” You tutted. “Here, you can get me back for biting you.” You grinned, moving your hair away from your neck and offering yourself to Copia.

He stiffened, then, staring at you with those wide, dumbstruck eyes. Unsure of what to do, he very slowly leaned in in in, his lips hesitantly ghosting against your soft skin. You felt him shiver as he breathed you in, your lips parting in a soft sigh when you felt his teeth cautiously make contact with your neck. He lingered there for a moment, but the feeling of his thin moustache against your sensitive flesh had you suddenly squirming.

“Your moustache is tickling me!” You let out a squealing giggle and he pulled away bashfully, unable to meet your gaze.

“What the fuck are they doing?” Rob asked, squinting as he tried to make out what you and Copia were getting up to.

“Ew. I literally have no idea.” Emily responded, equal parts disgusted and confused.

“Well come on, let’s get in the water! It’s so hot out here!” Ava chirped.

You pulled away from Copia once you spotted all your friends joining you, leaving the man craving your closeness once more, hungry for your touch.

“The water’s great, isn’t it?” You beamed before turning back to Copia, but before you could vocalize what you were going to say to him, you felt someone tugging the strings of your bikini top. Before you could reach for it, the small top sprung off you as it was pulled undone, landing somewhere in the water and leaving your breasts exposed. Your arms flew up to cover yourself, but Copia had already caught a glimpse.

He flinched, mouth hanging open, eyes wide as pies as another spurt of blood gushed from his nose.

You turned, casting a dirty glance at your perpetrator, which happened to be a hysterically laughing Rob.

“You scoundrel!” You tried to smack at him with the arm that wasn’t covering your tits, before you tried to locate your bikini top in the water. You frantically searched before a dazed, blushing, and bloody Copia nervously held up the small scrap of fabric, holding it out to you with shaking hands. You gratefully took it from him, your own eyes widening at the stream of scarlet oozing down his face for the second time today. The poor man’s mismatched eyes couldn’t help but remain trained on your barely-covered breasts as he gaped at you. And thank Satan the waist-deep water obscured his lower half, because his cock was now fully hard and would probably be embarrassingly noticeable.

“You rotten boy, you!” Mable scolded Rob as she rushed over to help you tie your top, while you moved to cup Copia’s face in your hands.

“Oh, Cardinal, are you alright??” You looked him over worriedly, wiping his blood away and splashing some seawater onto his face.

“I…… I-I-….” He stammered, seemingly paralyzed. Copia couldn’t seem to get the brief image of your bare breasts and pert, pink nipples out of his head.

Once Mable was finished securing your bikini, you moved a bit closer to the Cardinal, only to find yourself being poked by something big, thick, and hard.

You gasped and looked downward, heat pooling deep within you when you realized it was Copia’s impressive length that was poking at you.

You stepped forward, closing the gap between you, a coy smirk gracing your features at the way Copia bit his lip to stifle a moan, a shock of pleasure coursing through him as his cock fully pressed into you.

“Well, it seems like you enjoyed that eyeful, you perverted little rat.” You whispered into Copia’s ear, your hands snaking up to his freckled shoulders.

The man stiffened, his blood running cold as you acknowledged his obvious arousal.

“S-Sorella, p-please, I- M-Mi dispiace, Sorella, I didn’t- I-I didn’t mean to- I- P-P-Please forgive me.” The pitiful man quietly pleaded, the pretty lines on his face deepening significantly with guilt and shame, his eyes filled with doleful contrition.

“I forgive you.” You replied, your smouldering gaze burning into him, so close that the tips of your noses were just barely brushing together. “I won’t blame you for being a depraved virgin.” You bit your lip.

The Cardinal released a piteous whimper, his eyes fluttering closed momentarily. You felt his cock jump against you as he gasped out another quiet apology.

With a devilish little smirk, you regarded the man through your thick lashes.

Copia strained, every muscle in his body longing to rut himself against you until completion, but every voice in his head screaming at him not to do it. He one hundred percent; absolutely; in no way, shape, or form, could ever do anything like that to you. He couldn’t let you think he was a dirty old creep. But Satanas, you had such a profound effect on the man. Copia couldn’t take it anymore, not when you were gazing at him with those pretty fuck-me eyes, your delectable body pressed against his.

Oh, how your heart swelled for your poor Cardinal. You wanted him, you needed him, you wished you could have him right this instant. For a brief moment, you leaned a bit closer, craving Copia’s inexperienced lips once more.

The man’s eyes widened considerably. Were you going to- Could you be…? Kissing him?

But then your name was being shouted and just as you turned, a black and white beach ball was soaring through the air, headed straight towards you. It narrowly missed you, instead hitting the Cardinal in the head and bouncing off him to land in the water.

You were unable to stifle the giggle that erupted from your lips, and the Cardinal blushed shyly with an awkward smile, nervously running a hand through his damp hair. He loved making you smile that beautiful smile, even if he had to be made a fool to achieve it.

•𖤐•

You all stood in a circle and volleyed the ball around for a while, which Copia was actually surprisingly good at. You were terribly competitive, and you made a good team with your Cardinal. You even managed to spike the ball, causing Rob to miss a handful of times.

After you reached 13 points- your lucky number- you pulled Copia into a congratulatory hug.

“We won!” You squealed, giggling as he timidly wrapped his arms around you too, a little grin finding its way into his handsome features.

And after a while of frolicking around in the glimmering water some more, you decided to sunbathe again, beginning to swim to shore. Copia obsequiously trailed behind you, following you like a lost puppy because he was so eager to be near you. You ran to your towel, picking it up off the ground and wrapping it around both you and the Cardinal to dry off.

The man blushed as you drew him in close, allowing himself the pleasure of gazing at your splendorous beauty with needy eyes; his lips twitching, aching to be kissed. Ever since he got a taste of you at the sleepover, Copia had been fiercely desiderating you. Every moment without your lips on his felt dull; as if things weren’t as they should be.

“You look like a drowned rat.” You commented softly, reaching up to his pretty face and wiping away some wet streaks of black paint that were beginning to drip down Copia’s freckled cheeks.

The Cardinal sighed quietly, leaning into your gentle touch. “W-well, eh.. Y-You look just as beautiful wet as you do d-dry, Sorella.” He dared to say, nothing but earnestness in his mismatched eyes.

“You like me wet, Cardinal?” You asked coyly, batting your eyelashes at him.

Copia’s breath caught in his throat as he realized the double entendre. “N-No, I! I didn’t mean, I-I was t-trying to say-”

You giggled. “I know what you mean, Co-Co, I’m only teasing.” You smirked, placing the towel back onto the sand before laying down on it, allowing the hot sun to warm you.

“Oh.. Heh heh… Ehh, good one.” Copia sat beside you with a nervous chuckle.

Your friends joined you shortly after, catching some rays and talking amongst themselves.

That is, until Rob started impressing your sisters by doing pushups.

“Wow, you’re so strong!” Emily beamed, clasping her hands together excitedly.

“That’s nothing, ladies! Watch this!” Rob chuckled, beginning to do one-handed pushups.

“Oh my Satan, that’s incredible!” The other sisters squealed in unison, causing you to roll your eyes so hard you thought you might tear your optic nerves.

“Hey. You work out, Rat Man?” Rob asked, coming to stand in front of the two of you, not-so-subtly flexing his muscles.

“Ah, no, I… I, ehm… I don’t…” Copia responded self consciously, timidly shaking his head.

Rob looked the man over. “Well… you should. Might help you out with the ladies.” He shrugged. “Y’know, I do 666 pushups every morning for the glory of Satan.” He bragged, his chiseled chest puffed out like a proud peacock.

The inhibited Cardinal folded his arms over himself, his self esteem nosediving even more than it already had. He remained meek and quiet, unsure of what to say. Surely, he was no match for the boy. Copia felt silly for desiring you so madly when, in reality, you would probably fancy someone younger, better looking, and much more socially apt; like Rob.

But while Rob was boasting something about ‘pumping iron’ and how much girls like ‘swole guys’, you scooter closer to Copia, cupping a hand over his ear.

“Don’t let him bother you. He’s just jealous that I kissed you at the sleepover.” You whispered with a smirk.

Copia’s eyes widened and he turned to look at you, the tip of his pointy nose gently bumping into yours. “D-Davvero..?” He asked, his face reddening as you brought up the best moment of his life.

“Uh huh.” You whispered into his ear once more, pulling him close and hooking your other arm around his neck. “I know the girls told him all the juicy details. He’s probably so mad that you got to have something that he wants but can’t have. You know, I wouldn’t even kiss him if I was dared to.” You giggled quietly.

The poor Cardinal felt as through he’d faint. What was that supposed to mean? You would be willing to break the rules of truth or dare to get out of kissing Rob, yet you didn’t do that when you were dared to kiss him. Could that mean…? Copia inwardly scolded himself. No, no, it couldn’t possibly mean you wanted to kiss him. Surely, you just held more pity for him than you did for Rob. You probably figured that Rob had the potential for other prospects, whereas Copia was a loser who would never be kissed otherwise. It was an act of charity. Nothing more.

“S-Sorella you.. You don’t need to flatter me…” He murmured, looking at you through his lashes, and you only had the chance to grin at the man flirtatiously before you were being interrupted.

“What are you whispering about?” Rob asked once he realized you weren’t listening to him, crossing his arms.

“Oh, just something that happened at the sleepover.” You stated casually. “You wouldn’t understand because you weren’t there.” You articulated with a coy little smirk, causing Rob to let out an annoyed huff.

Copia stared at you in awe. Rob was actually envious of him? Surely, anyone would be envious of the person who got to kiss you, however, Copia wasn’t at all used to the thought of others being jealous of him. Even his high rank in the clergy never compelled a single soul to covet anything about him.

Rob sniffed indignantly, passively muttering something under his breath, trying to act casual and save face as he sat back down in his spot.

“Ew, are you actually having a conversation about your little spit-swapping sesh?” Emily scoffed.

“Yeah, maybe.” You shot back with a sly grin, thrilling Copia with your temerity.

“Giving him some tips, perhaps?” Lilith joked.

“Hmm, I could tutor him. He could be my little pet project.” You hummed, thoughtfully placing a finger to your chin. “I’ll make him the best kisser in the whole damn ministry.”

“Even better than Papa?” Ava giggled, egging you on.

“Yeah, even better than Papa. Don’t tell him I said that, though.” You giggled.

“And how do you expect to turn that,” Emily gestured to the pathetic Cardinal, “into the best kisser in the whole damn ministry?”

You shrugged. “I dunno, but I always heard practice makes perfect.”

You devil, you. Copia stared at you in shock, his breath catching in his throat, chest tightening, face going scarlet. Sweet Lucifer Morningstar, he was- Well, aside from extremely flustered, he was impressed. Copia often wondered where you got so much moxie at such a young age, because, despite being a fifty year old man, he would never have the nerve to be so bold. The Cardinal quite admired that dauntless, borderline reckless quality of yours. He only wished he could be so audacious, but his near-crippling introversion always prevented him; so instead he lived vicariously through you in such moments.

“I like your freckles.” You murmured endearingly. “It seems like there’s more of them now.” You remarked, looking over the smattering on his sun-reddened shoulders and the bridge of his nose.

“O-Oh, g-grazie, Sorella…” Copia’s eyes flicked down to his lap, bashfully wringing his hands together while his poor heart skipped a beat. But… More of them? Oh, for the love of Satan, he forgot to-

“Ah, shit!” Copia huffed out, urgently searching for the sunscreen. “I-I forgot to- to put this on…” He squirted some into his palm, smearing it onto his exposed skin.

“I-I don’t tan well… I just get red and, ehh, a lot more freckles… and I burn.” He explained, rubbing a healthy amount down his legs.

You caught yourself staring at his thighs and the… hefty package between them. Licking your flushed lips, you squirmed in your spot a bit, becoming painfully aware of the blisteringly hot, needy ache deep inside you. Sweet Satan, you were horny for this pitiful little man. As much as you flustered Copia, he somehow managed to have the same maddening effect on you, winding you up with indescribable lust; igniting a whorish spirit in you.

However, despite your flirtatious and sexually confident behaviour towards the Cardinal, you had only ever been with one man; someone in the ministry, someone much older than you. But… it wasn’t a Sibling of Sin. It was short lived, just enough to allow your sexual awakening to blossom, enough to allow you to realize the profound effect you had on others. It was just enough to prepare you for Copia, and now you were ready for him. You wanted him. You wanted to ravish each other in ways that would make Lucifer himself blush.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you composed yourself and calmed your heaving breasts, inching a bit closer to your Cardinal.

“Oh! Well, we can’t have you burning! Here, you helped me earlier, let me return the favour.” You offered, reaching over and smoothing some cream onto his shoulders, calming the fretful little rat with your enchanting touch. He sighed while you smoothed your hands down his arms before gently dabbing some onto his cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead, taking extra special care of his pretty face.

“There. You’re all set.” You smiled, placing a hand on Copia’s thigh, not missing the way he flinched at how your fingertips almost brushed against the spot where he needed you most.

“W- Eh- G-G-Grazie, Sorella…” He stammered nervously, looking slightly alarmed as he gazed into your eyes.

“No problem.” You murmured, keeping your naughty little hand there for a moment longer before pulling away and laying down to sunbathe.

•𖤐•

After a while of relaxation, you suddenly sat up, regarding Copia.

“Hey, do you know CPR?” You enquired.

“Oh, ehm, n-no I don’t.” The man shook his head.

“Want me to teach you?” You offered. “It’s an important thing to know in case of emergency.”

“O-Okay.” Copia nodded, seemingly impressed by your skill.

Smiling excitedly, you pushed the Cardinal down to lay on his back, kneeling beside him and leaning over to look into his anxious eyes.

“Alright, I’ve just pulled you out of the water. You’re unconscious.” You stated. “First I’ll listen to see if you’re breathing.” You leaned down further, waiting ten seconds.

“Am… Am I breathing, Sorella?” Copia whispered.

“No, you’re not.” You giggled. “So now I’ll start CPR.” You interlocked your fingers together with one hand on top of the other, beginning to mime chest compressions over Copia’s sternum.

“The compressions can’t be too high or too low, just right in between the nipples.” You said, noticing the way Copia’s eyes were fixated on your bouncing breasts. “And the ratio is thirty compressions to two breaths.”

Copia nodded, attempting to stay focused and retain the information. After counting thirty, you halted your movements and gently lifted the Cardinal’s chin, looking into his eyes.

His heart began to hammer wildly in his chest as you dipped down, slowly pressing your lips to his.

Copia gasped against your soft lips, and you stayed there for a moment before pulling away. “One.” You whispered, before placing the second kiss to his open mouth. “And two.” You pulled away, regarding the confounded man with a small smirk on your face.

“There. Did I revive you?” You asked dreamily. Before Copia could nod, you spoke again. “Or.. do you think you need another round?”

Were you saying what Copia thought you were saying? Were you asking if he wanted you to kiss him again?

“W-Well, ehm… P-Perhaps you can, eh, show me again?” The Cardinal warily agreed with you, thinking it too good to be true.

“If the victim remains unconscious, you’ll have to keep doing this until paramedics arrive with an ambulance.” You said, beginning the mock chest compressions again. And although your movements were quick, thirty went by slowly for the Cardinal while he tried not to leer at your breasts and eagerly awaited your lips.

Sure enough, right on cue, you were gently grasping Copia’s chin and dipping down again, your parted lips against his.

Copia sighed in ecstasy, tasting your fruit punch gloss as his painted eyes fluttered closed. And- was it just his imagination, or were these kisses longer than the last ones?

You pulled away for a brief moment before repeating the action, and Copia had to stop himself from wrapping his arms around you. These weren’t supposed to be actual kisses, and he was supposed to be unconscious anyway.

“Are you alive now?” You murmured against the man’s lips, pulling away just enough to look into his pretty mismatched eyes, which were now gazing up at you.

“I-I think so, but… I am not so sure…” He responded quietly. “Because, ehm, w-well, it seems as though I am looking at a b-beautiful fallen angel, si? Perhaps I died and went to paradiso infernale after all…” A shy smile crept onto his face, his blush deepening.

You grinned. Your little rat was getting daring.

“Are you flirting with me, Rat?” You questioned quizzically.

“Eh-! I-I am just telling the truth, Sorella.” Copia faltered, casting his gaze off to the side.

“Hm. You’re sweet.” You smiled, stroking a finger down the Cardinal’s cheek and under his chin, causing him to release a little sigh.

“What in Satan’s name are you even doing?” Emily interjected.

“Teaching Co-Co CPR. Duh?” You shrugged, sitting upright.

“Yeah, no shit, but last time I checked you don’t have to literally kiss while demonstrating it.” She countered, looking disgusted that your lips had actually touched Copia’s, voluntarily this time.

“Yeah, you never did that for me when you taught us how to do it.” Rob smirked. “Maybe I need a refresher, how do you do it again?”

“You literally just got a refresher right now. Don’t think I didn’t see you staring.” You shot back with a smirk of your own.

“Why does he even need to learn CPR? He’s never around anyone and I don’t think it works on rats.” Lilith chimed in, earning giggles from your other friends.

“Well what if something happened to you and no one was around? In case of emergency, he’d know how to do it.” You argued.

“I don’t know about Lilith, but I think I’d rather die than let him do mouth to mouth on me.” Emily scoffed. “So, Rat, if you ever see me passed out somewhere, just walk away.” She laughed.

You rolled your eyes, placing a gentle hand on Copia’s arm while he dejectedly stared down at his lap, averting his humiliated gaze from everyone. He didn’t want them to see the hurt in his eyes while they openly discussed their disgust towards him.

“It’s my turn. Are you gonna revive me?” You whispered close to his ear.

Copia met your eyes briefly and nodded, causing an excited grin to bloom on your pretty face. You laid down on your back, closing your eyes and appearing as insensate as possible. “Alright, I’m unconscious.”

“O-Oh! Ehm!” Copia exclaimed, leaning over you, unsure of what to do. “Ehhh….”

“You have to listen for my breathing first, remember?” You whispered, eyes fluttering open. Grabbing Copia by the collar of his swimsuit, you pushed his face directly into your tits, grinning when you heard a muffled gasp coming from your cleavage.

“Am I breathing?” You asked.

“No…?” Copia responded, his face still pressed against your breasts. Unholy Satanas, what a dream! His heart was pounding in his ears, cock throbbing as he melted into you.

You bit your lip to suppress a giggle when Emily muttered something about the whole situation looking like the beginning of a pornographic film.

“Okay, so you can start CPR now.” You instructed, releasing the man.

Coming up for air, Copia was dazed, his mind blissfully blank as he attempted to regain his composure. He could have kept his face buried in your perfect tits for eternity. And if he would have suffocated? Oh, what a way to go!

Clearing his throat, he interlocked his fingers together just as you had done, getting into position, and-

“That’s too low.” You interrupted, taking Copia’s hands placing them on your breasts, his fingertips brushing against your nipples through the thin fabric of your bikini top.

“S-Sorella, I-!” Copia gasped, eyes widened in alarm, and you slowly dragged his hands across your chest to meet in the middle.

“Right in between the nipples, remember?” You reminded the poor man, and he nodded quickly, biting his lip and lacing his fingers together over your sternum.

Oh, but how could he possibly concentrate when he felt so dirty? You were trying to teach him a valuable skill, and yet here he was being a little creep about it. He hoped you wouldn’t notice, and if you did, he desperately prayed you wouldn’t hold it against him. It wasn’t his fault he was so touch-starved, so deprived of anything close to affectionate all his life. And it also wasn’t his fault that you were so gorgeous. No man would stand a chance against your infernal beauty.

Straightening his arms, he began to nervously practice the chest compressions, counting quietly in Italian under his breath.

“You’re doing very good.” You commented, causing the Cardinal to falter slightly in his movements, his face turning bright red at your praise.

He grew more and more anxious as he approached thirty, knowing what would have to come next.

“Ventotto.. ventinove.. t-trenta.” He finished, staring at you almost fearfully once he was done.

You looked at Copia expectantly, but the man was frozen like a deer in the headlights.

“What, do you forget what you’re supposed to do next?” You questioned. “Were you paying attention while I was teaching you or were you just staring at my tits the whole time like a dirty old man?” You smirked.

Copia’s eyes widened, his lips twitching. He knew what he had to do next but… yes, he had, in fact, been ogling your breasts. Could you blame the poor man? The view had been simply breathtaking.

“I-I-I know w-what to do, eh-”

“Then do it.” You told him. “Come on Rat, resuscitate me, I can feel myself slipping away. I think I see Satan waiting for me at the fiery gates!” You giggled.

Copia sucked in a breath, leaning over you and tilting your chin up with a gentle yet shaking hand. He kept repeating to himself in his head that was just CPR. Nothing more. But his hot flush only worsened when you parted your delectable lips for him. The humid summer air was only made thicker with tension as you gazed up at the Cardinal with those pretty fuck-me eyes, waiting patiently for your salvation.

The pitiful man ever so slowly closed the gap between you both, your senses electrifying as his lips touched yours. You couldn’t escape the small hum of satisfaction, and Copia accidentally released a whimper.

Maybe you weren’t all that different from Terzo after all, because you were so incredibly tempted to snake your arms around the Cardinal and turn mouth-to-mouth into a passionately sinful tongue-kiss.

You had far better resolve than your Papa, however, so you remained still. After all, you loved teasing him like this; allowing him to almost kiss you, but not quite.

Copia pulled away for half a second before eagerly pressing his lips to yours once more, so needy for any sort of contact with you. And you, you were needy for this too. The way his thin moustache tickled your face, the intoxicating scent of his cologne mixed with the fresh smell of sea water, the way he was tilting your chin up so delicately, as if you’d break if he handled you too roughly. What a sweet little mouse; Copia touched you as if you were a priceless treasure.

Reluctantly, he pulled away for good when he heard your friends making comments about how he was a pervert. About how he was enjoying this way too much.

But as soon as he was back in his place, you made a show of sitting upright and falling happily into his arms.

“My hero! You saved me.” You sighed dreamily, wrapping your arms around his neck and brushing a handsome lock of hair from his forehead.

Cupping his jaw in one hand, you pressed a rewarding kiss to his lips. Copia swore he heard the sound of a tea kettle whistling while stars painted his vision; his heart hammering in his chest, hearts in his eyes, and cock throbbing, nearly driving him to insanity. It was lucky that the kiss was brief, otherwise he would have started thumping his foot like an excited dog.

You grinned naughtily at him while he stared at you in giddy awe, huffing out a little chuckle and looking like the happiest man from here to Hell.

Your friends rolled their eyes at your theatrics, muttering things amongst themselves while Rob crossed his arms, trying not to look, but failing. They just couldn’t wrap their minds around the fact that the most popular girl in the ministry would ever waste time with a loser like Copia. They were still waiting for the other shoe to drop, holding onto their theories that you were planning to break his heart eventually.

•𖤐•

“Hey, Rattie?” You nudged Copia.

“S-Si, Sorella?” He looked over to you attentively.

“Do you see that little snack place over there?” You pointed to a cute little shack not too far away. The man glanced to where you were directing him, then turned back to you and nodded.

“Could you see it in your heart to get me a soft serve vanilla ice cream? Pretty please?” You pouted.

A handsome little smile found it’s way onto Copia’s face. “Of course, Sorella.”

“Satan bless you, Cardinal!” You beamed. “Here, I still have the ministry credit card that Sister Imperator gave me.” You said, fishing the rich black card out of your bag and handing it to him.

“Wait, you’re getting ice cream?? I want some too!” Ava whined, followed by the rest of the sisters agreeing, all shouting their orders at the same time.

“S-So, eh, let me get this straight, si? Vaniglia, eh, sorbetto all’arancia, fragola, ehh, cioccolato, menta, e nocciola?” Copia asked, pointing to each person when he listed off their order. Surprisingly, he got it all correct, and began to walk to the snack stand. You giggled to yourself, hearing him quietly chant the string of ice cream flavours over and over again so he wouldn’t forget.

•𖤐•

Copia returned after a while, carefully balancing two trays of ice cream cones in his hands, careful to not let them fall over. Rob, in a surprising act of charity, jumped up and helped the man distribute the cold treats to the other sisters.

The Cardinal was making sheep’s eyes at you while he handed you your cone, which you excitedly thanked him for.

He had gotten the same thing as you- vanilla soft serve- and he was just about to take his first lick, when Rob patted him roughly on the back, causing him to drop the entire thing into the sand.

“Thanks for the ice cream, Cardinal!” Rob said before sitting back down with your friends, not even noticing what he had done.

“Rob, you just made Co-Co drop his ice cream!” You scolded him.

“Huh?” Rob looked over. “Oh, sorry dude.”

“Eh, t-that’s okay, I go get another one, si?” The Cardinal nodded, turning just in time to see the ice cream man walking away after placing a sign on the bar that read ‘Gone for lunch.’

Sighing defeatedly, Copia sat down next to you.

“Share with me, Cardinal.” You offered, holding your cone out to him.

“No, no, I-”

“Oh, won’t you please, Cardinal? It’s so big and it’s already melting. I won’t be able to finish it in time anyway.” You insisted, already moving closer to him.

The man finally gave in with a timid nod, wrapping his hand around yours that was holding the cone, and swiping his tongue through the cold dessert.

You grinned, licking your side of the ice cream and enjoying the sweet taste.

However, your frozen treat was no match for the sweltering sun, and soon, melty white cream was dripping down your and Copia’s wrists. You made quick work to lick it off of yourself, only for more to trickle back down.

Stealing a glance at your Cardinal, you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of him. He had ice cream dripping down his lips and chin; and he tried to eat faster, but the poor man was being overwhelmed.

“Cardinal, you’re a mess.” You giggled softly, gently cupping his cheek with your hand, grabbing his attention. You moved closer to the blushing man, his mismatched eyes following the drops of ice cream that began to drip onto your breasts and cleavage, a few even falling onto your thighs. Copia swallowed hard, a wave of guilt washing over him as he imagined laving his tongue over your supple flesh, worshipping every inch of you.

You took him by surprise, then, leaning in and licking his lips, causing his widened eyes to snap up and meet your half-lidded ones.

“You’re a sticky mess.” You whispered against his lips, your naughty little tongue teasing at the corner of his mouth.

Copia’s lips parted in a quiet whimper, a pitiful gasp leaving him when you gave him another little lick. Lucifer, he was even more delicious than the ice cream.

“I, ehm… I-I don’t t-think you’re too much better, Sorella…” Copia replied nervously, struggling to meet your gaze.

“You’re right. I guess we’ll just have to lick each other clean.” Your sultry giggle made Copia’s cock twitch. With the ice cream you were holding now almost completely melted, it freely dripped onto the both of you. However, it still wasn’t quite as drippy as Copia’s throbbing cock.

Giving the ice cream one last lick- and accidentally drenching yourself in the process- you tossed the soggy cone into the sand and brought your little hand up, sucking your fingers clean one by one.

Your eyes never left Copia’s, and the man almost seemed hypnotized by the movement of your lips and tongue. You could practically read his mind; you just knew he was imagining you sucking his cock and finally giving him the release he so desperately craved, hungrily drinking down every last drop of his cum.

Biting your lip, you released another naughty giggle as you snaked an arm around the Cardinal’s neck, your parted lips ghosting along his jaw and chin under the guise of licking ice cream off him. He sighed, leaning into you, heady excitement bubbling inside him as your lips just barely touched his. It’s as if you were teasing him, taunting him, daring him to just let go of his inhibitions and kiss you. To kiss you how he really wants to; deeply and passionately and needily.

But the shy Cardinal restrained himself, not believing that’s what you truly wanted. He suspected that his perception of your playful behaviour was clouded by his own fantasies and yearnings. However, he still enjoyed your closeness, small sighs escaping him as his nose brushed against yours.

Copia wrapped an arm around your waist when he felt you tipping backwards, but you only pulled him with you as you laid back on your towel, and the man fell slightly on top of you, stuttering out timid little apologies while you grinned up at him adoringly. He was slotted right in between your legs, fitting together with you perfectly.

Running a finger through the melty cream on your breasts, you licked your fingers, snickering at the Cardinal’s pitifully concupiscent expression while you mercilessly teased him.

Copia blushed furiously. You were laughing at him, weren’t you? Laughing at the way he was so helplessly enthralled by you. Laughing at the way he huffed out quiet little whines every time his cock pulsed. And- oh, how embarrassing; he realized

you could probably feel his thick length throbbing against you, hot and hard and heavy with sheer need.

But his addiction to you mixed with the debilitating summer heat rendered him unable to move. He just laid there, staring down at you with blown out pupils and parted lips.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled Copia closer closer closer, so close that your sticky lips were just barely brushing against his. Every nerve in the man’s body was alit with fiery anticipation, wondering if you were going to kiss him.

“Move. I’m gonna go for a swim to rinse all this ice cream off, if you wanna come.” You murmured.

Disappointed, Copia only swallowed nervously, blinking silently at you.

“Do you want to come, Cardinal? Hm? Do you want to cum?” You smiled innocently, but that naughty gleam in your eyes glinted dangerously.

“Y-yes please, Sorella.” He nodded eagerly, utterly entranced by the sight of you underneath him, your hair spread all around your head like a halo.

“Then get off me, you little creep. I can’t move otherwise.” You giggled softly and rolled your hips against him to snap him out of his trance, causing the poor Cardinal to flush an even deeper shade of red, a strangled moan catching in his throat.

“M-Mi dispiace…” He mumbled, scrambling to get off you. You stood, taking his hand in yours; a soothing balm to his humiliation.

“Where are you guys going?” Rob asked.

“We’re gonna go do 69 behind the snack bar.” You deadpanned, completely shocking everyone, including Copia, who- once again- nearly got whiplash from turning to look at you so quickly.

“We’re going for a swim, duh, what else would we be doing at the beach?” You scoffed, huffing out a light laugh. “We’re all sticky from that melty ice cream and we need to wash off.”

“Oh, thank Lucifer! I thought you were being serious about doing 69 for a second!” Ava laughed, causing the other sisters to titter in amusement. Copia sniffed, feeling sensitive; feeling despondent at how the thought of doing anything intimate with him was used in jest.

“Maybe I wasn’t joking.” You shrugged mindlessly, driving the lot of your friends mad with your arbitrary capriciousness. The Cardinal looked to you once more, a glimmer of hope in his mournful eyes; that little spark of hope soon growing into a roaring wildfire when you took his hand once more and firmly pulled him along in the direction of the snack shop.

“Oh come on!” You heard one of your friends call after you, but you only walked away with greater determination, tugging the dazed Cardinal along with you.

Copia nervously licked his lips once you arrived behind the small building, his anticipation becoming too much to handle as you leaned up against the cool brick, pulling him closer.

“You look scared, Rat. Don’t worry, I won’t deflower you.” You smirked kittenishly, toying with the collar of the man’s swimsuit.

“You.. Eh, y-you won’t..? T-then, ehm, w-why are we..? W-won’t your amici think…?” He questioned, trying to conceal his utter disappointment behind a veil of lighthearted curiosity.

You shrugged. “Let them think what they want. If they want to imagine us devouring each other in the throes of passion, they’re more than welcome to.” You giggled nonchalantly, strategically planting the maddening image in Copia’s mind, and you swore the man was stifling a needy whine.

You gazed at each other in comfortable silence, enjoying the alone time, away from the condemnatory stare of your friends. You could see the yearning in the Cardinal’s mismatched eyes, and you were longing for him too. You were just having way too much fun to do anything about it for now. After a few tension-ridden moments, you took Copia’s hand in yours, pulling him towards the water, looking back at him and flashing him with your pretty smile, causing butterflies to erupt in the man’s stomach.

“Come on, let’s go for a swim!”

•𖤐•

You sighed contentedly, the gentle waves rocking the two of you as you playfully splashed around. You could tell Copia was comfortable in this moment, because your friends were far enough away on the shore, unable to berate him or give him dirty looks.

You enjoyed seeing him like this; a relaxed smile on his handsome face, a healthy pink glow of bashful fondness painting his freckled cheeks every time your body brushed against his.

Suddenly, you spotted something in the crystal clear water, nestled into the ocean floor. You dipped underwater, snatching it up before the current fully buried it in the sand. Inspecting your find, you gasped in delight. How brilliant, a piece of sea glass! But this one was a marvellous cobalt blue in colour.

Reminded of how you’d given pieces of sea glass to the Papas, you waded over to Copia, excitedly presenting him with it.

The Cardinal glanced at the piece of glass, then at you. A gift?

“F-for me?” He asked.

You nodded. “I know it’s not your colour, but I think this is the prettiest one I’ve found so far.” You responded. “It reminds me of you.”

Copia blushed, graciously accepting your gift and taking his time to carefully admire it.

“It’s beautiful, Sorella. S-so I am not sure why it reminds you of me, heh heh..” He chuckled timidly. “I, eh, I quite like this colour actually.”

You smiled endearingly at how delicately Copia handled it.

“Maybe, ehm, maybe this will be my colour. Do you think it suits me?” A little grin tugged at his lips while holding the glass up to his face.

“I think it suits you very well, Cardinal.” You giggled.

“Well, now I feel bad, Sorella, I-I don’t have a gift for you.” The man nervously ran a hand through his damp hair, his painted eyes looking around, searching for something he could give you.

“Ah! Ehm, c-close your eyes please?” He asked, and you eagerly did as he told you, waiting patiently.

For a while, you could only hear the sounds of water, and you wondered what he could possibly be doing. And finally, you felt something wet splat on top of your head.

“No peeking, Sorella.” Copia hummed when he saw your eyelashes fluttering open for a moment.

Whatever he put on your head, he was arranging it around into some sort of-

“Apri i tuoi occhi ora.”

You opened your eyes, bringing your hands up to feel around your head. You smiled brightly, realizing Copia had given you a crown of seaweed.

“Ogni principessa merita una corona..” Copia shyly explained, wringing his hands together trepidatiously.

You fished around for more seaweed, gracefully crowning Copia with it once you’d found a clump.

The man looked at you, appearing slightly confused.

“Allora… Anche ogni principessa merita un principe.” You said, eyes twinkling playfully.

Copia’s love-stricken flush only deepened at your words, shaking his head softly and biting his lip in thought. “Non sono un principe, sono soltanto un ratto.” He smiled sadly.

“Mi piace ratti. Puoi essere il mio principe di ratti.” You giggled softly.

Copia smiled while looking down at the waist-deep water, fiddling with the piece of sea glass in his hands. His painted eyes flicked to yours momentarily, nothing but adoration in them. You truly knew how to make him feel like a prince.

•𖤐•

The two of you made your way back to shore, joining your friends who were clearly in the middle of some gossip, because they all stopped talking as you grew nearer, clearing their throats. Their lively tittering turned into a few hushed snickers while they judgementally looked at Copia.

“What, did you guys get married or something?” Emily questioned.

“No,” you shook your head in amusement, “we just… crowned each other prince and princess of the ocean, I guess.”

“You kissed a rat and he turned into a prince, huh?” Lilith chimed in.

“Something like that. Although I think he’s sort of the perfect hybrid of both.” You giggled, affectionately twirling a lock of Copia’s hair around your finger before laying down on your towel.

“What’s that?” Rob asked, pointing to the sea glass Copia was fidgeting with.

“Eh? Oh, ehm, f-from Sorella.” He responded, a hint of pride in his wavering voice.

“And she didn’t get me anything?” Rob pouted. “Give it here.” He held his hand out.

“No, it’s Co-Co’s!” You placed your hand over top of Copia’s. “I gave it to him because I want him to have it.”

“Yeah and you also wanted him to have those Polaroids of you. Even though he’s probably gonna be a major creep and jerk off to them every night like a lonely virgin. Better stock up on tissues, y’know, for all the nosebleeds he’ll have.” Rob retorted with a shrug.

Copia’s face grew red hot. He’d never! ….well, perhaps one should keep in mind Charles Dickens’ famous saying, ‘never say never.’ But he would genuinely try very very hard not to! Of course, he planned to admire the pictures more often than would be considered appropriate, but he had already previously decided that he wouldn’t befoul your sumptuous image with sordidly perverted activities.

“Is that jealousy I’m sensing, Rob? You’re still salty that Cardi got all those good shots of me and you didn’t get any? Don’t be so petulant.” You teased, your tone an enigmatic mix of lighthearted and snide.

“Of course I’m not jealous of him…” Rob grumbled under his breath, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair, blue eyes rolling in annoyance.

The Cardinal found great solace in you defending him; he knew you probably recognized the fact that he was often too timorous to stand up for himself, so he appreciated your support more than you’d ever know. Perhaps he should put in a request to make you his assistant…

Tucking the little cobalt treasure away with his things, he gave you a grateful smile, his heart fluttering when you gave him a playful wink.

•𖤐•

The sun was just beginning to smoulder low in the sky, its warm rays casting a pinky-orange glow over the whole beach. You’d all ended up going for one last swim before deciding to pack up and head back to the abbey. After wrapping yourself and Copia into your large towel and drying off, you and the other sisters made the boys face away and cover their eyes while you all peeled off your wet swimsuits and put your clothes back on.

“Oh, I didn’t bring any panties because I had my bathing suit on underneath earlier!” You remarked with a giggle. “I guess it doesn’t matter because we’ll be home soon and I’m going to shower straight away.”

Copia perked up at that, biting his lip at the thought of you in those tiny shorts with nothing underneath. Oh, what he’d give to

join you in the shower back at the ministry; kissing feverishly under the warm stream of water, bodies slippery and glistening with soap bubbles.

Once everyone was dressed, you all packed up your things, bringing them to Copia’s car before getting in yourselves. You sighed peacefully, resting your head on the Cardinal’s shoulder and nuzzling into the soft fabric of his hoodie.

“I’m gonna sleep sooo good tonight.” You murmured sleepily, earning sounds of agreement from your friends.

“Will you be okay to drive?” You asked, gazing up at Copia through your lashes, noticing his eyes appeared tired- and not just because of the dark paint he wore around them.

“Si, Sorella, I will be okay.” He reassured you with a nod, starting the car and taking off. With the radio playing low, the drive home was quiet, with you leaning comfortably against Copia on the bench seat of his car, periodically glancing up to admire him, grinning when you caught the man staring at your bare thighs.

•𖤐•

You arrived back at the abbey, carrying your bag inside and bidding your friends a good night, before climbing the large staircase that would lead to your room. Copia’s quarters were also up the stairs, so you slowed your steps, allowing for a precious moment alone with the man.

“Thanks for driving us today, I had a really good time.” You said softly.

“I-It was a pleasure, Sorella. We will have to do again, si?” The Cardinal responded.

“Maybe just us next time.” You mused out loud.

Copia’s eyes lit up with excitement in the low light, his heart beating fast. You wanted to spent time alone with him? He exhaled shakily at the thought, but you didn’t let him think too much about it before you spoke.

“Buonanotte, Principe.” You beamed before turning and walking towards your room, a smile spreading across your face when you heard the blushing man utter a soft, “Buonanotte, Principessa.”

Slinking into your room, you couldn’t wait to take a warm shower and crawl into your plush bed. The only thing that would be missing? A shy Cardinal to snuggle with, of course.

Oh, if only the ministry’s old heating system could fail!

𖤐 to be continued 𖤐

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