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ethereal27cereal · 2 years

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Lover’s Lake - Eddie Munson Plus Size Female Reader Series

series masterlist - part 5/?

summary: The long awaited beach day is finally here! You and Eddie spend a fun filled day in the sun, sharing bits and pieces about your pasts, and wind up thinking about the future together.

warnings: Adult themes and content so MINORS DNI! mentions of previous smut and sexual experiences, use of the word fat (not used in a derogatory or bullying way), mentions of terminally ill parents, mention of childhood trauma (Eddie’s), let me know if I missed anything

genre: mostly fluff, mentions of smut

word count: 9.4K

author’s note: This took forever and a day to finally finish, but here we are. Thank you to all the lovely people who put up with me bitching and moaning through writing this part, I’m eternally grateful for your suggestions and support @boomhauer @kissmecaiti @wtf-lindsay @babys-interior I kind of left this one on a cliffhanger smut-wise because I didn’t want cram more in for what I have planned, but there will be some spicy stuff at the start of the next part, I promise. Any feedback or comments are always appreciated 💕

The porch light flickers overhead, casting dancing shadows across Eddie’s pale features as you lean in closer to his chest, both of you a bit unsure of how to proceed with goodbyes. Should you hug? A friendly wave? Would a kiss be too much? You stare up at him expectantly, absently licking your lips and hoping maybe he will get the hint.

His Adam's apple bobs as swallows a harsh gulp, clearly trying not to stare at your wet and inviting lips. The finger he has curled under your chin strokes a slow path along your jaw, trailing down the curve of your neck to rest tentatively on your shoulder. His plump lips quiver slightly, a silent question waiting on his tongue as he gives in and flicks his gaze down to your lips.

Am I being a hypocrite if I kiss her right now? I just got done with saying how I didn’t want to end the date on a sexual note, but fuck me, those lips. I need to kiss them again. And Christ, they would look so good wrapped around my cock…shit shit shit, don’t think that. Fuck she’s staring at me. Say something, something normal!

“I like your shirt. It’s really soft,” Eddie blurts, rubbing his fingers against the soft jersey knit. That’s normal, right? Her shirt is nice, just don’t think about what she would look like taking it off…fuck. Get it together, Eddie.

“Umm, thanks,” you smile shyly, bringing a tentative hand up to Eddie’s chest to trace a finger along the outline of the smiling devil on his Hellfire shirt.

“I’ll meet you at the lake at 2?” Eddie’s words come out as a nervous half statement, half question, focusing too much of his attention staring between your soft lips and your twinkling eyes and trying not to bash his head against the wall again as your fingers swirl absent patterns along his chest.

“2 sounds perfect…” you begin, trying to read into his warm brown eyes.

“You can kiss me, you know. I promise I will keep my hands mostly to myself this time,” you suggest with a smirk, biting your lip and putting both hands up on his chest where he can see them and splaying your fingers out like you have nothing to hide. He blinks rapidly, a boyish grin spreading across his face before he leans in, lips so close to yours you can feel the flutter of his warm breath fanning across your cheeks.

“If you’re sure you can behave yourself… I will do my best to be a gentleman because, god, I want to kiss you again,” he whispers, his bottom lip catching against yours with each drippingly sweet syllable. You nod and smile sheepishly, taking the opportunity to press your body flush against his. He stifles a groan and gives you a warning look, that you simply return with a flutter of your eyelashes and a pout of feigned innocence before capturing his lips against yours in a feathery soft kiss.

His heart pounds in his chest, attempting futilely to keep the kiss gentle, but a lava begins rising in his belly when your tongue languidly sweeps against his bottom lip. His whole body tingles when he parts his lips to let you in, mouth filling with flames at each gentle explorative swipe of your tongue against his. In a moment of heated boldness, you crawl your fingers up his chest, lightly brushing over the delicate skin of his neck before tangling into the soft curls at the nape of his neck and giving a gentle tug.

Something deeply carnal in him lurches to life and Eddie groans against your lips, gripping your waist a little too tightly when his knees nearly give out. Wildly unaware that you pulling on his hair could ever illicit that kind of overwhelmingly fiery feeling. The newly awakened molten beast inside him claws against his ribs, chest tightening, begging for you to do it again.

Emboldened by his reaction, you repeat the motion, teasing your fingers into his scalp as you pull a little harder this time. His back arches instinctively, releasing a soft moan that you greedily swallow down, hungry for him to give you more. But your senses come back to you with sudden clarity. You’re meant to be behaving. Not inciting a riot of the senses with kisses and touches that make you both feel like ripping each other’s clothes off and fucking right on the front porch.

With a sudden pop, you pull away from the kiss, knowing that if you stay there any longer you might find yourself back in the same situation you’d been in not more than twenty minutes ago. Fondling through thick denim, grabbing, groping, hasty in your race to the finish line. Old habits die hard apparently, especially when that’s what you’ve been told that’s all you’re good for.

You release your hold on the back of his neck, offering a gentle pat pat to his chest before bouncing up the last step to the door. Eddie watches you glide away, collapsing back against the wall and bringing a sweaty palm up to his forehead.

“Christ, that was um…thank you,” he mumbles, an adorably dazed and confused look glazing across his soft features. You giggle, fiddling your key into the large brass doorknob and turning back to face him, not quite sure what he is thanking you for, but feeling giddy from his response all the same.

“I’ll see you on Sunday at Lover’s Lake at 2,” you reiterate with a sweet smile, letting the heavy front door rest against your hip.

“Sunday at 2, I’ll be there,” Eddie promises, shakily coming to a full stand and backing off the porch. “With a picnic basket in hand, dressed in my best swim trunks,” he adds excitedly, catching himself before he almost trips over a potted plant.

“Good, I can’t wait,” you grin, suddenly feeling anxious about the fact that if Eddie is going to be in a swimsuit, that means he will see you in one too.

“Me neither,” he admits, again narrowly dodging another terracotta pot as he takes a few more steps backwards down the path leading toward his van.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” you giggle, slowly stepping inside the dark doorway.

“Goodnight, Y/N, sweet dreams,” Eddie replies, offering a sweet wave before turning to walk the rest of the crushed gravel walkway. As you go to close the door, you catch him fist pumping the air, a whispered “yes” hissing through the silence of night as he reaches the front of his van. You can’t help but let out a laugh.Eddie whips around at the sound, a shy grin on his face.

“Just pretend like you didn’t see that,” he assures, patting his hand definitively on the hood before shuffling backwards toward the driver’s side.

“See what?” you shrug your shoulders innocently. He beams and points a knowing finger at you. “Goodnight, Eddie,” you repeat.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Eddie says, maybe a little too loudly before hopping into his van and rumbling down the quiet street.

~*~

Everything about the guest room feels swelteringly warm and it’s making sleep impossible. You’ve already thrown off your sheets and stripped down to nothing but your underwear, but it still feels too hot. You toss and turn, trying to muster the energy to get up and open the window, but your body just sinks further into the mattress with exhaustion. Every other part of you feels physically ready to sleep, but your mind is buzzing. Maybe from the heat, but mostly from the constant whirring thoughts about Eddie and everything that has transpired in just a few short days, completely altering the entire trajectory of your summer.

When you had agreed to come stay with Holly, you weren’t really sure what to expect. You’d known some of your time would probably be spent helping out around the house and taking care of things. Since Holly’s father had been admitted to the hospital with his health taking a serious turn for the worse, Holly’s mother, Jen, had become a bit of an emotional wreck and that left Holly alone to pick up the pieces. So you tagged along blindly, helping Holly make sense of everything while still hoping for some time to catch up on a few books, see a few movies if there was a local theater, and just experience the slow down of a small town summer.

Not in your wildest dreams did you expect to meet someone like Eddie. Charming, mysterious, boyishly handsome with an endearing honesty that knocked the wind out of you sometimes. With his sweet, albeit slightly daunting and unfamiliar words from just a few hours prior rolling around in your head, a relationship with you, you’re trying not to get carried away with fantasies about what the rest of the summer with him could be like. The rational part of your brain is screaming, balking at the fact that you’ve only known him for only two damn days and that he still could just be playing you for a fool. But the soft gentle place deep inside your heart that has been told to be quiet for so long is set to burst with all of the potential romantic dates and outings you might get to experience for the first time with Eddie.

Shaken from your thoughts by the uncomfortable beads of sweat forming on your chest, you get up to open the window, hoping for a little bit of cross breeze when you hear someone slowly stomping up the stairs. The house had been quiet and dark when you’d come in, no sign of either Jen or Holly’s return and you’d figured with it now being 3 a.m. that they were probably both staying out for the remainder of the night. You suddenly begin to fear the worst, panic rising in your throat as you throw on your sleep shirt and grab the heaviest book you can find as a makeshift weapon, ready to leap on the intruder as soon as they make it to the top of the stairs.

You crack open the door, eyes blinking rapidly in your struggle to adjust to the darkness as you direct your gaze to the figure coming up the stairs. Just as their foot hits the top step, you throw yourself into the hallway, waving your hardcover copy of Lord of the Rings wildly above your head, prepared to bash the intruder with a book, brilliant plan.

“I have a really heavy book and I’m not afraid to use it!” you yelp in warning just as the intruder lets out a very familiar sounding scream and trips forward into the hallway, knocking you down along with them. You fumble around on the floor before hopping up quickly and flicking on the hall light.

“Holly?” you splutter, looking down at the girl still struggling to stand up, a hiccupy mixture of laughter and tears bubbling out of her. You reach down to offer her your her hand, dropping the book to the carpet near your feet with a gentle thud

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, you scared the shit outta me,” Holly wheezes, gripping your hand tightly as she brings herself to a wobbly stand. She shakes her head as she clutches her stomach, finally catching her breath again. “What was your plan there? You were going to knock me out and then what, read me a little bedtime story of Lord of the Rings?,” she lets out another strangled giggle.

“No, I mean yes, but I thought you were someone trying to break in. I didn’t really have time to think of a plan, so I figured a nice heavy whack to the head with a book would at least buy me a little time. You scared the shit out of me. I thought you were staying at Theo’s for the night,” you explain with a huff.

“I was going to, but I don’t know, he snores super loud and I couldn’t sleep, so I just drove myself home,” she admits quietly. “I’m sorry it’s so late. Did I wake you up?”

“No, I couldn’t sleep either. I was too hot. I’m sorry I threatened you with a book and I’m sorry I scared you,” you apologize, hoping Holly may have some newly acquired mind reading capabilities to know that you’re also a little sorry for how nasty you got with her the other day about everything. She is not completely off scott free, but you decide it would probably hurt less to let go of some of her misgivings rather than give up the only real friend you have.

“I’m sorry I scared you too. And I’m sorry if I overstepped a boundary in our friendship the other day with what I said. I want you to be happy, but when you call yourself fat and keep letting all these garbage men use you and toss you aside for just sex, it makes me angry and I worry about you,” Holly replies as if honing in on some clairvoyant powers, letting everything spill out at once before bringing her thumb to her lips and gnawing on the reddened flesh.

“But, Holly, I am fat,” you begin, giving her a look of disgusted speculation before she interjects.

“No you’re not, you’re beautiful,” she insists.

“Holly, I’m fat. But fat and ugly are not synonymous. I can be both fat and beautiful at the same time, one does not define the other. It’s not always been easy to see it that way, but it’s true, and I’m genuinely trying to see that more about myself,” you impart, trying not to sound as bitter and jaded as you feel. The nagging voice inside you bites and screams at this positive revelation, trying to conjure up other ways to take you down, but you hold your ground.

“I guess I’ve just always heard it as a negative. I know words can hurt and I guess I just thought I was being helpful by glossing it over and avoiding talks about your weight, but I can see how that isn’t really very validating either. I fully admit that I don’t understand it, I don’t really think I ever really will fully be able to, so just tell me what I can do to be supportive and I will do it,” Holly clarifies hurriedly, pausing her incessant chewing on her thumb to gauge your expression.

You swallow harshly, bile and the bitter sting of jealousy burning your throat on the way down. Holly really would never get it. And maybe that is okay, but it still hurts. She has never had an excess pound of flesh on her in her life and she always has a steady stream of men begging for her attention. Not just for sex, but for romance and relationships and real love. She gets flowers and chocolates on Valentine’s day, gets taken out for fancy dinners, and she gets told she’s beautiful and there’s not even a ‘but’ to follow it up.

Holly has the choice of whether she wants to have men for just wild random sex or for a meaningful romantic relationship. She’d had several opportunities to settle into something real with several excruciatingly nice guys, an opportunity you would’ve leapt at, but she decided to turn it down in favor of sampling all her options, just because she could. She accuses you of choosing trash men, but she does not have a perfect track record of picking winners every time either. She has dated and slept around with her fair share of losers, but maybe the fact that she can bag Prince Charming tomorrow if she wanted makes it more okay for her to do so. She is always treated as a priority, never an option. And that’s just a possibility you have a hard time fathoming for yourself.

Your feelings for Holly always mingle somewhere between heartfelt admiration and intense loathing. She’s the best friend you’ve ever had and know that she would do just about anything in the world for you and you would do the same for her, but it will most likely be a cold day in hell before the creeping green glow of jealous doesn’t flicker behind your eyes every time you see another pitiful man fall for her waifish charm.

“I don’t really know what to say, or how to say it,” you begin, still unsure of just how to get past apologies, but the unwelcome tears of frustration welling in your throat have you wishing you could just get through a difficult conversation without crying for once.

“And I hate to admit it,” you try again, sputtering out a wet laugh and shaking your head. “But you were right about a lot of it, everything you said before. I have let some really trash men into my life because that is what I thought I deserved. And then when I realized that even though they didn’t really like me, they liked having sex with me, I felt like that was what I was supposed to do,” you explain, deciding it is a better route to admit your wrongs and start fresh rather than hold on to bitterness. A choked sob slips from your lips, echoing through the dimly lit hallway and Holly reaches out tentatively to pat your shoulder, a silent expression of concern pinched on her soft features.

“It’s proving to be kind of a hard habit to break. The whole ‘men only want me for sex so find the fastest way into their pants’. It kind of bit me in the butt tonight. But I’m really trying to have it be different this time,” you shrug and sniffle, biting at your lip to keep more tears from coming.

“What do you mean ‘different this time’?” Holly ponders. You collect yourself with a deep breath, attempting to put the right words together to explain how things were going with Eddie without sounding horribly cliche.

“With Eddie, I mean. It just feels different. Probably because he is different,” you sigh and shrug again, cringing a little at just how trite you must sound, “ I’m still trying to get used to him saying nice things and seemingly meaning them without any ulterior motives. But tonight he told me that he wanted more than just sex,” you admit softly, leaning against the wall as a sudden weight feels like it is lifted off of you.

“So more than just sex, as in anal sex. Damn, I knew that boy would be freaky,” Holly deadpans, snapping her fingers and ribbing your side playfully.

“Jesus, Holly,” you mutter, bringing your palm up to cover your face, hiding the involuntary grin that is taking over your features. It feels nice, nice to tell her these things again, and you feel your cheeks twinge from the strain of smiling so hard.

“Seriously though, that’s like a really big deal,” she replies calmly, even though she looks like she’s about to burst at the seams with pent up questions she’s just dying to ask.

“Go ahead, I can tell you have lots more you want to say or ask so just hit me with it,” you retort and she jumps up and down with delight, letting out a little girlish squeal as she grabs both your shoulders tightly.

“Oh my god, okay, yes. First let me get out of these stupid shoes and we can get more comfortable. Sleepover in my room?,” she babbles, chewing her lip nervously with her final suggestion. You nod with a smile and follow her eagerly as she bounds into her dark room, lacy shadows etching the cotton candy pink walls when she flicks on her bedside lamp.

Immediately toeing off her shoes and shrugging off every layer, Holly slips a thin frilly nightgown over her head and leaps onto the bed, always seemingly unfazed by getting undressed in front of you. Trying to be just as unfazed by the unfamiliar sisterly intimacy, you tug at the hem of your well worn sleep shirt, pulling it down to cover the thick expanse of your soft thighs as Holly burrows under the covers and pats the spot next to her for you to hop in.

With her pleadingly gentle eyes, Holly asks you to tell her everything you’re willing to share.So you tell her. Everything. Every stupid little detail from every last minute with Eddie comes pouring out of your mouth, things you didn’t even know you have been feeling, all spilling out of you in a babbling rush. How Eddie wants to be in a relationship. How you’ve invited him to Lover’s Lake, and how you are a little nervous about him seeing you in your swimsuit, but you’re beyond excited to spend the day with him. You fully allow yourself to gush about him freely, without indulging the fears that swirl in the pit of your belly, silencing the creeping crawling voice inside your head that only wants to make you feel small.

You tell Holly everything that’s been weighing on your mind until you’re practically blue in the face and the pinky yellow hues of sunrise are streaming in through the curtains. And she listens. Doesn’t pass judgment or offer many opinions, but wholeheartedly listens. Waiting with bated breath for each new detail that you reveal and trying to stifle her yawns when her bedroom bursts with glittery rays of light. For fear of waxing poetic and getting ahead of yourself, you try to ignore all of the overlapping metaphors of a new dawn with your new sense of self, and settle into a deep sleep as the sun bathes the room in a soft warm glow.

~*~

It’s 2:25, actually 2:28 because your watch runs slow. But either way Eddie is late, and you are trying not to work yourself into a tizzy about it. You attempt to focus your attention on reading The Princess Bride again, pages roughly curled back under your fingers as you tug the oversized beach towel around your shoulders tighter, but your eyes keep flicking up to scan the clearing in the trees that has been made into a makeshift parking area for any sign of Eddie’s van.

Lover’s Lake beach isn’t really much of a beach, rather just a thin stretch of pebbled shoreline where the trees don’t grow as thickly. Summertime sunshine packs the little oasis with families, teens, and everyone in between, all looking to escape some of the heat without the chemical chlorine burn of the local swimming pool. On your previous visits to the lake, you’ve always opted for a more secluded area of the shore, trekking through trees until you find a nice rocky outcropping to settle on and occasionally dipping a toe or two into the water.

But today, Holly insisted on getting to the beach early, claiming she wanted to get a good spot and didn’t want to do your usual hike through the woods to find one. So you’ve been sitting alone for nearly an hour, trying to tune out the incessant giggling as Holly fawns over Theo’s exceptionally bronzed and hairy six pack. He’s been playing a game of tossing her into the water for the last 20 minutes, and you swear if you have to hear another one of her girlishly playful protests you’re going to drown them both.

Shortly after arriving, you had been a little too eager to strip off your cover-up shirt and shorts, thinking you might get a touch of sun before Eddie arrives, but the small beach is a little too crowded and you don’t feel like making comparisons with all the other well-tanned and toned bodies lounging around in the sunshine. So instead you curl up on a blanket, cocoon yourself in terry cloth, frumping as you read, despite the gloriously sweet scene between Buttercup and the man in black unfolding before your eyes.

The man in black has just revealed himself to be Buttercup’s long lost farm boy, Westley, and they are about to enter the Fire Swamp, but all you can think about is the very real possibility that Eddie has stood you up. He was early when he’d picked you up for Hellfire, and you had reminded him at least twice that you would be meeting at 2, so where the hell is he?

You groan and try to focus harder on the words on the page, if you can’t have romance then at least Buttercup gets to. You’re so focused on focusing that you don’t even hear the gentle shuffle of pebbles on dirt as someone approaches your cozy beach set up.

“As you wish. Such a great book,” his soft lilting words shake you from your concentration as you look up to see Eddie, offering a soft smile and a stilted wave as he proudly displays a rather sizable picnic basket, precariously balancing a small cooler against his hip. You try to smile back, but your frustration at his tardiness must be evident as his smile fades and he tugs his bottom lip anxiously between his teeth.

“I’m really fucking sorry I’m so late, sweetheart. I had everything all set up and then forgot that I don’t own anything even remotely close to a bathing suit, so I had to borrow one from my buddy, Steve, and well…” he trails off, slowly moving aside the picnic basket to reveal what you can only imagine was his last possible resort for swimwear.

Eddie is wearing a blindingly bright pair of swim trunks that only go down to his mid thigh, leaving a rather shocking amount of his pale hairy legs exposed. A chaotic splattering of neon pink, green, and orange shapes fight for space on the black polyester fabric, a blur of triangles, trapezoids, and other shapes you can’t possibly recall from 10th grade geometry. It’s the type of design that will make you dizzy if you look at it for too long, but it’s incredibly hard not to stare. You attempt to focus on the pops of light pink squiggles that overlap the shapes like little bits of confetti, but you find your gaze darting up and down the expanse of his legs, a little too eagerly soaking in the sight of all of his newly exposed skin. Eddie shifts uncomfortably in front of you, and clears his throat.

“We have very different styles, my friend Steve and I,” he mutters shyly, setting down the picnic basket and cooler but still hesitantly standing in front of you.

“Well I think you and Steve should swap clothes more often, I think you’re rocking that look. It’s a bit confusing with the Black Sabbath tee, but you pull it off,” you wink, all of your resentment about his lateness fading away.

“Oh yeah? I’m glad you like it,” he replies weakly, cheeks flushing pink with the compliment. He glances down at your towel shrouded frame, saying nothing, but smirking when he sees you start to shrug the towel off your shoulders and scoot over to make room for him on the blanket. He silently sits down cross legged next to you and begins to open the picnic basket.

For a man who looks like he sustains himself on microwave meals, gas station hot dogs, and most likely toxic amounts of Mtn Dew, Eddie has put a surprising amount of effort into packing and preparing this kind of spread. He pulls out a small stack of individually bagged sandwiches, each of them delicately sliced along the diagonal with little peeks of various fillings spilling out. Next, he displays an array of chip varieties. Classic Lays, Doritos, and salt and vinegar in a neat row with their foil packaging reflecting in the sunshine as he moves on to unpack a few assorted bundles of fruit and other various snacks. He pops open the cooler to reveal layers of soda, ice, and beer, the cans already beginning to bead with condensation.

You give him a look of astonishment, trying not to get emotional over how much thought he has clearly put into all of this. He catches your eye and shrugs, mumbling something about how he didn’t know what everyone would want so he just went all out. Eddie settles himself into the blanket further and tugs his shirt off over his head to reveal more of his pale skin. Quickly trying to memorize every freckle, scar, and tattoo scattered across his chest, your eyes flit across his alabaster torso, picking up on details that you couldn’t make out before in the darkness of the back of his van. Sinewy muscles flex as he leans over to collect the assortment of sandwiches in his large palms, holding them up to you in a display against his solid chest.

“I have peanut butter and jelly, ham and cheese, tuna salad, and turkey,” Eddie’s voice thick and deep as he catches your roving eyes in his soft brown ones. You select the peanut butter and jelly and he chooses the ham and cheese, wasting no time ripping into the salt and vinegar chips and adding a layer of the chips to his sandwich. You tentatively bite into your sandwich, not bothering to wait for Holly and Theo to join in on the picnic while it’s fresh since they seem to be in a world of their own. Peanut butter sticks to the roof of your mouth, gumming up your words as you look over at him in speculation at his interesting sandwich creation.

“Is that good?,” you scrutinize, swallowing down the thick glob of sandwich before speaking.

“It’s really good, you wanna try?” he replies, cheeks full of food as he eagerly waves the sandwich over to you. You politely decline, preferring to keep your chips entirely separate from your sandwich. You both enjoy the picnic spread in relative silence, offering a few bits of small talk here and there with how he spent the rest of his work week and what you have been getting up to in your spare time.

“So The Princess Bride, I’ve read that book about a million times. Did you know they’re making a movie based on it? It’s supposed to come out this September,” Eddie inhales the last bite of his second sandwich and taps at the tattered cover of the book sitting next to your thigh.

“It’s probably one of my favorite books. I’m excited to see how they’re able to bring it to life on screen,” you share, trying not to sound too over eager about this new found shared interest with Eddie. You polish off the last handful of your Doritos, dusting the red remnants off your fingers before taking a swig of ice cold soda, bubbles and emotions fizzing down your throat.

“We should go and see it together, when it comes out,” he suggests, slowly glancing up at you and then busying himself with packing away the rest of the picnic lunch so it stays fresh for Holly and Theo.

“But by September, I’ll be back in Indianapolis, at college,” you reply gloomily. You have been trying to have a positive spin on this whole summer relationship thing, but the reality is that in about two months' time, you will be back to the drudgery of regular life and Eddie will stay here in Hawkins.

“I will come and visit you then. Take you out on a nice date to some fancy big city theater and we can make a weekend out of it,” the words and ideas tumble out of Eddie’s mouth before he has a chance to catch them. He immediately looks down at his neon swim trunks, tugging at the drawstrings and hoping he hasn’t just scared you off as one of his fantasies of a future with you slips out.

He means what he says with all his heart, but he’s having a hard time figuring out if you feel the same way. Eddie feels constantly baffled by your desire to get into his pants, not that it’s an inherently bad thing, but he’s worried he will only end up disappointing you. His efforts to slow things down, though coming from a genuine desire to form a real connection with you, stem from deeper fears of inadequacy than even he would like to admit. He knows as soon as he has the opportunity to bury his cock deep inside you, he will be too far gone in his feelings for you, making it even harder to let you go when you inevitably get tired of him. All that compounded on the fact that he’s not even sure his 30 second fumble in the front seat of his van with an overzealous groupie even counted as a real first time. Was it really losing his virginity if he was too terrified and high to come? He doesn’t know the answer to that question, or how to feel about how he stole your panties like a truly sex-starved virgin and then jacked off to them, just further solidifying the pervy behavior. These thoughts rattle around his brain and leave his insides doing knots, making it so each new moment with you feels like he is well beyond his depth.

From the brief allusions you’ve made to past relationships and your seemingly open forwardness, he assumes your sexual experience is vast miles beyond his, a daunting possibility that has him over analyzing his every move. The other night in his van was only the third time he has ever done anything like that, his efforts to be smooth and experienced coming out as silly one liners and what he was sure was desperation, begging for cuddles post orgasm. Since then, he’s been fighting the urge not to pop a boner if you even look at him, feeling so needy for touch that he has to steady himself from passing out whenever you so much as brush your hand against his. A battle between his sexual and romantic inexperience and his ever present self-loathing rages on his mind, and he doesn’t hear you the first few times you try to get his attention back.

“Eddie? Did you hear me?,” you interject his thoughts and he snaps out of his reverie to see your soft face peering over at him.

“Sorry, my brain croaked for a second. What’d you say?,” Eddie shakes his head and smiles, trying to bite down his nervousness as he waits for the answer to his suggestion of a fall weekend together.

“I said I would really like that. Having you come to visit and seeing the movie with you, that would be really nice,” you answer shyly. You would be lying if the promise of seeing him through September didn’t make your brain go haywire, but you are trying to play it cool and casual, as casual as someone can be who feels like they’re on fire.

He grins and looks down, clearly lost in his own thoughts again. As he focuses on the dizzying pattern on his shorts, you find your eyes studying over his frame again. Memorizing the soft frizzy curls that cling to the back of his neck, the light dusting of freckles that dot along his shoulder blades, inky creatures you hadn’t noticed before traced in delicate lines over the expanse of his back and sides. You notice along the peaks of his shoulders, down the length of his arms, and the bridge of his nose are no longer the glowing pale white they were when he arrived, but rather a glaring angry red as the sun beats down on his exposed flesh.

“Eddie, did you put on any sunscreen before you came?,” you quiz gently, reaching out to feel the burning warmth of his bicep under your fingers. He shakes his head and studies your expression.

“No, I don’t even think I own sunscreen. I don’t see the sun very often, as you can tell,” he holds up his arm and glances down at the fiery red skin, muttering an ‘oh shit’ as he discovers just how burned he is getting. You quickly rummage into your bag and grab out the sunscreen, figuring that while it might not be of much use now, it will at least keep the still pale parts of him from getting scorched. You shrug your protective towel around your shoulders and position yourself behind him.

“You’re turning into a lobster, here let me help,” you offer, squeezing the white lotion into your palm and rubbing your hands together. He shivers as you begin to rub in the thick, cool lotion, carefully brushing his hair out of the way before smoothing circles over the angry skin on his shoulders and covering every inch of his back. You shuffle around to kneel in front of him, squirting more lotion into your hand. He sits up on his knees cautiously to expose more of himself, tilting his chin up and holding in a shaky breath as you rub the lotion down his arms. You push his curls back and begin a steady path over his shoulders and down onto his chest, rubbing in the lotion there and moving south to cover the soft expanse of his belly. He inhales sharply when your fingertips trail down along the waistband of his swim shorts, and you take a moment to look up at his face, only to see his eyes squeezed shut and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

“You look like I’m torturing you. Everything alright?,” you pause your movement, letting your fingers hover over the flaming sword tattooed on his hip. He gulps and opens his eyes, pupils dilated to wide inky pools as he stares back at you.

“I’m good, great. It’s just…cold,” he insists, offering a halfhearted thumbs up and trying to steady his breathing. He shouldn’t be this worked up over you rubbing sunscreen all over him, but the fantasies are running rampant in his mind and before he even has a chance to think of something else, his dick is solid as a rock and throbbing against the constricting mesh lining of the swim shorts.

“”You almost done?” he asks with a wince as you press your palm fully against his hip to rub in the chalky streaks you’d left behind. You hide a smirk when you glance down to his lap, not sure if it was the pattern playing tricks on your eyes or if you saw the hard outline of his cock twitch against the fabric.

“Almost done, let me just get your cheeks and nose,” you giggle, smearing a small glob of lotion on your fingertips and bringing it up to his face. If he looked like he was being tortured before, he looks as though he’s being full on dismembered now. He scrunches his face in a horrible grimace and automatically flinches away from your touch as your fingers dot against the apples of his cheeks, trying to rub in the lotion despite the hard lines and creases his pinched expression is causing.

“Try to relax a little bit though. If I can’t rub it in well you won’t be a lobster anymore, but you’ll end up looking like Casper the friendly ghost,” you warn, and he grins, more wrinkles forming on his face before he lets out a puff of warm air and tries to calm his features. With his cooperation, you quickly rub in the rest of the white smears across his cheeks and smoothe down the strong line of his nose before giving it a little boop as you finish.

“There, all done. We just have to wait a little before getting in the water for it to soak in,” you settle back into your spot on the blankets and wrap the towel back around your shoulder again, still not ready to show off the full glory of your swimsuit until you are able to quickly disappear into the water.

Eddie finally opens his eyes and turns to give you a dramatically pained look before taking a long swig from his soda and staring off over the water. You’re both silent for a moment, watching the gentle lapping waves on the shore, until with a burst of jumbled words, you both try to speak at the same time. You both politely encourage the other to speak first, his long fingers tucking a curl of hair over his chin to hide the flushing heat rising in his cheeks.

“I was just going to ask if you’d been to the beach a lot when you were a kid, since you grew up here. What were you going to say?,” you ask shyly. Eddie’s lips press together in a thin line, as if debating the question he’s going to answer first before speaking.

“I was going to say did you know that most lobsters are actually brown, orange, or blue and it’s the boiling process when we cook them that breaks down their hard outer shell and leaves just their red skin showing,” he blurts, diverting entirely from your question, and from his own original thought as well. He was going to say what a nice time he is having spending the day with you, despite his own skin boiling like a lobster’s and being slathered in chalky sunscreen, but that sounded lame the more it swirled around in his brain, and he didn’t even know where to begin with your question.

Sure, sometimes I came out here as a kid when my dad got too drunk and violent to be around and my mom was too sick to get out of bed and do anything about it. So yeah, loads of happy lakeside childhood memories to share. Nope, not on the third date at least. Since he couldn’t share all that, the first thought that pops into his head is a benign memorized fact. He has several just like it for moments like these in particular, he’s learned it’s better to baffle with bullshit and divert away from the hard questions rather than share things that might leave him feeling a little too vulnerable, might make cracks in the hard exterior he’s worked years to build.

“And are you like the lobster in this scenario? Your pasty white outer shell being boiled away by the sun to reveal soft squishy red skin,” you tease and poke your finger into the ticklish flesh at his ribs, hardly missing a beat with his off the wall remark and quickly deciding against pressing him to answer your initial question.

“I mean, sure, if you want to get all metaphorical with it, I was purely just filling you in on some interesting marine creature facts, princess,” he replies with a wheezing giggle as he dodges away from your wiggling fingers that are going back in to tickle more.

“I’m feeling like I’m about to cook like a lobster too, you ready to get in the water?” you emphasize your point by fanning a hand in front of your face, dramatically letting it fall to rest on his bare knee. He nods in agreement and quickly hops up from his spot

With a shaky deep breath, you stand up from the blankets, letting the towel fall at your feet in a more dramatic reveal than you intend, but all the same garnering an appreciative gasp that Eddie tries to cover with a forced cough. You fight the urge to wrap your arms around yourself to hide all the ripples and rolls you’re sure are highlighted through the thin spandex as his eyes rake over your body, a dumbfounded look twinkling in his chocolate brown eyes.

“My god, you look amazing. You look beautiful...that swimsuit..it..just…wow,” he rambles, nodding vigorously and puffing out his cheeks as he lets a thin stream of air fizz out of his pink lips.

You smirk in reply, feeling a heat rise to your cheeks as you smooth out the delicate layers of ruffles that cascade down vertically from the deep v neckline, clearly some designer’s futile attempt at creating slimming angles in addition to the all over black color of the suit. It isn’t the worst bathing suit on the market for larger bodies, but it certainly isn’t the fashionable high cut red bikini that Holly is sporting. The plunging neckline does wonders at enhancing your already ample chest, and the ruffles actually do a little something to accentuate your waist, but it still feels utterly too exposing, even in front of a man who has already seen you naked.

“Ready?,” you raise your eyebrows in question and nod towards the water.

He nods, smiling dumbly and pulling his gaze away from your breasts. Before giving him a chance to reply, you dart off towards the water, shouting a teasing “race ya” behind you as you crash into the cool lake. You wade backwards into the shallows, watching as Eddie frantically kicks off his shoes and nearly falls on his face as he hops on one foot to yank off his socks. Finally just in his swim trunks, he scurries in after you, quickly catching up to your slow drifting pace into deeper water.

“Hey! Not fair, you were already completely undressed and had a head start,” giving an exaggerated pout before grabbing onto your waist to gently tug you back to him. Your feet shuffle on the silty lake bottom and you press against his chest.

“Fine, fine. We can do another race then. I will race you to the jetty out there,” you resign with a smirk, pointing off to the floating dock that’s bobbing up and down about 100 meters in the distance.

“Unless you’re feeling particularly inclined to give me CPR today, I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Eddie chuckles lightly, but a look of panic that flashes in his eyes tells a different story.

“Alright, I won’t use CPR as an excuse to kiss you then. I’ll do it just because I want to,” you giggle, moving slowly against the weight of the water to place a chaste featherlight kiss to his soft mouth.Your lips hover tentatively in the wake of his warm breath, waiting to see if he will come back in for more. With a soft moan, Eddie’s lips meet yours again in a deeper, hungrier kiss. His large hands squeeze at your hips as he nibbles gently on your bottom lip, your bodies slowly rocking with the motion of the current. He releases your mouth slowly and leans his forehead against yours, a million thoughts racing through his head, but none of them coming to the surface.

He silently pulls away, fearing that if he looks into your eyes any longer he will most certainly spill way too much information. About how silly he feels for missing your kisses after just two days apart, about how he’d let you drown him a thousand times over if he got to wake up to your lips against his. Much too much too fast, so he says nothing, opting to hold your hand gently in his and tiptoe deeper into the water.

“Do you not know how to swim, or is this one of the areas that Eddie Munson is not naturally talented in?,” your voice soft as it breaks the silence, licking your lips as you manage to catch your breath again.

You turn to wade backwards slightly a step ahead of him to test out the depths, still holding on to his calloused hand as the water level rises higher up your chest with each step. You take a step backwards and suddenly feel nothing beneath your feet, finally reaching the plateau of where the sloping shallows become drastic depths. Bobbing on your tiptoes quickly to keep yourself from going under, you press against Eddie’s chest to stop him.

“I know the basics, I guess. I, uh, didn’t exactly learn how to swim in a conventional way,” Eddie remarks, settling lower in the water so it tickles the tips of his curls as he thinks back. His eyebrows knit together for a moment, like he’s remembering something unpleasant before his features smoothe over again into a soft, yet sad, smile. Despite how open he has been with most things, Eddie hasn’t shared much about his past. He has let a few vague stories about his Uncle Wayne slip out, but he’s made no mention of any other important figures in his past or present besides the few friends you had met during Hellfire club, and you are unsure if now is the time to probe into that.

“So how did you, or um, who taught you how to swim?” you ask cautiously, attempting to gauge his expression for any hint of discomfort, but he’s unreadable.

“My dad used to come out here at night to get.. uh…to fish off one of his buddy's boats. He took me out with him one time when I was about 7 or 8, super late at night, he was already…well he uh…he was already in fine spirits before we even got out on the water. We weren’t catching anything and he thought it would be funny if he tossed me into the water and told me to swim back to shore as fast as I could,” he filters out some of the unsavory details and pauses for a moment to look up into your eyes, his soft features clenched into a firm expression.

“I’d only been to the pool maybe once or twice, and never had a swim lesson before, but I made it about a good 10 yards before I started swallowing a bunch of water,” he gulps slowly, as if recalling the cold wet feeling of water filling his lungs.

“Did he actually make you swim all the way back to shore?,” you wonder softly, squeezing onto his fingers a little tighter than you mean to.

“No, he let me flail around for a little bit though before he came and hauled me out. So that’s how I learned to swim,” Eddie replies with a passive shrug. He looks down into the water where your fingers intertwined with his, an unexpected smile creeping across his face. With a dramatic flourish, he rolls his eyes back in his head, crashing backwards with a splash before disappearing below the water.

Bubbles rise to the surface as you wait for him to come back up. By now you’re at least a little familiar with his desire for drama, and this showing seems in line with his behavior, although strangely timed with his previous swimming horror story, but you’re not too worried. Seconds begin to tick by and he slowly releases your hand that he’d been holding, panic suddenly surges through your system as you reach down into the water to yank him back up, completely dead weight as you hold him in your arms.

“Eddie? Eddie!” you gently pat at his expressionless cheeks, hoping for some kind of response but he gives you nothing. You offer another few frantic taps to his cheeks and chest before Eddie abruptly comes to life, eyes flashing open as he shouts an excited boo. In an instant of sheer frustration and fear that you can’t seem to control, you flail your arms out at him, striking against any part of him that you can reach before he quickly sinks away, hands raised in defense. You stop your assault when he’s out of arm’s reach, uncontrollable tears beginning to stream down your cheeks.

He laughs playfully as he approaches you again, thinking that he’s just played a harmless little prank until he sees the way you’re visibly shaking in the water. You’re gulping for air as you fight your natural response to being scared, which is always to cry.

“Oh shit, Y/N, I’m sorry,” Eddie begins before you cut him off.

“You jerk, what the hell was that?,” you croak, futilely wiping away tears with already wet hands.

“I’m so sorry. I thought you would think it was funny, with the whole CPR jokes and me being a bad swimmer, I thought maybe you’d give me mouth to mouth and then we’d laugh and…,” he explains, terror streaking across his face now as he realizes what a mistake he’s made.

“Well it would’ve been a whole lot funnier if I didn’t legitimately think you were drowning,” you scoff and try to collect yourself.

“Huge oversight on my part, sweetheart. I’m really really sorry. What can I do to make it up to you? Can I give you a hug? God, I’m batting 2 for 3 on making you cry during our dates, maybe I can make it up to by letting you drown me,” he babbles profusely, shaking out his wet curls and inching closer to you in the water.

“I should’ve taken another step back there and dragged you into the depths with me,” you threaten with a chuckle, voice still watery as you stretch your arms out silently for a hug. He immediately scoops you up into his strong arms, wrapping you up tightly and whispering more apologizes into the crook of your neck. “And for future reference, I hate being scared and will slap, kick, and flail to get away from whatever is scaring me, even if it’s you,” you murmur against his collarbone, offering him a warning bite to the tender flesh there.

“Ow, I totally deserved that. And that fact is most definitely noted, no more jump scares, pinky promise,” he pulls away slightly from the hug to wiggle his long pinky in between your chests, you loop your smaller pinky in his, sealing the promise with a soft kiss.

~*~

The rest of the afternoon passes by in a blissful blur. Cool water ripples over your bodies as you splash and play in the waves, clinging tightly to one another to catch your breaths before floating aimlessly through the lake in a tangle of wet kisses and grasping limbs. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Holly and Theo packing up their things and leaving the shore. You offer them a wave, but you’re still not ready to leave the warm comforting oasis you’ve found in Eddie’s arms.

With a great deal of sugared words and convincing, you try to teach Eddie how to tread water at the edge of the drop off. He insists you hold on tightly to his arm to offer support, and you praise the little splashing kicks he makes as he flails them under the water, though he would probably have more success if your usual riding a bike analogy worked since he doesn’t know how to do that either. Despite your best efforts, your teasing payback for his earlier stunt in the form of stories about lake monsters and comments about the murkiness of the water have him leaping back to the safety of where his feet touch the bottom when a bit of driftwood touches his toe.

In the blink of an eye, the evening sun begins to cast slanting shadows along the shoreline, signaling that it might be finally time to get out of the water. With pruney fingers and aching cheeks from all the smiling, you and Eddie trudge out of the water just in time to watch the sun dip down below the tree line.

“I know it’s already been a long day, but I’m not ready for it to be over yet,” Eddie begins with a shy smile, picking up his watch from the pile of his belongings and then looking back up at you with hopeful doe eyes. You reply with the same sentiment, but you don’t want to suggest anything that might be considered too pushy or forward.

“We could go park somewhere again,” he offers, seeing the smirk forming on your lips and immediately backpedaling. “It’s just, most places aren’t open past 9, and so… It doesn’t have to lead to anything, just want to be clear with that. But we could talk more, cuddle, make out a little, but we don’t even have to do that if you don’t want to,” he rambles, word vomit making his tongue tangle as he over explains himself.

“That sounds great, Eddie,” you reply simply, finding it sweet just how concerned he is with making sure you feel comfortable in whatever situation you’re in together, definitely a foreign but welcome feeling. Eddie helps you gather up the remains of the picnic and the rest of your belongings, practically shaking with nervous energy as he leads you over the pebbled shoreline to his van that’s tucked between the trees.

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