055

The city center of Hawkins flies by as you lean back in Eddie's passenger seat, watching the buildings, the people on the sidewalks as the van steers through the streets, heading for your old apartment.

You feel sick, nervously picking at your nails, avoiding to look at the apartment complex he's aiming for.

Eddie sighs, glancing at you as he takes the last drag of his cigarette and flicks it out of his rolled down window, his other hand now reaching for your thigh, squeezing it lightly. "You okay?", he mumbles, and you nod.

"Yeah. I just want it to be over".

He nods, but you're already scanning the street for Lauren's car, which is, thankfully, not parked anywhere. She doesn't seem to be home. You were right, remembering she usually works late on Thursdays. Let's hope she won't come home while you're there, grabbing your remaining stuff and moving out for good.

Robin and Steve are already waiting outside when you pull up, Robin hugging herself against the wind, Steve leaning against his car with his arms crossed. They immediately offered their help when you told them you need to move out again, Steve even lets you store your few pieces of furniture and boxes you might not need in his garage until you find a new place, since Eddie's room you're currently living in is stuffed already and you wouldn't have room for most of it.

Eddie turns off the engine, takes a sharp breath and looks up at the building. You can feel his tension as you get out of your seats, him slamming the door louder than necessary and stepping next to you, immediately wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you walk over to your friends. "Thanks for coming, guys", you manage to bring out, even giving them a small smile when you really don't feel like it. Robin rubs your arm, Steve already opens his trunk to grab some moving boxes he still had in his basement and hands them over to Eddie.

"Okay", he says, clapping his hands, slamming his trunks close, "Let's do this. Quick and easy, in and out".

You sigh, nodding again.

Easy.

None of this is easy.

You feel like shit, knowing this chapter is over. This friendship is over. The times of living in this apartment, the first place you felt safe and home at after so many years - over.

It's not easy at all.

But you know you have to push through, just one last time, and you can finally leave this behind. Hopefully leave this behind. "Yeah, let's go", you eventually mumble, realizing everybody's waiting for you to say something, pushing open the front door and stepping into the dusty staircase, "We're kinda on the clock here, so, let's try to get this over with as fast as possible".

The four of you head upstairs, Eddie right behind you, his presence calming you just slightly. He's pissed. Still pissed because of how things with Lauren escalated again last weekend, how they actually kicked you out of your band. Being here brings back all the anger and frustration.

The apartment door creaks lightly as you push it open, your keys still hanging in the key hole, dangling against the worn down wood. You step inside, and it’s like walking into a stranger’s place. Nothing has changed, but it feels different.

Colder. Less like home.

Actually, nothing like home.

Lauren is nowhere to be seen, thankfully, but her presence lingers in the things left behind. The half-empty coffee cup on the counter, the wine glass on the coffee table, next to the emptied bottle of wine and the overflowing ashtray. A messy blanket on the couch, as she slept on it last night.

For a second, your gaze lingers on the wine bottle, remembering how often she drank after Eddie dumped her, how she cried at your shoulder, and you sat there, stiff, telling her he'll regret it soon, tasting his mouth still on yours.

"Babe", Eddie mumbles, and you realize you stopped right in the doorway. You step to the side, letting them pass you by, shaking your head to get rid of the memory and following the three of them through the living space and into the hallway leading to your old bedroom. Robin mumbles something to Steve, reaching for the door handle, Eddie glancing at you over his shoulder, making sure you're okay as she swings the door open -

and all of them freeze the second they look inside.

Your stomach drops. "What?", you ask, frowning and stepping closer.

"Oh, my god", Robin presses out, staring into your bedroom, even taking a step back.

Eddie's whole body tenses as he drops the empty moving boxes he carried upstairs, inhaling sharply before turning to you.

You pass him by, feel how his hand reaches for your waist.

And you freeze, just like they did, the second you see your bedroom.

It looks like a crime scene.

Your clothes, books, tapes and vinyls, trinkets - everything - thrown everywhere. Your pillow, ripped open, stuffing spilled onto the floor, the mattress. Your drawers emptied, thrown on the floor, your posters and pictures torn down from the walls.

"What-", you stammer as you step inside, staring at the mess that wasn't there the last time you left, looking around and freezing again the second your eyes land on your mirror next to the door.

WHORE.

Written in thick, smeared lipstick across the glass. Your lipstick.

A strangled noise catches in your throat as you stare at the red letters, hearing Lauren's voice in your head again.

You're a fucking whore, Sam.

Eddie sees it at the same time you do. His body goes rigid, his breath sharp and dangerous. The air in the room shifts, thick with the weight of his fury. He takes a step forward, fists clenched at his sides, and for a second, you actually think he’s about to punch the mirror.

Robin, still staring at the mess, exhales sharply through her nose, "Okay. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. What the actual fuck?" She turns and leaves the room, returning with a handful of toilet paper, aggressively swiping at the lipstick, smearing it across the glass. "I mean, what is this, a bad high school movie? Who does this shit?", she mutters, smearing the red over the glass until you can't read it any longer, wiping it off. 

Steve, still by the doorway, blinks. "Holy shit". His voice is quiet, like he’s just now realizing how bad things really are. Then, with a slow exhale, he rubs the back of his neck and steps inside, shaking his head. "Alright. Let’s start grabbing stuff, yeah? Before Munson explodes?"

It’s a valid concern. Because Eddie's standing so still it’s unsettling. His jaw is locked, his hands balled into fists. Fuming. "She fucking came in here", he mutters, voice low and murderous. His knuckles go white. "She went through your shit. She-" He gestures around, barely able to form words, "She fucking destroyed your room like some psycho ex-wife? I'm gonna fucking kill her. That fucking b-" He cuts himself off, turns on his heel and leaves your room, heading for the front door.

You unfreeze, realizing he's about to leave, probably wanting to drive right to her work, a grungy shop at the mall, to end her right there. He has enough, he's so fed up with this. "No, Eds". Your voice is tight as you stumble after him, but it stops him in his tracks.

His shoulders rise and fall with each ragged breath as he turns in the hallway, looking at you. "I'm gonna fucking end her", he growls, "She fucking overstepped a line. This? This is it. I'm fucking done with her bullshit".

You step forward, reaching for him, catching his arm and holding on, "She’s not worth it".

His chest heaves. He looks right at you and his eyes - God, his eyes. Dark, stormy, burning. You can feel the anger rolling off him in waves. His hand comes up, thumb tracing gently over your knuckles before he cups your face, his palm warm against your cheek. "She made you cry".His voice is tight, restrained. "She’s made you cry more times than I can count. And she called you a fucking whore again, though I made very clear what's gonna happen if she does".

You glance over your shoulder, Robin still scrubbing at the mirror, Steve already pulling your mattress up. They’re working. Moving forward. That’s what you need to do too. So you pull in a breath, exhale slowly, and turn back to Eddie. "Please", you whisper, "Just help me pack. Let’s just go, okay? I wanna go home, Eds. I just wanna go home".

Home. His trailer. His bedroom. Your bedroom.

His jaw tenses again, but after a long, heavy beat, he nods. Then, without another word, he reaches for you, pulls you into his chest, tightly wraps his arms around you. You exhale shakily, letting him hold you for a moment, taking in his warmth, his scent as he presses a few kisses to your hair, your forehead. You lean your head back, feeling his lips on yours, soft, grounding. When he pulls away, he's still tense, his eyes are still angry.  "Okay", he mutters, "Let's do this. I wanna take you home". You sigh and nod, placing another small kiss on his lips and turning to head back inside, his tall figure right behind you.

Robin gives you a look, quiet concern in her eyes, but you just shake your head and start packing. Because what else can you do? You don’t cry. You won’t cry. You just grab your things, stuffing them into the boxes Steve brought, throwing away what’s ruined. Steve and Eddie work fast, carrying your empty dresser, nightstand, and chair down to the van. Your mattress. Your carpet. Then the shelves. Your bed frame, piece by piece. Your mirror, wiped down. Eddie barely speaks, jaw still tight, movements sharp.

Robin helps you shove the last of your clothes into bags, and you’re so tense, glancing at the door every few minutes, praying Lauren doesn’t come home early.

Eddie, on the other hand, is praying she does. You can feel it in the way he moves, the way he keeps glancing toward the door too, his fingers twitching like he wants to fight someone. But, lucky for you, and her, she doesn't, and the four of you manage to clear your room within a record worthy time. Steve grabs the last box, carrying it outside your apartment and down the stairs, Robin right behind him, they both chat quietly as they give Eddie and you a second to yourselves.

You gulp hard when looking around your now empty room. Reality hits, and you blink away the hot tears suddenly burning in your eyes.

Eddie doesn’t say anything at first. He just steps up behind you, his warmth wrapping around you before his arms even do and curl around your shoulders, his chest pressing to your back, his chin coming to rest on the top of your head. He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t tell you to move, doesn’t say a damn word, he just holds you.

You sigh, closing your eyes, gripping onto his arm like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. Maybe it is.

You knew this moment would come, the moment where reality fully sinks in. Where it hits you that this chapter of your life is over. That Lauren doesn’t just hate you, she’ll never forgive you. That no matter how much you don’t regret choosing Eddie, part of you still mourns what you lost.

Because it hurts. It fucking hurts.

You sniffle, pressing a soft kiss to his forearm, and his heart breaks. "Baby", he murmurs, low and warm, turning you in his arms, his big hands finding your waist, your ribs, your face, "Hey".

You won’t look at him. You keep your eyes on the empty room, on the ghost of your life here. The friendships that have turned to ashes. The things you tried to salvage, but couldn’t. Your throat tightens, "Maybe if I-"

"No". He shakes his head instantly, firmly, cupping your jaw to make you look at him, "Don’t do that. Don’t do that to yourself".

But you can’t answer. Your throat is too tight. Your heart is aching.

His thumb strokes over your cheek, slow and gentle. Soft. He leans in, brushing the tip of his nose against yours, exhaling hard, like he’s trying to breathe for you. Dark eyes are searching yours, already filled with something so much softer than the rage he carried earlier. "Don't cry", he breathes, brushing his thumbs under your eyes before you’ve even had the chance to let your tears fall, "I can't take it seeing you hurt like this". You try to look away, to blink them back, but he doesn’t let you. His grip is gentle but firm, and then his lips are on yours, kissing you softly, slowly, like he’s trying to pull you back to him.

Your heart jumps, a rush of warmth flooding through your veins, your love for him crashing over you all at once.

Because he is worth it.

All of it.

And you’d do it again. In a heartbeat.

Your heart pounds as you grab him, your hands sliding up his arms, gripping onto his shoulders as you push onto your toes and kiss him harder. Eddie makes a soft, startled noise in the back of his throat, but he melts into you instantly. His hands slip down your back, pulling you flush against him as you push him back, until he’s pressed against the wall. Your tears slip onto his fingers as he cradles your face, and he tries to pull back, to check on you, to see you, but you don’t let him. You chase his lips, catching them again, sobbing quietly as you kiss him harder, like you can pour everything you’re feeling into him. Eddie groans, his fingers digging into your waist as he takes it. Lets you press against him, lets you have him.

After your lips slowly part, both of you breathless as your mouths stay only inches apart. You feel the warmth of his big hands on your lower back, his strong chest under your palms. His heartbeat. "I'm sorry", he rasps, and the raw honesty in his voice makes your heart ache.

"Don't be", you whisper, his thumbs wiping away your tears, lips finding yours again in another soft kiss, "I love you. You're worth all this mess. I'd lose it all again for you, my love".

His grip on you tightens, a deep sigh leaves his throat, tickles your damp lips as he pulls back. You swallow at the look in his eyes. "Fuck, baby", he whispers, "You have no idea how much I love you. I’d do it all again. You hear me? Every second. Every fight. Every fucking thing. If it meant having you". Eddie kisses you again, slower this time, lingering, like he never wants to let go. His hands are firm on your back, holding you like you might slip through his fingers, like he needs to feel you solid and real against him.

You melt into it, into him, because you don’t want to be anywhere else. Because even though your heart aches, even though today was hard, he makes it better. He makes everything better.

His forehead presses against yours, his breath warm and steadying. "Come on, sweetheart," he murmurs, voice soft but full of something heavier, something deeper, "Let’s get out of here".

You nod, swallowing hard, stealing one last glance at the empty room before following him out into the hallway, through the living space and up to the front door. You pull out your keys, feeling his eyes on you as you pull your apartment keys off your key ring, staring at them for a moment, the weight of everything pressing down on you again.

His jaw flexes as he waits, letting you have the moment, but when he sees the way your chest rises sharply, sees you swallow hard like you’re fighting something down, he steps in. His voice is steady but firm, the edge of a command softened just for you. "Baby. We should go."

You let out a breath, like you’ve been holding it in for hours. And maybe you have. Maybe this whole damn day has been one long breath you’ve been suffocating on.

Without a word, you step forward, setting them on the side table next to the front door.

Right where Lauren will see them the second she gets home. No note. No explanation. No more rent.

You don’t owe her that. Not anymore.

You sigh and turn, looking up at Eddie's face, noticing his small smirk. "Atta girl," he murmurs, voice low, rough with something dangerously close to pride. His hand slides into yours, his grip warm and firm. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t wait for you to second-guess yourself, he pulls you with him, away from all of it.

Together, you step out of the apartment for the last time. He keeps his arm wrapped around you the whole way, holding you close as you walk down the stairs and out of the apartment complex for the last time. The air outside is sharp and cool, but the second you take a deep breath of fresh air, you feel like a weight has finally lifted off your chest. You moved out. You did it.

Robin and Steve are waiting outside, Steve shoving his hands into his pockets as Robin shifts on her feet, arms crossed against the evening chill. She immediately clocks the look on your face and softens. "You okay?"

You nod, exhaling slowly, "Yeah."

She doesn’t look convinced, but doesn’t push. Instead, she wraps you in a hug. Warm, tight, real. You let yourself sink into

it, squeezing her back, a silent thank-you.Steve, meanwhile, is looking between you and Eddie, clocking the way Eddie is still holding your hand. His brows lift slightly, and then he smirks. "Man, didn’t burn the place down? I’m honestly impressed."

Eddie scoffs, throwing an arm over your shoulders the second Robin steps away,  leans in, voice low, cocky. Unapologetic. "Woulda, but my girl said no."

You snort, rolling your eyes, but Steve just grins, heads around his car and unlocks the door. "Okay, people, let's get going, two of us have to work later, we're kinda in a rush now".

Unloading didn't take long. Steve’s garage was mostly empty, making it easy to store the boxes and furniture you weren't bringing to Eddie’s. The guys worked fast, carried the heavier stuff while you and Robin handled the smaller boxes, silently talking. Once everything was inside, you all had a quick beer together, you promised to thank them properly next time you are out for drinks and eventually left again, hopping back into Eddie's van.

You're headed back to Forest Hills, some rock music quietly playing from his stereo as you tab ashes of your cigarette through the small gap of your opened passenger window. His fingers tap against the steering wheel, restless energy still thrumming through him as he steers the van.

You know he’s still pissed. You can feel it in the way his jaw ticks, in the way he grips the wheel like he’s holding himself back from turning around and hunting Lauren down, even now that you left the apartment over an hour ago.

"Hey," you murmur, reaching over to lay your hand on his thigh, "I meant what I said back at the apartment, you know that, right?"

His leg tenses under your touch, but his grip on the wheel loosens slightly. He glances at you, those dark eyes still simmering, but there’s something softer there now too. "I know," he mutters, "I just hate that you had to go through all that shit. That she did that to you".

"Eds, I don’t care anymore," you say, squeezing his leg, "She doesn’t matter. You do. We do".

That gets him. His breath stutters slightly, his hand slipping from the wheel to grip your fingers, threading them through his. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, slow and deliberate, and then he brings your hand to his lips, kissing it gently. "God, you kill me," he whispers, a small, crooked smile tugging at his lips.

By the time you pull up to his place, the sky is bleeding into a deep purple, the air cool when you step out. You know he has to jet out soon. Another band rehearsal before the battle this weekend, but first, you both unload the van. He carries most of the heavier stuff, barely breaking a sweat as he hauls it inside, leaving you with the smaller boxes and bags, stacking them neatly in his already crowded room.

When you’re finally done, you feel it. Exhaustion.

Not just physically, but emotionally.

The day has drained you completely.

Your limbs are heavy, your mind feels foggy, and all you want is Eddie.You need him. Not just for comfort. Not just for reassurance. You need to feel him. To be close. To drown in him.

He’s pulling his leather jacket back on when you step up behind him, slipping your hands under it, smoothing them over his stomach, pressing your face between his shoulder blades.

He stills. Then, a slow inhale. "Babe. I gotta go."

You sigh, stepping back, already missing his warmth. "Right now?"

"Mhm. Gotta meet the guys. One last rehearsal before we wipe the floor with those other bands this weekend."

You sigh dramatically, flopping onto his bed, lying on your back, "Do you have to be so talented?"

Eddie laughs, pulling his jacket on, "‘Fraid so, sweetheart. Try not to miss me too much." He lifts his gaze to look at your face, about to kiss you goodbye, and there it is - that look.

Big, sad eyes. That soft, tiny pout.

He groans, already doomed. "Oh, no. No, no, no, don’t do that." He points at you accusingly, "That’s cheating."

Your pout deepens, "Cheating? What, I can’t be a little sad that you’re leaving me?"

His jaw clenches. His hands twitch. His heart does a fucking backflip. Because fuck, you’re good.

"I’ll be back soon, baby." His voice is already softer, weaker, as he sits on the edge of the bed beside you, his knuckles brushing over your cheek. Like he can’t help himself.

You sigh, tilting into his touch, your fingers reaching for his wrist, holding him there, "You’re just gonna leave me all alone? When I had such a hard day?"

His eyes flicker. Darken. "Sam," he warns, voice lower now, rougher, because he knows exactly what you’re doing. And it’s working. He leans down, his scent surrounding you, his breath warm on your lips as he mumbles, "You tryin’ to get me to stay, sweetheart?"

You blink up at him innocently, "No…"

Eddie chuckles, deep and slow, shaking his head, his hand still cupping your face, "Little liar."

Your fingers slide up his arm, over the leather of his jacket, gripping his biceps just slightly. Enough to make him hum. "I just like when you’re here," you murmur, letting your lips brush his jaw, his pulse jumping under your touch. His breathing shudders. Barely. But you feel it. His hand tightens on your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. His voice is gravelly, thick with amusement, with something heavier as your fingers toy with the hem of his shirt. "God, I fuckin’ love when you’re needy for me."

Heat floods through your body, and Eddie laughs, feeling the way your breath stutters, watching the way your fingers tighten in his shirt. His lips find yours, slow and teasing, like he has all the time in the world, even though he doesn't. But fuck that. "Five more minutes," he murmurs, kissing you deeper, pulling you closer, his fingers curling into your hair as he leans over you, one hand on your face, on holding your hip, fingers teasingly slipping under your shirt to caress your skin.

Softly, you sigh into his mouth, your fingers slide up into his curls, making him groans into your mouth as you tug them just the way he likes. His resolve is crumbling. Fast. Because when your lips part beneath his, when you sigh so sweetly into his mouth, when your nails scrape at the back of his neck, he’s done for.

His hand slides from your cheek, down your throat, slow and possessive, his rings cool against your skin. Claiming you. His grip tightens slightly, just enough to make you shiver, and Eddie smirks against your lips. "You got me all fuckin’ worked up now, sweetheart," he mutters, kissing you again, deeper this time, slower.

You hum, your hands sliding beneath his shirt, and he hisses when your nails scratch at his ribs. "Maybe you should stay, then."

He grins, his fingers tilting your chin up, making you look at him. His dark eyes are hungry. Amused. Obsessed. "You like messing with me, don’t you?" he murmurs.

You smile. Innocent. Dangerous."A little."

A raspy chuckle leaves his lips, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip, hypnotized, "Yeah, I can tell." You kiss his thumb, slow and teasing, and Eddie growls, low and rough, before crawling on top of you, pressing you into the mattress.

You gasp, giggle as you glance up at him, now hovering over you, all wild curls and tattoos, rings and smirks, broad shoulders and strong arms caging you in. His lips brush your jaw, your throat, your collarbone, trailing slowly, teasingly, as his hands press into your waist, gripping just slightly, pinning you beneath him. "Five minutes," he mumbles, his mouth hot against your skin, his breath warm as he lingers, teasing. He knows exactly what he’s doing, taking his time, making you squirm, making you want him even more."Five minutes," he murmurs again, lips grazing the hollow of your throat, smirking when he feels the way your pulse flutters, "Maybe ten."

You huff, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging. He groans at the feeling, his hips pressing down against yours instinctively. "Eds" you breathe, half warning, half plea. He loves it.

"What, mh?" he grins, cocky, lazy, so damn smug, "Thought you wanted me to stay?"

You do. But you also know he needs to be with his band. He needs to rehearse for Saturday.

"You need to go", you mutter, reluctant, pouting.

Eddie sighs, dropping his weight onto you dramatically. Crushing you. Melting into you. "Don’t wanna," he groans into your neck, nuzzling. A full-body shiver races through you when his lips brush your skin again, and he feels it. Of course he does. He grins. Cocky bastard.

"Jesus, you’re needy today," you tease, but your voice betrays you. It’s breathless, soft, and Eddie picks up on it immediately.

He pulls back, raising an eyebrow. "Me?" he asks, mock offense dripping from every syllable, "Sweetheart, you’re the one clinging to me like I’m your fuckin’ lifeline. I was about to leave already when you pulled me into this".

You roll your eyes, pushing at his chest. He doesn’t budge. You snort, shaking your head, "Because you won’t get off of me".

"Because you don’t want me to," he counters, smug, and you hate that he’s right. He kisses you again, deep and slow, his hand sliding down your side, fingers tracing the hem of your shirt, sneaking underneath again. Your skin is warm, soft, his. He can't leave. Not yet. He lets his big hand slide beneath your shirt again, his fingers trailing over your stomach, slow and deliberate. He should go. He knows that. But he can't. Not when you're all soft and warm beneath him, when your lips are still slightly swollen from his kisses, when your body feels like it was made to fit against his.

Not when your eyes look at him like that. Like he's the only thing in the world that matters. Like he’s your safe place. Like you need him just as much as he needs you.

And that scares him a little. How easily he’d throw everything away, his band, the battle, the entire damn rehearsal, just to stay here with you.

But it’s the truth.He’d leave it all in a heartbeat for you.

And so, instead of finally pulling himself away, instead of standing up and heading for the door like he knows he should, Eddie kisses you again. Deeper this time. Longer. His hand slides higher, his palm finally cupping your breast, his thumb brushing teasingly over your nipple. The sound you make is soft, barely a sigh, but it’s enough.

Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer, and he groans, his forehead dropping against yours for a moment. You’re pushing his jacket off his shoulders, he’s helping you, tugging it off completely, tossing it aside without care. "You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, sweetheart", he mutters, but there's no real complaint behind it. Just something thick and aching, something wild and desperate that only you can pull out of him.

"Stay, then," you murmur, your fingers sliding beneath his t-shirt, gripping his biceps, your nails digging into his skin in that way that makes him dizzy. His resolve crumbles. He’s already late, anyway.

And your lips meet again, hot and hungry, your hands slide up his arms, his skin burning under your touch, your fingers skimming over his ribs, his stomach. Eddie shudders. His lips find your neck again, trailing lower, sucking lightly on your pulse point, feeling the way your body reacts to him, how you arch just slightly, how your breath stutters. "Fuck," he mutters, smirking against your skin, "Look at you, baby. So worked up already."

You shove at his chest playfully, but you’re breathless, and he knows it’s getting to you just as much as it’s getting to him. "Shut up," you grumble, but your fingers tighten in his shirt, pulling him down again.

Eddie laughs, raspy and low, kissing you hard, rolling you both over on the bed, losing himself in you, his hands everywhere as you both give in, his body pressing into yours

- until a row of knocks startles the shit of you.

Loud.

Insistent.

At his front door.

Eddie groans into your mouth, his entire body going rigid. "You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me," he mutters, dropping his forehead against your shoulder.

You sigh, detangling yourself from him, sitting up. He stays where he is, flat on his back, staring at the ceiling like he’s contemplating murder. "Better be important," he grumbles as he finally gets up, reaching for his jacket, adjusting himself in his jeans.

"Probably Gareth, coming to drag you to rehearsal personally", you joke over your shoulder, running a hand through your hair, smoothing your clothes, and hurry for the door.

Eddie follows right behind you, tugging his jacket back on, his presence still warm at your back as you swing the door open, still flushed, your lips tingling, your body thrumming with the heat of Eddie’s touch. He’s steps behind you, his breath warm against the back of your neck as he straightens his jacket, his fingers adjusting his belt, the imprint of his boner still straining against the denim of his jeans.But the teasing smirk dies on his lips the second you both see who’s standing there.

Lauren.

Eddie immediately straightens, his body tensing behind you, his warmth turning sharp, rigid. His hand twitches at his side, like he has to physically stop himself from pulling you behind him.

You're frozen in place, your stomach twisting instantly at the sight of her.

Her arms are crossed, her expression sharp, cold. Angry eyes flicker over you, over Eddie behind you, over the way you both look. Flushed, breathless, clearly interrupted.

"What the fuck are you doing here?", Eddie snarls, his hand already finding your side.

She scoffs. "I'm here to talk to her, not you".

Confusion floods through you, sharp and immediate. How the hell does she even know where Eddie lives? Where you both live? Eddie never brought her here.

And that's you see him behind her.

A long shadow.

Billy. Leaning against his Camaro just across the road, arms crossed, watching with that smug, cocky smirk that makes your skin crawl.

Your blood runs cold.

He told her.

You barely have time to process it before Lauren steps closer, her glare fixed on you.

Eddie's hand tightens on you the second he sees him, too. His entire body stiffens. You feel how his breath slows, his muscles tense, the way his hand twitches at your side. You don't even have to look to know his eyes are locked on Billy.

Dark. Dangerous.

Billy, who’s still leaning against his car, watching. Smirking. Making it clear, without even saying a word, that he’s enjoying this.

That he loves that he got under your skin. That he got to you again.That he’s still in your life.

A chill creeps up your spine. Because this isn’t just Lauren showing up to yell at you. This isn’t just her being pissed off.

This is a power move.

Billy brought her here. Billy made sure this happened. Billy made sure he was here to watch.

Your chest tightens. Because it doesn’t matter how many times you’ve fought back. How many times you’ve pushed him away, screamed at him, kneed him where it hurts, pulled a knife on him, sworn to never let him touch you again - he still scares you.

And Eddie knows. Feels it.

"Moved out, huh? What a shame, wish I was there to see how you liked my little farewell gift", you hear Lauren's voice, focusing back on her and noticing how deadly she grins at you, "I just stopped by to grab your share of this months rent that you forgot to leave with your keys".

Your mind is still trying to process the fact she's actually here, with him. Your breath hitches, your stomach twisting as the realization crashes into you like a fucking freight train.

She knew.

She knew.

She knew exactly what Billy did to you. She knew how he harassed you, how he threatened you, how he blackmailed you.

You told her. You told her everything, the way he cornered you in your own damn apartment, the way he forced his hands on you, the way he dared to tell her about Eddie and you unless you were "nice" to him.

And yet here she is. Standing at your doorstep. With him.

There’s no coincidence here.

She came with him.

Your eyes flick past her, back to Billy, still leaning against his Camaro like he fucking owns the world, like this is all one big joke to him. His smirk hasn’t wavered, his blue eyes sharp, amused, lingering on you in a way that makes your skin crawl. That same, heavy, suffocating gaze that always made you feel small.

You don’t see her car. She fucking came with him. Let him drive her here.

And suddenly, it all clicks into place.

This isn’t just about your rent. This isn’t just her showing up, pissed off, demanding money.

She’s playing a game.

And she brought the devil himself to help her win.

Your shock shatters like glass after what felt like an eternity, but probably didn't take longer than a few seconds.

"What the actual fuck?" Your voice is sharp, raw, your blood boiling beneath your skin.

Lauren’s lips curl, slow and smug, as if she wants this reaction from you. As if this is exactly what she hoped for. "You didn’t leave your share of the rent next to your keys," she repeats, voice sweet and venomous all at once, "Kinda a shitty move, don’t you think? Running off to play house in your little love shack while I get stuck paying for your ass?"

Eddie steps closer behind you, his body going rigid, his fingers tightening on your hip, digging in like he’s holding himself back. His breath is slow, controlled, but you feel the rage rolling off him in waves.

Your eyes snap back to Lauren, and you step forward this time, jabbing a finger in her face. "Are you fucking serious right now? Farewell gift? You mean your psychotic ass destroying my room, smearing shit on my mirror, breaking my things? Huh? That what you talking about? Fucking hell, Lauren, what is wrong with you?"

Her smirk doesn’t falter, but you notice that flicker in her eyes, the way they keep darting past you, landing on Eddie.

She still fucking wants him.

Even after all of this. Even after you.

Your blood is boiling at how she rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on. You deserved it."

"You have some fucking nerve," you spit, stepping closer, "You think you can just waltz up here after what you did, expecting me to fucking give you money? Huh? You’re lucky I didn’t wait for you to come home. You’re fucking lucky".

Her lips twitch like she’s holding back a laugh, but her fingers are twitching, too, like maybe she’s about to snap. "Right," she drawls, "like you’d ever do anything. You’re pathetic. You're a fucking pathetic, backstabbing bitch, Sam".

"My god, look at you", you hiss, "You're embarrassing yourself. You're so desperate to get your fucking revenge you're coming here with him? After everything I told you? Are you insane?"

Her gaze doesn’t falter. If anything, her smirk widens, delighted at your fury. "Oh, please," she scofffs, rolling her eyes, "Spare me the victim speech."

Your pulse skyrockets. You can feel Billy’s eyes on you, that lazy, predatory smirk still plastered on his face, his arms crossed like he’s enjoying every fucking second of this.

Lauren knows what he did. What he tried to do. And she doesn’t care.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?!" Your voice shakes, but not with fear. With rage.

Her expression hardens, her amusement fading into something sharper, crueler. "Oh, relax. He’s not that bad. Maybe you deserved that, too, mh?"

Eddie moves before you even register it.

One second, he’s behind you, and the next, he’s stepping forward, his entire body coiled tight, his jaw clenched, his hands trembling at his sides. You can feel the fury radiating off him, can see the way his hands flex, fighting the urge to do something.

He’s so fucking done.

Last time, he made it clear. If Lauren ever came near you again, if she ever called you a whore again, he wouldn’t give a single fuck that she was a woman.

He wouldn’t hold back.

And right now?

Right now, she’s standing there, smirking, pushing every single one of his buttons, watching him like she’s daring him to snap.

But there’s something else in her gaze, too.

Something bitter. Something jealous.

Seeing how Eddie always touches you, how you keep a grounding hand on his arm, trying to hold him back. How he stands in front of you, between you and her, always protecting you. She knew he’d react like this, step between you, make her feel small. 

Maybe that’s why she brought him.

Because just as Eddie takes another step forward, only his presence making her retreat down the stairs of his trailer, just as his lip curls back in a snarl, Billy pushes off the car, stretching like he’s got all the time in the fucking world. "Whoa, whoa," he drawls, strolling over, lazy and smug, that taped-up nose still crooked from the last time Eddie broke it, "Easy there, Munson. Didn’t take you for the type to hit a lady. Got more of your daddy than you thought, mh?"

Eddie goes rigid. His entire body vibrates with tension, his fingers curling into fists so tight they shake. You barely grab him in time. Your hands are on his chest, pushing back, gripping his jacket, feeling the way his entire body thrums with barely restrained violence.

Lauren laughs. Actually fucking laughs. "God, look at you," she sneers, shaking her head, "Pathetic. Where’s my fucking money?"

You whip around, stepping forward, down the stairs, forcing her to take a step back this time. "Deal with it. I don’t give a flying fuck about your money. I'm not paying. And now, fuck off. Before I become the one hitting a fucking lady".

Her eyes flash. "You owe me," she snarls.

"I don't fucking owe you shit, bitch", you hiss back, stepping even closer, Eddie and Billy now both behind you two, watching, staring at each other. "I held back for too long now. I'm done with your guilt trips, your fucked up games, and whatever the fuck this is. I'm done with swallowing all that just because you're hurt. You went too fucking far". It all breaks out of you, you glare at her, voice sharp, furious as you continue, "You need a fucking psychiatrist. A fucking exorcism. You're fucking crazy, Lauren!"

Lauren’s smirk twitches, that flicker of something dark flashing through her eyes.

You see it now, how much she hates this.

Hates that you're standing your ground.

Hates that Eddie is behind you, not her.

Hates that you’re not breaking, not cowering, not playing into whatever twisted game she’s trying to spin.

And Billy? Billy’s standing just a few feet behind her, arms crossed, head tilted, watching like this is his own personal entertainment. His lips curl at the edges, like he’s waiting. Waiting for you to slip. Waiting for Eddie to snap.

Lauren lets out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. "Jesus Christ, listen to you. All high and mighty. What, because you let Eddie fuck you, now you think you’re better than me?"

Eddie growls. A low, guttural sound from deep in his chest. Billy’s smirk widens. You feel Eddie step forward behind you, his presence looming, his body thrumming with fury, but you don’t let him. You plant a firm hand against his chest, pushing him back without looking, your eyes never leaving her. "I think I’m fucking better than you", you snap, "because I am better than you. Because I don’t destroy people’s things like a fucking toddler throwing a tantrum. Because I don’t team up with fucking predators to get revenge on someone who did nothing but fall in love".

Lauren flinches. Just for a second. Just a flicker.

Then, like flipping a switch, she laughs. Cold and sharp and bitter. "Oh, get over yourself", she scoffs, rolling her eyes, "You’re not a victim, babe. You’re just a whore who traded up".

And on that, Eddie moves. This time, you can’t stop him.

He’s past you in a second, and it happens so fast, his hand grabbing her wrist, yanking her forward just enough that she stumbles before he leans in, his voice low, a growl laced with fury and warning. "I fucking told you last time", he hisses, "You ever, ever, call her that again, I won’t give a fuck what you are. You’ll see what happens. Don't fucking talk to her like that. I'm done with whatever fucked up game you're playing here. Leave".

Lauren yanks her arm back, her mask cracking, a flash of something nervous in her eyes before she hardens again. "Jesus, relax", she mutters, rubbing her wrist, voice quieter now.

But Billy? Billy’s fucking grinning. He takes a step closer, like he’s been waiting for this, like he wants it. "Damn, Munson", he chuckles, shaking his head, "Look at you, man. Like a rabid dog on a leash. Guess she really does got you whipped, huh? I mean, I know she has a rough side to her, wouldn't surprise me"

Eddie’s chest heaves. His fists clench.

Billy tilts his head, eyes flicking toward you. "She let you fuck her on this porch yet?", he drawls, "Or are you still saving that for-"

You don’t even think.Your hand flies before you realize it, slamming across his smug fucking face with a sharp crack.

Billy’s head whips to the side.

Everything goes dead silent. Even Lauren's grin dies down.

Slowly, he turns back. Tongues at his cheek. Billy lets out a low, slow chuckle. Tongues at his cheek again, his smirk stretching, taunting.

Eddie's body goes rigid beside you. You feel his breath, hot and sharp, his muscles tensing like a coiled spring about to snap.

Billy wanted this. He wanted the excuse. He wanted to push until one of you lashed out, and you just handed it to him. "Feisty," he muses, rolling his jaw like he's testing it, "Knew you had some fight in you, pretty. Shame you didn’t use it when you were under me."

You barely see Eddie move.

One second, he's beside you, and the next - crack. His fist slams into Billy's face.Billy staggers, his head snapping back, stumbling a step before catching himself, a wild grin spreading across his face even as blood trickles from his lip. "Oh, finally," Billy laughs, licking the blood from his lip, eyes sparking, thrilled, "C’mon, Munson. Give me more."

Eddie is gone. You try to grab him, try to stop him, but he lunges. His shoulder slams into Billy’s chest, and they go down, fists flying, hitting the gravel with a bone-jarring crack.

Lauren shrieks behind you, but you don’t give a fuck. You rush forward, reaching for Eddie, trying to pull him back, but he’s in it now, punching and punching, pure fury in every blow.

And Billy is... laughing?

Even as he swings back, even as Eddie gets the upper hand.

He’s loving this.

And that’s when it hits you.

Billy doesn’t care about winning this fight.

He just wants Eddie to lose. He wants him to lose himself, to cross a line he can’t take back, to do something that gets him arrested. Expelled. Kicked out. Ruined.

"Eddie, stop!" you yell, gripping his arm, pulling, desperate. His fist is raised, ready to slam into Billy’s face again, but at your voice, he hesitates. His breath is ragged, his chest heaving, his hands shaking.

Billy’s laughing beneath him, spitting blood onto the pavement. "C’mon, Munson", he grins, eyes wild, "What’s one more hit?"

Eddie freezes. That's the exact second he realizes it too, what Billy's doing. Slowly, painfully, his fist unclenches. His entire body trembles with restraint, his rage still there, still roaring under his skin, but he won’t give Billy what he wants. Not this time.

Instead, he grabs him by the collar, jerks him forward until they’re face to face, and growls: "If I ever see you near her again, I will kill you".

Billy just grins, teeth bloody. "We’ll see".

Eddie shoves him back, hard, standing up, his chest still heaving as he steps back, pulling you with him, his arm still shaking where it grips you tight.

Lauren is silent, staring. She looks less smug now. More uncertain. Maybe this wasn’t how she thought this would go. Maybe she thought Billy would actually win.

You whip around to her, Eddie caging you in, his knuckles smeared with blood, again. "You wanted revenge? Fine. You got it. You trashed my shit, threw me out of the band, came to my home to try and scare me. Good for you. Feel better?"

She glares. Says nothing.

"I don’t fucking owe you", you continue, voice trembling with rage, "Not money, not loyalty, nothing. You wanna side with him?" You jerk your chin toward Billy, who mockingly raises his brows, "Then you’re exactly where you fucking belong".

Her lips press together, eyes flicking to Eddie one last time, to his knuckles, how he holds you so tight against him, not taking his eyes off Billy. She exhales sharply, turning on her heel, grabs his arm, trying to yank him up. "Come on, let's go. I'm done here".

Billy lets her pull him, lazily getting to his feet, stretching like this was all just a warm-up, rolling his jaw like he's savoring it.

Then, he does something that makes your stomach turn.

Lauren turns to leave, but Billy doesn’t. Instead, he reaches out, grabs her chin, rough, forcing her to look up at him. And kisses her. Sloppy, harsh, blood-streaked.

It’s not sweet. It’s not romantic. It’s a fucking show.

His eyes are open the entire time, locked on you.

Your stomach lurches. Your fingers tighten around Eddie’s arm.

She doesn't even pull away. She lets him. Leans in.

You feel sick.

Because this isn’t about you leaving. This isn’t about money, or betrayal, or anything else.

This was never about that.

This is just her way of winning.

When Billy finally pulls back, he grins, wiping his bloody mouth, tilting his head, "Didn’t expect that, did you, pretty?"

Eddie takes a sharp step forward, his body surging toward him again, but you hold him back, gripping his arm, nails digging into his skin. "Let them go," you say, voice low, shaking, "They're not worth it."

Billy just smirks. Lauren’s chin is still tipped up, her arms crossed, eyes cold as ever. They get into the car, the Camaro roaring to life. But as they peel off, Billy doesn’t stop staring.

Not at Eddie. At you.

And you swear, just before they disappear down the road -

Lauren smirks.

Eddie doesn’t move. Not for a long time.

His fists are still clenched, his shoulders still tight, his whole body brimming with rage, barely contained. You’re still gripping his arm, grounding him, but he’s stiff beneath your touch, his breath ragged, his heart hammering. His eyes are locked on the spot where Billy’s car disappeared down the road, like he could burn it to ashes with his glare alone.

"Eds", you murmur, voice careful, cautious.

His jaw ticks. He still doesn’t move.

Your stomach twists. You can feel the storm inside him, how close he was, still is, to losing it completely. You move in front of him, placing both hands on his chest. "Eddie", you repeat, firmer this time. 

The tension inside him is electric, vibrating through every muscle, coiled tight like a live wire ready to snap. His breath is still ragged, his knuckles still smeared with Billy’s blood, and his eyes, dark, stormy, murderous, refuse to leave the empty road.

You don’t let go of him. Not until you’re sure he’s here, in the moment, with you. Not spiraling down into whatever hell Billy tried to drag him into. Not slipping away into the dark place that tells him he should’ve kept hitting until Billy stopped laughing. Until Billy stopped breathing.

So you move. Your hand slides down his arm, your fingers lacing with his, pressing against his bruised knuckles, feeling the way his hand shakes in yours. "Hey" you say softly, voice careful, steady, breaking through the storm, "Baby, look at me".

It takes a second. A long, heavy second before his chest shudders with a deep, sharp breath and his head finally turns, his wild, storm-cloud eyes meeting yours. He looks furious. He looks wrecked. He looks like he’s barely holding himself together. But he’s here. With you. His grip tightens, his fingers squeezing yours like a lifeline. His free hand comes up, sliding along your waist, pressing against your back, grounding himself in you. His breathing is still rough, his jaw tight, but when he speaks, it’s hoarse, quiet. "You okay?"

You almost laugh at how ridiculous it is that he’s asking you that, after all that just happened, after everything he just went through. But when you see the way his eyes flicker, the way his fingers tighten on you, you realize, he’s asking because he needs to. Because making sure you’re okay is the only thing keeping him from losing it completely. So you nod.

"I’m okay".You reach up, gently brushing his curls back from his face, your fingers skimming over the bruise already forming on his cheekbone. He barely flinches. His eyes stay locked on yours, searching, desperate. "Are you okay?"

His jaw clenches. His lips part, then press together again like he doesn’t know what to say. And for a second, you think maybe he won’t answer. Maybe he can’t. But then, barely above a whisper.

"No".

It’s not just about the fight. It’s not just about Billy. It’s everything. The way Lauren showed up, the way she still managed to get under your skin, the way she brought Billy into it like some twisted last-ditch attempt at winning. The way Billy knew what buttons to push. The way Eddie almost gave him what he wanted.

No. He’s not okay. And neither are you.

You exhale, nodding slowly, pressing your forehead against his, letting the warmth of him settle into you, letting him feel you. "Yeah", you murmur, voice thick, "Me neither".

He sighs, deep and shaky, and his arms tighten around you. Just holding you. Holding on. Like if he lets go, he might come undone completely. And you let him. For as long as he needs.

The lock clicks into place as Eddie finally closes the trailer door behind you, the weight of the night crashes down all at once. The cold seeps into your skin, your whole body trembling, not just from the temperature, but from the adrenaline that’s still coursing through you, burning out, leaving you raw and frayed. Eddie turns, his bloody knuckles still curled into fists, his chest rising and falling with sharp, uneven breaths. His eyes are wild, still stormy, still so much. And then they’re on you.

And just like that, he’s... done.

His shoulders sag, his whole body sways like the weight of everything is finally too much, and he needs something, someone, to hold him up.

You don’t hesitate. You close the space between you, pressing into him, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling his heart hammer beneath your fingers. He exhales, deep and shuddering, his hands finding your waist, pulling you in, desperate, needy, like he’s afraid if he lets go, you’ll disappear. "Fuck", he mutters into your hair, voice wrecked, hoarse, shaking.

You don’t know if it’s anger or exhaustion or both, but it doesn’t matter.

Because you feel it too.

You just hold onto each other, gripping tight, breathing each other in, until it’s not enough.

Until the space between you feels unbearable, like even this isn’t close enough, like you need to be inside each other to feel like this night didn’t break you both completely.

His hands slide up your back, fingers pressing into your spine, pulling you tighter against him. You tilt your head up, and his lips are already there, already parting against yours, already desperate, frantic, starving.It’s not gentle. It’s not careful. It’s teeth and heat and the taste of copper on his lips, his busted knuckles tangling in your hair, your fingers curling in his shirt, dragging him closer, closer, closer. Like maybe if you kiss him hard enough, it’ll erase the sound of Billy’s voice, the sting of his words, the look in Eddie’s eyes when he nearly lost himself completely.

His hands are everywhere, gripping, holding, clutching, as if he’s afraid to let go, as if you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. You feel him inhale sharply through his nose, like he’s trying to keep it together, like he’s trying not to fall apart, but you know better.

You pull back just enough to look at him. His eyes are dark, blown wide, his face flushed, lips swollen from your kiss. His jaw clenches, and he swallows hard, like there’s something caught in his throat. "Eds", you whisper.

His breath stutters, and then suddenly, he’s moving. Grabbing your hand, pulling you with him, leading you down the hall like a man possessed. The rehearsal, the fight, the blood drying on his knuckles, none of it exists anymore.

Your back barely touches the bedroom door before he’s on you again. His hands skim up your sides, rough and urgent, like he needs to feel every inch of you right now. He kisses you deep, teeth grazing, tongue pressing, and you let yourself sink into it, into him. Your fingers trace the sharp line of his jaw, then lower, to his neck, feeling the way his pulse thrums beneath your touch. Fast, frantic. His body is all tension, vibrating with everything he’s holding in. The anger, the adrenaline, the fear. You feel it in the way his grip tightens on your hips, in the way his body presses you harder against the door. He’s shaking.And maybe you are too. He exhales against your lips, a ragged, desperate sound, his forehead pressing to yours. You’re both still breathing too fast. Too shallow. Like neither of you can get enough air.

"Eds", you whisper again, softer this time. Your hands slide down, finding his, still clenched, still bloodied, and you hold them between you, thumbs tracing over his knuckles, feeling the raw skin, the split that will bruise by morning.

He flinches, just barely. "I’m okay", he mumbles, too quickly. His voice is rough, unsteady, "It’s nothing".

It’s not nothing. You know what his hands looked like before. Before Billy, before the fight, before he lost himself in the heat of it.And you know why. You lift his hands to your lips, pressing the gentlest kiss to his knuckles. His breath catches. He tries to pull away, but you don’t let him. "Baby", you murmur, "You didn’t have to-"

"Yes, I did". His voice is low, firm, sure.

Your stomach tightens. Because you know he means it. And God, part of you hates it. Hates that he would do this for you, that he did do this for you. That he let himself get hurt again, because he couldn’t stand the thought of someone else hurting you.

But the other part of you? The bigger part?It just wants him.

You don’t stop him when he kisses you again. This time, it’s slower, deeper, something softer curling at the edges of it. His hands slide around your waist, up your back, under your shirt, fingertips skimming over bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

And suddenly, the cold is gone.

Everything is heat.

His lips move from your mouth to your jaw, to that spot beneath your ear that makes your breath hitch, and he knows it. He smirks against your skin, just for a second, before sucking a mark there, slow and deliberate. You tug at his shirt, fingers slipping under the hem, feeling the warmth of his skin, the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. He groans, a low sound in the back of his throat, and before you can blink, he’s lifting you, arms firm around you, pressing you back against the door. You wrap your legs around his waist. He breathes your name against your lips, voice wrecked, reverent, kissing you deeper, fingertips digging into your ass as he holds you, presses between your legs. You're wrapping your arms and legs tighter around him, needing more, needing him.

And without breaking your kiss, he carries you to his bed, both of you tangled together, falling on the mattress. He kisses you so deep you're getting dizzy, hands pushing up your shirt, dragging his fingertips along your ribs like he’s mapping every inch of you, committing you to memory. You pull him closer, pressing your body into his, making his breath stutter, his hands tightening on your waist, and he groans, forehead pressing against yours like he can’t stand even an inch of space between you. His hands are desperate, pulling at your clothes with a kind of urgency that borders on reckless. He’s not thinking, just feeling, just needing.

The way your fingers dig into his back, the way your heavy breath feels against his mouth, the way you arch into him like you’re trying to crawl inside his skin. It’s messy, frantic. Shirts lost somewhere on the floor. Jeans pushed down, kicked off the bed. He kisses down your neck, your collarbone, biting just hard enough to leave marks as he moves down, unclasping your bra, sliding it off your arms, burying his face between your breasts, kissing down your sternum, your stomach.

You're gasping softly, arching into him, your hands buried in his curls, pulling him back up to let your lips catch his for another kiss. His body melts against yours, tension unraveling with every press of your lips, every drag of your hands down his spine. And then he’s moving again, pressing you deeper into the mattress, one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your hip like a lifeline. You moan softly, eyes fluttering shut as he buries his face in your neck. "I need you", he whispers, voice breaking against your skin, "I need-"

"I know", you whisper, placing kisses on his naked shoulder, running your nails up his bare back, feeling how he shivers under your touch, how his lips find your neck, kissing it, following your jawline back to your lips. "I love you", you breathe between his kisses, "So much", making him kiss you deeper, luring a soft groan from his throat as he presses himself against you, hard and ready.

"Fuck, baby", he rasps, "You- I fucking need you so much". His breath is warm against your skin, every touch electric, every movement laced with urgency. Big hands skim down your sides, over your hips, fingers tracing the last barrier between you. Your body hums with anticipation, pressing into him as he tugs your panties away and finally gets rid of his boxers, leaving nothing between you.

Somehow, even in the heat of this moment, he even manages to reach for a condom, rolling it on so fast you barely realize.

Your naked legs wrap around him, pulling him between them as your mouths collide again, kisses turning hungrier again, needier. Your hands run down his chest, fingers hooking into his chain, you're rolling your hips up to meet his tip as he adjusts himself, gasping at how he drags it along your pussy. His fingers spread over your thigh as he holds you, his forehead leaning to yours, lips parted as he takes a shaky breath and finally sinks into you, making you moan his name, your nails sinking into his back. "Fuck, Sam", he groans, his voice breaking as he sinks deeper into you, forehead pressed to yours, breath hot and uneven. His hands find yours, fingers lacing together, pinning them above your head as his body moves against you, into you.

The world outside fades, there’s only him, only you, only the desperate way he holds you, moves with you, chases something deeper than just pleasure. Eddie's breath is hot against your skin, desperate as he presses his forehead to yours, as he thrusts deeper, harder, chasing the feeling of being completely consumed by you. His fingers are laced with yours, pinning your hands above your head, his grip tight, grounding him as he loses himself in you, in the way you moan his name, the way your body moves with his, meeting him, wanting him, needing him just as much. "God, baby", he pants, his voice raw, almost wrecked, "You’re- fuck, you’re everything". His lips claim yours again, messy, deep, tasting every gasp, every soft sound you make, like he can’t get enough, like he’s trying to drown in you. He moves faster, his hips snapping against yours with a kind of urgency that borders on frantic, like he’s chasing something more than just pleasure, chasing you, this moment, the feeling of being this close, this deep inside you in every way possible.

"Oh my god, Eddie", you cry out as his name falls from your lips, arching into him, fingers tightening in his grip.

He groans at the way your body clenches around him, at the way you tremble beneath him, completely undone. His hands move, one still holding yours above your head, the other dragging down your body, over your waist, gripping your thigh as he pulls you impossibly closer, as he presses deeper, filling you, stretching you, making you feel everything, making you moan so desperately. "I love you", he breathes, voice wrecked, lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, your neck, "I love you so much". His teeth scrape against your pulse, biting just hard enough to make you shiver, to mark you, to make sure you feel him long after this moment is over. His tongue soothes the sting, his lips chasing the spot he claimed, whispering your name like a prayer. "You’re mine", he murmurs against your skin, his thrusts growing rougher, more desperate, "Mine".

You whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper, wanting to feel every inch of him, wanting him to lose himself in you completely. And he does, his rhythm stutters, his breath comes in short, ragged gasps as he groans your name, his fingers tightening on your hips as he drives into you, chasing both of your highs.

Every muscle of him is trembling as he presses even deeper, as if he’s trying to carve himself into you. His forehead presses against yours, damp curls falling over his eyes, his lips parting with a broken groan. "You... fuck, you feel so good", he rasps, voice thick with need, with something deeper, something raw, "I can’t- baby, I can’t slow down".

You don’t want him to. Your hands grip his back, fingers digging in, nails raking over his skin, pulling him closer, as close as he can possibly get. "Don’t," you breathe, voice hitching on a moan, your hips arching to meet his desperate thrusts, "Don’t you dare stop."

A deep, guttural sound rumbles from his throat, his lips crashing onto yours, swallowing your gasps as he moves, fast, hard, deep, as if he’s trying to lose himself in you. Every drag of his hips sends a spark up your spine, pleasure building so quickly you can barely catch your breath. His hand presses yours even deeper into the mattress. "Mine", he groans again, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before he kisses you again, hungrier, deeper, pouring everything into it, "You're mine, Sam. Just mine".

"Yours," you whimper, voice shaking, body trembling beneath him as heat coils tight in your stomach, "O- fuck, Only yours."

His pace falters for half a second, his breath shattering as he buries his face in your neck, his lips dragging over sweat-slick skin. He’s everywhere, his hands gripping your hips, his body flush against yours, his mouth whispering against your skin, "I love you. I love you. I love you."

Your moans spill freely now, your back arching, your legs tightening around him as he drives into you with everything he has. The pleasure is too much, too fast, too intense. You’re unraveling, gasping his name, cursing, shaking apart beneath him, the pressure snapping like a flood, pleasure crashing over you so violently you can’t do anything but cling to him, sobbing his name, your nails biting into his skin.

He groans at the way you tremble, at how your body pulls him deeper, at the way you chant his name like he’s the only thing that matters. His movements turn erratic, desperate, his grip tightening like he never wants to let go. He’s right there with you, losing himself in you, groaning as he pounds into you, voice rough, wrecked, his breath hot against your skin. "You take me so good, so fucking tight, so perfect for me". His fingers dig into your thighs, spreading you wider, his hips snapping harder, rougher, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room.

"Oh god yes, fuck me, baby", you moan heatedly, your whole body jolting with him, your fingers desperately grabbing his hand above your head.

"You feel like heaven", he pants, his lips dragging over your jaw, nipping at your pulse, "I’ll never get enough of you, never. You’re mine, baby, all mine". Your moans fuel him, make him even more desperate. His free hand slips between your bodies, fingertips teasing where you’re already dripping for him. "So wet for me", he groans, circling his fingers right on your aching clit, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. "You love this, don’t you? Love how deep I am, how I fuck you like you’re made for me?"

"Y-yes", you gasp, your head falling back, "Fuck, Eddie, don't stop, I'm c- oh fuck I'm cumming".

He grits his teeth as you tighten around him, his body trembling as he keeps pushing deeper, harder. "God, I need you", he groans, forehead pressing to yours, "Need to feel you cum, baby, let me hear you". 

Your back arches, your nails raking down his back as he drives you higher, closer. "Fuck", he breathes, his voice breaking when you tighten eben more around him, when your moans turn into gasps, into desperate cries of his name. "That’s it, give it to me. Let me feel it. Let me ruin you".

And when you shatter, when your body clenches so tightly around him that he loses all control, your choked moans fill the room, his groan is almost animalistic, his grip bruising as he fucks you through it, burying himself as deep as he can, only a few more thrusts away from finishing. And when he falls over the edge, a strangled moan tearing from his throat, his whole body shaking, you press soft, trembling kisses to his damp skin, whispering against his jaw, "I love you".

He collapses against you, breath heavy, heart racing in sync with yours, his lips brushing over your temple, your cheek, your lips. "I love you," he murmurs again, like he can’t say it enough. 

And you know, he never will. Even as the world tilts back into focus, he doesn’t pull away. He stays wrapped around you, inside you, his hands finding yours again, fingers locking together as he kisses you, slow, deep, like he’s trying to memorize the way you taste, the way you feel. "You’re everything to me", he whispers, pressing his lips to your temple, your cheek, your mouth, "I will always protect you. And I will kill anybody who ever tries to hurt you".