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carolmunson · 10 months

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out on the moonlit floor. (older!modern!eddie)

part six of who knows how many orange colored sky set list

you and eddie walk down to the piers at brooklyn bridge after you both meet up for dinner a couple nights after your embarrassing drunk sleep over. you both spur on conversations about each other over icecream -- and when you get home, you both share more than you expected. inspiration from this series comes to you in part by: @loveshotzz 'all i really want is you' series. wanting to fuck that old man. and readers like you.

tw: discussions of minor character death, drinking some alcohol, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), some vague talk about BDSM, couples first time, reader cries after sex

songspiration: kiss me | six pence none the richer

Now that the humidity broke it was almost a little chilly over by Brooklyn Bridge Park tonight. The water from the Hudson slapping against the posts of the first pier, each little wave winking when it caught the light of the moon. Manhattan sparkled across the river, glittering in both of your eyes while you walked toward the fireboat station turned ice cream parlor. Kids run around with sticky hands and mouths, shrieking and giggling with each other while parents look onward. Other couples walk hand in hand down towards the other piers -- some still under construction.

The air is warm but in a comforting way -- a reminder that fall is on the precipice, peeking itself out in hints so that you want something pumpkin flavored in early August. Eddie's hand is warm and clammy in yours, the silver bands on his fingers warmed by your touch.

"I never come down here," he says, looking around, "Why don't I ever come down here?"

You shrug, "I dunno -- are you a big water guy?"

He scrunches his nose and shakes his head, "Not really -- Steve'll drag me to the beach a lot when he visits and I'm fine with the beach but -- I'm not like, a beach guy. Or a river guy, or whatever. Lakes, sure. Ponds, why not?"

"I love being near the water," you say, leading him into the boathouse. You get in line behind at least ten people, all savoring their dog days of summer with an ice cream cone. It's warm in there, all the fans do is blow around the smell of sugar and cream, waffle cones off the press. He lets go of your hand to lay it gently on your shoulder to guide you through, heated skin to heated skin.

"I can love being near the water," he offers.

"Yeah?" you turn your head to look at him, his cheeks flushing. You look so pretty like this, he thinks. A little warm, a little slick on your skin. In your pretty summer dress that he hadn't seen yet. The soft quirk of your brows when you ask.

"Yeah," he nods, "For you? Of course."

You roll your eyes, taking a few steps forward as the line moves, "What looks good to you?" You pass a sticky menu you to him that he squints to read, apples up his lifting up to hide his eyes. You pull his glasses from the worn collar of his shirt, clearing your throat while you tap them against his knuckle.

"I can read it, baby," he mutters, distracted by the descriptions in light ink on white paper hidden behind a foggy sheet of plastic.

"You're gonna give yourself a headache," you chide. He rolls his eyes this time, taking his glasses and tucking them back on his collar. He passes the menu back to you.

"I already know what I want."

"Sure you do."

You walk out together, him with his Sweet Cream & Cookies cone and you with you Salted Crack'd Caramel in a cup. He's had two bites of yours and already regrets his decision.

"Well if you could read the menu then you probably would've got something more exciting," you tease, pulling your cup away when he reaches again.

"I mean this is good but it's boring," he pouts, "I'm not a boring ice cream kind of person."

"Is Steve?" you ask, his head tilts at the question, turning to you.

"Steve?" he repeats, "Why're you asking about Steve?"

"That's who Big Guy is in your phone, right -- with the little muscle emoji next to it? Your buddy Steve?" you smirk at him, his tongue pressing against the back of his teeth.

"Yeah, that's my guy," he nods, "You know how I said he always drags me to the beach when he visits?"

"I do," you nod, a spoonful of ice cream resting on your tongue before you swallow leaving a coating of mocha, sea salt, and caramel behind.

"He's visiting soon," Eddie smiles down at your lips closed around the plastic spoon, "I'm really excited for him to meet you."

"Do you think I'll like him?"

"I think...Steve's a boring ice cream person," he laughs, "Always gets like -- butter pecan or something. You think I'm an old man? Wait until you meet this guy."

You both laugh with each other like mean girls on the playground.

"Is he um -- is he doing okay? I know you mentioned a few weeks ago that he lost his wife," you're shy while you approach the subject, you could tell it weighed heavy on Eddie to talk about it.

"I think..." Eddie starts, taking a lick of his ice cream while he considers it, "I think he's doing okay for being almost half a year out. I um, I stayed with him for the first three months -- moved him into the house they bought --"

"She passed before they moved," he explains when your brows knit in confusion.

"Oh," you nod along, face relaxing so he can continue.

"Moved him in -- I think he cried for six days straight. We didn't even sleep, just laid on his couch and watched Fever Pitch like, eighty five times in a row," he looks out at the water while he recalls it and then smiles, "Which is so weird considering he's a Cubs fan."

"That's so niche," you giggle before softening, "You're a good friend."

"He'd do it for me," Eddie shrugs, "He's already done like so mu--"

Before he can finish, two runners speed by, knocking him in the shoulder. You both watch his cone fall in slow motion towards the blacktop of the walk way.

"Sorry," the guy calls out while he continues on, barely looking back over his shoulder while he goes. The neon yellow of his running sneakers become little flecks as he gets deeper towards the tree covered walkway on the other side.

"Hey, fuck off and DIE, asshole!" you call after him, a grit in your voice that Eddie hadn't expected to hear. He can't help but laugh at your anger at his expense.

"Hey, hey," he starts, newly free hands resting on your shoulders, "Easy killer."

"There was plenty of space for him to run," you seethe, "He's a fuckin' asshole."

"It's okay," he promises, face relaxed, "It's okay."

"It's not okay," you sigh. You hold your half full cup and spoon out to him, "Have mine."

"But then you won't have one," he says, "I'm not taking yours."

"You already know you like the flavor," you insist, "I'll grab myself another one, I need a water anyway."

Eddie looks at the ice cream and then you, one dimple creasing when a side smile pulls at his lips, "Okay."

When you come back with your new ice cream he's settled down on a bench directly across from the Freedom Tower. You can see all the lights across the water from the Seaport, water taxis and mini dinner cruises coming in an out of dock in the haze of a midsummer night.

"Before Sandy, this used to be a weird sad looking mall," you say, sitting next to him, "And there used to be a really good restauarant called Red -- I loved it cause they never carded me."

"You go to college here?" he asks, you nod.

"I liked the mall cause there was a Bath and Body Works and a Christmas in New York store. I'd go in there every time I was homesick -- just felt cozy for some reason," you shrug.

"But the new stuff there is cool too," you say, taking a bite of your ice cream, "It's definitely like -- for rich people."

"Definitely for rich people," he agrees, his spoon sneaking over to your full cup, his empty one next to him. He steals a bite, letting the flavor savor on his tongue.

"Come on, why do you keep getting amazing flavors?" he sighs. You hold the cup tighter to yourself, a smile working on your lips.

"This one is just for me," you chide, "If you want more go get more."

"Nah, I just wanna taste it one more time," he says smoothly, quietly, leaning in. His hand finds your cheek, ducking in for a long slow kiss, "There we go."

Speechless, you just shake your head and take another bite when he breaks away.

"No, no, I think I need another one -- gotta get the full flavor profile," he smirks, loving the sounds of your giggle when he leans in again for another kiss. He gives you three loud smooches on the lips, enough to make a few people roll their eyes but neither of you notice. Too wrapped up in each other to really care.

Eddie's apartment is as it always is -- it smells like him, the walls are covered in knick-knacks and framed posters. Maximalism at it's finest -- organized chaos -- but somehow streamlined. You leave your sandals in the hallway, barefeet hugging the cold hardwood from the AC.

"You know what I could go for right now?" you ask. He looks up with his brows raised, putting his wallet and keys in a bowl by the door. He'd forget them otherwise.

"A mezcal marg," you say, "I'd fuck up a marg so hard right now."

"Well lucky for you," he starts, walking over to the bar cart behind the dining room table, he lifts up a bottle of Del Maguey Vida, "I have mezcal."

"Yay," you let out quietly, not too far off from our quiet cheer when you were wasted in his kitchen last week. You can tell he used to bar tend by the way he mixes drinks, how he slaps the mixer and shakes it, how he eyeballs the liquor. It's not long after you've situated on the couch that he comes over to you with your drink.

"Here cutie," he says, carefully passing it to you from behind the couch and walking around it with his own. The first sip confirms he's made these a million times, wonderfully smokey and salty, refreshing and fruity.

"Oh no," you laugh, "It's really good."

"I'll make you as many as you want," he takes a sip and settles down next to you, arm outstretched behind you, "Thank you."

"Why're you so good at everything?"

"Me?" he quirks his brow, "Nah, I'm just -- I have a lot of experience with like, mundane shit."

"No, no, you're like -- you're good at a lot of stuff," you nod, "Give yourself some credit."

You feel bold even though you've only had two sips of the margarita, but it gives you some courage nonetheless, "What else are you good at?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well --" the cat catches your tongue for a moment, suddenly unsure if you want to bring it up. But then again, he's already seen you at your almost most pathetic.

"I saw those handcuffs in your room the first time I was here," you start, "You good at tying girls up?"

He blushes hard, laughing off the embarrassment, "S'cuse me?"

"I'm serious," you laugh, "Are you good at tying girls up? Is that the kind of stuff you're into?"

"I -- wow -- um," he bumble through words trying to find an answer, looking down at his drink and then looking at you and back down again.

"I -- yeah," he shakes his head, surprised at his own confession, "Yeah, I'm -- I'm into that kind of stuff. Not like, not all the time -- but for some partners, sure, yeah." "So you are a little freak then," you tease.

"Maybe," he shrugs, "By the look on your face though it looks like you might be really interested in that."

You shrug back coolly, another sip of your marg giving you a moment to consider, "I can be."

"Yeah?" He leans back on the couch, legs spread open while he looks you over. He keeps his eyes on you, sipping slowly on his drink while he does. You start to get shy under his gaze, exactly what he was waiting for, "You think you could handle it, sweetheart?"

As expected, you roll your eyes, "Ew."

He puts his drink on a coaster on the coffee table, coming back up to give you a kiss, "You don't think it's ew."

"I know," you nod, letting his lips trail down your jaw to your neck and back up again. Unafraid, you crawl back onto his lap like you did the first night you were there. His hands wander more freely, sliding up and around your thighs, listening to your sounds and how you like to be touched. When you roll your hips he doesn't stop you this time, he lets you do it, savoring the relief he gets every time the pressure meets his hardening cock in his slacks.

"I'm not," Kiss, "Gonna do that," Kiss, "Tonight, though."

"Oh," you smirk, holdhing his face in your hands while you look down at him, "Are we gonna do it tonight?"

He blushes again, chastising himself for assuming what you wanted, "No, no, only if you want to. And I want it to be nice and like -- I want it to --"

You lean in for one more slow kiss to shut him up, he groans into it, "I want to."

Eddie gulps, looking up at you with a nod, "I'll um...I'll meet you upstairs."

He watches you get up and head towards the small spiral staircase, his mind buzzing a mile a minute. He collects the glasses and puts them in the fridge for later, cleaning up a bit while his hands nearly shake with nerves and excitement. Just as he's about to make it up the stairs he sees his phone start to buzz on the coffee table. Steve.

And normally he never does this, but for the first time in months he clicks 'Ignore' before heading up the stairs behind you.

You undress after him, trying not to gape at his body, trying to ignore the way it drives you insane. His tattoos dance with each move of his waist and arms, each flex of his thighs. He takes his time making his way over to the bed, sliding the throw to the floor when he sits on the edge of it to watch you.

Your dress comes off slow -- he beckons you forward to stand between his thighs. Neither of you speak while he cups your breasts in his hands, squeezing softly. You let out a quiet sigh when his lower lip drags against the top curve, pressing into a kiss. Moving to the next to take a nipple into his mouth, wet tongue sliding over it while his thumb teases the other.

Your hand reactively reaches for his head, pleasure starting as a line up your neck and down to your pelvis -- a whimper coming out of you involuntarily. He gives a final flick of his tongue before pulling your underwear down to your knees, letting them fall to your ankles. He looks up with a smile and a kiss to your lips, "Lay down for me."

He doesn't have to ask you twice, kicking kicking your panties off and sliding onto his bed. You lay back against the soft comforter and look up at him while he kneels over you, eyes gleaming while they take you in.

“Peach you’re…you gotta be fucking kidding me,” he lets out with an airy laugh.

You look up at him while he lets his eyes roam over you again, suddenly self conscious. You cover some of your chest with your forearm, tucking in on yourself.

“No, no baby,” he coaxes softly, “Show me, show me you.”

You reluctantly release, it had been a while since you were fully naked in front of someone. You grimace when your arms fall back flat on the comforter, hands daintily laying just above your head. He bites his lower lip, the pink in his cheeks flushing to a soft red. His hands reach up to the sides of your rib cage, eyes on you for silent permission.

“Jesus,” he says under his breath. His hands slide down carefully, cascading into the dip of your waist and up over your belly. One finger tip traces a stretch mark just above your pelvis that you wished he hadn’t noticed — that you forgot you had. His hands continue their journey over your hips to the tops of your thighs — your body warm and welcoming to his touch.

“You are gorgeous,” he whispers — partly to himself, partly to you.

You lean up on your forearms and look down at yourself briefly, “Yeah? You think so?”

“I uh – fuck –” he shakes his head in disbelief before leaning forward to kiss you, “I really think so.”

His lips come in for a long peck, settling himself over your calves, forearms and biceps flexing while he leans on his hands to steady himself on the mattress. He breaks away to kiss your neck – gentle, only a few before placing one soft kiss to your chest – working his way downward. He kisses the pad of fat on the peak of your ribcage, down to your stomach, right over the stretch mark that you wish you’d forget about now. He kisses the other side of your belly, mouth and breath warm while he does, eyes blown like he’s mapping you out.

You revel in the quiet, watching him savor you, adjusting to sit on his knees between your legs. He bends down like he’s praying, lips blessing the top of one of your thighs. He bends one of your legs up and out, kissing the inside of your knee.

“Please,” you whisper down at him. He kisses the inside of your knee again, feeling your weight shift in the bed while you open your legs further. He looks down between your thighs, brows tilting in awe at the sight of you bared for him.

“Push up on the bed a little, honey,” he instructs, so quietly you wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t so close. If the rest of the apartment wasn’t so still. You slide up on the comforter while he adjusts the pillows behind you, “That’s good? You comfortable?”

You nod breathlessly, his smile making you melt the more you see it in the light of his lamp in the corner. He kisses you again, hand reaching up behind your neck to pull you to him while you let his tongue into your mouth. It slides against yours with needy precision, wanting to get as close to you as possible while he does. When you part he lets out a shaky breath, nuzzling your nose.

“You okay?” you press your forehead to his.

“Yeah I’m just – I think I’m nervous,” he laughs, “You’re makin’ me nervous.”

“Why’re you nervous?” you ask, pulling back to look at him.

“I dunno. I guess I just,” he leans back, “I’m never normally thinking my way through it. At least I haven’t for a while.”

“What does that mean?”

“Like I was just taking people home to fuck, then they’d leave,” he shrugs, “I’m like…I’m taking my time and I wanna make sure it’s like – the best sexual experience you’ll ever have.”

“Sexual experience,” you repeat back in a tease, he puffs out a breath with a roll of his pretty brown eyes.

“I’m trying to be meaningful here,” he asserts, “M’trying to like – make love to you.”

You giggle again at ‘make love’ but cover your mouth, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry – I’m not making fun of you. That’s very sweet, Ed.”

He tinges an embarrassed pink and settles back on his knees, hands running through his hair.

“Baby,” you soothe, coming up to smooth your hands over his shoulders, “I’m sorry. I promise I’m not trying to make you feel silly or embarrassed. I’m nervous, too.”

“Baby…” he repeats back, a boyish grin pulling up on his lips, “I’m not a baby.”

“Yeah you are,” you nod, kissing his cheek, “You’re such a baby.”

“Thought I was an old man,” he says, that blushy grin still plastered on his face.

“You can be both.” You lay back against the pillows, watching him take a settling breath before coming back down to meet you for another taste of warm kisses. He lets himself press a loving kiss to your cheek before dipping down to leave intentional kisses down your sternum, following his map from your rib cage to your belly, the top of your thigh, the inside of your knee. Neither of you speak when he kisses the inside of your thigh, letting him part you right before his tongue starts to flick dutifully over your clit.

Your quiet gasp makes his eyes flutter closed, feeling you settle down into the pillows while his lips open over you, nose resting on the pudge of your mound. His tongue works steadily, working you while your legs bend and creep upwards, thighs to your chest. One hand reaches up to squeeze the inside of one, spreading you apart a little further for him. You feel the warmth of the back of his head as he leans to the side against your thigh, tongue dragging up over and over before moving right back to center.

“More,” you sigh out, starting to whimper, hips reacting to each flutter of his tongue. He start to suckle, eyes flicking up at the sound of your voice. He nods while he works, one hand coming up to slide a finger in either ease – he’s not surprised.

“Oh!” you squeak out, the little quake in your thighs makes him huff a laugh.

“Does this feel good?” he asks against your skin. He kisses your other thigh why he waist for an answer. You nod down at him, breaths picking up while his finger dips slowly in and out.

“S’really good,” you slur out, the tingle in your belly rising to an electric buzz.

“D’you like getting eaten out?” he asks, starting again. His middle finger pushes in with his index this time with mild resistance.

“Hmmm-yes,” you breathe out at the slight stretch, feeling him hook into you once his fingers push the hilt. You push up on your forearms and then your hands, the pleasure making you dizzy while you look down at him.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper. He obliges, head down and determined, sucking and teasing, the soft flick of his tongue getting you closer and closer. His fingers pulse, pushing in and in and in, the pads of his fingers pressing on your core that makes heat run through you. You aren’t sure if you’re numb with pleasure or you’re flooding over his finger, the buzz is becoming overwhelming. Your heart hammers, his fingers working in a controlled steady rhythm – too grown to know that when a girl’s about to cum you don’t speed up, you stay the course.

“ShhhitI’mgonnacum – ohmigodI’mgonnacum.”

His lips break away from your clit as you start to come undone, a smirk prevalent on his face when he leans in to kiss you through it. You moan so loud into his mouth it’s almost a cry – a prayer to God that you make it out with all your senses.

He feels the gush of your release over his first and middle finger, leaking plentifully into his comforter. He smiles when he breaks away from you — soft kisses on your cheeks while you shiver.

You flop flat on your back with a deep breath, shutting your eyes while you push air out of O shaped lips.

“You okay?” his low gravelly voice settling in your chest. You nod, a little hazy, shifting over a wet spot under your limp thighs. “Ugh.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, knowing that you can feel what you left behind. He squeezes your calf with a soft chuckle, “Just a lil’ mess, baby. D’y’need a minute?”

You nod, another deep breath, peeking through your heavy lids to watch him stretch over you while he clicks on another light. The sconces above his bed glow golden and soft above the both of you, glinting against his silver jewelry like a fire. Eddie’s form shifts the mattress when he lays next to you, rough palm smoothing over the top of your stomach to the opposite dip in your waist.

“That was uh…”

“Yeah…”

You lay there with each other, eventually finding the strength to move onto your side to face him. He’s confident now that you came, more sure of himself – he knows he can make you do it again.

“Don’t give me that look,” you chide.

He giggles darkly, face splitting smile pulling his cheeks up, “M’not giving you a look.”

“You are giving me a look.”

“M’just…you know – It’s always good to know you still got it,” he shrugs, falling onto his back. He tucks his hands behind his head, elbows splayed out on either side, biceps flexing, “And I still got it.”

“Yeah, yeah, you still got it old man,” you laugh, tucking yourself under his arm so that your head lays on his chest. You look down the expanse of him, fingertip tracing one of his tattoos that flows down to his lower stomach. His cock twitches, kicking up at the gentle touch so close to his pelvis. You let out a soft hum when one of his arms comes down to wrap around you, kiss pressed to the top of your head. You tilt up, noses brushing while your fingers still trace, searching lower until the scratch of stubble from week old manscaping finds you.

You kiss him first, moving out from under his arm, propping yourself up on your elbow while you guide him. He grunts out a low groan when your hand finally wraps around his cock, offering him steady strokes, giving him a type of relief he’s deeply needed this past month and some change. It’s not long before his fingers wrap around your wrist to put you back on the mattress, hard and leaking, desperate to be inside you. Your eyes linger on it while he leans over to grab a condom from his bedside table drawer, he smirks while he rolls it on.

“Ready?” he asks, cocky, tossing the foil packaging off the bed. You nod hurriedly, grinning while he props your hips up under a couple of his pillows.

Another kiss and he’s parting your legs again, fingers sinking into the fat of the back of one of your thighs while he guides himself down the slick slit of your core. He goes slow, tip teasing your clit before sliding down to your entrance. He’s concentrating, but he still flicks his eyes up at you beneath his feathered bangs before starting to push.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

He eases in, you feel the stretch immediately, legs springing up tight towards your chest. One, two, three short even thrusts before you’re slick enough to accommodate him. He pushes in slowly, both of you sighing in pleasure when he splits you open to the hilt, your legs parting further. His other hand meets your lonely thigh, gripping tight while he starts at a steady rhythm, head lolling back for a moment then coming back to center.

“Baby…” he starts, a growl of a grunt coming from his chest, “You – oh, honey – you feel so good, so — oh fuck...”

You can only respond with choked ‘uhn! uhn! uhn!’s at every thrust, the head of his cock plunging deep at this angle, nearly brushing your cervix. His kiss is welcomed when he lets go of your legs to lean forward over you, propping himself up on one forearm, hand on your cheek.

“That’s good? This feels good?” he pants into your mouth.

“Mhm,” you whine, “You’re so deep.”

“I know,” he coos, “M’really deep. You like that?”

“Yeah,” you squeak when his thrusts become intentionally strong and slow.

“Feelin’ me?” he asks, tip of his nose running along your cheek, forehead against your temple. You nod, groaning while he continues, holding his hips in place after every plunge into your core. His cologne and scent of his hair products blend together in a dark spice that makes your mouth water, eyes fluttering closed when you hear his breaths become gravelly – each one its own growl. You can barely think, your mind’s not able to keep up with the pleasure of where his cock keeps hitting, how full you feel, where his free hand wanders, how he kisses your neck. In the haze you realize that he likes this, he likes being in control.

Your body bounces against his hips when his thrusts start to pick up in speed, not fast like a jackhammer, but fast enough that the buzz in your belly becomes a vibrant hum. He gives you a final sloppy kiss on the neck and then the lips before leaning back up for more leverage, gripping your waist just above the flare of your hips.

“Look at me,” he huffs out, more of a command than a suggestion. Your heart rate quickens at the sound, bark and bite while his fingertips squeeze you. Your eyes snap to his like magnets, like when you first kissed after your date in the park.

“God,” he groans, “S-so – fuck – pretty.”

His next thrust hits a spot that makes you see white, a whimper choking out of your throat. You grab his wrist, whining, “Ohmygod there, right there.”

“There?” he teases softly, slowing down to slowly drag his cock in and out. He hits it again at an achingly low speed this time, but the pleasure is just as delicious.

“Yes, yes right there – please,” you don’t even know what you’re saying please for, what you’re asking. You just need to feel this, you need him to get you there. He quickens his pace, the slick and sloppy sounds of skin hitting skin and ragged breaths disrupting the quiet of the room. Tears pool in your eyes in pleasure while you cry out, back arching into each snap of his hips.

“More, more, more,” like a chanting prayer flows out of you, spurring him on. His heart thumps in his chest while he looks down at you, your face contorted, the way your breasts bounce. He resists the urge to reach down and clamp over your neck when you bare it to him, pushing yourself against the pillows. He busies himself by gripping your thighs again in a bruising hold, holding steady at a pace that clearly feels great for you but feels amazing for him. Eddie bites his lip, the sight and sound of you sending him reeling. He’s getting close, hips starting to stutter while your walls loosen a bit to accommodate him further, you’re already soaking his pelvis – you’re gonna cum, he can feel it.

You can feel all your sounds in your throat, kneels pulling together as the vibrant hum in your lower belly becomes a vibration. He doesn’t stop, grunting and huffing like a bull with each thrust while he tries to hold back. He pulls your knees apart to make space for him, chest to chest while he pumps in a little bit faster. Eddie’s mouth takes yours hungrily, greedily while he lets out an aching moan.

“Fuck – fuck - shit,” he growls, eyes clamped closed while your noses rest against each other. He keeps going, fucking you through his orgasm despite his shaking arms. At this position he can adjust to go a little deeper, and when he does you gush. He keeps going, feeling the pulses of your walls over his cock, a confident grin puffing out tired breaths.

You grip his biceps when he does one final hit that sends you over the edge, thighs and hips shaking when he does. You feel it in your whole body, goosebumps rising like you can’t handle it, back nearly aching in an arch that settles back down. Your moan turns into a cry – a real cry. You shudder while your body comes down, tears pouring down your cheeks and you can’t quite get yourself to settle down.

“Oh, honey no, did I hurt you? Are you okay?” Eddie swallows, voice back to soothing comfort while he eases up, “What’samatter? Did you not like it?”

You wipe your eyes but the tears still come, you shake your head no. Embarrassed from blubbering you try to cover your face but he smooths your hands away, “What’s wrong, Peach? Please talk to me. Was that too much? Was I too rough?”

“N-no,” you laugh a little, “Sorry, this is r-ridiculous. I’m – m’okay.”

“You don’t look okay,” he says. He settles on his calves, easing you up to sitting – with some coaxing he gets you straddled in his lap. The exhaustion from your orgasm distracts you from the stickiness between your thighs, the uncomfortable wetness leftover between your legs. You feel sleepy and soggy.

“Did I do something?” he asks again, hands cupping your cheeks while his thumbs swipe away oncoming tears.

“N-no it was ju-just really intense,” you swallow and cough, another sob racking through you, “J-just came really hard.”

He nods, looking at you intensely, “Do you just want me to hold you?”

You nod back and without a second though he pulls you tight into him, bringing you both back down sideways on the mattress. He lets you let it out, running the backs of his fingers along your back until you start to calm down, sobs shuddering down into sharp breaths, to normal ones, to slow.

“A little better?” he asks, quiet and sweet. You nod with your eyes closed, cheek squished against the comforter. Eddie smiles, easing the condom off his now softened shaft and tossing it in the bin under his night stand. He soothes you for a while, sitting on the side of you and running his palms over your back and thighs, over your calves, selfishly over the swell of your ass. He puts pressure on your lower back, between your shoulder blades, the top of your neck.

“This is really nice,” you croak out, feeling the warmth of his hands cascade gently over you.

“Sometimes it’s nice to just get worshiped, huh?”

You nod again, breaths steady, “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he confirms, “You deserve it, don’t you?”

“I do,” you smile.

“That’s my girl,” he coos. My girl, my girl, my girl.

It echoes through the both of you, the declaration – the claim, but neither of you say anything.In fact at this point, it looks like you might’ve fallen asleep.

Eddie takes the throw that had been pushed to the floor and covers you up for now, he’ll wake you later for pajamas and water and a snack. For now he figures you should just rest, you look so cute like this – all worn out ‘cause of him. He quietly slips on a pair of socks and gray sweats and pads his way downstairs to make you something, swiping up his phone to see two missed messages from Steve on his screen.

Big Guy💪👔 37m ago Did you just bitch button me?

Big Guy💪👔 37m ago What the fuck?

Big Guy💪👔 36m ago Photo notification.

Eddie rolls his eyes, opening his phone to his texts. His eye roll stops when the picture of Bandit curled up on his bed by the sliding door pops up. Eddie said the bed was way too big for him, but Steve insisted he’d grow into it.

Eddiesorry dude, i was busy. u around?

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago Taking Bandit on a night walk. You okay? You have a show tonight?

EddieNah. 🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago Hell yeah dude 😎 Congrats!

Eddiethanks man.just putting something together for her for when she wakes up.

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago fucked her to sleep lol

Eddie gotta change my middle name to nyquil 😎

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago so it was good huh?

Eddie i’ll tell you all the horny details tomorrow but honestly dude? i might end up loving this one.

He wakes you up later leaving gentle kisses on your forehead, set of his comfy clothes in his hand for you, “Made you a little snack downstairs, you hungry?”

You stretch, nodding, feeling a dull ache in your hips and inner thighs. You frown when he eases the throw off of you, forcing you to stand up and get dressed. Eddie’s scent is prevalent on his clothes, enveloping you again when he does the same with his arms.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you assure, looking up at him, “Now, don’t get a big head about this or anything – but that was easily some of the best sex I’ve had in my life.”

He lets go of you, shrugging with a smile and tilt of his head, “What can I say? I –”

“I said don’t get a big head,” you warn, stifling a giggle, “Don’t you go around bragging about it either.”

“Okay, okay, I won’t, I promise,” he holds his hands up, leading the way down the stairs.

“Not even Steve.” You follow him down, body taking over to lead you to the snacks he laid out on the counter of the island.

“Not even Steve,” he repeats, picking up his phone again.

Eddie she just told me that this was the best sex she’s ever had in her life lol i’m the fucking man

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago you da man 😎

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