Archive of Our Own

"I shall now descend upon this hill and submerge our chariot in this sea of horrors, demons, and ghosts."

"Eat shit, Munson."

The playful bickering had not stopped since the moment you all piled into the old, beat-up van that Eddie, much to Steve's dismay, called his chariot. With the two men, hair wild and tousled from the harsh wind that stormed through the open windows during the reckless driving of your host, sitting at the front and you sat in the middle seat behind them, it left no room for silence. 

Whether the conversation was about Eddie's falling grades or his bizarre club, followed by you poking fun at how Steve seems to be distraught that Dustin has found a new babysitter. Eventually, turning to Steve and his poor charm, not that he needs it anymore, but simply reminiscing on the countless times his flirtations met uninterested ears.

Steve would take the teasing to heart and then, to his defense, he would turn to look at you over the center console. He waved his hands dramatically as he brought up the fact that you, Eddie laughing as he knew where the conversation was going, could hardly muster a single proper sentence when either of the men so much as glanced at you back in high school. Of course, instantly, you would shut up and Steve would fall back into his seat with a triumphant grin - not without Eddie quickly flicking him between the eyes to avenge your wounded pride.

Just as planned, the chariot is pulled into a secluded spot, one that Steve insisted was perfect. Overgrown greenery, such as trees and shrubbery, hopefully, none of which is poison ivy, keep the van well concealed to the naked eye. Not to mention, the scenery is almost fantastical - the vibrant shades of green look almost purple with how the sun, creating a beautiful collage of pinks, purples, oranges, and blues in the sky, shines down on it.

Eddie taps his ringed fingers against the worn steering wheel, bobbing his head to the raunchy lyrics of Pantera's Hot and Heavy, words that would make even the coolest of parents go pale with disturbance - but that's Eddie. The borderline pornographic pictures that the song paints are just too in character for him, enough so that, with a scoff and an eye roll, Steve is already breaking free of the van and circling to the back.

Poor Steve has yet to embrace the hundreds of mixtapes stuffed throughout the van.

"I'm cummin' down on you," He sings along to the lyrics in his signature Eddie fashion, eyes closed and bottom lip caught between his teeth, "I'm burnin' hot..." His hair bounces with the bobbing of his head and his rings click with every tap on his abused wheel... you wish you could take a picture, capturing the carefree and confident nature that is just so Eddie Munson - a sight that is even more valuable now with the absence of his over-the-top theatrics.

Eddie seems to sense your staring because when your eyes return to his, his head, still nodding, is turned to look at you over his shoulder. His lips are pulled into a cheeky grin, tongue between his teeth, and those big eyes of his slightly hooded and looking at you through his thick lashes, "What plagues your mind, conjurer?" 

Although he isn't singing anymore, he hums to the lyrics all while maintaining eye contact with you, something that proves to be difficult with just how... alluring he is. The colorful sky bleeding through the windshield and honeying his usually ivory complexion, "I hate when you call me that, it isn't attractive... makes me feel like a crone." You say, elbows placed at the center console and leaning in between the two front seats, "Besides, nothing is on my mind... just enjoy watching you."

"Pervert!" He wraps his hands over his chest to mimic someone covering their nude body from prying eyes. When you show no sign of amusement, his palms drop in defeat, "Since when are you a responsible, mature adult?" 

You attempt to respond, perhaps say something snarky and egg him on, but suddenly his hands are on either side of your face. Two of his grimy fingers pull your eyelids wide open, "Oh, it's worse than I thought..." He gets real close, enough so that you can smell the remains of tobacco and Widmer Brother's beer, "Harrington has poisoned your mind with taxes, working nine-to-five jobs, and drinking coffee in place of a proper breakfast."

You would have laughed if it were not for the hand tickling the back of your head, coaxing your body to move on its own - hanging between the seats and melting into his palms as they come out to cup your cheeks, "You smell like that dog that lives across from you..." You murmur, lips slightly puckered from how he holds your face, the smooth steel of his rings pinching your cheeks.

Eddie, who could give two shits about how he smells, guides you to him in one easy motion until your lips are slotted with his in a slow, sensual exchange of saliva. His lips are chapped but warm, mushed to yours which taste of the flavored chapstick you always carried with you - he couldn't help but drag his tongue over your bottom lip, interested in getting a better sense of the flavor.

Your fingers curl into his hair and drag him closer, a subtle whine spilling from between your lips and stroking the fire deep within his center. He takes the opportunity to stuff his tongue in your mouth, grinding it into the top of yours only to drag it underneath your tongue and lick the thick veins - it's a sloppy, erotic kiss... one that would put all x-rated films to shame.

The overtly sexual song continues to play in the background. Though it isn't something you would care for at any other time, it ignites a certain blaze between your legs and Eddie's playful bite at your tongue does little to quell the desire, "Tastes good," He hums, dragging his tongue over his teeth but not letting you go, "Like... pomegranate." He nods as if reassuring himself that pomegranate is what he tasted.

"Mhm, I also bought cherry, blue raspberry, and peppermint." You nuzzle the tip of your nose against the inside of his thumb, earning you a teensy grin from the lover boy in front of you, "The peppermint gives me a migraine after a while." The two of you giggle amongst each other like two silly teens in love, and although neither of you is still in your teens, it doesn't take away from the feelings that fester.

The sudden slam of a hand on the window beside Eddie pulls you both from your day-dreaming state, both of your heads turning quick to see Steve standing there with a knowing look, "And here I genuinely believed you two were grabbing shit to bring to the back, how stupid of me." Though he plays the part of someone who is at end of their patience, it is clear he is only putting up a front - classic Steve.

"Could've just admitted you wanted some sugar too, honey-bun." The metalhead attempts at stifling a laugh, but the twisted look that Harrington gives him at the awful pet name does little to snuff that burning itch in his throat - quickly, his head is thrown back as a cackle rips at his strained vocal cords, no doubt his poor habits playing a roll in the scratchy laugh he is coughing out.

Instinctually, and impressively fast, he pulls himself together with a few extra chuckles, turning his body away as Steve's hand comes through the window to give him one good whack at the back of the head, "I'm messin' with you!" His voice cracks when the same hand goes in for a second blow, turning his body as far from Steve as possible even if that means partially crushing you.

"Yeah, and I'm about to take you up on that offer to drive us into the lake." It is his turn to laugh, albeit a fake one with the monotonous tone he takes. The metalhead's only retaliation is to hang out the window, both palms pressed against the belt molding and puckering his lips to make kissing sounds at an unamused Steve who, much to Eddie's dismay, ignores him and retreats to the trunk.

Eddie pouts a little, obviously disheartened by the fact Steve didn't play along, "Can't believe you're dating that snob."

You press a kiss to his cheek, his frown upturning and his head tilting to lean against yours, a sign for you to press more kisses to his scratchy cheek, "Yeah, well, if I remember correctly..." You fiddle with the guitar pick hanging from his neck, "You are dating that snob, too... and you looove him and his snobbiness, especially when we get to use his pool." 

Oh, yeah... he fucking loves that pool.

"Touché, m'lady." He reluctantly admits defeat, waving a hand to dismiss the topic.

On cue, the cassette clicks at the end of the song, "Shit, just gimme a second to rewind this... then I'll bring the six-pack out." He murmurs, already fiddling with the cassette that is still in pristine condition, you admire his ethics when it comes to salvaging all of his tapes. 

You leave him to it with a hum and slip out the side door, making sure to grab the small bag of snacks the three of you stocked up on before coming to Lover's Lake - chips, candy bags, Eddie's very questionable gummies stuffed at the bottom, amongst other things. Whatever was on sale was bought. 

At the back of the vehicle, Steve is attempting to utilize the blankets and pillows loosely thrown about, building a somewhat comfortable spread for the three of you to eventually bundle up in. Of course, Eddie's poor cleaning habits make it quite difficult with how many empty beer cans and whiskey bottles litter the trunk... are those your panties?

"How is his van worse than his room?" Steve pinches the hem of the lace, lifting them with a questionable look, "You enable him."

"It adds personality," You defend, already crawling inside and pouring the contents of the bag into the center of the blankets, "Oh, Razzles!" Before your fingers can so much as graze the packaging, Steve snatches them up and out of reach.

"Hey, hey, hey..." He says with his eyebrow quirked at your pout, "I bought these for myself, young lady, and if my memory is worth anything, I asked you if you wanted your own and you said 'no.'" He expects you to give up and start digging your fingers around for something else, but your pout only deepens, and under the unrelenting expression you pull... he finds himself breaking into a sweat, "It's not that... serious."

Silence befalls you both for a moment, a long and grueling ten seconds of just unbroken staring - you fiddling with your fingers and his knuckles growing white with how tightly he has those Razzles in his hand... and then he is ripping the top open, "You are no better than him, y'know that?" He pours a few into your palm; two blue and a purple.

"Can I trade one blue for a red?" You ask, eyeing the three in your palm before staring at which ones fell into his hand, "You have two red, it's only fair." 

Your logic is less than valid, considering he was already generous by sparing you some of his candy, but he trades with you nonetheless. He would much rather see you glowing with victory, and stuffing two of the three razzles into your pocket and popping the last into your mouth, than holding out your open palms like a beggar at the side of a road - plus, he never says 'no' to you.

He joins you on the blankets, shoes kicked off and neatly lined at the side of the trunk, "Where's that parasite?" He grumbles, noticing that you both seem to be missing a certain companion, and even more concerning, how oddly quiet it has become. Not a sound other than that of crickets, the occasional croak of a toad, and the trees shaking against the wind.

"Rewinding his cassette, he said he would bring the beer." You don't question the prolonged absence of Eddie, he is notorious for getting distracted by just about anything that he deems even slightly more interesting than his original task, "Probably peeling at his steering wheel again."

Steve only hums, leaning back against his elbows and falling into deep thought, one that makes it all the quieter... and more boring. You find yourself antsy, with little to occupy yourself other than the random Rubik's Cube that had been left alone for the last few weeks, "He is... taking a while." You say and look around, trying to hear for any sort of movement.

The van barks to life at the howling of a new tape. Though you are no extraordinaire of music, Eddie has blessed you, against your will, with an ear for metal - Don't Break the Oath by Mercyful Fate. Interesting choice, you expected another hour-long mix of Ozzy.

Despite Mercyful Fate's noise filling the silence that had been left in Pantera's conclusion, there was still no sign of life from Eddie - not a sound from the usually obnoxiously loud guy.

With a huff, the man lying beside you pushes himself to sit up, "He better not be getting high-"

"Fuck!" The two of you jump at the sudden curse, as well as a loud thump and the sound of fallen leaves crunching under some kind of weight, "Shit, shit, shit- son of a bitch!" The string of curses, along with a few huffs and groans that don't sound quite joyful, continues with something smacking the side of the van, Steve shooting you an eye roll, "Fuckin'... fuck."

The two of you sit in anticipation, listening to staggering footsteps come around the side of the van, the crunching of every uncoordinated step making you both look to where a hand holds onto the open door of the trunk.

A disheveled Eddie comes into view, his hair infested with all kinds of forest debris, the knee of his denim pants torn and you can already see what looks to be a bloodied scrape. The front of his shirt has a few brown smears which you can assume are from him wiping his muddied palms on it. The higher your eyes travel, you realize that there are a few stray droplets of crimson at his collar, that same color present beneath his nose in snail trails.

"Eds, your nose is bleeding." Steve points out nonchalantly, taking the six-pack from the metalhead, two beers compromised in their journey to the trunk. You both make room for the wounded soldier to crawl into the back with you both, "Come here," Eddie, still dizzy and grinding a palm into his temple, doesn't need to be told twice because he is already creeping his way in between you both with a big, cheeky grin, "I've never met someone as insufferable as you, Munson."

"Your insults are as cheap as your hair routine." Eddie flashes you a triumphant wiggle of his brows, and you don't have the heart to tell him his comeback sucked. 

His tongue darts out to lick at the blood tickling his upper lip, and as if his blood was laced with Indiana's finest fairy dust, his eyes double in size and he jumps into a criss-cross position, "Hey! This isn't the first time you've seen me with a bloody nose, remember when I headbutted Tommy Hagan?!" 

You giggle at the change in subject, but even more at the distinct memory behind the incident - it was exactly a week before summer your Senior year, the days were longer and hotter and that meant Eddie Munson was extra irritable and extra riled up... especially being that he would be seeing Hawkins High School for a fifth year. Tommy was feeling extra douchey that day, enough so that he thought it would be a good idea to harass you.

Though the memory is a blur, you distinctly remember him saying something about you being the Devil's whore. Obviously in reference to Eddie's estrangement from God, as well as Hawkins' Freak being the single person you consistently associated with.

The more you recall the memory, the more you feel your stomach do a few twists - Eddie was one of the few who would entertain Tommy, that pathetic little worm. Not even you, someone who typically didn't take shit from anyone, could find the energy to defend yourself. It was quite the scene, Eddie hopping out of his van because he knew wherever Tommy was, trouble was hot on his heel.

Not to mention he was still high off of his anger from that morning when Carol "Cock Breath" Perkins closed your locker on your hand.

Everything unfolded messily, Eddie tucking his sunglasses into the collar of his tank top, a twinkling sheen of sweat coating every inch of exposed skin on him - he barely exchanged a word with the asshole before, with a gentle hand on Tommy's shoulder and a cocky grin, he launched his head forward square into Tommy's snout.

You question if he was high at the time, but that is beside the point.

Your knight, although having given Tommy a broken nose, and you knew there was a possibility he could get into serious trouble with law enforcement, did not leave unscathed - his nose may not have been broken, but it was gushing more blood than the tampons in your bookbag could collect... and in general, tampons were not exactly the go-to when it came to nosebleeds.

"It wasn't really fun when Chief Hopper came knocking at my parent's door looking for you..." Your fingers fiddled with the hem of your skirt, "You're lucky they were at that town meeting, I would've been in a lot of trouble for harboring a fugitive."

Eddie swats the air dismissively, "Oh, come on! It wasn't that bad... plus, I was blessed that it wasn't even Tommy who made a police report. Even more blessed he was too ashamed to mention to anyone how he really got that broken nose." A victorious grin paints the features of your lover, "If I remember correctly," A mischievous glint flashed in his pupils, "You rewarded me with a fuckin' great blow job after you picked me up from the police station."

Now it was your turn to become flustered, fingers coming up to your face so you can hide the grin you couldn't find the strength to subdue, "Nuh-uh, you're delusional." You shake your head and turn away, suddenly finding that the Razzle in your mouth lost its flavor and spitting it out, "I only gave you a kiss on the cheek."

"You're the delusional one, sorceress," Steve begins to dab under Eddie's nose using the bandanna that Eddie usually keeps in his back pocket, "You pulled me straight to your room and locked that door, even pointed to those adorable pink bedsheets of yours and went on an entire rant about how no one has ever done that for you and how cool you thought I looked..." His hands were clasped together in front of him, like a princess ode-ing her noble savior, and his voice was significantly higher in pitch when relaying your supposed words to him.

His recollection is briefly cut off by Steve who wipes under Eddie's chin and gathers what blood he can, "Then you dropped down on your knees, put your hands neatly in your lap, and instead of continuin' to butter me up with those really nice compliments..." He lets silence fill the van to add to the suspense, "You blurted out that, even though you have never done it before, you wanted to suck my dick."

Your fist collides with his shoulder, a weak punch but nonetheless a punch, "Don't get too cocky, you numbskull. You left out the fact that it was your first blowjob, too." Eddie tenses under your reveal of information, confidential information he hoped would never see the light of day, "Yup, Edward Munson was a real virgin. Not saying I wasn't a virgin, but, y'know, for a guy who would talk a lot of game..."

"Don't you dare, witch."

"I did have to fake my orgasm the first time we did it."

"No way," Steve gasps, "Are you serious?" He speaks in between chuckles of disbelief, "Aww, isn't that just sweet... popping each other's cherries." He tosses the bandanna somewhere, tilting Eddie's face around to examine for any other abrasions, "I sure hope he picked up a thing or two, especially with how you two fuck like bunnies."

You glance to Eddie who has turned as red as the setting sun, picking at his cuticles to help with the searing sea of shame you have drowned him in, "Oh, I'm not sure..." Mischief twinkles in your squinted eyes, a look that has poor Munson eyeing you with caution, "What do you think, lover boy?"

He squints, eyeing you as if you are Vecna in the flesh. If looks could kill, well, you would surely be no more than a desecrated puddle of human meat and blood.

"You know," Steve pipes up, "I don't recall you offering me one when I drove you above the speed limit to get you to your college placement test on time because," He gives Eddie's cheek a gentle pat, "This idiot slept in and didn't pick you up."

"C'mon, I paid for my sins because..." His face lights up as he gives jazz hands, "Ta-da! I had to repeat Senior year, again... all because I missed my finals that same day." He sounds less than thrilled regarding that revelation, and the way his face immediately drops is proof that even Eddie Munson is fully aware and dreads the fact he is a repeat senior not once, but twice... and if he doesn't get his shit together, he will be seeing good ol' Hawkins High for the seventh year.

You watch the solemn look that kills the previous light-hearted and goofy smile he had been wearing, Steve noticing it as well because he allows the troubled man to sink back into his arms with a defeated sigh, "Let's make '86 your year, all you need is a solid 80 on your stupid American literature final." Steve brushes the hair from Eddie's face, peering down at his bummed-out look, "If it makes you feel better, the only way I graduated was because of Nancy."

"Yeah, well, Wheeler isn't too big of a fan of me... pretty sure she thinks I'm coaxin' mini Wheeler into the fiery pits of Hell." The three of you erupt into a fit of laughter because, although it is most likely not true, none of you would be surprised if Nancy had a vendetta against Eddie for hanging with her little brother. 

"We have (name), she's pretty smart." Steve flashes you a charming smirk, which is immediately countered by Eddie's puppy dog eyes, "Maybe if you two didn't spend so much time screwing in the back of the van during his lunch, you could spend more time studying in the library."

Eddie hacks up a sound of disgust as he cringes at the mere thought of the library, "God, you're askin' for somethin' impossible, Harrington. Do you think I have it in me to sacrifice my daily dose of stress relief for... for fuckin' American lit?" He sits up in Steve's arms, head tilted just enough for their eyes to lock, "Cute that you think I wanna graduate enough to willingly turn down the talents of this fine lady."

Steve shoves him off with a peachy tint dusting over his ears and Eddie, wiping his bloody nose with the back of his hand, licks his bottom lip before flipping over to lay on his back between you and Steve, "Alrighty, fellow nomads!" His fingers dig around the breast pocket of his vest and after a few seconds they retreat with a fresh blunt neatly rolled, "Allow us to partake in a little thing I call Operation: High as a Kite."

"You don't call it that, Edward."

"Silence, conjurer, this takes great focus."

He looks between you both with those big eyes of his shining brighter than usual, head slightly lifted from the floor of the van to place the end between his lips and, after realizing his front pant pocket is empty, snaps his fingers to catch your attention, "Uh..." He hums around the blunt, "Lighter! I need a lighter." He speaks out of the corner of his mouth.

A smirk crawls its way onto Eddie's face at how close you get, partially laying on his chest whilst your hands cup around the blunt, the small flame illuminating both of your faces just enough to see the twinkle behind each other's pupils, "Thank you, m'lady." He says with a puff, smoke spilling from his nostrils in a dark, gray cloud, "Gonna smoke this time?"

"Mhm," You lay your cheek at the center of his chest, his heart beating at a calming, rhythmic pace, "What kind is it? The Northern Lights and Big Bud cross made me a lil' nauseous the last time." A hand rubs the back of your head before the same fingers curl forward and lift you by the chin.

"Somethin' new, Rick called it Neville's Haze." His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, a clear sign for you to part your lips as Eddie, who can hardly contain his excitement, leans forward just enough to blow the smoke into your mouth.

You inhale it gratefully, hiccuping over the bizarre spiciness that burns at the back of your throat, only for it to be calmed by this nutty afterburn. Well, you think it's nutty, you're not entirely sure. However, you know it tastes different, but not in a bad way.

"Don't be shy, your highness," Eddie teases, the hand that isn't rubbing soothing circles into your back is reaching out to give Steve's thigh a squeeze, "C'mere, plenty of Eddie to go around."

"How sweet of you," Steve deadpans but scoots closer regardless so that Eddie, with Steve's legs being spread open, can shimmy you both to lay between them with his head over one of Steve's thighs still taut with muscle he developed during high school, "If I didn't know any better I would've ripped my panties off and let you have your way with me." The lack of emotion in his tone makes it obvious he is only being sarcastic, typical Steve.

Eddie, with aching cheeks from having not stopped smiling since you three got here, places a hand over his heart and looks between Steve, taking a drag from the blunt, and craning his neck down to look at you on his chest, "He wounds me, (name), wounds me." He emphasizes his words with a dramatic display of tossing back his head and sticking his tongue out to play dead, something that pulls a small giggle from you.

"Don't entertain him, (name)." 

"Don't be jealous that the seductress has chosen her suitor-"

"More like chosen her jester."

"Cheeky coming from a guy who lost his throne to some Californian ogre."

The blunt is passed back to Eddie and Steve blows out a cloud that he purposely aims at the metal head, not minding that you get caught in the cross-fire. Eddie makes a show of trying to catch some of it, of course, his efforts futile with how you swat the smoke away to get a proper intake of oxygen. Eddie pulls at the blunt, the tip glowing red and his cheeks hollowing out slightly to savor the pollution that fills his lungs with a burn, then blows it right back at Steve.

When it is finally your turn again, Eddie makes it his mission to hold the blunt for you, those empty eyes of his watching your pretty face all the way up until you try your best to blow O's. Much to your dismay, they come out rather wonky looking, "Cute attempt, sweetheart, but-" He makes a show of holding the smoke in his lungs a tad longer before, with glossy eyes that begin to tear up from the burning, blowing near-perfect O's. Five solid ones at that.

"Quit showing off," You whine with a swat to his chest, the curly-haired stoner only kissing the tip of your nose in return, and again, wiping under his nose, "Lemme try one more time." 

Again, you fail, and with a pout you jerk the blunt out towards Steve who takes it with a smirk, "Better luck next time." Only then do you realize that Steve's free hand has made its way into Eddie's curls, detangling a few knots and overall just twirling and fluffing the thick locks of hair that fall over his lap.

You notice a particularly ticklish feeling at your hip, squirming slightly against Eddie who, with his head tilted back to look up at Steve, sports an obvious smirk - the tickling continues, dull nails dragging over your plush side before giving the area a squeeze and shaking, "Eddie-" You look up to glare at your lover for being so aggressive, but you find that you can't even meet his gaze.

The two men are shamelessly close now, a trail of smoke leaving one's lips and entering the other's, the tension thick and it seems that playful grope you had been given was a sign for you to watch. Your eyes can't seem to look away, not when Steve's softer hands come to hold under Eddie's chin before slotting their lips together. 

The kiss is passionate but slow, cheesy with how they are locked upside down due to the position you all had assumed - you on Eddie, Eddie laying back against Steve, and Steve looming over you both. His adam's apple bobs and you notice Steve's tongue slip between Eddie's lips, a ringed hand coming to hold the back of the brunet's head and tugging him down in an awkward slouched position.

You don't feel left out, not at all. The hand at your waist makes sure you are getting the affection you need, slipping down below the waist of your skirt towards the back of your bare thigh, only to move up and under the thin material to cup at your ass through your cotton panties. He gives the plush curve a good squeeze, fingers digging into the meat dangerously close to your puffy folds.

A subtle moan, one too breathy and guttural to be Steve, breaks the silence. Of course, the only other sound was their lips smacking together. Silence is not the only thing that breaks because when you open your eyes again, lip caught between your teeth to silence the whine that threatens to spill out, you find that they have pulled apart, their cheeks blazing with pink and red hues.

"Shit," Munson breathes, and you're not sure whether he cursed because you all let a good portion of the blunt burn out or the fact that he grew quite the hard-on during his heated make-out. With your legs entangled with his, you can feel the tent in his pants against your upper thigh, and, unable to help yourself, you brush your bare skin against it.

Another throaty moan hiccups out of him, his eyes squeezing shut as you continue to grind your leg into him, "Fuck-" He shivers, the hand on your ass grabbing you tighter and holding you snug against his side, "(Name)."

"But you started it..." You pout, rising from your laying position in favor of throwing a leg over Eddie and straddling his waist, "You were the one putting your hand under my skirt... pervert." His eyes trail up and down your body with this wolfish look in his eyes, hands cupping the junction between your hips and your thighs.

When your pretty eyes flick up towards Steve, your heart leaps into your throat. He dissects your expression immediately and reaches up to brush at his mouth, bringing his fingers in front of his face to find that Eddie's bloody nose has tainted him. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lip, tongue wetting his bottom lip before giving Munson a flick between the eyes, "You did start it."

You nod slowly, bottom lip caught between your teeth and your fingers playing with a loose string on the collar of Eddie's Dio shirt, "It's not like you're not in the mood," You emphasize your words with a playful grind against him, your clothed cunt dragging over the hard-on pressing against the zipper of his jeans, "Please?"

Eddie's eyes darken at your plea, fingers digging into where they are placed on you and you find the slight sting of his nails digging crescents into your flesh to be just another nail in the impending electricity that strikes your core over and over and over. He can practically smell the heat between your thighs at this point if it weren't for your subtle wiggling to be any indication at all.

Naturally, Eddie is already shoving his palms under your shirt to cop a feel, your hands reaching for Steve who leans forward and allows for you to hold him by the collar of his shirt as your lips meet his in a kiss that matches the one he shared with Eddie.

His mouth is hot, too hot, so much so you forget how to breathe and you can only huff out forced breaths through your nose, "You both are so fuckin' hot," Eddie coos from below, squeezing your soft tits in his hands and watching your hips continue to grind against him, "Feels nice, girly? Gettin' you all hot n' bothered?" 

Though you hear him, you don't respond, too focused on the burning between your thighs and how loopy you feel with Steve Harrington's tongue down your throat, choking on the shared saliva and biting back moans because your clit finally gets hooked on the button of Eddie's jeans, "Please, shut up." The whimper is pathetic, too loud, but if only you could have heard their hearts thump at the sound of it.

Eddie senses your hurry and desire, if the way you were humping him wasn't enough, of course. Your lovely hips wiggling and rocking, clawing for that first glow of release for the night - he almost pities you, needily bouncing in his lap like an impatient brat and tugging Steve back whenever he tries to break away for air, "Fuck, you're a mess..." He lifts the front of your skirt and curiously eyes the evident wet spot that has already taken form.

"'m sorry," You whine, finally letting Steve take a breath, "Feels good." You didn't need to say it for either man to be able to tell. Eddie is starting to think that Sativa strains give you quite the libido - he makes a mental note to keep a baggy on him, sex is always better with a little weed.

Steve watches with anticipation at the movement beneath your tanktop, Eddie's hands create an outline through the fitted material, allowing for Steve to gouge what exactly he is doing to you whilst you hump him like a crazed rabbit in heat. Your chest moves with the squeezing of his hands around your tits, a girly squeal spilling from your already parted lips, and a particularly shaky grind of your cunt making it more than clear that you are growing impatient.

Finally, he lifts your top up and over your head, the two men getting a nice eyefull of the ordinary bra hugging your chest, "Cute." Steve comments with a smirk, though you pay no mind to him, not when your clit is starting to throb and your innards convulse under the pressure of an impending climax taking shape - the two men, fully familiar with you and your body, read you like an open book.

The subtle bouncing of your body, the way your thighs are trembling near uncontrollably, your fingers clutching the fabric of Eddie's shirt... you're close, really close. Eddie isn't even sure where to put his hands anymore, palms hovering over your sides and his eyes locked on your leaky cunt, still hidden by your panties, doing desperate circles into the denim.

"Fuck," He sighs, head falling back and eyes squeezed shut, "Fuck, I'm gonna fuckin' cream my pants if she doesn't fuckin' stop." His words come out jumbled, the subtle slap of his hands suddenly gripping your hips to slow you down breaking the string of whines that spill from your tongue, "Jesus Christ." His foot starts to tap at the floor of the trunk, leg jumping, and his tongue caught between his piercing teeth, "Steve-" 

Harrington hears him loud and clear, well, not that he needed to hear anything with how you both are practically fucking each other with clothes on - but nonetheless, he mollifies Eddie's plea with a gentle tug of your arm that has your hips leaving Munson's in a fit of twitching, "But-" You start your protest, a long whine spilling at the tip of your tongue when Steve, damn him to hell, gives you that look.

The kind of look he usually gives Eddie, the one he uses when his patience is being tested and, much to your dismay, he is not going to listen to you complain. In short, the look that says, 'Shut up and deal with it.'

You are coaxed off of Eddie with another tug, crawling over Eddie's body and assuming the position of sitting in Steve's lap; your back to his chest, body between his spread legs, and head tilted back against his shoulder as his open palms lay flat over your warm, trembling belly. Eddie remains a puddle on the floor, seemingly resituating himself after that ordeal.

Steve's hands don't sit still for long, one already gliding down your abdomen before settling between your legs with a gentle pat over your soaked panties, "Shit," He mutters, giving the fabric a few gentle taps just to hear that slushy, wet sound they make, "And here I thought you were better behaved than Munson, but I think you're just as bad as he is..."

Your hips jerk around when his fingertips begin to rub loving circles into your clit, "N-No!" You gasp out, a hand holding his wrist between your legs, "I am good-" Your back arches, "I-I am... I'm really good- better than..." Your eyes roll into the back of your head when he applies pressure right at your core, a thousand little butterflies dancing around your ribcage and rattling what little composure you still had left, "Nngh- please, please-"

A hyena-like chuckle spills from the tongue of the man in front of you, eyes as dark as the bottom of an indefinite well and peering through dark chocolate strands that hang over his face in messy curls, "You're gonna drive me mad here, you guys..." He seethes whilst shedding a few layers, his shirt is removed and joins his leather jacket and vest - your eyes, although having fully memorized his ivory torso, seem to be drawn immediately to his double hip tattoos.

God, they are just basic nautical stars inked into each hip bone - a simple black and nude, no larger than that of a sand dollar. You remember when he had gotten them, a cheeky dare given by Gareth a few days after Eddie's nineteenth birthday, and whether or not you knocked some sense into him you knew that a dare is a dare... Eddie never turns down dares, not even that time that Jeff, who had drunk the better half of the arsenal of liquor you all brought together, dared him to go streaking in the heart of Tina's shitty Halloween party.

The same party that none of you were invited to, but Eddie, in his beat-up van, pulled up to - stripping naked in the trunk.

Aside from a great majority of Hawkins High seeing him almost completely bare, other than a measly attempt at covering his junk with a stray Holy Bible he found thrown out of one of the many windows, that was the first time girls took notice of The Freak - all it took was Eddie Munson, someone you have seen nude countless of times when you both would go skinny dipping at the lake, to run through Tina's house naked as the day he was born to get a few interested stares that Monday in the halls.

And said freak has not a clue how to stomach attention from the opposite sex - he did spend his lunch for a week straight in the back of his van to avoid a few of the more persistent ones. Not that he intended to give anyone the time of day, though he confided in you that the attention was nice, he admitted that he really liked only one girl... unbeknownst to you, as of yet, that he was referring to you.

The memory makes your stomach do somersaults, and the decreasing space between you both, Eddie crawling towards you with a look you know all too well, does little to pacify the throbbing between your legs, "C'mon, at least gimme a kiss..." His bottom lip is jutted out in a pout, one hand slipping up the side of your throat to cup your face, holding you nice and still before his lips slot with yours in one of the softer kisses that he can offer.

Your fingers, needy to feel his skin, start by cupping the dip of his waist, the skin soft and cool to the touch despite the heated look. The pads of your thumb press against the tattoos you had just been ogling over, earning a breathy chuckle against your lips as he tilts his head to get better access to your mouth. Your lips part without protest at the gentle prodding of his tongue against your bottom lip, and while his tongue slips to the back of your throat, your fingers tickle from the dark hairs of his happy trail up towards his chest where your palms, clammy and hot, remain.

"Mm-" A choked sound croaks in his throat, breaking the kiss to look down between you both, one of your hands sneakily tugging at his belt and urging it open with impatient pulls, "Ah, ah, ah..." He brushes over the veins of your wrist, the hairs on your arms rising at the ticklish sensation and bringing a smirk to his already breathtaking features, "Not yet, still gotta do somethin' first."

Though his words are up for interpretation as to what he could possibly need to do right now, the exploration of his hands up your thighs where they then hook around the waistband of your panties answers all that you need to know. He is ever so careful in removing them, two fingers hooked into the elastic and his eyes, damn those beautiful eyes of his, looking at you through the top of his long lashes, "Eddie..."

Steve aids in lifting your hips, watching with an intensity unknown to you that leaves Eddie's knees weak - when your panties, dampened with sweat and your arousal, are tossed aside, Eddie lowers himself onto his stomach with a soft grunt. The bare skin of his biceps press under your thighs, bringing both legs over his shoulders and, with a little shimmy, maneuvering himself to fit snug between your legs, "Tell me, seductress, does your jester look handsome between your thighs?"

You only nod, too foggy in the head to scold his stupid attempt at comedy in the midst of lust. Instead, biting your lip and reaching down to weave your fingers through his thick, curly hair, "I love you, Eddie." Your confession comes stiffly, just a slip of words that had been dabbling at the tip of your tongue, words that, although you have told him before, never felt quite as genuine as they do now.

He huffs into your thigh, the same one he had just been smothering with light suckling, kisses, and the occasional bite, "I love you more." Your chest flutters when he punctuates his response with a greedy bite to the apex of your thighs - the meat there extra tender and causing a pained yelp to bubble in your throat, "Fuck, you've gotta be a succubus or some shit-" Another kiss added over the new wound, one that has left his teeth marks embedded in your flesh.

Before he advances on his original plan, he places a knowing hand high on Steve's thigh and gives it a squeeze, his eyes not once breaking from the deep amber that watches him defile you, "Y'know, I love you, too... right? Stick up your ass and all." Eddie, the psychic that he is, always senses the tension that follows the use of those words - how Steve, despite not saying anything, tenses up and looks expectantly at the use of them.

Eddie is the first to always remind Steve, the first to interlock his worn fingers from hours of practicing on his guitar with Steve's much softer palms, the first to press a million kisses to each of his knuckles and hold a look of absolute adoration for the man in front of him. Eddie just knows Steve, and he knows how much it means to him to hear that someone, anyone loves him.

"I know," Steve grumbles, a grateful look in his eyes as he puts his hand over Eddie's, "Don't get all sappy on me, Munson." He doesn't mean it, Eddie knows that, he knows that behind the playful jab, one accompanied by an overdramatic eye roll, is his true feelings. If anyone can see the clear signs of love, it is Eddie.

But he will be demanding verbal affirmation later, he sets a mental reminder.

The man between your thighs practically melts, cheeks flushed and his heart thumping wildly, pressing a final kiss just above your clit, a kiss that makes your walls flutter. Your entire body heats up despite his efforts in cooling your sticky folds with a chilly blow of air, the shudder of your hips subdued by his hands pressing firmly down on your waist, "Ah, ah... keep still for me, she-devil."

His tone is significantly lower than it had been moments earlier, tongue dragging over his bottom lip and eyes locked on the very thing he wishes his dick was buried inside of right now. Eddie swells with a sense of pride at how, even without having touched you properly, your cunt flutters and leaks in agony, "Please," Is all you manage to stutter out, little tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

God, he loves when you do that - you did it when he took your virginity, the first time you smoked with him, and when he took you to prom despite saying how much he hates social gatherings, and... countless other times he cannot seem to think up on the top of his head.

But if Eddie Munson loves anything, it's seeing you turn to putty in his hands.

"Good girl," He coos, thumb pulling at your fold and watching the webbing of your arousal, "So fuckin' wet, this all for us?" You nod your head, hips wriggling to try and get closer to him, "Sh, sh, sh..." His eyes, this dark tint to them when he finally looks up at you, strike a strange emotion in your gut. It isn't fear, nor anything like joy...

The look is primal, almost, like a silent claim over you as he, with palms digging into your thighs to keep them wide open for him, buries his face where you need him most. A huff spills from his nostrils when he licks one good stripe from your hole up to your clit, gathering your taste on his tongue, "Always taste so fuckin' good," He kisses your clit, "So fuckin' cute."

Your thighs quiver at the use of his tongue, rubbing your clit back and forth, diving down between your folds to circle your weeping cunt, suckling and kissing, and, when you least expect it, biting. The second you slip into this comfortable euphoria, his teeth latch onto anything just to see your pretty eyes shoot open and a strangled whine hang from your teeth.

"Careful with her, Munson," Steve's lips brush along the junction of your throat, your pulse heightening under his touch, "You're always going overboard." The wild-haired freak responds in only a roll of his eyes to brush off the brunet behind you, "You're a real pain, y'know that?"

Though his mouth never once leaves you, his eyes flicker up to look over your shoulder, a daring look, a challenging one. The kind of look that Eddie puts on when he is in the mood for trouble, better yet, when he is in the mood for pissing off his boyfriend.

"Eddie-" You smack a hand over your mouth, a weak whine spilling like honey from your tongue, eyes rolled back and hips sputtering, "St-Stop-" He hears you, he even grins, but he doesn't stop. His fingers give your aching cunt another mean slap, amused with your lame attempt to shut your thighs around his face.

"Nice try, succubus," He scoffs, the hand that isn't tracing measly shapes into your clit to ease the throbbing is pushing your thigh back open so his head isn't crushed, "But also... not." He laughs at himself, something he often does. He finds himself to be funny - even if it's at the expense of others.

Not that you're not enjoying this.

When you can finally bring your eyes back down to his, little tears spilling from the corners and your knuckle caught between your teeth, his lips are pursed and a glob of his saliva falls flat onto your cunt. You can feel it slither between your folds, and truly there was no need for the extra lubrication, not with how sticky and needy you are, but Eddie just likes the image of you covered in him.

"Think you're ready, sweetheart?" He asks with a wiggle of his brows, cheesy. You almost want to shove your palm into his nose, get the damn thing bleeding again just to knock him down a few pegs - but for now, and no thanks to how hot you feel sandwiched between him and Steve, you let his corny excuse for sexy talk slide.

You nod your head, "Mhmm," You open your thighs as loud as they will allow, wiggling yourself closer to Eddie until the tips of his fingers are tickling at your entrance, "Pretty please...?" God, do you know how to make a guy melt! 

Eddie, toying with his rings and sliding each off before carefully putting them aside, eyes you up and down - admiring your bare torso, tits caged in Steve's hands as he kneads the fatty tissue, how your soft stomach trembles with every passing second you are left to suffer... and god, you're still wearing that damned skirt and your stupidly cute cotton socks in your extremely dingy sneakers.

Who knew it would take so little to turn him on? Perhaps, it's just because you make everything sexy.

"Eddie-" You whine under his hypnotized gaze, squeezing his head between your plush thighs to catch his attention, "C'mon, I'm gettin' tired of waitin'..." Your bottom lip is jutted out in a pout, one that has his dick stirring in his pants, ever so distracted by how your teeth then latch onto it and chew the flesh, "Please- do I have to keep begging?"

Something in him snaps, unable to take the sight of you bitching and squirming around with those wet eyes of yours, "Anything for you, my fair lady." He practically blurts out while simultaneously throwing himself into an army-crawl position on the floor, thighs adjusted so that one hangs over his shoulder and the other is cupped under the knee and pushed up toward your chest, "You're fuckin' perfect."

With that, and a tender kiss placed under the thigh being held in his hand, he buries his face where you need him most - his mouth immediately latches onto your clit, suckling at it to almost distract you from the two digits that sink deep inside of you. His fingers are thick, calloused from plucking at his guitar strings, but God do they feel good. 

Your head is thrown back over Steve's shoulder, hips gyrating and swaying to get as much of Eddie as you can, "Steve-" You sigh, one of your hands gripping onto his thigh, "Feels good- so good." Your brain is no more than a heap of jelly, completely obliterated and rendering you stupid.

Eddie swells with pride at how easily he can manipulate your body, though, he has experience with you to credit for his talent - hours of you two exploring each other's body, heated kisses, and intimate touches exchanged at any given time or place. He knows you just as well as you know him.

His fingers pump inside you at a rhythmically tolerable pace, not too fast to hurt but not too slow to be agonizing - he knows what you need, where to start, and how to finish. That subtle curl of his fingers, trimmed nails brushing the top of your walls and massaging that somewhat spongey patch that lays only a few inches deep. It makes your toes curl, the hand not on Steve's thigh lacing into the curly hair that tickles the inside of your thighs.

"You're doing so good, baby." Steve chimes, massaging your lower stomach, "Let me see your pretty face, look at me." You almost think to defy him, to keep your eyes squeezed shut and blindly stare up at the roof, but you obey him like it's second nature. Your head slowly lifting, eyes blinking away the dark spots in your vision to get a better look at his handsome face so close to yours, "There you are..."

As if he could sense the sound bubbling in your chest, one ripped from you when Eddie defiantly picks up the face of his fingers and shakes his head back and forth, motorboating your clit with his tongue, Steve smashes his lips to yours. He swallows the moan with ease, hands keeping your hips still for Eddie as you wriggle and squirm in his solid hold, "Fuckin' needy..." 

Steve kisses you with a fire in his chest, lips molding together and tongues tracing teeth. He tastes like the spearmint gum he always has on him, and his hair is ridden with that iconic odor of Obsession For Men one of Calvin Klein's newer fragrances - though you hated it at first, it has grown on you. 

The kiss is like fireworks going off in your throat, and not just because you feel your lungs beginning to burn from a lack of oxygen. His tongue curls under yours before tracing to the tip of it, retreating from your mouth as his lips part from yours, "You alright?" He asks with a look of amusement on his face but also concern still evident in his knitted brows and tone.

"Mhm," You hum with a shaky sigh, the hand in Eddie'shair tugging harder, "I'm so close- everything is on fire," A squeak catches in your chest when Eddie pulls his mouth away altogether, fingers still beating at your insides but now using the heel of his palm to grind into your clit with every thrust of his fingers. His lips shimmer with your arousal and his own saliva, something you never thought would look so attractive but it's Eddie Munson.

"Almost there, darling?" He teases, head tilted innocently despite there being nothing innocent with the method he is using to pleasure you, "Gonna cum all over my fingers like a good girl?" Of course, you nod, not knowing what else to do or say, "Use your words, girly."

You hiccup over your own words, starting a sentence only for it to die into nothing but gibberish, and although he says nothing to make fun of you, the look he gives you says it all, "G-Gonna... cum-" You bite into your lower lip, eyes squeezing so tightly that you feel shockwaves of pain behind them, "Eds- Eddie, please- please, please, please-" 

"Yeah?" He coos through his teeth, his face so close to yours you can smell the marijuana and beer on his breath, though there is a hint of Altoids in there, "Go on then, let it go- unless..."

"Shut up, Eddie, shut up-" You just barely manage to seeth before your insides twist and pull until it explodes. Your climax comes hard, overwhelming, and with his fingers not letting up on your insides you can feel something bigger beginning to grow, "Wait- Eddie, wait." You squeal with big white stars in your vision, contrasting the darkening sky just beyond the open doors of the van. 

Everything feels like it's just too much, a thousand little bolts surging through you and striking at your core - every brutal jab of his fingers inside of you causing you to jump in the shared hold your boyfriends have on you. When his palm meets your clit, your thighs twitch awake, and when his fingers find that spot, again and again, your stomach shakes - it's just too much.

And he knows it. God, does he know it with the fascinated look in his eyes, eyes that gawk at your sweat-soaked body before looking up to Steve. A gaze that even Steve, who could never really be intimidated by Eddie, shrinks under. 

As he sinks back down onto the floor of the trunk, lips curled into a Cheshire grin, he makes you regret snapping at him - two fingers, pinched, drag over his lips to imitate that of zipping his lips shut. Your heart flutters at the sight, plunging back between your thighs, pushing his hair over his shoulders, and readjusting his fingers so he can put his mouth back onto your clit - hot, throbbing, stinging under his tongue.

"No, no, no-" Comes your desperate pleas, empty and with no real purpose behind them, but successfully bringing his attention back to examine your face for any signs of genuine discomfort and distress, "Eddie, it's coming- again."

Oh.

His eyes burn into something darker, something weirdly uncharacteristic to the Eddie you and Steve know. It's a lot more possessive... or so that's the best you can compare it to. Perhaps, you're entirely wrong, maybe it is nothing sinister or intimidating at all - maybe it's one of those tough looks of adoration and love, the kind of love-sick expression one gets in the heat of the moment.

But it burns a pit right between your thighs, a pit he easily fills with his fingers squishing your insides and causing an erotic symphony of wet squelching and strangled mewls to rain from your pores, "That's it, (name)." He huffs against your clit, eyes glued to your strained expression and catching Steve's beat red face from over your shoulder, "Good girl, give it to me. C'mon. Don't wanna leave prince charming hangin', do you?"

You can practically hear the breath that catches in Steve's throat, feel it with how his chest vibrates, "Shit." 

A maniacal laugh comes from between your legs, your blood runs cold and you find that right now, at this very moment, Eddie has never looked better. His bangs slicked against his sweaty forehead, the toned muscles in his biceps shiny and flexing from overexerting his arm, tongue stuck to his front teeth in concentration, eyes blown out the same way they are when he is high off of who knows what.

But the sounds that Steve makes, a clear sign of neglect - pitiful sighs and grunts, moving around behind you and unsure where to put his hands. You have never seen him so worked up, and if he were not out of your peripheral, you are sure that his eyes are going crazy between looking at you and Eddie between your legs working his weird magic. 

"Eddie, Eddie-" Your clammy palms press against his face, doing anything in your power to push him away to save yourself from the impending embarrassment of that, "Please, I can't- not... not here-" He almost feels bad, almost takes pity on you and your pretty little face covered in your tears, but the high he gets every time he rips a second orgasm from you is unlike any high he has ever felt.

Not even that Special K gets him like this.

Your climax is like two boats colliding at full speed, a Super Titanic if you will. The force of which it rips through you, claws at your insides, and opens you up, a thousand and one tingles raking through you like a colony of honey bees swarming a single flower. If you could, at this very moment, you would write a thousand-word poem about how fucking good he makes you feel.

Stars flood your vision, your neck aching with how it awkwardly cranes back to hang over Steve's shoulder, sparkles dancing around in your vision that are no more than splotches of unidentifiable colors. Your back curved to the point it might as well snap in half, and your fingers, nails still neatly done from the mani-pedi Steve bought for you the day before yesterday, pulling so hard at Eddie's hair you swear you hear him whimpering from the scorching fire on his scalp.

You don't even notice the mess you made... but Steve does.

"Fuck." He sighs, eyes blown wide and taking in the less than pretty sight before him - his boyfriend, head tilted forward lightly because of your fingers tugging harshly at his curls, soaked from the nose down in your cum. If he had kept his shirt on, Steve is sure that the fabric would be completely soaked through and sticking to his pale skin, "Jesus Christ..."

The strain of his cock is unbearable at this point, the heat of your body and the squirming of your lower half only making that throbbing worse. your pretty thighs wet from how powerful your climax was, Eddie's fingers having edged you to the point of squirting - and suddenly, it makes sense why the metalhead's mattress is so disgusting.

Or maybe Steve is entirely wrong and those bizarre stains are just the aftermath of Eddie partying, that sounds more probable.

"I love you," Eddie breathes out almost desperately, shuffling on his hands and knees to sit up properly, "Fuck, I love you..." He says in between wet kisses to your pretty face, coaxing you with his hand to look at him, "So fuckin' pretty, you're perfect, sweetheart." He mouths along your throat, kissing the remnants of an old hickey at the crook of your neck, "You did so good, just like you always do... that's it, take a deep breath. Good girl."

His words are so soft, so full of love, speaking no louder than a whisper so as to not overwhelm your already distressed senses. It's as if you are talking to an entirely different person right now. His eyes are no longer dilated and full of an unknown fire, instead, you swear you can see little hearts floating in his dark pupils, "Shh," One of his hands lays flat over your convulsing abdomen, soothing circles rubbed into the softness to try and ease that ache in your belly, "Good. Feelin' better?"

Your head lolls back and forth, a sad excuse for a nod but getting your point across, "That's good." He sighs, leaning forward to press another flurry of kisses to your naked chest when he catches Steve in his peripheral.

There are no real words to describe the expression etched into Harrington's face - eyes blown so wide it's as if he has no eyelids, lips parted but not at all chapped despite his slightly labored breathing that's hot and wafts against the back of your neck, and his face this beautiful peachy hue. A pretty mixture of pink and tangerine.

Eddie knows that expression, the same kind he wore the first time he fucked you... as well as the first time he and steve fooled around. It's a face you make when you witness something so unreal but, who are you kidding, so fucking hot that you are left stuck. Frozen and sweaty and turned on, unsure of where to go from there but all you know is that you need more.

"I bet that made you hard as a rock, Stevie-boy." 

That was the final nail in the coffin, your body being the only wall between Steve getting his hands on Eddie. He lays you down so gently, cushioning you with the beanbag Eddie always keeps in his van, a clear sign for you to get your shit together because Steve hasn't even had his turn with you yet.

"Get over here." Steve nearly growls, reaching out and pulling Eddie by the back of his head until he feels his lips - a bittersweet mixture of sweat from his upper lip and your cum still painting his face. The kiss is rough, needy, passionate but not in that cutesy way - it's hungry and gross and full of so much saliva - tongues battling for dominance because God knows both men are stubborn.

But God also knows that, even though Eddie is fully capable of winning the little fight, he lets Steve feel that sweet wave of victory - for now.

A strained whine hangs at the back of the metalhead's throat, a pathetic sound that gives Steve all the confidence he needs to climb over Eddie's more than compliant body. If it were still early in the relationship, Steve would have never had the confidence - in fact, most of their early interactions were quite awkward, often orchestrated by either you or Eddie who, although it was very cute to watch, could never meet Steve's eye during anything.

Their bodies mold together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces sliding into place - legs entangled together so that they can remain as close as possible. Steve's hands remain at the small of Eddie's waist, thumbs tracing those extremely attractive stars, while Eddie cannot seem to get his hands out from under Steve's shirt which has begun sticking to his body. 

"Take it off," He almost begs, dark eyes looking up to find amber ones, "It's fuckin' hot in here." The excuse is laughable, though, he is not far from wrong. Even with the trunk wide open to keep windows from fogging, the trunk feels oddly suffocating. 

Steve pulls back just enough to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it over his shoulder before reaching in front of him to get rid of the pesky accessories at Eddie's waist; the chain unclipped and meeting his discarded rings, and his belt hastily unbuckled and pulled loose but not yet tugged out of the loops of his jeans, "Pretty boy, is that a pen in your pocket or are you-"

He is shut up by Steve initiating another kiss, eager to get the freak to stop with his stupid jokes. The kiss is not as enthusiastic as earlier, a lot slower in nature but still fueled by a need for skin-on-skin contact - less teeth and a lot more tongue. While Eddie tastes of the blunt he smoked earlier, as well as cheap cinnamon mints and a small undertaste of liquor, Steve's mouth is much sweeter. Eddie likes how he tastes.

Eddie just loves Steve. He is still figuring out what makes him so special, something he has already figured out with you, but he knows that the reason for his feelings is at the tip of his tongue... so close yet so out of reach. But he knows he loves him.

When their mouths separate, a string of saliva webbing from one another's parted lips, their eyes flicker to meet one another, "You're... hey, you're really beautiful." Eddie stutters under his breath, cheeks tinted that dolly pink he sometimes gets when he is embarrassed. Steve can sense that it's a compliment he isn't really confident in giving in such a vulnerable position.

But the fact that Eddie can at least whisper it, let his cheeky curtains fall just long enough to mutter it to Steve... it makes his heart swell, a thousand little butterflies tickling every inch of his chest and his heart beating so loudly he is sure that even you can hear it from your position behind them both.

"You're uh," Steve clears his throat and averts his gaze to the dried-up blood at Eddie's throat, "Pretty." He tastes the word on his tongue, and though it is not the first compliment he would use to describe Eddie Munson, it is oddly befitting.

Eddie is pretty, behind his unruly hair there are a lot of defining features that, given the chance, would make people swoon. Those soft but high cheekbones, eyes so big you could quite literally get lost in them, and God his smile... Eddie, though unconventional, is utterly gorgeous. Perfect, in the eyes of Steve.

The two men, overcome with a ticklish feeling in their stomachs, break out into goofy smiles and exchange a few breathy chuckles that eventually evolve into hearty laughs - Steve's dominant resolve breaking as he falls against Eddie's chest, face buried into his neck which in turn causes Munson to cringe because of the ticklish vibrations that Steve's laughing causes.

Harrington knows that there is a restlessness still lingering in Munson, one that has his hips jerking up to try and get any friction from the heavy body on top of him. Eddie is almost embarrassed by it, eyes sewed tight because he just cannot bring himself to look Steve in the eyes. His fingers pulled at the belt loops of Steve's pants, bringing their bodies so tightly together that a groan rumbles at the back of Steve's throat, "Shit, Eds."

Their foreheads knock together, labored breaths exchanged between them, and only when Eddie grows far too embarrassed with the proximity does he choose to hide his flushed face in the soft strands of Harrington's hair. His lips are soft and gentle in their ministrations, butterfly kisses pressed along the crown of Steve's head, only stopping to suckle at a fading mark behind Steve's ear, "I love you."

Steve's breath catches in his throat, "I love you," Eddie murmurs again, this time a tad more whiney when he arches his back to better feel Steve, "I love you, I love you." He repeats the same three words, each more breathless than the last, and hands hugging the torso on top of him so tight that the man above him has no other choice but to give in to the affection.

Not that he was trying to avoid it.

The words are hot on Steve's tongue, right there. All he has to do is say them, and with the silence that proceeds Eddie leans back to look into his eyes, he knows that the metalhead is waiting, hoping to hear them. He wants to say them.

Steve thinks back to the last time he felt this sort of emotion for someone, let alone two people - how the last time he became overwhelmed with "love" it left him heartbroken. He doesn't want you or Eddie to feel that, to think that he doesn't love either of you when he knows he does. It's just so hard to say those words as if voicing them will bring about some sort of bad luck. It happened before.

"You, uh... you don't have to say-"

"I love you." He quickly cuts Eddie off, unable to bear the sight of his puppy dog eyes downcasting to avoid further embarrassing himself, "I do- I just never really... said it to anyone before." 

A smile pulls at Eddie's lips, a small one but still a smile nonetheless, "Yeah?" He chuckles, playing with a strand of hair that falls over his forehead, "Guess that makes me special, huh?" The two of them share cheesy grins, the kind that people only wear in corny romcoms that mock Eddie when he enters Family Video. God, he hates those movies.

But it's not so bad when you're living that fantasy.

Their bodies completely succumb to one another, Steve scooting up just enough to catch Eddie's lips, and Eddie, uncomfortable with the pressure on his lungs, rolls their bodies over - Steve's legs on the outside of Eddie's thighs, and Eddie's forearms on the sides of Steve's handsome face.

A searing kiss is sealed, boiling to the touch that they briefly pull apart because of the air they knock out of one another - but they are quick to resume. A groan rumbles at the back of the brunet's throat, a result of Eddie grinding their still-clothed erections together, "Fuck," Steve throws back his head, eyes squeezed together and lips pursed, leaving just the right amount of space for Eddie to lean down and latch his teeth onto his throat.

Steve winces immediately, not necessarily because it hurts, even though there is a small pinch, but more so that ticklish sensation of Eddie exhaling through his nose. Their fingers interlock and Eddie uses that to replace his teeth with his lips, suckling the skin in hopes of painting the nearly healed canvas with a new purple splotch.

"Eddie-" Steve murmurs, nails digging into his partner's knuckles, "I can't keep wearing collared shirts all summer."

"Then don't," His voice is gravelly, rough, not at all that adorable, broken sing you all associate with Eddie, "You're Steve Harrington, wouldn't be hard to come up with an excuse." His dark eyes glance up briefly, soaking in that delicious look of absolute agony on the face of his boyfriend, "Scared someone'll find out you're a freak?" He ends his teasing with his lips claiming a new spot, nibbling just under the sharpest point of Steve's jaw - that small junction two inches or so under his ear.

Steve's words fail him, or whatever words he thought to say simply melted at the tip of Eddie's tongue, which was currently tracing shapes around the already blooming hickey he masterfully created, "Betcha don't want to admit how much you like seeing all of these," A kiss is placed over the bruised spot, "When you look in the mirror." He continues kissing up and over his jaw, the corners of his mouth, and one chaste kiss at the center of his lips before his fingers grip his face just tight enough that his lips pucker, "What is it, big boy? Change of feelings?"

"No!"

"Oh, yeah? Not sure if I believe you, darlin'..." Shivers run down poor Steve's spine, a thousand fireworks popping all at once so deep within his belly he swears he may just explode. God, he hates when he calls him that - hates it so much that every time he hears it, his dick twitches and begs for any and all attention it is offered.

He gulps down the frog in his throat, shrinking under that demonic fire Eddie sometimes gets, especially when he successfully changes the direction of the tide and grabs hold of the reigns, "How do you expect me to-" A hand brushing up his thigh catches his attention, "Eddie-"

"Not me," He chuckles, nodding his head to the side where Steve instantly follows with his eyes, pleasantly surprised to find you, although still shining in a sheen of afterglow, back in the mix, "Welcome back to the land of the living, m'lady."

You don't respond immediately, sitting there looking pretty and rubbing the exhaustion from your glossy eyes, "Mm," You hum with a stretch of your arms above your head, both men ogling at your elongated torso before, all too quickly, you return to your slouched puddle beside them, "Did I miss a lot?"

They both shake their heads, "Nope." Eddie pops the 'P' and offers one of his adorable grins, leaning over just enough for his lips, wet with saliva, to peck the corner of your mouth, "Feelin' better?"

Rather than using your words, something Eddie loves reminding you to do, the fingers that had been tip-toeing over Steve's thigh reach up, taking hold of the waistband of his boxers and pulling down, "Mm, wanna make you both feel good now..." Of course, before Eddie could make any lewd suggestions, you do the same to him - both men completely nude.

A comfortable silence fills the humid van, your body, crawling on your knees, maneuvers behind Eddie before placing your weight on his freckled back. He welcomes your presence with a warm glance over his shoulder, pleased to find that you have placed your chin on his shoulder, "What're ya planning, captain?"

Your hand does the talking for you as it comes down between the bodies of the two men, "You'll tell me if you don't like it... right?"

"Of course," He reassures, the clear signs of anxiety in your gaze all too familiar - Eddie knows that burning feeling, the one you get where you are unsure of your next move. He can see it in what bit of your face is in his peripheral, brows knitting together and worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, "What's wrong?" 

You shake your head, not wanting to ruin the mood with your doubts - this is no different than every other night spent with them, pausing in between to make sure the other knows they can stop the situation, reassurance and talking with eyes - you are fine.

The two men moan in unison upon your warm palms gathering their dicks together, pre-cum oozing from their reddened, angry tips. They are hot to the touch, barely contained with just one hand, but God does it feel so right.

If only you could see how bright their cheeks are right now, eyes fixated on their cocks held together by one of your soft hands, not daring to even meet each other's gaze.

"Is this okay?" You hum against Eddie's cheek, though the question is for both of them. 

He blinks a few times, and clears his throat, before his head does a circle in an attempt at nodding, "Ye-Yeah, perfectly fine." He swallows, "Steve?" His lashes flutter a few times, unsure of where to look because God knows if he meets the brunet's eyes he will lose it.

To your surprise, even Steve is slightly out of breath, "Yeah... it's good."

Your fingers tighten, only a little, but enough to pull another sound from each of their throats, a sound that is guttural and almost primal - a sound that creates a new wave of something inside of you. You give their dicks a gentle tug, testing the waters, and quickly realize that their mix pre-cum doesn't give enough lubrication that is needed.

Already one step ahead, Eddie's head ducks forward and your eyes watch the glob of spit fall perfectly at their tips, "There ya go, pretty girl." He slurs, sucking his teeth when you rub the saliva in, it takes a moment, but with a few gentle pumps the friction becomes less harsh and your hand glides more smoothly.

"That's it, (name)... fuck." Eddie grunts, eyes forever locked on where the three of you join - your fingers look lewdly pretty, freshly manicured nails and the little golden rings you sometimes wear decorating almost every digit. God, he loves your hands, the countless times he has held them, cuffed them, nibbled at your wrists before interlocking his fingers with yours to pin them over your pretty head.

But when he gets to see them wrapped around his dick? Let alone, his AND Steve's dicks?

"Munson is red," Though you cannot see from the same view as Harrington, who is quite flushed himself, the hitched breathing lets you know that your sweet rocker is barely holding himself together, "You like that, freak?"

"Fuck yeah-" His head is dramatically thrown back, neck on full display and for the first time tonight you both can see just how many hickeys have hoarded his throat over the last few days - bruises neither of you even remember giving, but his hair has done well of concealing, "Fuuuck, yeah, I like it." His hips sputter slightly when you give their tips a nice rub over from your thumb, the ooze spilling from that small slit webbing from the pad of your finger to their reddened cocks.

Steve's hands, previously perched rather chastely at Eddie's knees, grow more confident at gripping the taut thighs that straddle him, "Faster," Eddie whines, head now thrown forward and hanging low, chocolate curls bounce with every twitch of his body and every jerk of his hips to get even a second of added friction. You head his request, tightening your fist and making sure not an inch goes without being touched, swollen tips receiving more love than the rest with how you twist them.

"Jesus Christ," Steve squeezes the soft muscle in his hands, taking note of the several points of discoloration that little Eddie's body - only a few look to have been from his escapades with you, but others, a result of his clumsiness; his bloody knee a reminder of the fall he took earlier. The urge to apply pressure to one of the bruises nibbles at Steve's consciousness, fingers itching and, eventually, moving on their own.

A strangled whine rips at the back of Munson's throat, a pure animalistic rumble that you can feel vibrate throughout him - you almost swell with pride at the assumption that you caused the sound, but when your eyes dip lower to find Steve's thumbs digging into patches of blue and purple, you realize that Harrington has discovered someone's love for intimate pain.

"Fuck me," Eddie whines and one of his hands retreats, knuckles regaining color almost instantly, to instead swing around and grab whatever bit of you he can reach - whether by luck or his own manifestation, he gets a nice handful of your upper thigh, dangerously close to the crease of your asscheek, "You're a real asshole, Harrington-" He inhales a breath through his clenched teeth, "Wipe that smug fuckin' look off your face, prick."

Steve makes no attempt at obeying - quite the contrary - his thumb presses deeper into the abused flesh, watching in awe at the cynical eyes before him rolling almost completely back, "Gonna cum, Munson?" He wears a wicked smirk, that could almost put the Devil's terrible grin to shame, "Looks like you might, that's a shame... guess (Name)'ll be all mine."

Something clicks in Eddie, his irises spinning back into place, and those pupils, barely visible in the sea of ebony, dilating thrice the size that they were - the drainage of color in Steve's face nearly makes you stop your ministrations altogether, only imagining how his words completely contorted the look that Eddie had been wearing, "Go to hell," He rasps, the hold he has on you tightening, "What the fuuuuck- you're stupid fuckin' magic hands-"

"You can't fuck her with a limp dick, Munson."

"Watch me." Not the greatest come-back, but he tried.

Steve snorts, lip caught between his teeth and looking at your hand pumping faster, that erotic wet sound of their cocks penetrating the opening in your fist, "It's okay, Eds - fuck - you can just sit in the corner and watch, like a creep-" 

The back of his head hits the floor with a thump, the air in his throat caught by this unknown pressure suddenly applied to his throat. Only when his eyes, fluttering after his thoughts were slammed right from his brain, recognize the ivory arm littered in random ink that takes up most of his peripheral - dull nails digging crescents into his jugular, "Eddie-"

"Call back later." He slurs, his cool facade just barely keeping up with the sneaky squeeze and tug you give, lashes uncontrollably batting with the coil deep in his belly winding and unwinding, "Fuck, fuck, fuck- I'd like your mouth more if it did somethin' other than talkin'." He squeezes tighter at Steve's throat, watching in awe how the prep practically melts into the floor, "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Hm? Suckin' me off... you've got a cute mouth," his thumb swipes over Steve's peachy bottom lip, "Soft lips..." His thumb pressed between them, and surprisingly, Steve's lips part, and Eddie seizes the opportunity.

You watch with a certain heat radiating between your legs, it doesn't take a glance to know that you are dripping. The way that Eddie has asserted his dominance, pressing the pad of his thumb down on Steve's tongue, fingers caressing his cheek and brushing at a few hanging mocha strands - even with his crumbling disposition and jumping hips, he leans forward until he is exchanging breaths with the man below him, "Want me to fuck your mouth, Harrington?"

Steve practically chokes, throat bobbing to swallow down a cough building in his esophagus - he sounds as if he just ran a marathon, with the rapidly rising and falling of his chest with every breath. You know that feeling, that helpless feeling when Eddie Munson corners you, tests you. A primal glimmer behind his pupils, pinning you so that you can't run, his undivided focus on you.

Whether to admire that lost look that washes over his victim, or to search for the slightest sign of panic and discomfort.

"I-" Steve inhales, waiting until Eddie pulls his hand from his face, "I-I don't know-"

"It's okay," The freak smiles, warm and fluffy, a complete 180 from the energy he had been emitting just seconds prior, "Wouldn't wanna risk you biting it off." And true to Munson nature, after nearly giving his victim a heart attack, he blankets his target with a charming smile and a sickeningly sweet tone of idiocy.

Poor Steve, he looks as if he were hit by a double-decker bus, died, and then realized it was all just a figment of his imagination.

You could almost tease him for the frown and up-turned brows, that is, if Eddie's hand did not grab your wrist, "As much as I'd love to jizz all over Harrington's very nice..." His palm smooths over Steve's toned stomach, "The Lord of Darkness whispered into my ear that my destiny is to make sweet, sweet love to the succubus."

"I wish I had a muzzle." Slowly your fingers unwind, both men eliciting breathy sighs, Eddie's a bit more shakier with how he chokes out 'Kinky' in response to you, and if your guess is correct... he was not going to hold out much longer if you kept it up.

The silence that overcomes the heated van is nothing awkward, it's more of a cozy silence - content, processing, adjusting. No tension that isn't sexual. If anything, it is rather endearing, especially with how Eddie offers a hand to help Steve to sit up, both exchanging cheeky smiles as their bodies pry apart - Steve taking the honor of helping you out of what little is still on your sweat-sheened skin; that being your skirt, sneakers, and socks.

The brunet, high off of the anxiety Munson had caused him earlier - as well, as the erotic images that flash at the thought of the metalhead brutalizing his throat - brushes his fingers over your cheeks, "You'll let me know if...?" You knew exactly what he was referring to, and though they have used your throat before, it never prepares you for that initial stretch and ticklish feeling behind your uvula.

"Of course," You mimic what Eddie had told you earlier, "It'll be fine, I promise."

The two of you look towards Eddie at the sound of him tugging the few accessories he still has on - though his bracelets go, his necklace stays on, the very one you had been playing with earlier. It looked... good. The type of good that has you squeezing your plump thighs together and rubbing, an action that does not go unnoticed by the two men.

"C'mere," Steve whispers, allowing you to shimmy back between his legs until your back is pressed against the warm plain of his front, "Show him, (Name)... show, Eds." He parts your thighs with an encouraging nudge to your knees, watching in awe at how they obediently fall open and reveal the absolute mess between them - strings of arousal from your original orgasm, new milky slick bubbling from your swollen and needy cunt.

Steve is almost jealous that Eddie gets first dibs, even more jealous knowing he probably won't be able to get a turn using you tonight.

His fingers are hot as they trickle down between the valley of your breasts, over your midsection, and under your navel - leaving behind this ghostly feeling. It isn't until two fingers slip between your lips that you show a proper reaction, in fact, the instinct is almost instant when your back arches into his touch, "Shit..." He bites his tongue, smearing your sloppy juices over your pussy, the wet sounds making his dick twitch against your lower back.

"You guys are so fuckin' sexy," Eddie muses with widened eyes, wetting his bottom lip as he inches closer to where you both are, "Wish I could fuck both of you." He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, earning him a playful push of your heel against the center of his chest.

The metalhead recoils quickly, repositioning himself in front of you, "Why don't you hold her open for me, lover boy?" He says without looking at Steve, instead ogling over the thick fingers currently running through you, of course, his focus breaking when the very same hands move to cup the back of your thighs and pull them tight against your chest, "Just like that, babe- perfect."

Eddie pumps his dick a few times, shuffling on his knees until he is slotted between your heavy thighs, "Can I please fuck you now?" He looks at you through hooded eyes and a curtain of curls, something you never quite thought could look so alluring. You have seen this very image a hundred times before, the sight of a ratty-looking Eddie Munson in need of getting off and practically shaking on top of you - begging, needing, dying to just stuff you full.

"Mhm," You nod, admiring how the muscles of his biceps flex whilst his hand lines himself up with you, the scorching tip burning at your pliant cunt, "Please, don't tease." He does not respond, in fact, he openly defies you with how he rubs his dick up and down your folds, gathering the wetness to make it easier to push in, "Eddie..." You whine again, trying with all your might to hook your ankle at his side but Steve's iron grip does little to help.

Steve finds it pitiful, you are completely at the shared mercy of your boyfriends, needy for any attention that isn't what Eddie is currently giving you - Steve applauds Munson's patience, if it were him, he would already be fucking you into the floor of the trunk.

"Patience is a virtue, princess." He emphasizes each word with a lazy smack against your clit, drowning in that wet click it makes along with the webs of arousal that reach out every time he pulls his dick away to give you another gentle tap.

Two large palms, sunkissed with a few lovely freckles dotted along the appropriate forearms, slip into your peripheral - even without fully touching you, the heat that radiates from them is dizzying, like small iron skillets being held just above your chest. 

Those very hands eventually fall over your exposed breasts, cupping the soft mounds and simply measuring how nicely they fit in his hands with just a little spillage in between the cracks of his fingers. Your body is perfection in his eyes, the flaws you mope over every night are nothing to him - every inch of you he wishes he could love all at once, to be able to shower every last bit of skin with a kiss.

"Steve," You whisper, breath hitched and wavering under the continued shockwaves from Eddie playing between your legs, "Kiss me."

The request is so simple, and yet you look as if you fear he may reject you - the expectant glare causes his features to soften, had he looked serious? He wouldn't know, but Eddie has teased him a time or two for the cold expression he gets when he is in thought. 

One hand leaves your chest in favor of cupping the junction of your neck just under your chin. Using the tips of two fingers to ease back your head until, with a slight nudge of his nose against the side of your face, his lips mold with yours. It is gentle and serene, not at all fueled by burning passion or lust, but a kiss that amounts to all those romantic feelings he has for you but is too scared to say - words could not do this kiss justice, and you wonder if this is how Eddie had felt earlier when he had been in your very position.

"So pretty," Eddie murmurs to one in particular, aware that neither of you can probably hear his mumbling, "Fuck..." He admires how you look with your back arched to get as much of Steve as possible, fingers desperately clawing into his hair every time the man tries to pull back, and the gyrating of your hips when your body realized that he had stopped tugging his cock away from you.

Eddie swallows what lump had been festering in his throat and hindering his ability to breathe, turning his attention back to where you need him most, "Gonna give it to you real good, sweetheart." He grunts, a dog desperate to please his owner. When he gets close enough his rough hands guide your legs to come around his waist, ankles hooking together and tugging him so close that his tip sits right at your weeping pussy.

He gives your clit a few languid circles as he lines himself up, neck craning to get the best view of his cock slowly sinking in - your cunt practically sucks him in, legs pinning him in place so he can't even attempt to pull away, "Mm~" Your mewl is muffled by Steve's lips, but it does cause his eyes to open and get what glimpse he can of your pretty cunt splitting open on Eddie's dick.

When he gets about halfway, he notices the labored breaths that you begin to take; chest rising and falling so fast it causes your belly to jump a little - a sign that he is doing something right. Eddie angles himself better, his body hanging slightly over yours and his tip mushing at your lower walls, his intrusion is slow, agonizingly slow, but much appreciated. 

A strangled whine catches in your throat and only then does Steve pry his lips from yours with a sickly pop, hissing at the ache in his back from the position he took. From the position he has behind you, he can see that Eddie is nearly bottomed out, his dark hairs beginning to tickle you as the last inch or two sink in. 

You feel so full, not an inch untouched and his dick just stays inside of you - letting you feel every twitch, every vein, every jump of his cock when you clench around it unconsciously. Your eyes roll back into your skull when he gives an experimental roll of his hips, pressing his tip against your gummy walls, "Feel good?" He chortles and smooths a palm over your belly to try and feel just where his dick sits inside of you, "Want me to fuck you?"

"Ye-Yes," You choke, "Please, please. I wanna feel you-" He drags himself back until only the tip is still inside, eyes locked with yours before he jerks his hips forward in one smooth motion, "Ah!" - he fills you up completely, again. Your stomach overcomes with this thick blanket of heat, a screaming sensation that pokes at your sensitive core whenever he completely submerges inside of you.

"That's it, fuckin' she-devil." He chews his lip, brows knitting together in concentration, "Gonna fuck you so fuckin' good, baby. You look so fuckin'-" He cuts himself off with a groan, his pupils dilated not from the beer or Haze but something so much better. A feeling so raw and messy and God, it feels so fucking good - your pretty pussy has him completely drunk on the feeling.

Though your mind is foggy, it is not nearly clouded enough for you to forget poor Steve - ever the gentleman he is, he remains situated behind you, your body pressed against his in a loving embrace. You love his big hands on your tits, but you crave a similar stretch in your throat - that bittersweet taste of him on your tongue, and how handsome he looks from below.

"St-" Your manicured nails scratch at his wrist, tugging what you can in your fuzzy conscious, "Steve," You finally cough up, "Wanna taste- please." You are pathetic with your tear-stained cheeks and swollen lips, not a thought behind your glossy eyes other than the need to be stuffed. Though he says nothing in response, you can feel his body slowly slipping away and lowering you to lay flat against the floor.

Eddie has an entirely new advantage over you, palms pushing your knees to your chest as if he had been waiting this whole time for the opportunity, "There we go." He grunts, "Look so good like this - real fuckin' pretty." His compliments know no end, murmuring nonsense against your collarbone, the very spot he has decided is lacking those hickeys that appear all over you.

Steve circles until he is kneeling beside your face, one of his hands dragging your jaw to the side to meet your watery pupils, "Ready?" He asks with caution, not wanting to overwhelm you too soon - Steve has a general idea of your limits, perhaps not as familiar with them as Eddie, but he knows them enough... yet, it never helps to quell the worries of going too far with you.

"Mhm," Your hum is high-pitched, strained as you bite back the flow of erotic sounds just sitting and waiting in your throat, "'m ready."

Your lips part, strings of saliva snapping the wider your jaw parts - Steve can feel that pool of heat beginning to overflow at the sight of you making room for him in your mouth, even pushing out your tongue a little so that it's easier for him to squeeze into your mouth, "Tell me if it hurts, beautiful." The tip of his cock nudges your lower lip before easing through the sloppy ring, your eyes fluttering at that ticklish sensation of his skin touching your tongue.

A wet hum rumbles in your throat, Steve unceremoniously making a sound of his own at the vibration of your voice around his dick. His hips unconsciously jerk forward, tip beating into the back of your throat and making you choke - of course, you place a hand on his thigh to quell his worries that he may have actually hurt you, "Sorry, babe."

He is anxious to start moving, the look on his face, twisted in concern but sexual passion, reflecting the same face he made when he fucked your throat for the first time -  no matter how many times he does it, he still gets this sick feeling in his gut.

"Don't be shy, pretty boy," Eddie coos, glaring at the man through his upper lashes, "Y'know how wet she gets when you fuck her throat? She squeezed the fuck outta me just now when you did," His hand, the one that isn't holding him up, waves around, "That."

Steve knew exactly what that was, and while he knew Munson was no liar, he still felt this feeling wrenching at his conscious. 

Eddie could feel his patience slipping, and while he would love to tease and egg on Harrington for being such a priss - he could see something was wrong. The very hand that had been waving about earlier reaches out to take one of Steve's, butterfly kisses pressed to each boney knuckle, "C'mere," Eddie murmurs against his palm, dragging the weight of the brunet closer until, with a bit of effort and shuffling on all ends, as well as Steve pulling himself from your mouth, they were face to face.

He puts up little fight, melting into what comfort the metalhead provides in his moment of vulnerability, "You're overthinking it," Eddie chides, brushing a clammy hand through those wispy hairs at the back of Steve's neck, "She is fine, Harrington. She knows her limits, trust me, I've pushed them before and she can take a lot more than I know you're willing to give."

"I heard she's the one testing your limits, Eds."

"God damn it, she tells you about that stuff, too?"

Munson has his moments, those raw and gentle minutes when he sees either of you are distressed - allowing the curtains to fall and tossing his theatrics out the window, leveling himself with whoever requires reassurance. Steve can feel the genuinity behind every sweet nothing that Eddie mutters into his cheek, "C'mon, King Steve," Eddie husks with a playful nip at his jaw, "Lemme see you do it, I know you can."

The hand at the back of Steve's neck glides down almost too smoothly as if Eddie has done it a thousand times just like this - that rough palm gripping the small of Steve's waist and guiding his hips, "I've seen you get lost in it before, no need to be coy with us." Steve shudders as Eddie continues, his body moving on its own as he brings his lower half to kneel beside your shiny face - layers of sweat, tears, and the little bit of makeup you had put on in a ruined concoction. 

Harrington can't bring himself to leave Eddie, those umber curls ever so comforting with how they tickle his face and shoulders, not to mention how Eddie, amid his comforting affection, is still fucking you into the dirty blankets beneath you three. Something about it, the duality of his character, turns Steve on - excites him in a way that is different from his current arousal.

You had not forgotten Steve, not in the slightest, jaw already slack and welcoming for him to return, "C'mon, Steve," Eddie coaxes with a nail-biting squeeze that pulls a breathy sound from the brunet's lungs, "Give 'er exactly what she wants, look how badly she wants you to fuck 'er throat." Amber eyes glance down at you, your cue to at least try, in your haze of pleasure, to encourage Steve.

One of your soft hands wraps around the base of his cock, giving it three good pumps before guiding his tip to your extended tongue - you can taste him the second you run your hot muscle over that small slit, "Please-" You choke on your voice, "Wanna taste you, Steve- promise I'll be good." 

Eddie is practically grinning from ear to ear, eyes wolfishly alternating between you suckling and lapping at his cock, and Steve who is catching flies in his hanging jaw, "Do it, big boy," Eddie whispers against the matted, wet hairs at Steve's temple, "Fuck 'er pretty throat 'n' don't pull out 'til she swallows every last drop, you hear me?"

His words cause a switch inside of Steve to go off. Every inch of him short-circuiting and that hot hand at his lower back doing little to help him rearrange his thoughts. With a few shuffles on his knees, begrudgingly moving away from Eddie to better sit next to you, he is prodding at your lower lip, "Good boy, Harrington. That's it, just like that..." Eddie's palm rubs soothing circles into his bare back, admiring how the muscle flexes underneath his fingers, "Look how cute she looks."

His eyes drop to your face, the blush at the tip of his nose and ears darkening by at least forty shades, "Shit," He whines at the bobbing of your throat, accommodating every inch he willingly lets you have - and even when he loses confidence, scared he is pushing too much, your hand joins Eddie's at his back. You give him an encouraging pull at the hip until he continues to sink into your tight, sopping throat.

"Mmph-" Your body lurches when Eddie readjusts your knees at your chest, fucking into you from an angle where he is sitting back on his knees. Steve feels every damn moan and whine and mewl that vibrates in your throat, every little noise or fraction of a sound sending tremors throughout his already aching cock. 

Steve huffs out a breath he had not realized he was holding in, bracing his palms - one above your head and the other cupping one of your tits - before slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulling only a few inches from your lips before easing it back in. It is clear he is testing the waters, though, there is more confidence than before, "I don't know, Stevie-boy, I think you can do a better job than that."

"You just don't shut up, do you?" Steve growls with a frustrated notch in his forehead, not necessarily annoyed by Eddie's brainless babble, but more so by how distracting it is when he is trying to focus on you and the icky gurgling happening in the back of your throat.

Eddie ignores him at first, heaving out strangled breaths because fuck you just keep getting tighter and tighter as steve begins to fuck your little throat - every innocent squeeze causing far more damage than your foggy head could ever wrap around, "Hard to shut up when- oh, fuck," His curls bounce with the shake of his head, as if the motion may just dissipate the cloudiness slowing down his thoughts, "She's so fuckin' tight right now."

"Fuuuck," Eddie whines with another uncoordinated rut that causes his dick to slip out of you with a pop. Quickly, though with shaky hands, repositioning himself and pushing back in with one rough thrust that sends your body jumping, "You're so fuckin' wet-" His cock fucks you with vigor, a pace that has the entire van rocking and your aching tits lurch at the impact of his hips against the backs of your thighs.

As if to emphasize his words, his hips stop snug against your thighs, your arousal bubbling around what little of him does not fit, "Jesus Christ." He moans with a hand laying flat over your quivering belly, rubbing the plain of skin soothingly, "That's it... doin' so fuckin' good for us."

Your hips move on their own, grinding in slow circles on his cock, begging for him to keep going - and he notices. Those ebony eyes, blown in a mixture of awe and adrenaline, lock immediately between your parted thighs. Your pretty cunt moving on what little you can get off to, and when he leans back slightly he notices a milky white ring forming at the base of his cock with every little bounce of your hips, "You like that, succubus?"

A muffled hum of approval catches in your chest, a sound that does not go without Eddie hearing - of course, you like it. Love it. 

"Don't worry that pretty head of yours, sweetheart," He eases your trembling hips, all your strength being put in getting even just a sliver of friction, "I got you." He says as he drags his dick out, watching it drag over your cunt with the slow rolling of his hips. He is mesmerized by it, that wet, slimy sound, and the webs of your slick hugging his cock. As much as he would love to just sit and watch it forever, he misses the warmth your pussy provides.

"Fuck, fuck... shit." As he presses into you, your entire body seizes up and gives Steve a particularly suffocating hug - your throat milking whatever you can get out of him, only small dribbles of pre-cum spilling into your hungry mouth. Not nearly enough to satiate you.

Your hand urges Steve to keep moving, your nostrils flared to accommodate the sharp exhales that fan over his pelvis. However, for the sake of his pride, he keeps still, trying to ease that coil in his core that begins to unwind - not yet, he tells himself.

Eddie bites back a laugh, hooded eyes tracing the flushed man in front of him, "Somethin' wrong, Harrington?" Steve clenches his jaw, "Lookin' a lil' bothered there... need a break?" He pokes, again and again, lips curling impossibly higher with every line of irritation that etches into Steve's handsome face, "C'mon, King Steve, fuck her like you mean it-"

When Steve reaches out, his strong hand gripping Eddie's hair and yanking his head back, ignoring the hiss that spills between his pearly white teeth, it comes with no surprise at all. This is what Eddie Munson wanted, right? To push his buttons, see how far it will go before his boyfriend snaps. Perhaps, he just really wanted those big hands in his hair, as they are right now.

Harrington's hold on the freak's hair does not let up, earning you both an extremely attractive growl that rumbles in the heart of Eddie's chest, "What're ya gonna do, pretty boy?" Eddie chuckles, tongue licking his front teeth, "Don't tell me you're actually pissed with me... are you, darling?" If Steve had not already made his mind up on what he planned to do, he might have backed down right there, the loving pet names causing a million and one fireworks to go off in his abdomen and spring up into his chest.

They both stay like that for a few seconds, Steve refusing to look any lower than Eddie's chest - the erotic facial expressions and even more proactive sounds coming from the metalhead are enough of a distraction. He isn't sure how he would handle seeing said man's dick splitting you in two.

Finally, and with a little mental pep talk, he leans forward and smashes his lips into Eddie's. It's a hot fight of tongue and teeth, nipping, tugging- Eddie, for once, actually putting up a fight with how he nips at Steve's cheeky tongue tracing the inside of his cheek. Hands feverishly gripping hair and moans passed between lips, "Oh, Steve, be gentle with lil' ol' me-" Steve shuts him up with a bite and pulls at his bottom lip.

They break apart with a wet smack, labored breaths fanning over each other's sweat-sheened faces. As Steve expected, Eddie is already leaning in for round two, a small notch in his bottom lip from when their teeth originally clashed - God, he looks good.

Only when Eddie gets close enough, eyes fluttering shut, is his mouth met with something far less... warm, far less humid. In an instant, ebony eyes shoot open and in his peripheral, he can see the little cotton hanging from his lips, "That should get you to shut the fuck up."

The sound he makes is... unlike anything either of you has ever heard, this desperate growl that tugs at his strained vocal cords. His cheeks are a heated shade of crimson, and those eyes, are glowing in the light of the sunset seeping through the windows. All he has to do is reach up and pull your little panties from his mouth, he knows Steve won't put up a fight, but the raging confidence that Harrington is sporting is extremely attractive.

And Eddie will be damned before he snuffs out that fire.

With a small shove, his hair is released and Eddie lets his head hang low - his body stilling because that small display of power really got to him. His dick aches and jumps inside of your hot cunt, ready to paint your walls white if you so much as wiggle. But he wants to hold out a little longer, just long enough to out-go Steve.

"You both look good with your mouths stuffed." Eddie feels you clench down on him, fingers digging into your soft hips and begging you to let up. It takes a moment, but eventually, your muscles loosen up, and with a shaky breather, he sets a more controlled, albeit sloppy, pace of rocking himself into you. Your pussy, at this point, utters no sound other than that of disgusting wet squelching. The type of sound you hear when you squeeze a blob of mud between your fingers.

Had the van always been so hot? Did you always feel like there was this weight on your chest? The sweat dripping down your neck is beginning to itch-

One of your hands had unconsciously reached to lay over your belly, only to be met with skin that is not yours - you realize fast that it was Eddie who had your body suddenly overheating. He is the weight on your chest. Even more, it is his sweaty hair that is leaving ticklish bites at your throat.

You don't have the heart to nudge him off, not with how darling he looks hiding his flushed face in your tits.

"Look at you," Steve teases, tugging Eddie's head back and admiring the little tears of exhaustion pooling into the corners of his heavy, dark eyes, "Fuck..." Steve finds himself lost in the gaze of Eddie Munson - a gaze that, back in high school, girls would sometimes giggle about when they thought no one could hear them.

Because God forbid anyone knows you find Eddie Munson attractive.

Those big, pools of black somehow manage to hold more emotion than any plain old blue or brown. That deep ebony, although nothing special to most, looks so damn pretty right now. A bare canvas for the purples and reds of the sky to bleed into. You would expect someone with eyes like Eddie to be a closed book, forbidden text that not just anyone could decipher.

But as the saying goes, Eddie wears his heart on his sleeve.

The metalhead grows almost shy under Steve's mesmerized stare, shrinking further into your embrace despite the aching of his scalp, "Gonna..." Steve wets his lips nervously, reeling back in after losing himself for a second, "You gonna cum?" It is far less sexy than originally intended, missing that sensual slur and playful lift of a brow - not at all as charming as expected from Steve Harrington.

Though, it sure makes Eddie Munson's heart flutter.

Then, Steve turns to look down at you, all fucked out and barely hanging by a thread, "What about you, baby?" He asks sweetly, caressing your wet cheek. You cannot nod, you don't even have the strength to speak with your hands... no more than a strangled sound spilling around his cock, a sound that sends electricity throughout his core.

In one slow pull, Steve's cock leaves your mouth with a wet squelch - in the wake of said noise are quick, labored breaths and scratchy whimpers, "So close-" You whine into Eddie's hair, holding him impossibly closer, "Steve- Steve... wanna-" You suck in a deep breath, lids fluttering when Eddie's thrusts grow desperate, "I love you- wanna feel you... please, wanna feel you cum-"

He shushes you with gentle a palm rubbing the wetness from your darling face, "I know, (name), I know..." He coos at you, "I'll give you anything you want, okay?" You nod this time, leaning into what little touch he can offer you in this position, "You're doing good, love. Close?" Again, a strangled whine mixed in with a messy bob of your head up and down.

Your brain is so hot and foggy you hardly process the near animalistic grunts coming from the man on top of you. He has yet to pull his face from your throat, but the clingy hands grabbing at whatever he can find says it all - you can sense his distress, tousled curls frizzy from the shared humidity in the van, thrust not quite as graceful and smooth as they had been.

Poor Eddie is teetering right at that edge.

"Eddie," You urge, smoothing one of your hands over the back of his neck, "'m so close..." Your voice is weak, scratchy from the abuse on your swollen throat and your own strangled sounds of pleasure. His eyes, wet and swollen, peer up through his bangs and he offers you a loving grin, "Don't make me beg, Eddie..." 

"No?" He huffs, pushing his body up with a hand at either side of your pretty face, "Don't you think it's polite to beg just a little?" You shake your head back and forth, that coil deep within your center growing tight rapidly, unbearably so. 

He can see that you, much like him, are barely hanging by a thread, "C'mon, pretty girl," Eddie draws out his words in a sing-song tone, "Let me hear you." One of his palms press flat against your womb, applying just enough pressure to feel the muscles contracting underneath, "Would be a shame if I stopped, y'know? Ruin this... pent... up..." Every pause he seems to lean closer to your face, voice dropping several octaves until it is only a gravelly whisper, "Tension."

"Eddie-" His lips curl with victory at your whine, "Please, please, please- Let me cum. Cum with me." The second sounds so much better than climaxing alone, to come down from your high, vision still blurred with beautiful white stars, only to be blanketed in that gooey, wet comfort deep within your aching belly.

"You wanna cum together?" He repeats your request, a mixture of teasing but also tasting that very idea on his tongue - he decides he likes it. To be wrapped in each other's presence, breathing the same hair, fingers knotted together and legs entangled... to build up until you both explode and ease one another once that cold tide pulls back. It is rare that Eddie Munson feels the elusive sensation of butterflies in his gut, but right now, simply imagining those very thoughts... he swears he feels something tickle at his ribs.

You nod, tightening your ankles at his back and pulling his hips snug against yours, "Steve-"

"I'm right here, love." He brushes the wetness under your eyes, "What do you need?" God, where do you even begin? You need his hands feeling up every inch of you that Eddie can't reach. You need his lips to suck identical love bites into the skin that Eddie had not touched. You need him somewhere, to feel him just as you feel Eddie - you miss that tough stretch in your throat, that lightheadedness you would get when his pelvis would press tightly against your face.

You need him. 

The words fail to come out as you like, a babbling mess of asking him to come closer, reaching for his hands and whining that you want to feel his cum, too. He could almost melt at the desperation in your glossy eyes, hiccuping over a delicious concoction of whines and words and loving pleas - a beautiful mess of limbs with your nails tugging at matted curls, the other set digging into his forearm and giving a good pull.

"Alright," Steve relents, the guilt welling up the longer he simply watched, "'m right here, see?" Another scoot, closing the distance until you, with a bit of help by pushing at Eddie's broad shoulders, are practically breaking your neck to massage the tip of your tongue into that vein right at the underside of his dick, "Fuck, I was just gonna wait until Munson was done..." 

Of course, you are quick to shake your head. Patience was never your strong suit, especially not when it came to that burning itch to be completely drowned, swallowed by the simultaneous affections of your boyfriends. It simply does not feel right to have only one.

Though it took a moment, your teeth tightly sealed as strained whimper pulled from the back of your tongue - Eddie had decided to slip a hand down between your bodies, the pad of his index and middle finger rubbed snug against your clit - eventually, with the gentle touch of Steve's hand at the side of your face, as well as his thumb pressing against your cheek, your jaw pried. 

"You gotta open a little wider, (name)." Your name is whispered kindly enough that, as if it were second nature, the muscles that control your mouth instantly went slack, "Perfect." 

Every inch of you feels as if it were burning, hairs sticking up and pores prickling with bead after bead of sweat. Your eyes, red and swollen, blurred with the neverending flood that your tear ducts create. You know you will feel raw the following morning - a bittersweet ache in the back of your mouth, a pained tension between your legs, eyes dry and itchy. 

Even in the midst of your unwavering bliss, you cannot help but wonder - hope - that maybe the three of you can spend the night together. Even if it means laying cramped in the back of Eddie's awful van, no comfort other than each other; limbs intertwined and hairs tickling at each other's skin, sharing the same breath, and, once the sun rises, fishing around for clothes and accidentally putting on something that is not yours.

Your heart swells at the thought of rolling over and finding not just one of them, but both. To brush your fingers over their faces and tuck, whether it be a curl or a silky strand, behind their ears.

Maybe even, though the occasion is rare, waking up to that terrible smell of Eddie's cigarette - finding him, as always, sitting beside you with his elbows on his knees, hair pulled back in a low ponytail, and eyes heavy with sleep. Though, you wouldn't mind Steve, with that domestic charm he was naturally gifted with, peppering his cherry-tinted lips down from the crook of your neck to the dip of your shoulders.

Even if it was something far less romantic like Eddie's morning breath giving you morning sickness, or Steve accidentally kicking you in your sleep, or even if they both have you so closely sandwiched together that you feel suffocated and worm your way out from between them... you could not care less so long as you get to have them both with you.

And if you were not already so emotionally pent up, their bodies being so close - Eddie literally on top of you, nosing your cheek and whispering obscenity in your ear, and Steve holding your pretty face while he ruts into your mouth - the little mutters of 'I love you' that you swear you can hear in the clouds of growls, grunts, and throaty sighs wash over you in a fit of shaky tremors.

"I got you, (name)-" Eddie blurts out into the side of your face, nose tickling the crease of your eyes and his breath like a wave of heat over your sweaty face, "Be a good girl and cum, c'mon. I know you got one in there for us- feel you gettin' all tight and hot." His filthy mouth has you curling under him, hips arching to meet his halfway only for the hand that isn't fingering your clit to shove your body down, "Keep still. Just gotta lay there and look cute, understood? Nice and pretty for me. Just like that."

Steve is practically on cloud nine with the vibrations from your mouth completely covering his dick. Every fucking moan that Eddie pulls out of you goes straight through him, and he swears if you make one more sound he might just bust right there in your sticky throat.

"Fuck," His eyes squeeze shut, hoping that by blocking out the sight of Eddie Munson completely wrecking you it may just allow him to last longer, "Shit, shit, shit-" But alas, he can still fucking hear you both. Feel you both. He can hear your gurgled cries and Eddie's lovely whispers of praise that are sometimes cut off by his own whines and moans. God, he loves the foul sounds you both make. So dirty, disgusting - sounds he should not enjoy and yet they make him twitch deep inside of your hot throat.

And then a tongue is at his throat. A long, rough tongue starts at that little hollow ring between his clavicles before licking up, over his adam's apple, and not stopping until it brushes over his chin. He doesn't have to open his eyes to know who it is, that deep bewitching chuckle, those plush, full lips kissing everywhere but his mouth - God, he is screwed.

"You're so fuckin' hot," His hips sputter against your mouth, and he feels your nails dig into his thighs, "Look at me." He refuses, squeezing his eyes tighter until his lids are wrinkled and his forehead creases, "C'mon, high-and-mighty Steve Harrington, let me see those eyes." The tone is mocking, song-like in how it wispily reaches his ears, "Please?"

Fuck, it is tempting. He even feels his face relax a little, no longer so twisted and scrunched up, but he remains hesitant - and then he hears two different giggles, and feels two different hands on his body. Something is wrong. His exhausted senses were such a blur he had not even realized how your mouth, although briefly, left him.

"Steve." That voice again, enticing and several octaves lower than it had been, "Fuckin' look at me."

Finally, his lashes twitch, then they flutter open - he isn't surprised to see Eddie looking right at him, their faces mere inches apart, and Munson grinning like an absolute idiot, "There are those pretty eyes."

His vision falters a moment, dropping down to where you are...

"God damn it," He whines, a violent shiver ripping through him and suddenly that coil in him is right there, winding up and ready itself to fire - your pretty face is looking right up at him, no longer awkwardly turned with how, in his brief few minutes where he saw nothing but darkness, you had flipped onto your stomach. You look just darling down between his thighs, batting those long lashes of yours at him as your hands, soft and sticky from your saliva, rub what isn't in between your glossy lips.

He watches you a while longer, brushing his palm over the back of your head and nudging your further down on his cock. He whimpers, and Steve never whimpers, when your cheeks hollow out, "Fucking- I'm gonna cum," He chokes over those last three words, shame etched in the way he tries to hide behind his ruined locks that fall forward, "Jesus- fuck, fuck- (name)."

Steve realizes if he does not look away immediately, he will be done for. One more second of you. completely soiled and bouncing off of Eddie's hips only for your face to be shoved into his lap, and he will reach that nirvana he has been chasing, "Swallow it." His fingers wrap tightly under your chin, fingers digging into your cheeks and his hips, no longer as merciful as they had been, fucking your throat with purpose.

"That's it, pretty boy." Eddie muses, "Fuck her nasty mouth, wanna see her fuckin' choking on your cum." In seconds, he is grabbing the back of Steve's neck and pulling with so much force that their noses grow hot under the collision - if it were not for the gallons of adrenaline that they were both drowning in, they may have pulled back from the pain.

But instead, their tongues wrap around one another in a wet mess, a lazy, open-mouthed kiss where their lips just mush together and they share as much saliva as they can. It's erotic and sexy and absolutely disgusting but it feels so good, so right.

And when Steve's hips begin to sputter, one of Eddie's hands catching it with the way it's perched on the brunet's waist, a hand wraps around his throat and squeezes.

A wheeze spills from Steve's heavy jaw, eyes tearing up and glaring at Eddie Munson, Hawkins' favorite freak, as that asshole grins with this crazed darkness in his eyes that has Steve, in just two more thrusts, spilling into your throat.

"O-Oh, G-od...." He hiccups every syllable, body convulsing and turning to putty before the freak's very eyes, "F-uuck-"

His cum is like magma, thick and warm and burning as it spills down your throat and into your achy belly, "Make sure you get every fuckin' drop, (name)." Spoken without breaking eye contact with Harrington, deep ebony staring into amber, "Feelin' better, prince charming?" Eddie teases, "Look at you... can't even keep still long enough for me to admire you. Must've felt nice to get that out, huh? Did it feel good to fuck her face? I bet it did... I remember the first time I did it, felt like fuckin' heaven."

He says it all while massaging his fingers into your scalp, keeping your nose snug against Steve's pelvis, "If I were you, pretty boy, I wouldn't move..." And he had no plan to, not with how every fiber, tendon, and muscle has turned to nothing but mush. He can no longer feel his legs, let alone his dick, other than the occasional bob of your throat as you swallow what you can - the rest, sticking to your tonsils and the back of your tongue from having coughed it up.

"Eds," Steve wheezes with a clenched jaw, face tinted pink and his brows upturned in frustration, "Please, for my sanity, shut the hell up."

Eddie finally releases Steve's throat and the man scratches for a good, long breath - inhaling so hard he ends up curling over and coughing, which in turn makes you complain - only then did he notice that, although he had released your head, Eddie was quick to put you back in position, "You're a real drag, Harrington. Dirty talk doesn't do it for you?"

Steve nearly cracks under the heat of your stare - big, dolly eyes tearfully looking up at him through your clumped lashes. Lips swollen and colorful and tightly sealed around the very base of his dick. Saliva dripping down his balls and most likely soaking into the old blankets beneath your three. You are just as beautiful as when they first picked you up from your house, makeup neatly done and your skirt ironed, not a thread or nail or lash or anything out of place.

And now? God, now you are a disoriented wreck. 

"Not when it's coming from you." Steve finally responds, not once turning his eyes somewhere that isn't you.

"I am really offended... but forgiving."

He can only admire you for so long, completely still and scratching at his thighs because it burns- your eyes, your nose, your throat. It burns and Eddie knows that and because he is feeling extra generous, he decides to speed things up and cut your misery short.

Not that you were genuinely miserable, one might argue that you enjoyed that agony.

"Not too bad." A huff fans over your arch back, the hand that isn't pushing your face forward now tracing the bumps over your spine, "Did so fuckin' good. I knew you'd be a good girl, y'know that? I could tell the minute you came skippin' outta your door with that cute smile." The skin of your ass erupts in a sting, his palm having laid a less than forgiving slap upon the jiggling flesh, "Just knew you'd do anything we wanted."

His pace is relentless, thrust after thrust after thrust of unruly force - the kind that would have you lurching forward if it were not for his hands keeping you firmly in place. Everything is just numb, the only feeling being that tightness deep inside of you. Every punch of his dick against your gummy insides, just barely missing your cervix, allowing you to feel your heartbeat in your pussy.

"If you don't cum now, I'm not letting you cum at all." He sings into your ear, punctuating his statement with fast back and forth swipes to your clit. He tortures your already swollen and raw pussy to the point that you are convulsing in his very palms. You can feel that sensation again, one you are all too familiar with, it is red and hot and tearing through you with little hesitance.

Eddie sighs and his head falls forward, "I lied, it feels a lot better when we kinda do it at the same time... y'know?" His eyes tighten, colors and swirls filling his darkened vision, "And like, I think I can feel your heartbeat in your-"

"Eds-" Steve croaks, laying his hand on top of Eddie's, the very hand pinned to the back of your head. For a second, the metalhead expects another lecture about his rambling, "Shit, she's moving too much." Thankfully, that wasn't the case.

Eddie worries his bottom lip between his teeth, "'Cause she's close." He can feel the start of your contracting muscles beginning to tighten up, your body gradually building up for that high you both had been chasing - and as much as he would love to feel you convulse under him, suffocating with Steve's dick still snug in your throat... nothing sets him off like you mewling his name.

The hand at your scalp moves to the back of your neck, your upper body completely resituated so that you are flush against Eddie's front, "C'mon, sweetheart-" He gasps into the side of your face, bouncing you on his cock so that his thrusts can meet you halfway, "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon... fuckin' Hell." 

"Ed- Eddie," He can hear the rawness, that sweet voice of your reduced to scratchy whimpers and whines, a wet gurgling behind every word and your pretty lips smeared in milky fluids, "I can't- too much, too much-" 

His fingers rub faster at your clit and your vision begins to swell with bright white stars, "There it is," He huffs, "Right there, let go, baby. Good girl-" Every little praise brings a big hot sensation all throughout. Suddenly that pain in your mouth is absent, all senses completely overpowered and replaced by the explosion brewing in your center.

"Gonna cum-" You manage to squeak out, nails digging red lines into Eddie's forearm that is wrapped tightly around your midsection, "Eddie- Eddie, please- please, please, please-" With a few more chants of his name, a slurred mixture of pleas and cries of 'Oh God', you seize up.

"There we fuckin' go," His fingers refuse to still, swiping back and forth so fast you go silent, "Fuck, (name)." Your body can barely keep still as it throws itself into fits of tremors and twitches, thighs shaking and your soft belly bouncing with every electric fire that strikes your core. Your entire world completely melts along with your orgasm, a slow and painful fall that eventually blossoms into something red-hot and painful.

Overstimulation kicks in fast, and your body is lowered down onto the floor with your hips high in the air for Eddie to finish. You can hardly hear his own muttered curses and sweet praises - something along the lines of you being, 'Oh, so good for me.' 

And Eddie doesn't last long, no more than four or five more pumps inside of you before, with a strangled growl and his body slumping over yours - one hand pinned beside your head to keep himself from fully collapsing - and you feel something spilling inside of you. The same warmth you had felt in your mouth now spreading all through your abdomen in white spurts.

You turn to goo beneath him, knees sliding out from under you and your nose nestling the soft blanket your face just so happened to be pressed into. The stars and big colorful swirls that had been obstructing your vision slowly dissipate and welcome the starry night sky, something you had not noticed in the last however many minutes, maybe even hours, had gone by. 

Time seems to move slowly, especially when Steve is flipping you to lay on your back and holding you so very tight in his arms that you swear some of Eddie's cum squeezes out of you, "Hey," Comes a rather rocky voice, "Did I make you cum?" You don't even register that you are being spoken to until something freezing presses underneath your chin, and only then do your whine and squirm, "Hey, hey, hey... c'mon, you're burning up."

Steve holds you only a little tighter, but rather than fighting his act of comfort you simply sink further in his arms, watching Eddie, with his fucked up curls pulled back, drag a cold beer over your heated skin, "I think you got the answer to your question, dumbass."

The weird ritual seems to go on forever, the can coming down between your breasts and over your bruised thighs. At one point, Eddie decided it would be funny to press it flush against your throbbing cun, to which you responded by kicking it right in the chest. Of course, he knew he deserved it, but that did not stop him from grabbing your ankle and biting right below your knee.

"Feeling better?" Steve's voice is like sticky honey trickling down your chin, sweet and lovey and just making you overflow with something nice and fuzzy. His knuckles drag underneath your swollen, exhaustion-heavy eyes, "I think you should drink something." The last thing on your mind is whether or not your body is dehydrated or hungry, but several late nights with Eddie have made you accustomed to the tradition of water after sex.

And it seems the said man was already prepared, "That's my line, Harrington." The water bottle in his hand is not as preserved as the beer, only a little warmer but not distastefully so, "Here you are, your royal hotness." The cap is already unsealed and he brings the head to your plump lips, watching carefully as you drink down as much as you can before your lungs begin to protest.

"Was it... too much?" Steve is the first to ask, a question you hear every single time the three of you are together, "Like, I know you said you'd... you know, say something or doing a little signal during it but- I don't know, just worried that maybe you did and we didn't see it or-"

You cut off his rambling with a forgiving smile, "I'm fine, Steve." The brunet nods slowly, as if trying to soak up that information with his brain but still not quite accepting it, "It was good... I liked it."

"Yeah?"

"Of course," You give his cheek a soft pat, kissing the stubble of his chin, "You always take care of me," You look towards Eddie who is fumbling with a hole in one of the blankets, "Both of you." He perks up a bit, snaking his way between your parted thighs, careful of the bites and bruises when leaning into your gentle hold. Immediately running your fingers through his hair, "Wasn't too much for you, Munson?"

Steve laughs, "I'm wondering the same thing, I thought I saw you crying a little bit."

"I wasn't crying," He snaps with a sharp glare, peering up at you both from where he has sought solace against your soft tits, "I was... overwhelmed by pleasure, good pussy does something to a man."

Steve scoffs, "Yeah, right." He presses an accusing finger to the center of Eddie's forehead, "You were talking straight outta your ass towards the end, thought you were possessed."

"You shouldn't be talkin', Harrington, you were all chicken legs and mush when she started suckin' you off."

Steve watches in awe, Eddie's long lashes fluttering as he barks at the man sitting behind you - Steve Harrington always found him to be pretty, even before his feelings came to be known. Though no one admitted it, you were certain people found Eddie Munson to be beautiful in his own, strange way. Unconventionally beautiful. A kind that you can see when the person is lost in the moment.

The first time you noticed Eddie's unrefined attractiveness was when he invited you to The Hideout for the first time - claiming he would have done it sooner but his doubt got in the way, as well as the fact he thought you would rather spend your Tuesday night anywhere but with him and his nerdy friends. He was so nervous, practically jumping in place with every passing second - you even remember Gareth begrudgingly ushering Eddie Munson out the back, telling him to smoke the anxiety off.

Really, it was worth it. Though the booze was shit and the guests even shittier, you would have traded nothing in place of seeing Eddie 'The Freak' Munson on that stage. His curls bounced with him, steel accessors twinkling against the stage lighting, and anytime he got even a little overwhelmed he would search for you in the small crowd and burst into a big, goofy grin. It was the most un-metal smile ever, but you liked it.

For Steve, he isn't sure when he noticed it. Maybe when he saw the nightmare vandalizing Mrs. Click's car after that wench failed him. Maybe the time he had brought a date to Lover's Lake two years ago, only to find Eddie and you submerged but still fully clothed in the lake water. You two fools were trying to see who could swim faster despite the weight of the soaked clothes.

If he remembers correctly, you won. Of course, not without crawling back onto land and vomiting up all the water you had pretty much vacuumed into your lungs.

Or perhaps the time that Eddie offered him a hand after Hargrove, damn that bastard, gave him a good shove in passing. From where he sat on the floor, still recollecting from the uncalled-for assault, Eddie looked... different. A good different. His curls brushed back using one of his sentimental bandanas, sunglasses still resting on the bridge of his nose... and he was smirking.

At the time, Steve took it as an insult, assuming that the freak was just antagonizing him. Who wouldn't take the chance to laugh at Steve Harrington in a moment of weakness? He even pushed Eddie's hand away, scoffing something at him, harsh enough for the freak to throw up his arms and storm off - of course, later he learned it was a genuine extending of an olive branch, one that he turned down. 

"Hey, Harrington," The hoarse voice breaks his far away look, his eyes blinking awake to find the object of his reminiscing wearing the same stupid smirk, "See somethin' you like? Look, I know I put Cheri models to shame-" 

"What?"

"Y'know... the porno mag?"

Steve heard enough, "Can it." Despite his bite, Eddie, with a hand on your shoulder for support, leans over you to get close to a flustered Steve, "I'm telling you, Munson-" His bark was no worse than his bite, not that he had any bite at all. The moment their lips met for a chaste, giddy kiss, Steve went quiet and all previous tension blew with the wind.

He almost wanted to reach out and pull him back in for another, longer one. Though, Eddie is already moving to look you in the eye, tilting you by the chin, "Don't think I forgot about you, seductress." And just as he had done with Steve, he presses a short peck to your lips, "Shame. I can't taste the pomegranate anymore." 

"I can always put more on..."

Eddie taps his fingers against your cheek, smiling down at you with this innocent playfulness, "As much as I'd love to suck face," You grimace at his choice of words, Steve throwing his head back with a heavy sigh as the freak's theatrics make their grand return, "I, and pay close attention to this part," He begins shoveling through the clothes looking for his pants, "Really gotta piss."

"Jesus Christ, just go, will you?" Steve waves his hand, sending away the gargoyle who pretty much crawls his way out of the van and stumbles out of sight, the sound of leaves crunching beneath his sneakers disappearing the further he walks, "How do you put up with him? I'm barely hanging on here."

"Well," You laugh, one of those pretty, light laughs that will send any man with a couple of jittery butterflies in his chest, "I think you already know the answer to that, prince charming."

You are not wrong, though he will not outwardly say it, he has an idea of why you just cannot get rid of Eddie - why he cannot get rid of him. There is an undeniable attachment factor that comes along when you befriend Eddie Munson, something cozy and familiar, like a security blanket you had not known was there all along and when you finally find it, you just cannot let go.

Eddie is the sweetest person one could get to know, Steve knew that when he first saw you hanging around him.

"Are you... do you have to go home?"

Steve comes back to reality at your soft voice, barely above a whisper against the chirping of crickets that overcloud his hearing, "Do... no, I don't. Why?" He can't see your face in this lighting, the sun already set and the moon not positioned to illuminate the inside of the van - though, he can feel you. His hand over your heart, a loud beat thumping against his palm.

"Well, y'know... Eds' uncle doesn't come home 'til morning," He can see the silhouette of your hands dancing around as you speak, "I know Eddie wouldn't mind, he'd probably really like it actually." You stall whatever it is you want to say with a bit more jabbering, empty subject changes about how Eddie hates being alone at night, and you don't have to go home, either.

"What... what I'm trying to say is, if you're okay with it, maybe we could all spend the night together? Eddie's trailer isn't much, and his bed is small, but we usually camp out in the living room anyway. So I mean, if you want, we could all just-"

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah," Steve brushes his fingers over your cheek, kissing your temple and your body just relaxes, "I'd like that."