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violettaskies · 1 year

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To Share A Kiss The Devil Has Known

(ch. 1)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x you // Eddie Munson x f!reader // perv!Eddie Munson x innocent!reader

Genre: romance, mild smut, Catholic trauma, religious trauma, friends to lovers, slow burn

Notes: this will have a three installments // this chapter is just the intro honestly lol so sorry if it’s boring build up // Eddie is kinda pervy lol // he’s kinda dark but also not // i tried to write him to be as much of a consent king as possible

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, NSFW // talks of religion, reader goes to confession and her priest is a little mean with his words (at the beginning), slight manipulation, pillow humping, humping, first times, dacryphilia, corruption kink, praise kink // masturbation //please let me know if there should be more added, thank you!

ao3 // chapter two // chapter three // masterlist // series masterlist

-:-:-:-:-

Every other Sunday was for confession. While other members of the family went on Wednesdays or Saturdays, you always chose Sundays since it would start the week off on a clean slate.

Not that there was much to confess about. Oftentimes, you would walk from your house to the church a few hours after mass ended, maybe feeling a bit guilty about your thoughts, rarely was it ever your actions. One day, you came in to tell the priest about how angry you got at your parents when they grounded you for accidentally falling asleep in church. You didn’t lash out at them, of course; but, you did curse them in your head — not honouring thy father and mother very well.

Then there was an instance three years ago at the homecoming dance. One girl had on the most beautiful baby blue dress you had ever seen, while you were stuck with a hand-me-down gown of the same colour. You prayed aloud that night in front of your bed, that you would one day have the opportunity to wear a dress as nice as hers. But the prayer backfired when your mother overheard, then told you to march to the church the following morning to confess how you broke the tenth commandment of coveting thy neighbour’s goods.

As a whole, you thought there were never any major moments in your life where you sinned gravely. That was until you went to your friend’s house for Bible study on Saturday night. She hosted it weekly, and invited all the kids from school. Needless to say, only a handful of people appeared. Not that it wasn’t fun, the six of you would always spend a few hours going over passages, and then eat a nice dinner afterwards. Truly, you looked forward to it since there weren’t other things you were invited to in town.

So when this past Saturday rolled around where the first epistle to the Corinthians was read, specifically the sixth chapter and eighteenth verse — your group started to analyze it as normal. But, little did you know that this was the day your heart would drop the hardest it ever has.

‘The sexually immoral person sins against their own body,’ the people in the room repeated the verse over and over, like a chant taunting you and your actions.

It was the first time you walked into the confessional on a Sunday afternoon with shaky legs and an intensely beating heart. You told the priest what you told your friend, trying to rid yourself of the sins you unknowingly committed. But he stopped you, his voice only getting louder as he gave you guidance on your next steps. ‘Stop doing that,’ he said, ‘God may not be so quick to forgive you if you give into the Devil’s temptations so often.’ Then after he assigned you a penance of five Hail Marys and going through the rosary twice, you were gone.

All you could think as you took your first steps outside, were words that should never cross your mind. Not now, not ever.

If sinning is so bad, then why does it feel so good?

-:-:-:-:-

As the day ended, and a new week of school began — your guilt never went away. Teasing you from the back of your subconscious as you walked home, ate dinner, and failed at doing some homework that was due a few days later.

It had been three days since the last time you unknowingly sinned, two days since you found out what it was, and one day since the priest’s voice scared you to the point of no return. Everything affected you gravely, that even once you walked into school Monday morning, the noises from the other students became a muffled and chaotic mess in your ears. So much so, that as you were shakily getting things out of your locker, you didn’t even notice movement from the one next to yours.

“You look stressed, sweetheart.” The voice startled you, only amplifying your inner-guilt, since you spent the past few moments focusing on shutting the voices up in your head, rather than greeting your favourite locker neighbour.

But what made you feel guiltiest of all, was that he is the one who inspired these sins of yours.

The throbbing ache between your legs felt good, and the way your pillow helped relieve that ache felt even better. If you were able to feel this level of delight every night, then why not think of someone who made you feel the same way? — the question plagued your mind nightly, during the moments you were oblivious to committing a sin.

Little did you know that it was truly sexual in meaning.

There was only one person who made you feel equally as amazing with their words and actions. Your locker neighbour to the right, Eddie Munson.

Several moments replayed in your head. Like the time he kept calling you ‘pretty girl’ because you decided to wear a skirt on the first day of Spring. Then, you remember how his calloused fingers felt when they were so close to your face after he brushed your hair from your neck; making sure to linger on your sensitive skin before mentioning how beautiful the silver crucifix looked on you. There were so many times after that too. From his deep voice whispering in your ear to ask if you needed a ride home while you both were in study hall; to his arms wrapping a sweater around your shoulders during lunch when the school’s heater broke. The Hawkins townspeople claimed him as a spawn of the Devil, but you named him as the only true friend you had. The only person to make the butterflies in your stomach tingle every time he spoke to you.

“I-I’m not, it’s just I can see now why Mondays aren’t people’s favourite,” you responded, still staring into the vastness of your locker. Thinking about how your start to the week wasn't so great as it usually is.

Eddie had opened the metal door completely, removing the barrier between the two of you. “But, Mondays are always your favourite because you get to see me after a painstakingly long forty-eight hours,” he pouted while trying to get you to giggle at his dramatics.

It worked.

“Well, I normally see you around the fourth period. This is the earliest you’ve been at school for a while.”

“Mondays are the worst because my homeroom teacher loves putting tests at the buttcrack of dawn,” Eddie groaned, while holding up the notes you loaned him at the beginning of the year since you already took the biology course before.

“Well, good luck, I’m gonna go—” no matter how much you loved talking to him, and how warm he made you feel, Eddie was part of your current predicament. So seeing him now made your heart ache in the worst way.

As you went to grab the locker door to close it, Eddie lightly grabbed your wrist. “I saw you leaving the church yesterday. You looked so,” he paused, moving his head downwards to meet you at eye-level, before continuing. “Sad, you looked so sad. I even called out your name a few times so I could give you a ride home, but you kept walking, so I assumed you didn’t hear me.”

So it was the Devil’s spawn shouting your name as you made your way home; not the Devil himself making you feel guilty for your actions. It was just your friend who wanted to look out for you.

Eddie continued: “or maybe you’re ignoring me,” he pouted with feign-sadness.

“Oh, uh-uhm it was just a really tiring day and I guess the voices in my head were too loud,” it was only partially a lie.

“If something’s bothering you—”

“Nothing’s bothering me, honestly,” this one was a lie, and it came out a bit too easily. But all you could focus on now was the feeling of Eddie’s thumb stroking small circles on the soft skin of your wrist.

He looked you up and down suspiciously before saying, “you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I do.”

“So whatever is going through your mind, let me know. Who am I to judge anyways?” He winked before letting go of your wrist.

You nodded, seriously contemplating if you wanted to have a confessional with your little Devil. Just as you stared at him with eyes full of conflict, the bell rang. Instead of responding, you softly said your farewell. “Anyways, see you later during fourth period, if you decide to come again.”

It was the only class Eddie had a perfect attendance score in, but he would never let you know that you’re the reason why.

-:-:-:-:-

By the time English class rolled along, you didn’t realize just how much your body was moving itself robotically. Going through the movements you’ve been so used to doing for the years you’ve been in high school. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, thankfully. First period was a calculus lesson, history happened afterwards with a lecture on the French Revolution, then a substitute showed up for geography during third period so that was a boring class. All throughout those hours, you kept quiet; because the wrath of the Angel on your shoulder, condemning you for your sins, was becoming far too much. To even think about answering questions the teachers asked was mentally exhausting.

It all came to a peak once you sat on your chair for fourth period English — the only class you had with Eddie this semester, and of course, the only class everyone sat at long desks that held two people. As you looked out the window to the dark blue skies of Autumn, your conscience kept telling you to be careful. You were about to sit next to the boy who amplified your senses as you sinned. Goodness knows how he’ll react to the news if you told him.

What would he think if he found out you think about his hands helping guide your hips nightly, or his voice telling you ‘you’re so beautiful’ when you finally find the climax of your relief, or his lips kissing your —

“You’re still so tense,” the voice brought you out of your haze for the second time today. But this time, Eddie’s warm hand was on the top of your left thigh; the set of thighs you unknowingly went from bouncing one second to squeezing together the next.

“Just tired, maybe I’ll nap when I get home,” you sighed. Truly, it has been three days since the bane of your guilt was committed. You could barely sleep now that you’ve stopped doing your nightly routine.

“Take a nap in my van, I have cute pillows in there,” he scrunched his nose as he teased you, then released your thigh to stretch his arms in the air.

Thinking of how your class went to the zoo for a field trip once, and Eddie found the scariest-looking bats cute, you replied sweetly: “your definition of cute is not really the same as mine.”

“But, I think you’re cute, don’t you?” Eddie loved to make you blush with his not-so-suave comments. Said it was practice for whenever he goes to the bars and flirts with girls there. But he never was able to make them flustered in the way you always were.

You saw the teacher walk into class in your peripheral vision, and prayed that would mean you didn’t need to talk to your locker and desk neighbour for the next three quarters of an hour. “I’m not,” you shyly say while looking away from The Dealer completely.

“You’re such a good girl too,” his voice was deeper than normal.

He was wrong. So wrong. The guilt in your heart only deepens as his words echo in your ear, along with the voices of your priest telling you need to repent for your sins. If this day couldn’t have gotten any worse, of course the muse of your sinful thoughts believes you’re a good girl when you aren’t.

“I-I’m—” your words are saved by the bell and your teacher’s voice which booms through the classroom. You thought you were safe, thought that until lunch you could get away with not looking at the boy who makes you unknowingly rub your legs together. But no, the day that was going downhill, just hit rock bottom.

“This class is a bit different, it will be a work period since I’m assigning you a small project due Wednesday. That’s not a lot of time, so today will be a work period then tomorrow we will have a lesson. I hope that you all can get the project finished after school over the next couple days.”

Doing a small project wouldn't be so bad, would it? The curiousity sat in your brain momentarily before your thoughts went haywire. The teacher paired you off, specifically with the people you were sitting next to, where each duo would need to analyze and present a different chapter of The Picture of Dorian Gray. So after a beat of silence once the teacher’s explanation was over, the class erupted in murmured voices and squeaky chairs. But you couldn’t get yourself to move to face your project partner.

“Don’t kill me but, we may need to finish this tonight because tomorrow—”

“You have your g-gig, I remember,” spreading out your time with Eddie would have helped your intensifying sinful thoughts subside. At least until you got over your bad habit. But now, you both had to do this for your grades — mainly his — so there was no time to lose. Maybe this could be a positive distraction.

“How about we work on it today right after school so we can get it over with?” he suggests.

“Alright, I guess skipping band practice one time wouldn’t be so bad,” you start shaking your left leg again. If you were a sinner, why not fall down the path of delinquency — your tendency to accept defeat a little too quickly, and then spiral, was catching up to you now.

Eddie notices, and touches your thigh again to calm you down like he has so many times before, even a few minutes ago. Although now, you move your leg away from his grip. “No, no, no, you go be a good girl and head to band practice, then I’ll pick you up afterwards and we'll run to the library,” he says trying not to sound disappointed that you backed away from his touch.

“I’ll finish probably a little after half-past three today since there’s only one song to practice,” you state while opening the book to the assigned chapter. “What will you do while you wait?”

“Oh, you know, maybe do some buying and selling,” The Dealer says nonchalantly.

“Shopping?” you ask innocently.

“Of sorts,” he mimes the act of smoking a joint in your direction, and you look at him curiously before understanding what he meant. You remember your father telling you it’s not a good idea to be friends with your locker neighbour because he’s a sinner who does the Devil’s drugs.

Guess he rubbed off on you, while you rubbed off on something else.

The pang of guilt hit you again. Like a stab to the heart from God himself. Tonight, you’ll do penance until you sleep, before the Devil on your shoulder tells you to commit your sinfully bad habit again. “R-right,” you say quietly. “Let’s get started then, you have to stay focused, Eddie, do you promise?”

“Pinky promise, my dear,” he grabs your fingers that are so much smaller than his, and hooks his pinky onto yours. “Only if you promise to focus too. You’ve been zoning out all day long. When you walk from class to class it looks like you’re constantly about to puke.”

“I do not,” you say in a defiant whisper.

“So do,” he teases. “Listen, if I promise to stay focused the entire time while we try and finish this project, you’re gonna tell me why you’re acting this way. It’s worrying me.”

You pause, looking at Eddie’s weirdly mischievous eyes as he starts to rub the bottom of your back. “There’s nothing really bothering me, though.”

“You’re lying, aren’t you, pretty girl?” his fingers started circling in a pattern that brought pleasurable shivers up your spine. After years of giving you featherlight touches — because that’s what friends do, he said one day — he knew exactly where to grasp your body to make you relax.

“Let me think about it,” you slightly give in. However, you can’t get yourself to admit, again, how badly you want to confess your sins to the one who inspired them.

He notices how you started to squeeze your thighs together again during this class. “That’s all I ask,” Eddie chuckles before moving his hands to your waist to move your body closer to himself. “Now, don’t kill me again, but I didn’t read the chapter. Or the book, so,” he elongated the last word while looking at you with feign-innocence with his doe eyes and pursed lips.

One thing you unknowingly did admit, was just how easily you were able to fall for his manipulative ways.

-:-:-:-:-

As Eddie waited in his van for you to come out of band practice, all he could think about was how strange you’ve been acting throughout the day. You were always one to talk to him in shy tones as he would talk your ear off in any given conversation. Today was different though, and he wasn’t able to place a finger on it. What hurt him most was when you reacted to his touch by moving your leg away — a move you haven’t done in the years you had gotten used to his touch. Then, you didn’t join him for lunch like you did every Monday and Friday, since the other days you would be asked to join the band or church group tables.

Something was off, and Eddie feels like it has something to with the downcast image of you walking through Hawkins on Sunday afternoon. Today, he was going to figure it out.

Ever since the man found out his locker was next to yours on the first day of Freshman year, The Dealer became obsessed with you. Not that you noticed him often — Eddie was notorious for skipping class so much that even though you went to your locker between every class, you would only see him once a day during that year of high school. However, he definitely noticed you: your shyness, the way you kept your head down as you roamed the hallways to the next period, and how you had a tendency of jumping a little every time you closed your locker and saw him standing there at his.

The small silver crucifix that was dangling on your neck was the icing on the cake for Eddie. Realizing then, that you were an innocent Angel who went to Bible study and mass every week. While he could only ask God why He put him in such a shitty place with even shittier parents.

Your innocence astounded him — like when people would joke around about how you didn’t know what sex was, all you would do is blush; or how one time a Senior basketball player walked up to your locker and invited you on a date. He was infamous for keeping a list of all the girls he took the virginities of, and you were his next target. The only thing you did though, was thank him and tell him that Bible study was scheduled to be a long one this week so you would rather go to that.

Something possessive leaped out of Eddie that day as he overheard the conversation from behind the metal door. He had to have you, had to know what it was like to roam your mind. He would do anything to make sure you were his.

So he did. Slowly, as the days passed, he would start talking to you more, trying to get you out of your little shell. You were so quiet that sometimes he would need to get close to your figure as you spoke — not that he minded of course. Eddie genuinely did love your innocence and how you didn’t even realize that he was being a flirtatious pervert when he complimented you. That every time he mentioned you were wearing something nice that day, he would go home and picture fucking you in only that piece of clothing or jewelry. His favourite, being the image of you wearing only that tiny silver crucifix you both loved so much.

Then there were the touches you had grown accustomed to. Eddie would invite you to sit with him during lunch — where he would lightly touch your fingers as he went to steal a fry off your tray. Afterwards, he would take his perverted compliments further, by straightening out the fabric of your skirt or shirt collar for you even if it just came from the dry cleaners. The Dealer would do anything to have an excuse to caress your skin for one moment.

You had asked him one day when you had visited his home to watch a movie: “you touch me a lot, why?”

“Do you not like it? Sorry, I just really enjoy—” if he wasn’t already worried about the fact that you were in his trailer for the first time, his heart dropped at the thought that you might hate him for his touch.

“No,” you would never want to make Eddie feel guilty for his actions. Youth group lessons taught you better than that, since it was only right to be accepting of everyone. “What I mean is, I don’t see many other friends do that with each other and I feel bad for them.”

It was his turn to be curious now. “What do you mean?”

“Your touches are nice, Eddie, so soft and sweet. I wish that all people would feel as nice as this with their friends too.” Look at you being charitable with your experiences — when these touches were only meant for you.

“That’s what friends do, they find ways to make their friends feel good.”

“Do you want me to do it for you too?” you reach out to touch his shoulder awkwardly, but you weren’t one to enjoy touching other people yourself.

“Not if you don’t want to. You make me feel good by being there for me when I need it. While I do the same for you, when you need someone to support you,” it’s true; even through all his indecent intentions, Eddie truly found an innocent and friendly warmth within himself for you, besides his love of wanting to be more than friends.

You look at him with sweet eyes to innocently ask the next question. “Then may you please rub my back like you do sometimes? It makes my heartbeat calm down and this movie is scary.”

“Of course, Angel,” it was right then, Eddie realized how much he loved it when you were needy.

“I wish I could have you do this whenever my cousins want to watch horror movies with me. Honestly, my parents don’t even know I’m here. But I just like your tou–”

“Tsk tsk, so naughty. Where do they think you are?”

“Am not,” you exclaimed and Eddie could tell your heart was beating a lot faster than before so he started to rub sweet circles on your back. “Plus, they think I’m watching a movie at a friend’s house, just don’t know who. It’s not a lie. I’m still a good girl.”

“Yes, you are,” he proclaimed deeply, realizing his rebel tendencies have inspired you. While you nearly moaned as your heartbeat stabilized, his touch and his voice made you feel so much better.

When Eddie was home alone that night, he couldn’t stop replaying the small whimpers of yours he memorized. If it was the hormones, or your innocent eagerness to be alone with him and let him touch you — he would never know which one he loved more.

Eddie was a sinner, he knew that, and was able to empower himself with the label. No matter how many times people around Hawkins would rebuke him as the Devil, or how often he would get stares from kids at school as he started to talk to you more: none of it phased him. What he loved most about you was how easily your innocence became obliviousness when it came to his sins – that you would hear about them and refuse to believe he was such a bad person because he was always so nice to you. Eddie couldn’t seem to understand why.

What he did understand though, was that his biggest sin was that every damn day of his life he was on the path of no return when it came to wanting to corrupt your virtue. To make all of his fantasies become a reality as he wanted to slowly make you addicted to him.

Did you figure it out? Is that why you were so awkward with him throughout the day? Why did you beg for his familiar touch in his memories, but pull away today?

Eddie’s mind moved at a million miles a minute, unsure of what was going on. But one thing was for sure: he was going to find out exactly what was hurting you, and he was going to do everything in his power to relieve that pain.

A small tap on the driver door window brought him out of his overstimulated thoughts. “Are you ready to go?” Your voice was muffled by the barrier, but Eddie was able to hear you before nodding.

He chuckled at your tendency to knock everywhere before you entered. Even with the van, you never approached it first unless he was already in it, or opened the door for you — that was mainly because The Dealer wanted to have some semblance of being a gentleman to you, even if he took that opportunity to touch your back to guide you into your seat.

“So the library?” Eddie asked as he watched you put your bag on the floor and straighten your skirt in the seat, not looking him in the eye as you respond.

“Y-yeah, it probably won’t be crowded since it’s a Monday.”

You were wrong, so wrong. It looks like all of the English teachers assigned similar group projects to their classes, since the library was filled to the brim with students from all grades cooped up at tables. You started to get nervous, the library was going to be your saving grace as you worked on this project.

“Should we go to my place?” He asked while tugging on the strap of your backpack lightly to get your attention.

“No,” you exclaimed a little too loudly, shocking Eddie a bit. “We can j-just go to mine instead.”

If you two finished the tasks at his trailer, then you felt as if it was walking into the Devil’s lair — a place where Eddie sinned like your parents said he did. The memories of the times your friend made you feel warm were enough to commit your treacherous acts; goodness knows how you’ll be when you’re in a room where everything is him.

While bringing the Devil reincarnate into your home wasn’t the best idea, your house had your Bible and other religious paraphernalia to protect you from giving into temptation. But, that’s also the place where you committed your unknowing sin, night after night — you thought.

These conflicting thoughts were about to be the death of you, as long as the annoying throbbing between your legs and Eddie’s teasingly sinister voice didn’t get you first.

-:-:-:-:-

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violettaskies · 1 year

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To Share A Kiss The Devil Has Known

(ch. 2)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x you // Eddie Munson x f!reader // perv!Eddie Munson x innocent!reader

Genre: romance, mild smut, Catholic trauma, religious trauma, friends to lovers, slow burn

Notes: thank you for all the support on the first part! there is one more chapter after this one (three in total) // Eddie is kinda pervy lol // he’s kinda dark but also not // i tried to write him to be as much of a consent king as possible // honestly, you can just read this without reading the first ch lol but that would help with tiny details!

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, NSFW // talks of religion, reader's parents are religious, light manipulation, pillow humping, humping, first times, dacryphilia, corruption kink, praise kink, masturbation // please let me know if there should be more added, thank you!

ao3 // chapter one // chapter three // masterlist // series masterlist

-:-:-:-:-

To say Eddie was ecstatic as he drove to your home, is an understatement. He had driven you there countless times after school or the rare late-night tutoring sessions, but he has never gone inside. There was never a reason to. Especially since you both were often only together during school hours and only meeting each other during weekends on the rare occasion you didn’t have a church obligation.

How he longed to enter the holy house he passed by every few nights to see if you were still awake late into the evening after he finished band rehearsal. Eddie wondered what it is that you did when the light was on, but your shadow was nowhere near the desk next to the bedroom window.

Little did he know, today was the day he would find out.

“You seem a little too excited to work on an English project, Eddie,” you said once you noticed that you weren’t the only one in the car who was jittering in their seat.

“Oh, I’m dreading the work, believe me,” he chuckled. “What I am excited for is the fact that I’m going into your sanctuary for the first time. Now I can find out your dirty little secrets.”

The raspiness in his both scared and excited you. “Hm?” You looked at him for the first time with wide eyes and a shaky voice.

“Does this mean we get to go into your room too?” Eddie teased.

“My room? N-no, we can’t go in there.” Inviting the muse of your sins into your home was one thing, going into your room would only make you feel God’s wrath ten-fold.

“Oooh, she is hiding something, isn’t she?” Eddie wound you up again, keeping one hand on the steering wheel while the other tried to tickle your leg — you backed away again.

You ignored his teasing, speaking to him in a barely audible whisper: “we’ll work in the basement where my father’s study is. He won’t be using it today since it’s Monday and it’s his day off.”

“Will you tell me what’s bothering you before we head in?” The Dealer said with a pout as he parked in your driveway. “Was it something a person did? Something I did?” If his perverted ways were caught, he wanted to find out now. “You promised you’d tell me, you never break your promises.”

The guilt was eating you up now. Lying, sinning, breaking commandments, and now you’re on the path to breaking promises. If you were alone right now, you would cry; instead, one tear escaped your eyes.

“I promise, it’s nothing,” the lie came easily this time. “Let’s head inside, please, Eddie.”

“Alright,” he didn’t want to admit just how beautiful you looked while you cried.

Once Eddie had opened the passenger for you and let you lead the way into the house, both of your hearts were beating quickly. It became clear that the two of you were nervous about one thing or another – but, there was one consistent anxious thought: your parents were home.

As you attempted to unlock the front door with shaky hands, the keys rattling a bit louder than what a normal person would be doing, Eddie whispered in your ear.

“I’ll be on my best behaviour, no need to worry,” his voice was husky, resonating through your body with every syllable, and his hot breath on your skin since he pushed your hair to the side without you noticing. It was hard to recognize things with everything going on in your head; so much so, that you didn’t get the opportunity to twist the lock correctly as you turned your head quickly to face him.

Just then, the door opened, key still in the hole and your hand on the handle — leading you to trip slightly at the door frame. “Darling, you’re home early,” your mother’s sweet, but very confused, voice greeted you at the entrance.

“Sorry I called earlier saying I would be home late, but then the library was full so we couldn’t work there,” you said meekly whilst taking a step away from Eddie to rid your figures of the compromising position you were just in.

“Come inside, and tell me who your friend is,” the sheer nervousness in her voice was comedic. Your mother knew exactly who this was. Why you allowed him into this Catholic home, she’ll never understand.

“W-well this is Eddie, he’s the one whose locker is right next to mine,” you stated, looking over at the boy who was nervous in front of you for the first time in your friendship. He must have felt you glance over at him, since Eddie tilted his head up to mouth: ‘you talk about me?’ before winking in your direction. The smiles that appeared on both of your nervous faces went away quickly.

A loud cough shocked you, making you two break eye contact, and jump slightly at the sound as you were taking your shoes off. “Munson?”

“Yes, sir.” There were times Eddie hated his last name when older people used it — since they would automatically think of his father.

“What are you doing in my house?” The anger in your own father’s voice was frightening. Yes, he told you to stay away from Eddie. But Eddie was always nice to you, always sweet and caring; never did you see him commit sins in front of you, so you thought.

“We were assigned on a project together,” you cut off your own conflicted thoughts. “It’s due Wednesday. However, tomorrow we’re both busy so we wanted to finish it tonight,” the leg-bouncing came back again. “May we please use the basement, dad? You have lots of books in there we could—"

“No,” there was a fire in your father’s eyes that intensified your freight as he began a staredown with your project partner. The man was mad — the first time his daughter brought a friend home and it’s a boy, Eddie Munson for that matter. The boy was known around town for committing the sinful acts of the Devil. Now you’re asking to spend the entire night with him, alone in a dark room? Over his dead body.

Your mother came to the rescue to ease the tension, “of course you can, I’ll even bring down snacks, and dinner too, since we were planning on ordering take-out tonight anyways.” She looked over at your father with threatening eyes, trying to make him notice that his daughter was on the verge of tears in front of a guest.

“That’s alright, I can take care of—”

“Oh, she’ll be taking care of me alright,” Eddie said in your father’s direction with a sinister smirk, then looked to your mother sweetly. “But, I don’t mean to intrude. I can grab dinner on my way home.”

“Nonsense, you two head downstairs and I’ll bring some water and the strawberries that were new at the store today.”

Eddie couldn’t help but notice the sweet similarities between you and your mother. On the other hand, he really loved pissing off your dad — if all the old man could see was the spawn of Satan, then Eddie was going to give it to him.

“Thank you, ma’am. Now, why don’t you lead the way, Angel?” he said while casually placing a hand on your shoulder, then leading a trail to your neck to loop his fingers through your silver chain. Eddie made sure that he glanced in your father’s direction, when you slightly whimpered at the tug and looked up at the long-haired man.

“S-sure, it’s this way. See you guys later then,” you were a stuttering mess, trying to speak to your parents while guiding Eddie through your house.

The only thing you hoped was that once you were alone with Eddie again, your mind would focus on the work; not the intensifying feeling of guilt which made your heart and legs ache.

-:-:-:-:-

Once the backpacks were on the floor next to the sofa, the contents of your pencil case spread out on the large table your father had in the basement, and a lined sheet of paper with a brainstorm of scratches all over it — the project was well on its way to be completed. At first, since Eddie barely cracked the book open, you two needed to read the assigned chapter. He mentioned that he wouldn’t be able to focus unless you took turns reading it aloud, so that’s what you did. At one point, your mother came down and set some fruit on the coffee table, where you would take a bite of a strawberry whenever you were not reading a page — Eddie did the same thing.

In truth, he was barely listening to the story, only staring at how your lips became more plump and pink as each paragraph was read. The Dealer hoped that you wouldn’t notice how he inches closer to you on the couch slowly. So that by the time the final page was finished, your knees were touching.

“Such a pretty voice,” Eddie teased when you stopped reading, nearly whispering it in your ear. Now you started to tense up again.

“Yours is nicer, I guess it’s because of all your Dungeons & Dragons games,” you awkwardly giggle whilst moving to the left.

“Maybe you should play one day, but I don’t think you want more of the Devil inside of you,” he chuckled to himself, not realizing how the words made your heart drop.

“W-what do you mean by that?” your eyes went wide with guilt as you responded.

“Oh, you know,” Eddie elongated the final syllable momentarily. “I can tell you’re keeping secrets from me. You said it was nothing someone else or I did that’s bothering you. That must mean it’s something you did, huh?”

His curiousity was always something you enjoyed, it led to your imagination to grow in return. But now, this tendency of his was only making you more nervous if he found out what you did.

You wouldn’t be his good girl anymore.

“We should work on the project now,” you said sternly, ignoring his question.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He flashed his signature smile and wink, then stretched his body from the couch. Then with a tap to your shoulder, you followed him to the large table.

After three hours, the report itself was done. Mainly you did the majority of the analysis while you asked Eddie what he thought about your points. Luckily, his creativity ran wild so you could just build on what he would say to make his profound words sound professional. Then, as you two were grabbing construction paper and poster board from your mother’s craft stash in the basement, she came down to give you both a simple take-out container of Chinese food.

Truly, she had been checking up on you two every half-hour. Even going as far as taking you to the side to whisper: “don’t do anything unjust or sinful with that boy. He has a reputation and your father is just beside himself with fear as to what the Munson-child will do to you.” Although she had been the polite host to Eddie, she was always the Catholic housewife who cared more about people’s virtue than anything else.

Not that your mother had anything to worry about tonight. Thus far, you were so focused on the task at hand that you barely had any unsavoury thoughts about your friend. Like how when Eddie would put his chin on your shoulder as you wrote down what he would say in your ear, making sure that he rubbed your back as he was doing so. You didn’t recognize that whenever you responded to him with a ‘yeah,’ it came out in a whimper sometimes. Even when The Dealer had gone on a tangent explaining something, and he flailed his arms in the air, only to land them on the table — leaning forward and stared intensely into your eyes; you barely noticed how your thighs squeezed together at the tingling feeling between.

But Eddie noticed, he noticed everything and was loving it. He knew that the project would take your mind off of what was bothering you, so he went back to his regularly scheduled programming. This time though, instead of your sweet smiles and giggles to his antics — you were biting your lip, crossing your legs tightly, and blushing while you laughed. As you two ate dinner at the coffee table while sitting on the floor, Eddie couldn’t help but glance down at the skin of your thighs peaking through the bottom of your skirt; especially how you didn’t fix it like you usually do. Something really was going on with you today.

“Do you wanna play some music while we work on the presentation part? What type of music does your dad have in here anyways?” Eddie asked while eyeing you suspiciously and eating an egg roll. He was going to try and make you talk about something other than school for the first time in four hours.

“A lot of gospel music.”

“Seriously?” He looked at you with wide eyes and an even wider smile of disbelief.

“Yes, he likes listening to that type of stuff, I do too,” you said defensively.

The man walks up to your father’s record player and the shelf of records that are lined up behind it. You were right. “Not even The Beatles or The Rolling Stones? Your old man probably has something.”

“I’ve never heard him listen to that before. Your uncle has them though, right? We listened to them when I tutored you last year. Those songs were really nice to listen to.” You stood next to him and as he graced his fingers on the spines of the cardboard cases.

“That’s right, my smart girl.” Eddie groaned and chose one of the records that mentioned it was only instrumentals. It would be better than nothing, so he gave it to you to start playing. “We should put this on, because I’m sure that any of this Christian music will make me burn up,” he emphasized his words by pretending to be burned with holy water, like in the movies. “I’m a sinner, baby,” he chokes out.

He was just joking around, you knew that. But you stood there with the record in your hand, frozen in place for a moment, before quietly saying: “I think we should finish up this presentation, Eddie.” Then passed the vinyl back to him to input in the record player. You quickly walked to the large table with your silver crucifix between your fingers, while Eddie stood with gears turning in his head.

That was it.

Just from mentioning the word ‘sin’ and you were shaking with a fear he has never seen from you since that one time Eddie showed you his tattoo of a demon. Only this time, your fear looked like it traumatized you.

What could have happened to make you feel this way? Did you sin and your Catholic guilt was eating you up? — the questions plagued his mind as he went over to your fidgeting figure sitting at the work table again.

-:-:-:-:-

It was nearly eleven o’clock when Eddie and yourself were almost done with the presentation. Whichever teacher in the staff room thought that this project could be done in two days was probably delusional. It took you two almost nine hours to do the bare minimum. Alas, as you and Eddie stood at the table, adding paint and construction paper to the biggest piece of poster board your mom hoarded, it was close to the finish line. While there were instances where your guilt would reappear more often now than before dinner — your mind was still focused on the project.

That was until your father’s voice echoed through the basement’s halls for the first time tonight. He stood at the stairs, still being able to see you and Eddie nearly climbing the table to finish the poster. Still, there was fire in his eyes.

“Are you two almost finished, yet? It’s pretty late and you both have school in the morning,” he said sternly, but only staring down the young Munson.

“Almost, dad, we just need to wait for this to dry up and practice the presentation with it,” your voice was quiet as your eyes went from your father’s crossed arms to Eddie’s sinister smile.

“When will you be going home, Munson?”

“Oh I don't know, whenever she finishes,” he knew that your father understood the innuendo; however, you stood there tilting your head in confusion.

Your father scoffs loudly before giving Eddie one last threatening look, then turns to you. “Wrap it up whenever you can. I’m heading to bed, but your mother will be upstairs, so no dilly dallying.” You’re pretty sure that comment was meant for the boy standing with horrible posture next to you, but it still registered as a threat in your head.

“Goodnight, dad,” you nodded, looking up at him with big eyes as he began to walk up the stairs. But, a slightly taunting voice made your father stop in his tracks.

“Sweet dreams, we’ll be having lots of fun down here,” Eddie said with his smile getting wider with each word. You thought he was just trying to make your father laugh a bit before leaving — with a sarcastic tone towards the school project. But it looks like the scoff your father made, indicated that it didn’t go through; in actuality, your father could see the new innuendo the young man was doing, but decided not to be the overbearing father for once.

As his steps became fainter, you looked towards Eddie who was now putting a cigarette in his mouth, “what did you mean? When you said, ‘whenever she finishes.’?” you asked. He tried his best not to let his lips curl upwards at his joy of seeing you so innocent to the sexual joke.

“U-uhh nothing.”

“Good, because. I’m not doing all this work all on my own, we’ve been doing this as partners this whole time. Let’s finish together.” The amount of times he has imagined your voice saying those last three words in his ears was unfathomable — he would memorize this snippet for the rest of his life. Eddie was so enthralled by your words that he didn’t notice that you took the cigarette out of his mouth and was speaking to him again. “You can’t smoke that in here.”

“Your old man smokes.”

“That’s different, he only smokes cigars and they smell nicer.”

“Tell me where they are and I’ll have my first one tonight,” he winked at you with a smile.

In an instant, he took the stick back from your fingers and placed it between his lips again. “Eddie, I don’t want you getting in trouble,” you sighed in defeat. “Do you promise to finish the title on the poster while I write up the script on cards, if I let you finish that one cigarette?”

“You could always share it with me so I can finish it faster,” he teased. “Or do you not want to give in to the Devil’s temptation again?”

“A-again?” you stuttered.

Eddie stayed silent for a moment, lighting his cigarette then picked up the letter cut outs to start applying glue on them. “You feel guilty for something, don’t you? Did you sin, sweet girl? You’ve been dodging the topic all day and the only time I was able to read the thoughts behind your eyes was when I brought up the word ‘sin,’ you’re even shaking now just like you did a couple hours ago.”

He was speaking so nonchalantly. You couldn’t take your eyes away from Eddie’s fingers as they move quickly on the paper, then up to his lips to hold the stick between them. Guilt was eating you up quickly now. No matter how long it subsided, it always came back. Now, even more so since the muse of your sins is starting to figure you out. But then, you remembered: “f-fine, I mentioned that I would tell you after we finished, so m-maybe I’ll be ready t-to tell you then.”

“Looks like you better finish up those cards fast, because I’m ready to hear it all, baby.”

This was it.

The beginning of your end.

As you let Eddie use the table, you moved over to the couch, wanting to be far away from him for a little while. Trying to calm your nerves, think of the words to say, whether you would tell him the truth or not, theorizing what he would think of you if you did decide to confess: they were all reasons to stay apart. Especially so The Dealer didn’t see your shaky hands finish up the cue cards.

Eddie is going to hate me — the words repeated in your head every few moments. You were his sweet girl, the one who read the Bible as often as he read the Lord of the Rings books, the one who needed him to explain dirty jokes to you that people said around school. You weren’t supposed to unknowingly sin for weeks on end with his voice being the imaginary guide to help you find the most relief. After hearing condemnation from your friend at Bible study and your beloved priest right afterwards, you weren’t so sure how your heart would take seeing Eddie’s disgust with you. At this rate, the cue cards were going to be ineligible when you two needed to glance down at them on Wednesday.

Even from a few feet away, Eddie swears he could hear the gears turning in your head, alongside the continuous pattern of leg shaking. He felt bad, truly. You were always one to be so kind to everyone, so giving and polite. That no matter how much he wanted to know the dirty little secret that was causing you so much pain, what he really wanted to do was just take it all away. Eddie hoped that if you did decide to tell him the truth, that you would feel better afterwards. But, you wouldn’t be able to tell him anything clearly if you were full of anxiety. So he lit another cigarette, making sure you were still busy writing on cue cards with furrowed brows, and walked towards your father’s record player. The selection was absurd, but the soft instrumentals might help soothe your soul.

In a way, The Dealer regrets teasing you so much about it. You were fine when you were distracted by the project, but now that it was almost over and you were amping yourself up to confess something – you looked like you were about to cry like you did this morning. It was both cute and caused a strain in his heart. Eddie thought back to seeing you first thing this morning and how much has happened to lead up to this point, as he sets a new record to play then jumps on the couch next to you.

“Almost done, princess?”

“Y-yeah, this is the last card. But it’s messy since my hand hurts and I’m sleepy,” you try to lie a bit to see if he would mention you should sleep instead of having a basement confessional.

The lying was coming to you easily, you really were trying to hide something from him, Eddie thought. “Well then, I would call this an extremely successful night. We’re gonna ace this.”

“Hopefully, weren’t you failing this class because of the last test?”

“Yes, but now because of you, my little Angel, I’m gonna get my grades up,” he winked at you as he continued inhaling cigarette smoke and exhaling it behind him.

“Please don’t call me that,” you said, putting down the cue cards on the table and then squeezing the fabric of your skirt out of sheer nervousness.

The way your heart was beating out of your chest was hurting you. It felt the same way yesterday when you walked to the confessional at church — and that didn’t turn out so well. So why would it be any different if you tell someone else your sins?

“You’ve been hot and cold all day. If it’s a serious problem and you don't want to tell me about it then maybe you should tell your parents.”

You were so entranced by your own beating heart that you didn’t notice that Eddie put out his cigarette and sat right next to you in the middle of the couch, while you were leaning slightly on the left arm.

“I couldn’t possibly tell them, Eddie. I’m already too scared to tell you,” you gasped with tears welling up in your eyes.

He cautiously reached an arm around you, unsure if you would accept it or not — now that you weren’t distracted by the project, Eddie feared the aching feeling that occurred whenever you pulled away from him throughout the day. This time though, you welcomed it as he started to stroke your skin with this thumb. “It’s probably not as bad as you think it is. Hell, I’ve probably done a lot worse in the past three days,” Eddie chuckled in your ear.

“Do you like sinning, Eddie?” It’s now or never, you decided to blurt out part of the thoughts lingering in your head.

“What?”

“The things you do, the things you’re known for. My parents say it’s a form of sinning. But that doesn’t make you a bad person.”

You said your words nearly into his chest, as you went to face him but didn’t have the courage to look him in the eye. Eddie thought it was endearing, “do you think I’m a bad person?” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know your answer though.

“No,” you exclaimed. “Not at all. It’s just—

“If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t need to—” he tried to cut you off, but your quiet voice took over the room.

“If sinning is so bad, then why does it feel so good?” You finally said aloud the questions that were haunting you. “Why are you still the nicest person I know, when everyone else says that you could be a bad influence on me?” you looked up at Eddie now, shivering at how close he was to your face.

“On Sunday, I saw you walk out of the church,” things were starting to click.

“I went to confession that day and —”

You sobbed, not being able to contain the conflicting emotions you were feeling. The guilt of your sins, and how you wanted nothing more than to do it again.

You’re going to Hell. This confessional is just going to seal it.

“You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to. But it may make you feel better.” On the other hand, Eddie wants nothing more than to know your sins, and figure out why you wanted to keep it a secret from him.

Judging by the way you’re continuously clenching your thighs together, he has an idea what it could be.

“I shouldn’t,” you say nervously. Just then, Eddie unwraps his arm around you and you whimper at the lost comforting feeling. He kneels in front of you instead. His touch never left you though: placing a trail from your shoulder, to your back, then down your right arm to ultimately grasp your hands. As he held both your hands in one of his, the other stroked your thigh lightly before joining all four of your hands together.

You didn’t want to admit that it felt really good.

“Trust me, anything you did that’s making you feel guilty, everyone else has probably done a million times worse,” Eddie said with a grin.

“Promise not to tell?”

“Promise,” he tried to soothe your shaking legs by pressing his arm down on your thighs momentarily.

“A-and you won’t judge me?” You try to confirm it.

“Never.”

You quiet your sobs for a moment, not even breathing, in order to hear if your mother had started getting ready for bed. She has, since the television in the living room was turned off and there were no sounds of footsteps in the kitchen. So you look at Eddie again, tears still escaping your eyes.

Although he loves the vision of you shedding tears in his arms, he wipes some away with his sleeve. Then places his hand back down to your left thigh, stroking it slowly to try and calm you down. It works, but at the exact same time, it doesn’t. The town nominated the man in front of you as a pawn to Satan — and to you, he was just as bad as the snake in the garden of Eden. He’s the reason why you’re in this predicament. It’s his hands, lips, and tongue that you picture every night as you sin without guilt. Well, until this weekend.

“Sometimes when I go to bed, it’s hard for me to fall asleep because there’s something bothering me. Like my body doesn’t want to sleep until I t-take care of it.” You try your best to not stutter as you whisper the genesis of your guilt. Eddie knows exactly where the words are leading to. It takes every ounce of strength in his body not to push you too hard for his perverted agenda.

“What bothers you?” He asks while stroking your clenched hands with his left hand’s thumb. While the fingers on his right are circling your thigh in tiny patterns, inching closer to the hem of your skirt, but never going past it.

“Everything,” you croak out. “Like I needed a massage on every inch of my skin.”

Eddie chooses his next words carefully, trying to get you to say what he wants to hear: the confession. “If massaging your back and neck makes you feel this guilty, I could always do it for you,” he smiles with a small chuckle, causing you to follow.

“That’s not –”

“Then tell me,” he said through a smile.

You clench your legs together out of nervousness. Only to notice that Eddie had placed his fingers atop the middle of your thighs, right where they met. Your thighs had accidentally squished the calloused digits – nearly causing you to want to whimper, but you spoke instead.

“U-uhm, well,” you paused, “at night when I can’t sleep, there’s no need to massage my neck because that’s not the place that’s bothering me the most. It’s m-my–” Eddie’s eyes widen to urge you to continue.

“Remember, I promised not to judge you,” he says while stroking the skin of your hands in his. But you let your left hand leave the warmth, and moved it slowly to the silver crucifix at your neck. After a moment you made a trail down to the side of your hip — too afraid to point at the other spot that ached more.

“Here, right here.” The way you bite your lip makes you think it’s about to draw blood. “I feel like I need to move my hips back and forth. S-so I do.”

Eddie smiles, he’s getting there. It will only take a few more seconds until he hears the full confession, he can feel it. “That’s it, sweetheart? That’s not so bad, I’ve heard and done worse, trust me,” The Dealer says, trying to emit a competitive spirit within you to see if that will push you over the edge.

“No, the part that makes it a sin were my thoughts and what I did to them. You see, I–”

“There we go,” Eddie begins to massage between your clenched legs to try and pry them open so he could start stroking upon your inner thighs. Your body lets him before your mind has the opportunity to tell you otherwise. Your thighs are only an inch apart, but it’s enough room for Eddie to tease the sensitive skin.

“I get a pillow and put it between my legs. At first, I thought that maybe my muscles were stiff so that’s why I did it, honest,” you quietly exclaim to prove your innocent initial thoughts.

“Don’t worry, babygirl,” he lifts the hand that’s holding yours and kisses your knuckles sweetly. The action makes you whimper. “Pillows are soft, they’re nice. I don’t see any sinning yet though,” he says deeply as a response to your story and both of your bodies tonight.

“Then, I started to move my hips slowly because the rest of my body felt stiff. So I did, and it felt really n-nice,” you continue your story while barely looking him in the eye, but still following the movements of his hand on your thigh. “I kept going and going until I rolled over onto my stomach to get the ache from my muscles to go away from another angle.”

Eddie knew exactly what you were doing, and he prayed for the first time in a while to keep his hardness hidden from your beautifully tear-filled eyes. “Now that, my darling, is dirty. Tell me more.” If he wasn’t able to do anything with you tonight then at least he was going to memorize this story to replay in his imagination later.

“The Devil took over me, the priest said the other day. He didn’t hear anything from me after what I just told you. But he was right, Eddie. My body moved on its own. There was this throbbing feeling that kept getting stronger.”

“Where was it doing that?” He asked with feign-innocence in his voice. He knew what you were going to say next, so Eddie lifted your skirt slightly so his fingers could make their way closer to your core.

“You’re close to it now,” you can’t even say it out loud, so you squeeze his left hand out of nervousness – hoping that what you said is enough to satiate his curiosity.

Eddie chuckles a bit at your innocence. “Oh, right here,” he places his right hand over your skirt now, laying it above your mound so you could get the picture. You nod hesitantly before he continues. “Did the throbbing feel good though?” he teases you with the question, and you nod again. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Y-yes, Eddie, it felt so good. At one point it was so strong, then it would go away.” There was a sense of sadness in your eyes as you pouted. “But, then I would do it again until I was sleepy.”

His hand that’s holding yours, lets go for the first time so that he can hold your face with both hands.

Damn the Church for making you feel that way about your pleasure. If he had the chance, he would show you every single way the human body could reach its climax. That would be a real miracle that would make him believe in God.

“So this is what has put you in such a mood for two days, huh? The words your priest has told you stuck in your head.” He wipes away the abundance of tears from your face so that you stop involuntarily swallowing the remnants of your emotions.

“Well, it started Saturday, after Bible study. I was talking to my friend about it to see if she knew what I was talking about. She gasped so loud and told me it was sinning because of how I did it to myself and didn’t stop.”

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” he tried to ease your tension.

“But, Eddie,” you exclaimed a little too loudly. He even placed a finger on your lips to hush your tone— scared that you would wake your father up. “She is right. I did that every single day for weeks and weeks. With different things too. Like my stuffed panda, different pillows on my bed, and that towel you let me keep –”

You’re not completely sure why you were confessing more to Eddie than you did to your own priest. Let alone confess one part about him. But it felt nice to get everything off your chest tonight.

“Look at me, making my cameo in your dirty fantasy,” he giggles before placing a kiss to the side of your mouth. It made you blush to feel his soft lips on your skin, you craved more. “What I’m understanding is that you haven’t been able to do this activity for three days now?” you nodded at the question, too scared to respond vocally because you might let some more slip.

Eddie took a moment to think about what to say next. This was more difficult than writing a song or doing a math test. Plus, if the strain on his jeans was any indication of how badly he yearned to help you, then the dam was about to burst.

Every single day for weeks and weeks, the words repeated in his head.

That means every time he has sat next to you in fourth period, every time you talked to him at his locker, or whenever you sat with his club at lunch — Eddie was talking to an innocent Angel who masturbates and brings herself to multiple orgasms every night without even realizing it. If the man had known, he would’ve invited himself over earlier so he could assist you in your beautiful fantasy. Maybe so that you didn’t need to use his towel to get yourself off, but him instead.

He continued, “why don’t I help you? That would make it better, won’t it?”

“B-but, that means you’re sinning too,” you squeak out quietly. Not sure if the tears still running down your face are from relief, guilt, or both.

“I already always do,” he says with a smile. The Dealer keeps one hand on your face while the other places a trail of featherlight touches from your neck to the tops of your thighs. Once it’s there, he massages circles, causing you to rub them together unintentionally. “And you said it was a sin because you did it to yourself. What if I helped you and did all the work? That’s a loophole since this pretty little pussy you have won’t need to do anything.”

Hearing the word out loud made you shiver. Eddie had said it in a way that made you throb in the same way you did all those nights prior. “When you put it that way –”

“We don’t need to do anything you don’t want to. Seriously, this can stop any time whenever you hear the Angel on your shoulder scream at you.”

“I have something else to confess, Eddie.” One of your hands met up with his at your thigh, stroking the veins on his hands that you imagined so often. “You’re my Devil: the only thing that crosses my mind when I sin, tempting me to do so much more,” the words spill out of your mouth quickly, since you feel comfortable enough with this confessional with him — he deserves to know what you’re thinking of.

“Oh my God,” Eddie groans, squeezing your thigh and rutting against the couch so he could relieve some tension of his hardening member. He really thought he was going to be doing all the seduction tonight, but he was oh so wrong.

“Why do my sins make me feel so good, if they’re so bad?” you pause at the question you've asked about for the second time tonight . “If I’m damned like they say I am, then that means I’m going to Hell,” the quiet voice that emits from your throat is full of guilt and nervousness.

“Then let's be damned and burn in Hell together, baby. You’re gonna love it,” Eddie says.

Your Devil, your vessel of temptation, the one person who made you cross the line from being pure to the second-biggest sinner you know — leans forward to capture your lips with his, and oh how you loved it.

-:-:-:-:-

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