Work Text:
Late summer nights meant relentless heat. Never too hot, but muggy enough to really get under my skin. The kind of weather that sweat wouldn’t cool you down from: relief could only be found in cold baths, or for the more pragmatic, the side of a cold beer.
I held one to the side of my face. It was icey against my hot skin, a spot of winter in the far-late August night. Last one from the cleaned-out fridge, actually. Steve’s refrigeration unit was a decent size, several shelves tall, and each had been crammed with wine coolers and IPAs before the party had started. Now it was bare.
It was one-fifteen AM and the windows in his condo were cracked open, crickets singing outside in the sizzling heat. I slumped on the couch, laughing with him, kicking off my shoes into the mess of discarded beer cans and party trash that decorated his carpeted floor.
Nothing like a last hurrah before college to really draw the young adults of Hawkins out of the woodwork. Even me: the hour-long commute from my new apartment was a bastard with broken car A/C, but it had been worth it to see the sea of familiar faces.
Well, most of them.
Parties meant the dealers came.
There was one dealer I had hoped would skip. But he didn’t, because of course he didn’t. So I played nice all evening: put on a smile, nodded my head at him like the distant acquaintances we were. Smoking half a joint before heading back into the party, heart clenching in my chest. Trying not to feel resentful.
Hey, it wasn’t Munson’s fault I’d had it bad for him since junior year.
Steve sat next to me on the couch, taking anothing long draw from his sweating bottle of beer, his skin shiny and normally impeccable hair unkempt from a night of partying. “Sounds like you’ve been up to a lot.” He continued our conversation with a lopsided grin. His voice was loud in the nearly abandoned condo: he waved a few fingers as the last party guest bid their goodbyes and shut the front door behind them.
I nodded, smiling. My tacky skin stuck to the pleather. “Oh yeah. Taking double shifts and everything: the last thing I wanna be in college is broke. I don’t think I’ve actually had a break to party in like, what, two months now?”
“Seriously?” He gestured to the chaos around him. “What, you don’t miss the, uh…” when he kicked a crushed can with a bare foot, I snickered, “...trash everywhere? The couple dozen drunken graduates already reminiscing about the ‘good old days’ that ended three months ago?”
That got a full laugh. “Not exactly, no. But it’s good to see you again. You look like you’re doin’ alright.”
He scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, well, you know. Job-hopping, trying to find something to do. Working at Scoops Ahoy right now, actually. You know, in Starcourt? Just taking it one step at a time.”
“Hey, nothing wrong with that.”
A clatter came from the kitchen. Lo and behold, the one man I ’d prayed left early came wandering out, a glass of water in hand. Eddie Munson slow-clapped, moseying into the living-room and flopping down onto the stuffed chair opposite our couch. “I second that, Harrington. I’m sure you’re a great addition to the mall staff. Just as plastic as the mannequins.” He smiled widely, all teeth. “The ladies must love the uniform.”
Steve’s demeanor soured. “Jesus, man, I thought you left. The hell are you still doing here?”
Eddie put a hand to his chest. “Oh, me? You know. Call me crazy, but I didn’t exactly think it was wise to get on the road with a blood alcohol percentage. Last thing any of my clients need is me getting busted.”
“Yeah, I bet your gang of junkies are just up all night worried about your safety.” Steve snarked back.
“Hey, man, don’t go getting all holier-than-thou. Who invited me again?” When Steve sighed, Eddie gestured with his fingers, splaying them wide. Rings glittering in the light. “Because I specifically remember one singular Steve “The Hair” Harrington rigning me up and asking me to bring a full spread of party favors. And I delivered.”
“This party was for graduates , Munson. Not senior-stuck shitheads.”
“Hey.” Eddie said severely. His chocolate eyes went cold, his humor dropping. “Fuck you, Harrington. I’ll get it next year. You watch.”
Steve looked at me over the rim of his drink. What the hell did you ever see in this guy ? His light brown eyes asked.
I turned my gaze away. Steve was the only one who knew.
Knew about the whole shitshow. How I fell face-first into a crush with the wild rocker at the end of junior year: I got a flat biking home, and Munson was the only guy who stopped, loading my bike into his van and driving me the rest of the way. We made conversation— the outcast and the straight-A student— and listened to loud music I’d never heard before but somehow enjoyed. He cracked jokes. I laughed.
He left me standing on the curb outside my house and I were hooked .
I shadowed him a little, in senior year. I wasn't proud of it. Sneaking glances over at his table of metal-heads, looking at the back of his wild mane in the science class we shared. I saw him in the hallways, sometimes, by the lockers: his roving gaze went right over me like I wasn't even there.
I took the risk, three days before graduation. He was so tall and so loud and so intimidating, but the memory of how soft his voice got inside that van, how he looked at me with such human warmth : it had just sat and stewed. I couldn’t shake it. So at the end of the school day I caught up with him on his way to his van in the parking-lot. Stammering awkwardly. Trying to get out exactly what I meant: that I wanted to know him better. That I liked him. That he made something inside of my chest flutter in a way no other guy had.
And what had he done? Interrupted me with a scoff, dark eyes looking me up and down a few times. He had ground his cigarette under his boot, climbed into the driver’s seat, and peeled away.
It had crushed me .
The graduation ceremony was a blur.
At the end-of-year post-party, I sat in a miserable corner of the graduate-filled house, drinking and generally feeling like a sad sack. Steve had saved me. He had just wanted a lay, I knew that: we went upstairs and he treated me right, hot skin on hot skin, his talent obvious. I have never expected him to pause, to actually care when I burst into tipsy tears, my stupid story spilling out.
“... Munson ? The guy with the hair?” He asked, looking equal parts completely confused and grossed out. “ That freak? Why the hell do you give a shit about him? He’s a total loser.”
“You don’t get it.” I sniffled, wiping your eyes, tits still out in the twilight light of the locked upstairs bedroom.
“Hey.” Warm, strong fingers found my hip bones. I looked down at the king of Hawkins High. “Don’t give that asshole the satisfaction of hurting you, okay? He doesn’t deserve it.”
I kissed him. It dulled the pain.
Over the past few months of summer, I went back to him a few times. Seeking solace from his skilled tongue and coaxing fingers. It was good. We both needed it. We were both coping, in our own separate ways.
“Whatever.” Steve grumbled in the metalhead’s direction. He stretched, scritching at the stubble growing under his chin, and turned back to me. “You gonna head out soon? It’s getting pretty late.”
I thought about my car parked out back under the oak trees. About the several shots I had done recently, and how the alcohol still simmered under my skin: not enough to impair, but enough to raise eyebrows of highway patrol. I resettled in my seat, legs tucked under myself. “Actually, um. If it’s alright, I’d really like to crash on the couch here tonight. I’ll be out of your hair by morning, I promise.”
Steve held a hand up. “Hey, say no more. You’re always welcome.”
Eddie hummed, sinking even lower into the cushions and crossing one leg over the other. “Mmm. I’d be careful, if I were you.” His dark eyes slide to Steve. “Harrington has a bit of a…reputation, when it comes to beautiful maidens. Be prepared to defend your honor.”
Steve pressed his lips together, brows drawn down. Thinking. “Well...” He said eventually, huffing a laugh down at his lap before raising his head. “A little late for that, actually.”
My face burned and I bit my lip to keep from smiling, sticking out a leg to kick his thigh admonishingly.
Eddie’s eyes went wide under his fringe. “You guys...” He pointed at me and Harrington, processing. He scoffed. “Of course. Barbie and Ken, of course . A perfect little all-American tryst. How adorable .” His tone was laced with cynicism.
“Hey man, don’t be like that.” Steve replied. “Why don’t you blow off some of that tension? All-American style, as you put it?” He was mocking the rocker now, openly. When I shot him a look, Harrington side-eyed me back. Wait . His gaze said.
What the hell was he playing at?
Eddie smiled. It was a tight, defensive thing. I could see it in his expression, now, how people at school could be afraid of him. “I know you probably haven’t noticed, Harrington, what with your head being so far up your own ass , but the girls at school don’t exactly have the best opinion of me. Kind of hard to get some when more people know you better as ‘Freak’ than your name.”
Steve’s hand was on my bare ankle. Hot, tacky skin on hot tacky skin. Eddie glanced down at it, expression still glowering, for a fraction of a second before looking away.
“Come on.” Steve continued. Those fingers went up another half-inch on my leg. He was staring down Eddie. “No goth girls at Hawkins High?” Fingers up another inch. “No groupies, really?” Fingers on my knee, creeping up my inner thigh. Shocked heat sparked up my spine. “No hot little things you can get all riled up with a guitar solo, get in the back of your van and—”
“ Steve. ” I hissed in mortification. Grabbing his hand. Not moving it, because shit shit shit , it felt good. This had caught me off-guard, how much blood was rushing down to my nethers right now, how headily aroused the simple digits resting on my inner thigh were making me. Not because it was Harrington, no.
Because Eddie was right fucking there , feet away, with eyes as wide as saucers.
The room was electrically silent.
Eddie’s eyes glanced off of mine like sparks, and he quickly looked away, throat bobbing. Finally remembering how to speak. “...Fuck you, Harrington.” He was hauling himself out of his chair. “Jesus. Fuck. If you wanted guys me out you could have just asked me to fucking leave , Christ. Animals.” He was scrambling for his stuff as fast as he could.
“Steve, what the hell are you doing —” I hissed out again at the man still grabbing the meat of my leg, insanely high adrenaline and arousal making my voice wobble.
Suddenly Steve’s head was close to mine, lips near my ear and voice barely audible over the clatter and clash of Eddie desperately collecting his personal belongings. “I can ask him to stay.”
…Excuse me ?
“What?” I said blankly. Had I misheard?
“You’re probably never gonna see him again.” Steve’s voice was low, rushed. He looked at me meaningfully. “Not after college. And I know you— I know you well enough to know you still want him. I have no fucking idea why , but. Look. The worst thing that can happen is he says no and he leaves. But if he says yes? If he stays…?” He trailed off significantly.
Oh man. Oh man .
Steve ‘The Hair’ motherfucking Harrington, captain of Scoops Ahoy and Hawkins golden boy, was asking me if I wanted to try to pitch a threesome with the guy I’d liked for over a year.
“Clock’s ticking.” Steve reminded me.
Eddie was throwing on his black jacket by the front door.
I squeezed my eyes shut and made my decision before I could second guess it. “Okay.” I whispered against his face. “Okay. Yes.”
Eddie Munson was a dick who threw my crush in my face and acted like it never happened. But he was stuck in my head. If this was the way to finally be free of him, then so be it. Bite the bullet.
Steve pulled me closer until my legs were slung over his lap. “Hey, Munson.” He called loudly. I looked away, staring down at the couch, face burning knowing the metalhead was staring at me. Maybe staring at my legs, and Steve’s hand riding the lip of my dress up higher and higher.
The jingling shuffle by the entryway stilled.
“Don’t leave.”
Clearly Eddie was pulling some sort of expression, because Steve doubled down. I could feel his words vibrating in his chest. “I’m serious. Don’t go. Just... stay.” His hot fingertips pushed the hem of my dress up just a bit more, and somehow I felt my face get even hotter.
A long, drawn out pause.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re playing at, Harrington, but it isn’t funny.” Eddie’s voice wobbled out.
Steve talked over him, quickly. “I’m not playing at anything . This isn’t a joke. Or a game. Look, you don’t…” He hunted for the right words, fingernails scratching feather-light down my thigh, “You don’t even have to do anything if you don’t want to. But… she wants you to stay, okay? Don’t you, babe?”
God, the idea of Eddie’s eyes on me right now was making me squirm. I bit down on the inside of my cheek. “...Stay.” I eventually squeaked out.
More paralyzing silence.
“...And they call me the freak.” Eddie said breathlessly. The room went quiet again. No confirmation or denial. But the door never opened. He wasn’t leaving.
He wasn’t leaving .
Steve used his free hand to brush knuckles across my chin, pulling my eyes from the couch steam. “Okay?” He asked me softly.
His touch felt magnified a thousandfold, now that I could see the silhouette by the doorway, just out of sight. “Okay.” I whispered back.
Harrington started slow.
Bending his face down to mine, kissing me: wet, hot, open-mouthed, tongue meeting mine and sending a spark of primal hunger zipping up my spine. I writhed, settled almost completely on top of his lap. He tugged me up the rest of the way, softly breaking the kiss and kneading my thighs with both hands. Then he started talking. Not to me. To Eddie.
“You know, Munson, you gotta treat a girl right. Took me a few tries to really get it figured out.” His fingers grabbed the hem of my dress, eyes glancing over at mine, silently asking if that was alright. I nodded, lifting shaky arms up: Christ, my body was vibrating and he hadn’t even really touched me yet. This felt so new. So taboo. So fucking amazing.
Eddie let out a soft Jesus Christ behind me when Steve rolled the dress off my body and tossed it to the floor.
Harrington kissed my surge of nerves away, hands roving my exposed skin: skating up thighs, across ribs, over my back and shoulders. Lighting up each place our skin made contact with. Setting me on fire.
“You gotta give ‘em attention.” Steve continued. “No, uh, rushing to the main event. Girls, they need to get all warmed up first. Get wet. And trust me, there is nothing more…satisfying…” His words lulled when he squeezed one of my tits, long and slow: feeling my nipple pebble even under the supportive fabric of my bra, “...than seeing just how turned on you can get her.”
I squirmed on his lap. “Steve.” I said softly. His attention snapped up to my eyes. “Come on.”
Steve smiled reassuringly before looking over my shoulder. Speaking to Eddie again. “See? She wants me to go faster. That’s a good sign. It means that under these —” I gasped when he snapped the waistband of my elastic underwear, “—she’s already getting all slick.”
“Jesus…” Was all I heard Eddie say. Weak and breathy, but closer than before. God, how near was he standing? Could he see the way my skin shivered under Steve’s fingers? Did he know how sensitive I was, how alight, was because of him ?
“You ever taken off a girl’s bra before?” Steve asked him.
Silence.
Steve pressed me closer to his chest, close enough that I could feel his body heat radiating through his shirt. I flushed, half-naked and shivering, perched on him. A quivering mass of tension. “Wanna try?” He pressed.
Just when the quiet motionless was getting agonizing, and I was losing the fight with my embarrassment, cold fingertips landed on my back. I felt paralyzed, liquid-heat pooling in my stomach as fingers, Eddie’s fingers , shaky and clumsy, unhooked the clasp of my bra. The straps fell limp.
Was he staring? What did his face look like? Was he hard ?
God, why was this making me so fucking horny ?
“You’re gonna have to turn around eventually, you know.” Steve said softly to me, chest rumbling under my white-knuckled grip on his shirt. “Eddie doesn’t bite. Do you, Eddie?”
“No.” I heard Eddie breathe.
Steve was a good man. In school, for the most part, he had been a massive tool. But something in him had… shifted, lately. He was kinder. More empathetic. Even now he dragged my attention back to him, back to those eyes under those heavy brows. Asking me, with his gaze, if everything was still okay.
I pressed my lips together and nodded in affirmation. His strong fingers helped manuvery my hips until I was seated on the edge of the couch between his thighs, back pressed to his pelvis. My gaze was fixed on the floor. All I saw were a pair of beat-up converse clad feet on the carpet, less than a foot away.
Finally, finally , I summoned the courage to look up, still clutching my undone bra to my chest.
Eddie looked just as paralyzed as I felt. He was taller than I remembered. Ink-dark eyes blown wide, eyebrows so high they disappeared under his messy bangs, mouth parted in a ‘o’ of shock. His pale skin was uneven, flushed. He wetted his lips with his tongue nervously.
“...Hi.” I eked out. God, why did I suddenly feel so shy ? He’d been here since the beginning, but now… now that I was face-to-face with him, watching him watch Harrington unabashedly feel me up, I was like a blushing virgin all over again.
“...Hey.” He replied in kind, voice tight.
Steve’s fingers were slowly peeling the bra straps down my shoulders, encouraging me to take it off. I looked away from Eddie’s saucer-sized eyes, biting down on my lip, and let the bra fall. Steve’s hands found my breasts, cupping their warm weight with an appreciative hum.
Eddie ran a hand down his face like he was trying to wake himself up from a dream.
“She’s got great tits, doesn’t she?” Steve said appreciatively. I could feel his breath on my neck, smell his sweat. He pinched my nipples, lightly rolling them, and I squeezed my knees together. When he dropped them to slowly pull apart my tight thighs, Eddie’s gaze followed their soft bounce like a man hypnotized. I squirmed again.
“Eddie…” I croaked out, face flaming.
Somehow his stunned eyes got even wider. “Huh?”
“The, uh. The blinds…”
He scrambled to the window like someone had set him on fire, fumbling with the cords and yanking them closed to the outside world. He whirled around just in time to see Steve snaking several fingers under the hem of my underwear.
I felt them brush against the top of my lips, slick and wet: it punched the breath from me, nearly making me double over. When a fingerpad brushed over the top of my swollen, slick clit, I actually did . Steve caught me with his free arm, pulling me up until my back was flush with his chest.
“Feels that good, huh?” He asked my ear.
“Jesus, Steve.” Was all I could say in reply. Fingers traveled my slit underneath the fabric, light and teasing. Nearby, Eddie gripped the headrest of the chair like a lifeline, looking too afraid to come any closer.
But I wanted him closer. Steve was driving me crazy with his feather-soft touches and my heart was racing rabbit-fast in my ears, and it was so much , turning me into a mess of hormones and want and need, and without even realizing it I was opening my mouth to call Eddie’s name again. He was there, in front of me, in the blink of an eye, still seeming shocked.
He’s breathing harder, I realized. The front of his form-fitting, worn jeans were tight. Bulging. I clenched my thighs around Steve’s hand and he chuckled behind me.
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt you get this wet before.” Harrington muttered, arousal obvious in his tone. “God, you’re soaked . This all for me?” He paused. “Or is this because of him?” He traced a particularly tight circle around my clit and I let out a whine, soft and unsteady. He chuckled again. “Jeez. Seems like you’re her favorite, Munson.”
“I…” Eddie was already a mess. He didn’t even look like he knew what to do with his hands, clenching and unclenching them, flushed and turned on and utterly out of his element. “Jesus, that’s… Jesus. Fuck, man. This can’t be real. Can’t be fucking real.”
“What else do you want?” Steve prompted me. Fingers going up down up down on my slit and never as deep between them as I desperately needed. When I shivered, pressed back against his chest stubbornly, he doubled down. “Come on. Don't get all shy on us now. Tell us.”
Us . Him and Eddie. Fuck, that really got me. Fine, okay, fine. I was here, wasn’t I? Time to be a brave girl. “Can y— hauhh —” I paused when Steve lightly petted into me with his index finger, barely breaching my molten wetness, “—can y-you take your… your shirt off?”
Steve didn’t stop moving. I looked up at Eddie.
He looked taken aback. “Wh— me? Me ?”
“Please?” I was being burned alive by the embarrassment, which was feeding right back into the arousal. A hellish, tortuous, perfect loop. “I just… fuck, just wanna see.”
Eddie was already ripping his jacket off, throwing it to the floor, ring-clad fingers grabbing his shirt hem and pulling it up and over his shoulders. God. Oh god , oh no, he was hotter than I bargained for. Some distant part of me, far away, a part that wasn’t being fucking boiled alive in arousal, took satisfaction in the fact that I was right — he was just as beautiful as I always imagined he was. Soft, lean muscles under a thin layer of fat: strong, but not a power-lifter. A scattering of sparse, short chest hair. A few sporadic, gothic black and white tattoos that danced across his pectorals and up both his arms.
God, if he hadn’t stomped his foot directly through my heart a few months ago this would be perfect. But I’d take what I could get.
When I reached a shaking , tacky hand out mindlessly in his direction he dropped to his knees, bracing for balance on the ground with his fingertips. My hand made contact with his warm skin and he inhaled audibly, tip of his tongue caught between his lips in focus when my fingertips trailed across his tattoos.
Steve slowly, agonizingly slowly, pushed a finger inside of my warm, receptive heat. My mouth opened on reflex. I grabbed Eddie’s shoulder for support: he was watching Steve’s hand move inside my underwear like it was a beautiful mirage, like he expected it to disappear any second.
I ground against the finger helplessly. Had I ever been turned on this much before?
Steve pulled my underwear to the side with his free hand and Eddie groaned tightly through clamped teeth. It made the heat inside me explode , knowing he was staring straight at my glistening pussy. Watching Steve’s finger slowly pump in and out.
With fluid expertise Harrington pushed my underwear down around my ankles and off onto the floor, leaving me perched naked on the couch edge, grinding against his singular digit. I could feel his cock throbbing in his pants, pressed against my lower back.
“You should touch her.” He said.
“Wh—what?” Eddie replied blankly, still planted firmly on all fours. Hypnotized. Unable to look away.
“Jesus, man. C’mon, don’t be stupid. Who wouldn’t want to? She’s pretty. And really, really responsive . ” He crooked a finger inside me for emphasis and I jumped. “Help her out. She’s clearly pretty freakin’ desperate for it.”
Eddie licked his lips again. Nervous. Looking up at me. All I could do was wildly nod. One of his hands went to grip my knee, tight as an iron clamp. His free hand sent fingers slowly trailing across the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, pausing at the apex. Finally, fucking finally , Eddie slowly dragged two fingers up the length of my wetness, bumping knuckles with Steve. His guitar calluses were flexible and smooth and delicious against my lips.
I could have died on the spot, with the way he was looking at me. Like I was a goddamn unicorn, like he was the luckiest man alive to be here right now. He grew bolder with each touch, index going up and down against the silk of my slit, feeling where it parted around Steve’s finger. His thumb bumped my clit and I honest-to-god keened when he did it again, mimicking Steve’s small circles around it. That damnable tongue was sticking out again.
He was so focused. So bewitched by my twitching, swollen, pink pussy.
“Come on, Eddie, please.” I barely even realized I was talking. “Inside me, c’mon, touch me. Please. Put your fingers inside.” Steve pulled his own out and I was about to whine at the loss when Eddie put his in , slow and careful, scared of hurting me— like there was any chance of that when I was wet enough to be slicking up my own thighs, dribbling down onto Steve’s fake-leather couch. One finger turned to two. Munson looked positively fucking enchanted by the sloppy, wet, lewd noises his fingers were making inside me.
If I didn’t cum soon I was going to go insane .
I heard the teeth of a zipper open behind me, and then Steve was resettling my hips, rubbing the shiny condom-covered head of his cock against my opening and yes, I wanted that, needed that, fucking pleasure-drunk with attention and lust. He was speaking, I was sure of that, but I ignored him and grabbed Eddie’s shoulders, using the leverage to tilt my hips up and back and sink down onto that length until Steve’s hairy, arousal-slick pelvis hit my own.
Behind me he swore, hands grabbing my waist tight enough to bruise. I felt his forehead fall against my shoulder.
“Fuck— shit , babe, give a guy a heads up next time.” He panted.
“ Move , Harrington.” I groaned.
He filled me up so perfect, burning hot and thumping with his own heartbeat inside of me. He thrust: shallow, short, jackhammer fast, barely slipping out of me at all. More grinding up into me, the head of his cock relentless against the spot deep inside of me that made me nearly blind with pleasure. I clung to Eddie like a lifeline, mouth hanging open, feeling like I could cum at any second.
Eddie was speaking. I wanted to hear him more than I wanted to hear Steve: it took all my mental strength to collect myself enough to parse the words.
“...So pretty, Jesus Christ , fuck, so fucking pretty…” Eddie was saying hoarsely. Palming himself roughly, almost punishing, through his pants, grinding against one of those deliciously broad hands. “...You’re so beautiful, look at you, a fucking angel, good Christ —”
“Kiss me.” My words came out a slurred demand and he rushed to comply, and oh . Oh, it was good. Sweet, wet saliva and a mouth that tasted like cigarettes and salt and Eddie , the essence of him, musky and human. I scrambled for purchase, wrapping a sweaty hand around the back of his neck, our lips swollen and wild. Feeling his long hair tickling my face, my forearm. It was all I ever wanted. The best shit ever.
Eddie cupped my jaw tenderly with his free hand and I was cumming.
“Jesus, shitfuck—” Steve swore behind me as I tightened up on him, following me over the edge. His core contracted, hips lifting me up and off the couch, cock pulsing inside me. I could barely feel any of it: too lost in the blinding swell of my own orgasm and the feeling of Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson’s gentle, almost romantic , hand on my face.
I came to with my heart pounding deafeningly in my ears, gasping for air, Steve still clinging to me and twitching through the aftershocks, jumping a little in overstimulation every time my clenching pussy tried to milk his softening cock. My whole body felt like jello, boneless and weak.
I only had one thing on my mind.
“C’mere.” I croaked in a sex-sore voice, fumbling with Eddie’s belt-loops, tugging him closer on his knees and almost sending him keeling over.
“You don’t—” He immediately started to say, looking up at me with those goddamn stupidly-perfect bambi eyes. Shy again, suddenly. The world feeling more real, more consequential after watching two ex-classmates cum on each other.
I shushed him. “Please, Eddie, just…” I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek. “I know. I get it. You don’t like me in that way. I’m— I’m okay with that. Just let me do this for you.”
“...What are you— Jesus .” Munson’s words ended in a squawk when my fingers found his tight pants zipper, snapping it open and yanking his waistline down. His dick strained painfully against his underwear. Exhausted as I was, the sight made me salivate: it was a sight I had imagined many times over, in my dreams, fingers inside myself under my sheets late at night. I slowly pulled his underwear down.
Damn. Goddamn. Eddie Munson was no stallion, but he was no shrimp either. But it wasn’t that: it wasn’t the soft curve of his red, weeping cock that made it so appealing. Not the silky-perfect, delicious looking bell-end, or the thatch of course, dark hair at the base. It was the fact that it was his . I wrapped my fingers around it and he buckled like cardboard.
Steve was softly rubbing his hands up and down my back. He pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “See, dude?” He said tiredly to Eddie. I could hear the smug grin in his tone. “Told you you’re her favorite.”
“Fuck off, Harringtooo-oooh fuck, shit.” Eddie’s retort trailed off when my thumb brushed over his slit, swiping off the bead of pearly precum. I licked it off dizzily. Salty, bitter and musky. Eddie-flavored.
“Uh.” I urged him. “Up. Stand.”
Like a newborn foal he struggled to his feet, panting, and before he could say anything I had my hands curled around his bare hips and was swallowing his cock down as far as I could. Tears sprang into my eyes when he hit the back of my throat, but shit if it wasn’t worth it to hear him moan so wetly, so wantonly, unlike any noise I had heard the man make before.
I undulated my tongue against the underside of him, carefully breathing through my nose. Eddie swore a long string of expletives and two broad, warm hands grabbed at my head, getting fistfuls of my hair. He wanted to pull so badly, I could tell, wanted to fuck into my warm mouth desperately but he wasn’t : he was being so careful, so gentle and overwhelmed. The sensation made me clench down around Steve’s cock, still slotted inside me.
“Whoa, easy. Keep doing that and I’ll get hard again.” Steve warned breathlessly, those hands still trailing up and down my back. I clenched down again and he laughed softly.
My world dissolved into Steve’s slow, idly pleasurable thrusts up into me and Eddie’s salty cock in my mouth, hot and heavy and twitching. A reality of complete hedonism, thoughtless enjoyment. Maybe as close to heaven as one could get, on Earth.
Eddie’s fingers tightened in my hair, every little in-and-out of my mouth around his cock earning a little noise. “Shit, okay—” His words were messy now, hips twitching under my grip, “Okay, hold on, I’m gonna— please, Jesus, slow down, I’m so—”
I pulled off of him, wrapping a hand around his length, tugging furiously. He was slick with my own saliva. I bet he’d slide into me right now, no problem . “Wanna watch you.” I told him with a ruined voice. “Come on, Eddie. Cum for me.”
That was all he needed. His expression screwed up, soft lips pinching, teeth grinding, eyes squeezed shut. He threw his head back, pale oval face illuminated in the low lamplight, and then he came in my hand, entire body wracked with ripples of shivers. Beautiful. Beautiful. The head of his cock thrust weakly between my fingers, ropes and ropes of off-white cum dribbling down my knuckles— so fucking much of it, going everywhere, Jesus it was torture to smother the urge to ask him how long it had been for him.
He was gasping, panting, whining low and soft when I milked the last drops from his poor spent cock. “Fuck.” Was the only word he seemed to know. Strands of his long, dark hair stuck to his sweaty face. “Fuck.”
Maybe I wasn’t thinking clearly, the room’s atmosphere reeking like sex and hormones and intimacy. Maybe it was too close to tender, too emotional. Whatever. I pressed my fingers to my lips anyway, slipping them inside my mouth. Eddie tasted sweet and salty and human.
“Fuck.” Eddie said again at the sight, shoulders still heaving.
Sensing the end to the event, Steve slowly eased his half-hard cock out of me, lifting me up carefully. Pressing a few more idle kisses to my shoulderblades, to the top of my spine. “I’m gonna get water. And shower. Water?” He asked me. I hummed in affirmation. His gaze turned to Eddie. “Water?”
Eddie blinked like he had forgotten Steve was even here. “Uh— water. Yeah, water, sure. Sure.”
Harrington was gone, wandering pantsless into the kitchen around the corner, cupboards rattling. Sink turning on. Leaving Eddie and I alone. The rocker licked his lips again, a nervous tell, and slowly sank to the ground, exhausted. Pulling his underwear back up in a vague attempt to maintain the shattered illusion of modesty.
“Uh…” He said intelligently. “That was…”
“Yeah.” I replied.
Awkward silence.
He cleared his throat, adam’s apple bobbing. “What did you uh, mean? Back there?”
“Mean? About what?”
“When you, um...” He waved his hand, looking anywhere but my eyes. “When you said that thing. You know, about ‘me not liking you’ in ‘that way’, or something.”
I paused in place, wrapping arms around my chest. Feeling far too exposed, emotionally and physically, now. I looked down at the floor. “...Come on, Munson.” My voice was low. “Don’t do that.”
His brow furrowed. “Do… what, exactly.”
“ That . Pretending you dont know… Jesus, Eddie, you were there . You were the one who did it.” When he just pulled his head back, looking at me like I was speaking French, I started to actually get frustrated. “Are you seriously going to make me walk you through it? Make me live through it again?”
“I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I dragged a blanket around myself, post-sex glow ruined. Great. Recounting my first ever rejection. Perfect end to my dream threesome. What a great memory to go to college with. My leg bounced anxiously against the carpet, and I started talking. “The first time we met was in junior year. I got a flat tire and you drove me home, without even asking to be paid back or anything. That’s when I realized that everyone was wrong about you.” I took a deep breath. “And three days before graduation, this year… I tried to ask you out. You, um… you slammed your van door in my face.” I looked up at him. “So, yes. I think you’ve made it pretty clear you don’t ‘like’ me, alright? Don’t rub it in.”
He looked at me. Looked down at the ground. Looked at me again, those big chocolate eyes blinking. He put a fist up to his mouth, muttering. And then he stood up, starting to honest-to-god pace . “Stupid. God, stupid, Munson, idiot .” He was mumbling to himself. He smacked a hand against his forehead, eyes squeezed shut. “You stupid idiot .”
“...You okay?” I hazarded.
“You asked me out as a joke.” He said, straight-faced.
Now it was my turn to recoil. “What? No. No I did not .”
“Abigail Turner.” He hissed out.
“What?” I thought back. Abigail Turner? “The freshman that Jake Clark asked out?”
He slapped his hands together. “ Yes! ”
I thought harder. “...God, I remember. Yeah, that was awful. He humiliated her in front of everyone.” Poor Abigail, with her braces and baggy, unflattering dresses. It was a cruel prank, one of Hawkin’s High’s most well-known basketball team members asking her out on a date on a dare and then outing her gullibility in front of the whole school. She had run home in tears. It had almost been enough to make me permanently sever ties with his girlfriend. My best friend.
“Abigail and Jake. Jake Clark.” Eddie repeated. “You know, just the guy you and your little preppy friends sat with every day at lunch.”
The pieces fell into place. “...You thought I was trying to ‘Jake Clark’ you?”
He threw his hands up. “Of course I thought you were trying to fucking ‘Jake Clark’ me!”
“But I wasn’t!”
“How the hell was I supposed to know that?!”
I spluttered, hot flush coming back. “I was— come on , Eddie, I was staring at you like all the time! I was not a subtle girl!”
He gestured helplessly with his hands, bug-eyed and exasperated. “Jesus— do you know how many stares I get on a daily basis? You know what people are doing when they stare at me? I know you know, you’re not stupid, you’re smart as shit.”
I looked away.
“They’re laughing . Pointing and laughing at the village idiot. At the local psycho. The loser.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “So yes , Christ, I thought you were trying to drag me into your friend’s bullshit bullying scheme. Why else would the fucking beautiful girl in the hot little dress be staring at me? I mean, Jesus—” He gestured helplessly, shaking his head with a cynical smile, “—The only thing your type come to me for is weed and benzos. Girls like you don’t… like me.”
“...You thought I was beautiful?”
He looked caught. His tongue ran over his teeth, behind his lips. “Uh, yeah.” He was nervously rubbing fingers over his own knuckles. “Yeah, man, of course. You heard Harrington. Who wouldn’t? I mean… the last thing I ever expected was to ever, uh… ever touch you. Like that.” Just talking about it was making his pale face pink. Like he was being impolite by reminding me he’d had two fingers buried up to the last knuckle in me minutes ago.
I let the room fall silent again.
“I wasn't asking you out as a joke.” I said softly, fiddling with the edges of the blanket.
“I know. Now .” He replied, resigned. Voice just as soft as mine. When I looked up, he was chewing on his lower lip. Looking shy : totally incongruous with his dark, heavy-metal hair and stark black tattoos.
“...Would you have said yes?” I asked. “If you had known, back then?”
He laced his fingers behind his head, taking a slow step towards me, blowing out air through his lips. “You’re kidding, right?” He grinned: softly, shyly. “If I’d known? I probably would have thought I was dreaming, first of all. Would have slapped myself right in front of you. Totally embarrassing.”
I giggled. “Oh yeah?”
“ Oh yeah.” Another step closer. “And then… then I probably would have freaked out, honestly. I would’ve taken you up on your offer on the spot. Would’ve asked you if you wanted to get in the passenger seat of my van. Then…” He was close now, close enough to see his lashes, the lingering nervousness on his soft, sweet face. “...Then I would have bought us pizza, and beer, and taken you anywhere you wanted to go. And I would have tried really, really hard to not act like a complete spaz in front of the girl I’d been thinking about ever since I gave her a ride home in junior year.”
I blinked. And processed.
And then I was up and closing the gap between us, pressing my mouth to his, blanket trapped between his bare chest and mine. He was kissing back: lithe, strong arms crushing me to him like he was scared I was going to disappear. He was warm , and gentle, and his lips quivered like a lovestruck prince in a fairytale.
I had been wrong, before, thinking that Eddie sweating with me was the best thing ever. Because this was. This was the best thing.
I broke for air and to thump his chest with a fist, fingers splaying out on a soft upper pectoral. “You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.”
“I totally am.” He agreed with a stupid grin. He kissed me again.
The kiss was everything I had been aching for for over a year.
“Huh.” a voice said behind Eddie. We both paused, looking over. Steve Harrington stood in the entryway to his kitchen, towel around his waist, three plastic glasses of water clutched between his hands. “So. I’m in the wrong business. I should totally be a couples therapist.”
We just chuckled, Eddie resting his sweaty forehead down against my shoulder with a thunk . “Maybe you should, Steve.” I said warmly over Munson’s shoulder. “Maybe you should.”