067

The blaring alarm rips through the silence, shrill and unforgiving, and it feels like a goddamn knife to your skull.

You groan, barely able to move, your entire body aching in ways that have absolutely nothing to do with the alcohol. The sheets are tangled around you, one leg half hanging off the bed, your face buried in a pillow that smells like smoke, whiskey, and Eddie.

Speaking of...

A deep, guttural groan sounds from beside you, followed by a lazy, clumsy hand slapping at the nightstand, blindly searching for the alarm clock. He misses. Then tries again. Misses again. Then finally just grunts in defeat and yanks a pillow over his head. "Turn that shit off," he rasps, voice thick with sleep and exhaustion.

"You turn it off," you grumble, eyes squeezed shut, head pounding like someone took a sledgehammer to it.

Another groan. More blind flailing. Then a loud thunk as the clock gets knocked to the floor. "Fuck", Eddie grits out, voice muffled in the pillow, "That wasn’t my fault."

"Yeah? Whose was it?" you mumble, barely able to move.

"Gravity."

Despite the absolute agony in your skull, you huff a weak laugh, but it quickly dissolves into another pained groan as you try to sit up. Immediate mistake. Your entire body aches. Your thighs are sore, your hips throb and every muscle in your core protests, your entire body feeling like you got hit by a truck.

A very specific, curly-haired, metalhead-shaped truck.

You shift, trying to roll onto your back, but as soon as you do, Eddie groans dramatically and yanks you right back into him. His arm snakes around your waist, heavy and weak but still possessive, pulling you back into his chest. His body is radiating heat, all bare skin and tangled limbs, the scent of whiskey and faded smoke clinging to both of you. "Mmm, no", he grumbles, voice gravelly, wrecked from last night, "Not moving. Not fucking happening".

You both just lie there, wrecked, half-dead, both of you absolutely paying for last night.

The hangover is bad, but the way your bodies ache from the hours spent tangled together is even worse.

You whimper, not even meaning to, but fuck, everything hurts. Your throat burns, your mouth is dry as hell, and your head pounds like you got hit by a truck. You nuzzle into his chest anyway, sighing as his fingers lazily skim your back. "We’re gonna die", you mumble.

Eddie huffs, "We are dead. This is Hell".

You chuckle weakly, but it quickly turns into a groan when your stomach twists in protest. Too many shots. Too much beer. Too much fucking whiskey straight from the goddamn bottle. And judging by the way Eddie hasn’t moved, still sprawled half on top of you, still groaning in pain, he’s just as fucked. "Water", you croak, voice raw.

Eddie hums, but he doesn’t move. He just tightens his grip, pressing his face into your hair, his lips brushing lazily over your neck. "Mmm. Later".

You huff, wiggling slightly, but even that hurts. "No. Now."

Another groan from him. "Baby. Love of my life. Sweetest little brat. If you think I’m getting up right now, you are so fucking mistaken".

You snort, smacking his arm half-heartedly, "If you think I’m getting up, you’re delusional".

The sheets a mess around your tangled limbs. You’re both in boxers, your drunk-ass must’ve stolen a pair last night, and absolutely nothing else.

Now, Eddie notices.

His big hand smooths over your stomach, fingers trailing along your side, down to your hip, where his bruises bloom against your skin. He makes a sound, low in his throat, and you can feel his grin against your shoulder. "Shit, baby," he murmurs, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to your shoulder, "I really did a number on you, huh?"

Your eyes flutter open weakly as you glance down your body, spotting the dark bruises blooming across your skin. Eddie’s fingerprints, clear as day, on your hips, your thighs, your ass.

Oops.

"Jesus Christ" you croak dramatically, "You bruised me, marked my beautiful skin".

"You fucking begged for it, babe".

You grumble, trying to roll away, but he just snickers and pulls you back in, wrapping himself around you like a fucking koala. "Shut up," you mumble, burying your face in the pillow, "Ugh. First period can eat my ass".

"Mmm," Eddie hums, lips still teasing along your neck, "tempting, but I need, like, six more hours of sleep before I even think about that."

"Same," you mutter, already halfway back to sleep, eyes fluttering shut again.

It’s so warm here, so comfortable, despite the pain, despite the hangover. And he’s still tracing soft, absentminded shapes along your skin, still pressing little kisses against your neck like he needs to have his lips on you, even now. You hum noncommittally, more focused on the way his hands are still roaming, slow and easy, still skimming down your sides, over your stomach, his fingers catching at the waistband of the boxers hanging loose on your hips before moving up and wrapping around your naked boobs, leaving his hand there. His breathing shifts behind you, deeper now, slower, as he pulls you flush against him, your ass pressing back against his lap.

And oh.

He’s half-hard against you, his body reacting on pure instinct, the heat of your skin, the softness of you pressed up against him. He groans low in his throat, shifting slightly, his hips rolling the smallest bit as his grip tightens on your breast.

You freeze for a second. Then, slowly, glance over your shoulder.

Eddie’s eyes are shut, his face pressed into your neck, his whole body completely deadweight behind you. He looks destroyed, hair a total mess, skin warm and flushed, a deep crease between his brows like he’s in pain.

And yet. His body has a mind of its own.

You bite your lip, fighting back a laugh, because you know there’s no way he’s in any shape to do anything about it. He’s completely gone, wrecked from last night, but apparently his body just can’t help itself.

It’s almost flattering.

You wiggle, just slightly, just to test, and

Eddie groans like he’s suffering. "Babe," he croaks, "don’t."

You chuckle, nuzzling deeper into his warmth, sighing as his arms stay locked around you. "Not my fault you’re easy."

He lets out a weak little grumble, shifting slightly, but he still doesn’t let go. "M’not," he insists, but it’s utterly unconvincing. His grip tightens for a second, and then he sighs, utterly resigned, relaxing back into the mattress. "M’just obsessed with you."

Your chest warms at that, a soft little flutter beneath all the soreness, the exhaustion, the pounding in your skull. You smile sleepily, pressing your face into the pillow again.

"Go back to sleep, baby," Eddie murmurs, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder, "The world can fucking wait."

And, honestly? He’s right.

So you sink back into him, tangled and exhausted, and let sleep take you under again.

The next time your eyes crack open, the room is brighter.

You squint at the clock. "Shit," you groan, trying to sit up, "Eddie, we missed the start of second period"

And immediately, the human deadweight behind you grunts and yanks you right back down.

You groan, shifting slightly, stretching your sore limbs, only for Eddie to growl low in his throat, tightening his arms round you. "Eddie," you grumble, voice hoarse.

"Nope," he mutters, voice still thick with sleep. "Not happening."

You sigh, trying again, but his grip is relentless, his body so heavy, pressing you back into the warmth of the mattress, into him, "Eddie."

"Sam," he croons, pressing lazy, sleepy kisses to the back of your neck, "Baby. Love of my fucking life. I swear to God, stop moving".

"We have to get up," you insist.

"Do we, though?" he counters immediately, lips teasing along your skin, his voice all husky and stubborn.

"Yes."

"No."

You groan in frustration, trying again to sit up, only for Eddie to dramatically flop himself entirely over you, pinning you beneath his weight. "Eddie!"

"Shhh," he mutters, arms locking you in place. "Just die with me, babe. We lived a good life."

You groan, smacking his arm weakly, "We lived one night, you dumbass."

"Exactly," he sighs, "No need to go back out there. We peaked."

You huff, laughing despite yourself, but you really don’t want to be marked absent for every class, "Eds, seriously".

"No".

"Baby, we have a test later".

Another grunt behind you. "And?"

You sigh, "And we’re already so behind on-"

"Baby," he groans dramatically, nuzzling his head deeper into your hair and neck, "I don’t give a single fuck about algebra right now."

You huff, trailing your fingertips over his naked biceps, "You don’t give a fuck about algebra ever."

He rolls further on top of you before you can fight back, all warm, heavy limbs and bare skin, pressing you deep into the mattress. "Exactly. We’re not moving."

"Eddie..."

"Not happening," he grumbles, shifting down, wrapping himself around you in the most dramatic fucking way, "Need this."

"Need what--? Oh my god," you groan as he shamelessly buries his entire face between your bare breasts, sighing contentedly like he’s just found the will to live again. "Are you serious?"

"So serious," he mumbles, squeezing your waist, holding you in place.

You groan, attempting once again to wiggle free, but it’s absolutely pointless.

Eddie’s draped across you like a human blanket, his bare chest warm against yours, his arms locking you down like he knows you’re about to try and escape. You swear he gets heavier when he’s hungover, his entire body just dead weight as he sighs dramatically, pressing himself closer like he needs to be plastered against you to survive.

"Eddie," you whine, fingers digging into his biceps, "Come on, we-"

"Nope," he cuts you off immediately, "Not today. Not ever."

You let your head fall back against the pillow with a thump, glaring at the ceiling as he burrows his face deeper into your chest, a deep, satisfied hum vibrating against your skin. "Baby, we’re gonna get marked absent for the whole day if we don’t get up now."

"And?"

"And," you sigh, "we have a test, like I said".

"Irrelevant," Eddie mutters, shifting slightly, his breath warm against your sternum, "This is more important."

You roll your eyes, "Laying on me like a human corpse?"

"Exactly."

You groan, squirming again, but it just makes things worse because Eddie grumbles low in his throat and tightens his grip, his arms flexing as he pins you down properly, throwing a leg over yours for good measure. "Mmm-mm," he mumbles, lips brushing against your collarbone, "Nope. Not letting you leave me like this."

"Like what?"

"Like this," he sighs dramatically, "weak. Hungover. Deprived of motor skills. Only thing keeping me alive is this." He nuzzles against your chest like a cat seeking warmth, pressing slow, sleepy kisses to your skin, voice still wrecked with sleep, "You wouldn't leave me when I’m dying, would you, baby?"

You huff, rolling your eyes, even as your fingers thread into his messy curls, "You’re such a dramatic little shit."

"Mmm-hmm," he hums happily, "but you love me anyway."

He’s not wrong. But still. "Eddie," you groan, "seriously, we gotta-"

"Nuh-uh," he mutters, "You just don’t get it. You don’t understand what I need right now, sweetheart."

You raise an eyebrow, "Oh yeah? And what’s that?"

"This." And then, to your absolute fucking disbelief, Eddie sighs again and settles, face smushed between your tits like it’s the only thing giving him the will to live, a deep, exaggerated groan slipping out of him as he melts against you.

You gawk, "You’re fucking unreal."

"Shhh," he mumbles against your skin, "M’busy."

"Busy?"

"Mhm." His hands smooth up your sides, lazy and slow, like he’s still half-asleep, like this is just natural instinct for him, "Gotta recharge. Can’t face the world unless I’m in my happy place first."

"And your happy place is?"

"Exactly where I am." He gives you a sleepy, lopsided grin, cheek still mushed against your chest, voice muffled as he sighs again, "Perfect pillow. Perfect tits. Perfect girl. Why the fuck would I ever move?"

You should be annoyed. You should shove him off. But he’s so warm, so broad and wrapped around you like he never wants to let go, his breath slow and deep against your skin.

You lie there for another minute, debating if it’s even worth fighting him on this.

Because honestly? He’s warm, he smells good, and the way he’s wrapped around you like he needs to be touching you at all times is actually kind of sweet.

But you know if you don’t get up now, neither of you will. So you try again. "Eds," you sigh, dragging your nails gently through his curls, trying to coax him out of his stubborn, half-dead state, "Baby, we really gotta-"

"Mmm," he groans, tighter around you, face still shamelessly buried between your tits, "Nope. Not listening. Too cozy. This is my life now."

You huff. "Edward, I swear to god".

"Shhh," he murmurs, rubbing his face against you like a cat, "boob pillow."

Jesus fucking Christ.

"Baby, just accept it," he mutters, still face-first between your tits, voice thick with sleep, "We live here now. This is our life. No school. No responsibilities. Just… these." His hand lazily cups one of your breasts, squeezing like it's his own personal stress ball.

You sigh, feeling him completely melt into you, his body heavy and warm. You don’t blame him. You’d stay here too if you could.

But you can’t.

You groan, shifting beneath him, trying to nudge him off without much success. "Eddie, baby, come on. We have to get up. For real now".

"Mmm," he hums, nuzzling even deeper into your chest. "No, we really fucking don’t."

You snort, rolling your eyes. "Alright, fine. How about this, if you get up now, I’ll give you some back scratches tonight?"

"Tempting," he murmurs against your skin, "but no".

"A blowjob?" you offer, voice sweet and coaxing, "Nice and slow, baby, taking my sweet time with you."

That does something to him.

You feel the shift. The tiny hitch in his breath. But still, nothing.

"Jesus," you huff, slipping your fingers into his curls, gently scratching at his scalp, massaging his head until he moans against your tits, "You really are dying right now."

"Mmm-hmm," he agrees lazily, no shame whatsoever, "But I am dying happy."

You chuckle, then lean in, pulling out the big guns when dropping your voice to a sweet murmur, "Eddie, if you don’t stand up right now, I won’t let you fuck me for three days. You hear me?"

He freezes. Completely, utterly still.

Your first offers were so nice, soft, sweet, rewarding.

And now? Now you’re blackmailing him with sex deprivation?

You can feel the way his entire body locks up, his breath catching against your skin.

Then, slowly, so fucking slowly, he peeks up at you from where he’s buried against your chest. "…What?"

You lift a lazy shoulder. "You heard me" You gesture vaguely between your legs. "The gates will be closed, Munson. For three days".

He scoffs, lifts his head and grins cockily as he glances down at you. "Babe. You can’t last a day without me fucking you stupid."

You arch a brow. "Wanna bet?"

"Oh, I know you," he drawls, all cocky confidence, trailing his fingers along your hip, voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur, "You’re addicted, baby. Obsessed".

Annoyingly, he’s right.

But you just grin, leaning in closer, voice dropping to a hushed purr, "All I need to be absolutely happy is two minutes with our showerhead… or one minute with my vibrator. I can manage for three days, trust me".

Eddie stares. Completely silent. Processing.

Then, finally, "Can we go back to the rewards for standing up? I’d absolutely go for that back scratch and blowjob kinda thing."

You shake your head, "Chance is over. Get your ass up, Munson. Or live with the consequences. "

"Oh my fucking God." He groans, dropping his face back into your chest, his entire body going limp over you, full of the deepest regret. "You are the worst fucking person I have ever met."

"Mmm," you hum, grinning, "and yet, you’re still in love with me."

"Against my fucking will."

You just smirk, running your fingers through his hair again, dragging your nails along his scalp.

And he groans again. Long, grumpy, full of suffering. "Boobies," he mutters miserably, "Let me have this, babe."

You sigh dramatically, your fingers still idly playing with his curls. "Eddie," you murmur sweetly, "I’m counting to five. If you’re not up by then, we'll-"

"Babe," he groans, cutting you off, "you already took away my will to live, what else can you do to me?"

You hum, considering. Then, slowly, you lean in, lips brushing against the top of his head. "One."

He huffs. "Not moving."

"Two."

"Not scared, sweetheart."

"Three."

He tightens his grip around you, squeezes a little firmer where his hands rest on your waist, "Baby, just give in. Let it happen."

"Four. Time to say goodbye, Eds. If you behave now, you can see them later again".

"Fucking hell," he grumbles, voice muffled against your skin, "You are pure evil, woman."

"Five. You made your choice, no more sex f-"

"Goddamn it, okay, okay, I’m up!"

You laugh as he finally lifts his head, his face an absolute mess of grumpy frustration and betrayal. His curls are wild, his eyes still heavy with sleep, and his lips, his pretty, pretty lips, are pouting like you just committed the ultimate act of cruelty."Fucking evil," he mutters, rolling onto his back, rubbing a hand down his face. "I need a new girlfriend. One who cares about me."

You smirk, sitting up and stretching your sore limbs. "Good luck with that, babe. No one else would put up with your dramatic ass."

"Whatever," he grumbles, rubbing his eyes. "I hope algebra fucking ruins you today."

You take a second to stretch, feeling every ache and pain from last night, before you finally sit up. Eddie, however, is still just lying there, looking utterly betrayed, like he’s just suffered actual loss."Up," you tell him, nudging his leg. He doesn't move. You sigh, stand up, still topless while walking through his room, searching for some fresh underwear.

It takes another minute of grumbling, sighing, and possibly one muttered death threat under his breath before your boyfriend finally stands up. He hates you. Absolutely despises you.

And he’s being so fucking dramatic about it, moving like a wounded soldier, wincing at every ache, rubbing his face like it’s the end of days, glancing at you like you just committed the ultimate betrayal.

You ignore him. Just turn your back, stretching your sore limbs again as you hook your thumbs into the waistband of the boxers you stole, slowly sliding them down your hips. You don’t look back, but you know he’s watching, hearing the small hitch in his breath. You smirk, stepping into a fresh pair of underwear, pulling on your jeans, then grabbing one of his hoodies.

Eddie groans dramatically as he tugs on a pair of jeans, moving like an old man who’s been through war. He’s slow, stiff, every muscle in his body angry at him for last night.

You’re not much better, barely managing to yank your hair up into some kind of messy bun. There’s no time for a shower. You’re already so fucking late.

Eddie, meanwhile, has given up on looking for a clean shirt and just throws on the first hoodie he finds. You did the same. One of his, because it’s closest. "You’re so fucking slow," you grumble, tugging on your shoes while he just stands there like a half-dead zombie.

The bathroom is a mess. Your smoky eye makeup still smudged around the sink, the crusty Halloween contacts you left out last night, a pile of used makeup wipes.

You sigh, shaking your head at how careless you were, but at least you took your makeup off. Even drunk. And, thank God, you took those contacts out.

Eddie, meanwhile, is dying as he brushes his teeth, eyes closed, head tilted against the mirror like he physically can’t stand anymore.

You glance at him, voice weak. "You still mad at me?"

He nods. No hesitation.

Your headache is so much worse now that you’re standing. You groan, leaning against him as you brush your teeth, closing your eyes.

He grunts.

You both rinse your mouths, wash your faces, slap on some deodorant to try and mask the scent of sweat and sex still clinging to your skin.

You shuffle to the kitchen. He’s moving slow as fuck, grumbling under his breath, slumping against the counter like he’s seconds away from just saying fuck it and going back to bed. You roll your eyes, grab two water bottles from the fridge and toss one at him before opening the bottle of aspirin and shaking two into your hand. "Babe," you murmur again after both of you swallowed your painkillers, "still mad?"

He nods. No words. Just pain.

You sigh, annoyed, popping a piece of gum in your mouth, handing him one without asking before grabbing your keys. You feel his hand on your arm when he pulls you in and kisses you. Warm. Lazy. Soft, but still somehow stubborn like even though he’s pissed, even though he’s suffering, he still needs this. Still needs you. When he pulls back, he mutters against your lips, "Hate you."

You smirk. "Love you too, babe."

You head outside, hissing at the sunlight and immediately putting on some sunglasses, cold air biting at your tired faces as you stare at Eddie's empty parking space.

"Shit," he groans, rubbing his face.

The van is still at Tina's.

You sigh, unlocking your car, the only option now. "Great. I’ll drive."

"Oh," Eddie grumbles as he slouches into the passenger seat, adjusting his sunglasses, "so we are dying today."

"Shut up and put your seatbelt on."

He groans dramatically but obeys, head flopping back against the headrest as you start the car.

The drive is slow. Painfully so. You’re both in no condition to be on the road, but here you are - you at the wheel, Eddie slouched in the passenger seat, sunglasses on, head tilted back like he’s barely hanging onto consciousness. The world is too fucking bright, even through the tinted lenses, and every bump in the road sends a dull ache through your skull.

Ten minutes until third period.

Eddie groans softly beside you, shifting like even sitting is too much effort.

You glance at him, annoyed. "Babe, seriously. Stop being so fucking mad at me."

"Mmm," he hums, not even lifting his head. "No."

You roll your eyes, turning back to the road. "You are so fucking dramatic, I swear to-"

"You blackmailed me," he cuts in, voice thick with exhaustion, "With sex deprivation."

You snort. "I gave you multiple chances. You chose this life."

"I didn’t choose shit," he mutters, arms crossed, "You stripped in front of me. That’s psychological warfare."

You bite your lip to keep from smiling. "Poor baby," you mock, "so mistreated."

He doesn’t answer, just slumps deeper into the seat, jaw clenched, suffering in silence.

The car is quiet for a few beats. Then, finally, softly, almost hesitant, Eddie mutters, "…If I stop being mad, do I still get that blowjob?"

You snort, gripping the steering wheel tighter as you pull up to a red light. "Absolutely not."

Eddie lets out a long, suffering groan, head flopping to the side to glare at you behind his sunglasses. "Then why the fuck would I stop being mad?"

You roll your eyes, "Because you love me."

"Not right now, I don’t," he grumbles, shifting to press his forehead dramatically against the window, "Right now, I’m considering throwing myself out of this moving car."

You sigh, drumming your fingers against the wheel as the light turns green, "Okay, what if I offer you something to make it through the day?"

"Unless it’s a fucking time machine to undo all my life choices, I don’t care."

You smirk, tilting your head, "How about… you get to go back to your happy place after lunch?"

Eddie’s brow furrows, "What?"

"Somewhere hidden," you continue, voice all sweet and coaxing, "just for you. Just so you can survive this miserable, horrible, tragic day."

He squints at you, clearly suspicious, before realization clicks and... yeah. There it is. That tiny shift in his breath, the way his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. "You’re telling me..." He turns fully now, resting his elbow on the center console, voice dropping, "You’re gonna let me smush my face between your tits after lunch?"

"Mhm," you hum, keeping your eyes on the road, "Just for a little bit. But only if you stop acting like a fucking baby right now."

Silence. Then -

"What time’s lunch?"

"After fourth period, you idiot".

More silence. Then, a sigh. "Fine." He says it like he’s bestowing you with forgiveness, dragging his fingers through his curls like this decision is physically painful, "But only because I need something to live for."

You grin, biting your lip as you turn into the school parking lot, "So noble of you."

Eddie grumbles something under his breath, but his hand still finds your thigh, fingers giving a lazy squeeze.

And just like that, all is forgiven.

You pull into the parking lot, shutting off the engine with a sigh. The aspirin has finally started to kick in, dulling the pounding in your skull, but you're still beyond exhausted. Eddie’s slouched in his seat, sunglasses still on, looking like he might actually refuse to leave the car.

You both slowly unbuckle your seatbelts, grab your backpacks and climb out of the car, groaning under your breaths as you slam the doors close. You walk up to him, sighing as your head drops to his chest. "Babe," you mumble, "carry me."

Eddie lets out a weak laugh, head rolling to the side, "You think I have the strength for that right now? I'm exhausted just from sitting in your car".

"Yes," you insist, your weak voice muffled by his hoodie, "Be my hero. My man. My strong, manly hero".

He blinks slowly, giving you the most dramatic, exaggerated sigh you've ever heard, before turning his head toward you.

You give him a lazy grin, trying to summon the last bit of playfulness you have left. "Come on, Eddie. I believe in you."

He straightens up a bit, puffing his chest out, clearly trying to get back into "manly mode" despite his absolute exhaustion. "Alright," he says, his voice trying to sound cocky, filled with exhaustion. "I mean, obviously, I can carry you," he starts, trying to summon some kind of confidence, "I’m, like, the pinnacle of manliness, babe. Even now. You know this. I could carry you across the damn world if I had to."

You snort, leaning your head back to look up at him, "Uh-huh. Sure"

"No, seriously," he grins, his eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses like he’s the cockiest guy on the planet, "you’re the love of my life. I’ll carry you through fire and... uh, well, maybe not fire. But you know, like, through everything else, babe."

You raise a brow, watching how he's rubbing his face like he's already regretting this before giving you an exaggerated wink, "You ready for this?"

"I’m ready," you reply, half-laughing, feeling a little lighter even though your head is still pounding, "Let’s see it, hero."

Eddie takes a deep breath, attempting to gather whatever strength he has left. He crouches down, like he's going to scoop you up, but then his legs wobble, and he makes a ridiculous struggling noise, clearly trying his best to power through. "Hold on, hold on," he mutters, his voice strained as he wraps one arm around you and bends his knees to lift you. Almost, he succeeds in lifting you a solid two inches before completely faltering, his arms shaking violently. "Oh, fuck," he grumbles, already on the verge of collapse, "This is not going how I thought it would."

You laugh weakly, hands reaching out to catch him before you both end up in a tangled mess of limbs on the ground, "You okay there, tough guy?"

"Yeah," he says, breathing heavily, sweat starting to bead on his forehead.

You can’t help it. You laugh, even though it makes your headache worse, feeling his arms faltering around you, "You're so dead right now."

"I can do this," he grunts, trying again, but this time he only manages to lift at all before giving up, staggering and nearly tripping you both. "Wait, hold on. Give me a second... just need to... recalibrate my... manliness."He straightens up, trying to look confident, but it’s all in vain as he exhales with a loud puff of air. "Okay, okay, you know what?"

"You can’t do it, can you?" you tease, barely able to keep the grin off your face.

"No," he admits, face red from exertion, "today’s not my day. I'm a dead man, babe. Can I just drag you instead? Like, by the arms?"

You snort, "This is so sad, baby".

"Right?", he chuckles raspy, his hands now resting on your hips as he looks down at you, "Remember how I used to pick you up so effortlessly, like it was nothing? Keeping you up while fucking you? Damn. Those were good times," he sighs dramatically, "showers, garages, alleys. Everywhere. I was strong. Powerful. And now, I am a dead, weak man".

"You’re a joke," you giggle, but it's all in good fun, "It’s okay. I don’t need to be carried. I can walk."

"Yeah, you just enjoy me failing like that," he mutters, shaking his head, clearly still amused despite his exhaustion, "I’m supposed to be your strong, capable boyfriend, and now I’m just... this."

"Hey," you tease, "you're still my favorite dead man. Still my hero, even if you couldn’t lift me today."

He gives you a look, then grins lazily, exhausted but still smug, "Good thing you're cute, or I’d be really embarrassed right now."

"You are still embarrassing," you reply, rolling your eyes but leaning in for a quick kiss. "But you're my embarrassing mess, so it's fine."

"Glad I’m good for something," he mutters under his breath, still breathing heavily, his body hanging slightly like he's half-hoping you'd just carry him instead.

The halls are dead when you step inside.

Not literally, but close.

Every single senior who went to that party last night looks wrecked. Bloodshot eyes, exhausted stares, bodies slumped against lockers like they might just sleep standing up. The whole school is moving in slow motion, a collective what the fuck were we thinking? kind of energy.

You and Eddie barely make it ten steps before you stop, both of you gravitating toward the lockers, leaning into each other, just for a second. His arms wrap around your waist, your hands slip under his jacket, warm against his back, and you just breathe. Quiet. Safe. Just a few seconds to exist together before facing the absolute hell that is going to be sitting through a class right now. "Two periods," Eddie mutters against your hair, voice thick with exhaustion.

You hum, eyes shut, "Mhm. You’re making it, baby."

The bell rings.

Neither of you move for another few seconds. Then, with a groan, Eddie finally pulls back, takes your hand, and starts leading you toward class. "This is fucking cruel," he mutters. "High school should be illegal."

The classroom is a graveyard.

Everyone is barely holding on, slumped in their seats, some with their heads in their hands, others staring blankly ahead like they’ve seen war. The air is thick with exhaustion and the faint scent of regret - and alcohol, apparently, if the way Mrs. Thompson wrinkles her nose is anything to go by. 

You drop into your seat beside Eddie, still clutching your water bottle. Eddie, meanwhile, flops into his chair like a corpse, spreading his legs wide and crossing his arms, sunglasses still on, head tilted toward you like he’s already seconds from passing out. Across the room, Gareth and Jeff are giving you twin middle fingers from their seats in the back, looking just as wasted as you feel. Eddie raises a slow, lazy hand and flips them off right back before slouching even deeper.

"You look like shit," Gareth mutters across the rows.

"You look worse," Eddie shoots back, voice barely above a rasp.

"Fair."

You take a sip of your water, throat still dry as hell, when you feel Eddie’s head turn toward you. Even without seeing his eyes, you can feel it, his silent request.

You sigh, already knowing exactly what he wants. "You forgot yours in my car, didn’t you?" 

His bottom lip juts out ever so slightly, a subtle, suffering pout. 

You roll your eyes but hand him the bottle.

He takes it with a dramatic sigh, unscrews the cap, and takes a few deep gulps before handing it back. Then, before you can react, he’s pulling you in, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple.

You wince, shoving at his chest, "Careful".

He just chuckles, pressing another one, softer this time, right where he knows you like it. 

Across from you, Gareth and Jeff make exaggerated gagging noises, Jeff even going as far as pretending to retch into his backpack. "You guys are disgusting," Gareth mutters.

Eddie grins, dropping his arm over the back of your chair, "Jealous?" 

Mrs. Thompson clears her throat, making everyone shut up real quick. She scans the room, looking from one barely-conscious student to the next, before finally letting out a long, suffering sigh. "I can smell the alcohol on you all," she states, unimpressed. "You do realize you’re not legally allowed to drink, right?" 

Silence. 

No one says a damn thing. 

Mrs. Thompson pinches the bridge of her nose, inhaling sharply before waving a dismissive hand. "You know what? I don’t even have the energy to deal with this right now."

Same.

"Munson. Carter. Sunglasses off."

You and Eddie freeze. You can feel him tense beside you, feel the silent plea radiating off him like please, God, no, but neither of you have a choice.

Slowly, like you’re peeling off your last layer of protection, you both reach up and pull your sunglasses off. Mrs. Thompson winces. "Oh, dear," she mutters.

Eddie just blinks, unmoving, dead behind the eyes.

She stares at you both for another beat, clearly debating whether or not to send you to the nurse before finally deciding you’re both just going to have to suffer. "Alright," she says, rubbing her temples, "let’s just...let’s get this over with." 

The lesson starts.

You try to pay attention. You really do. But the words start blending together, Mrs. Thompson’s voice turning into one long, droning hum, the edges of your vision going soft and blurry.

You’re staring straight ahead, eyes wide open, but you’re not really awake.

Eddie’s the same. You can feel his slow, steady breathing, the way his hand has gone completely limp against your chair. You don’t even have to look at him to know his eyes are open but he’s gone.

From the back of the room, Gareth snorts under his breath. "Jesus Christ," he mutters, "they’re asleep with their eyes open."

Jeff hums. "Impressive." 

Mrs. Thompson sighs again, running a hand down her face. "Senior year," she mutters under her breath. 

And so, class continues. You don’t move. You don’t blink. You don’t even breathe too hard. You just sit there, perfectly still, comatose with your eyes wide open, surviving.

Lunch is a funeral procession. Slow, silent, full of regret. The cafeteria hums with quiet suffering - no laughter, no loud conversations, just the occasional groan or the scrape of a chair against the floor. Only the bravest of souls are actually eating, the rest clutching water bottles, Gatorade, coffee, anything that might bring them back to life.

You collapse into a chair, sunglasses on again, definitely not eating, your weak hands clutching a coffee. Eddie drops down beside you with a grunt, his arm slung over the back of your chair, body slouched like even holding himself upright is a struggle. Jeff, Gareth, and Grant join you, looking just as dead. Grant has fresh hickeys blooming across his neck.

You snort. "Well, well, well," you mutter, nudging his foot under the table, "Looks like somebody got lucky."

Grant stares at you, face blank, eyes lifeless. "Yeah," he says, deadpan. "Apparently."

That gets your attention. "Apparently?"

Jeff and Gareth lean in, grinning. "Dude," Jeff says, shaking his head, "she was hot. Like, insanely hot."

"But," Gareth adds, smirking, "Grant doesn’t remember a damn thing."

You snort, biting back a grin, "That’s a shame."

Grant just sighs, rubbing his face like the weight of existence is too much.

Then Eddie shifts beside you, leaning in, voice low, slow, teasing, "Good thing I remember every single second of last night."

Heat floods your face. You do too. Every fucking second. The bathroom upstairs, your back pressed against the sink, his hands gripping your thighs so tight you can still feel the bruises. Outside, against Tina’s garage, once. Then immediately after, again, like stopping wasn’t even an option.

Eddie smirks.

His bandmates groan.

"Jesus Christ," Gareth mutters, shoving his chair back like he’s seconds from walking out.

"Can you two not?" Jeff grumbles.

Grant, still recovering from his own mystery hookup, just shakes his head.

Eddie just grins wider, stretching his arms behind his head, looking insufferably pleased with himself.

Before you can reply, Robin and Vickie appear. They're just as wrecked as the rest of you, moving slowly, sunglasses on, skin pale.

But something’s different.

Normally, Vickie wouldn’t be caught dead at this table, too nervous, too unsure. Yet here she is, slipping into the seat across from you, setting down a bottle of Gatorade and a cereal bar, Robin right beside her.

Interesting.

You sip your coffee, eyes flicking between them, watching as Vickie carefully unwraps her snack.

Robin avoids your gaze, looking suspiciously nonchalant as she opens her own drink.

You squint at her over the rim of your shades.

She knows it’s coming.

Slowly, you wiggle your brows.

Then, with the smallest nod toward Vickie, you silently ask: Well?

Robin blushes instantly. Bites her lip. Then, a tiny nod.

Your grin is immediate. You wiggle your brows again, mouthing a silent congrats.

Your best friend snorts into her Gatorade, trying to hide her dumb grin.

Eddie shifts against you, head tilted back against the window. His grip on your waist is loose, his breathing even. He hasn’t spoken in a while.

You smirk, glancing at Robin. I think he’s asleep.

Robin, still grinning, peeks over her sunglasses, watching you as you carefully poke your boyfriend's chest.

Eddie grumbles, eyes still closed. "M'not asleep… sadly," he mutters, "Just… savin’ energy."

You snort, lifting your coffee to his lips.

He takes a desperate sip, like it’s life support, then groans. "I wanna die."

"Same," you all mumble in agreement.

He sighs dramatically, resting his head against the window again. "Never going to a fucking party on a fucking school night again."

More nods. More murmured agreements.

Robin smirks, "How are you guys gonna survive the rockstar life ahead of you if you barely make it through a high school Halloween party?"

You nod, "Fair point."

Eddie groans at just the thought of drinking again. Across the table, Gareth, infamous for his weak stomach, gags suddenly.

All of you freeze. Muscles tensed, ready to evacuate immediately if necessary.

False alarm.

Gareth takes a shaky sip of water while everyone lets out a collective breath.

The conversation shifts. Speaking of rockstar life, Corroded Coffin’s got a big weekend ahead. Their prize for winning last weekend’s battle? A slot at 92.3 Rock FM’s radio show in Indianapolis. They’ll get to play a song live before doing a short interview. And on Saturday night? They’ve landed a gig at The Black Cat, the most famous rock venue downtown. Big fucking deal. Means they’ll have to head back to the city early. Maybe Friday afternoon after school. Rock FM promised to cover the band’s stay for the weekend. You're obviously joining them, crashing in Eddie's room. Vanguard are also gonna be there. You're already looking forward to spending more time with these dorks. Robin, a massive fan of said band, still has no idea you’re buddies with them now.

You just thought about how she'll react once she finds out, when she's leans back, sighing and rubbing her temple. "I’m working on convincing Steve to drive to Indianapolis," she mumbles, "Come to the gig, support the band… and you, obviously." She waves a hand at you. "Even though you’re not technically in the band."

You smirk, "I’ll be there, though".

"No surprise, you're everywhere this very dead looking man is", she mutters, nodding at Eddie, who just grunts, flips her off and pulls you into his chest, pressing a tired kiss to your head.

You chuckle, shrugging lightly. "Guilty.

Then, Vickie, who’s been quiet, just sipping her Gatorade, turns to Robin. "I wanna come too. You guys could take me with you?"

You blink. Raise a brow. "You do? Didn't know you're into any of that music, Vicks".

Vickie nods. Doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t look at anyone else. Just Robin.

Robin, who suddenly forgets how to function. "Uh...yeah," she stammers, ears burning, "If we go, you can come. Sure".

"But it’s a two-hour drive, and you'll probably drink there", you add, just to watch them squirm, "Maybe you'll need to crash at a motel or so. That okay for you?"

Vickie shrugs and gives Robin the slightest smirk, "Steve can have the couch."

Robin’s face explodes in red.

You pull an impressed face at her. Because holy shit.

Robin stares at you helplessly, like she’s only just realizing.

Vickie is flirting.

Hell yeah.

You grin into your coffee, snuggling into Eddie's heavy arm while listening to the others reminiscing about the absolute shitshow that was last night. Running from the cops when they busted in. How Eddie picked a fucking lock so you two could hide in some random neighbor’s garage. How Steve bolted over a fence and just ran home. How Robin and Vickie took another turn, crouched in some bushes, and witnessed some poor kid actually getting arrested for underage drinking.

Robin blushes hard at the memory.

Oh, they definitely kissed in that fucking bush.

Just like you and Eddie definitely made out in that dark garage. You catch Eddie’s gaze, the glint of amusement behind his sunglasses.

Gareth groans, rubbing his face,  "Man, Steve’s probably still asleep right now."

Jeff groans, "Lucky bastard."

"Seriously", Grant mutters, shaking his head, "I've never been more jealous of anyone in my life. We have to sit here, and that bastard's in his bed, sleeping off his hangover".

"I never regretted anything more in my life than coming here today", Robin sighs, taking a sip of Gatorade.

"Ugh, tell me about it", Eddie groans, "someone blackmailed me into showing up."

You roll your eyes, "You’re so dramatic. You chose to come".

"I chose nothing," he mutters, leaning back against the window.

"Okay, okay," Robin cuts in, smirking, "But real talk, how did you guys even get away from the cops?" She looks at Eddie's bandmates.

Gareth snorts. "Well, while you two were hiding in bushes and Houdini and his girl here were in a random person’s garage, we were actually running for our lives."

Jeff shakes his head. "Dude, I jumped into someone’s pool to hide."

"You what?" you snort.

"It was dark, okay? I thought it was a bush!"

Grant chuckles, wincing at the sound of his own laughter, "I just ran into some random dude’s backyard and laid down in the grass, pretending to be dead."

Eddie cackles, then groans and clutches his head, "Oh, fuck. Laughing hurts."

Gareth just shakes his head, "Never again, man. Never fucking again."

A comfortable silence settles over the table, everyone just trying to exist without passing out.

The bell’s about to ring when Eddie suddenly leans in close, voice low, thick with exhaustion, "You didn’t forget, did you?"

You blink at him, "Forget what?"

He smirks, nodding down to your boobs, "What you promised me to make it through the day."

Oh. Right.

You sigh. "Fine."

He grins, immediately standing up.

You follow, stretching as you do.

The others glance up, confused. "What are you two doing?" Jeff asks, brow raised.

Eddie has zero shame. "We’re going back to my happy place," he announces.

Gareth raises a brow, "Could've just said you're headed outside to smoke some weed, man. Mind if I join?"

You laugh dryly, shaking your head. "Trust me, Gareth, that's not it. And you definitely don't wanna join".

They all now look up at you two standing next to the table, waiting for an explanation.

Eddie throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close, smirking. "I was suffering this morning, and she promised me I could smush my face between her tits after lunch if I stopped being mad about it."

Silence.

Then - groans, gagging noises, Gareth actually throwing a crumpled napkin at Eddie’s head. "Jesus Christ, man," he mutters, "You just got through lunch."

"Have some respect," Grant adds, deadpan.

You smirk, grabbing Eddie’s hand, "Nope."

Robin just buries her face in her arms. "I hate you guys."

Eddie grins, leading you toward the doors like he hasn’t just completely traumatized everyone at the table. He practically drags you down the hallway, still grinning like the smug little shit he is.

You roll your eyes but don’t fight it. Honestly, you’re too exhausted to put up a fight anyway. "You’re way too proud of yourself right now," you mumble as you weave through the sluggish, hungover crowd of seniors.

"Damn right I am," he grins, squeezing your hand, "You think I sat through two classes completely miserable for nothing? No, sweetheart, I had a goal."

You snort. "A goal?"

"Yeah. Survive the morning, claim my reward." He pauses, glancing down at you with a smirk, "Which, by the way, I fully intend to collect right now."

You shake your head. "So dramatic."

"And yet, you love me."

You roll your eyes again but don’t argue while letting him guide you through the school, into a less busy wing.

Finally, you reach a storage room, quiet and secluded enough that no one will bother you. Eddie doesn’t hesitate, pushes the door open and leads you inside. It's dim, cramped, and smells vaguely of old textbooks and cleaning supplies as you step in, sighing as you close the door behind you.

The second you're in, Eddie wastes no time.

He plops himself onto the edge of an old wooden desk, legs spread, arms outstretched as he beckons you over like some kind of king summoning his favorite consort. "Come on, babe," he drawls, eyes heavy with exhaustion but glinting with pure mischief, "Give me my happy place. I earned this." You roll your eyes, arms crossed, watching as he dramatically lets his head loll back, groaning like he's on his deathbed. "I'm so tired, my love. My muse. My goddess." His eyes flick open, and he smirks. "Let me rest where I belong."

You're unimpressed.

"You are so fucking dramatic." You roll your eyes, stepping between his legs anyway.

His hands immediately find your hips, tugging you in close, his face level with your chest now. He nuzzles against your hoodie-covered sternum, exhaling like he's just come home after years at war.

"For fuck's sake," you mumble, checking over your shoulder at the door, "Happy now?"

For a second, you think he’ll be satisfied. Maybe he just wanted the comfort, the warmth, maybe the fabric will be enough.

"Nuh-uh," Eddie mumbles, shaking his head against you, "This isn’t what I suffered through class for. If I don't get my therapy session, I will die. Right here. Right now. You’ll have to drag my lifeless corpse to next period and explain to the teachers how you denied me the one thing keeping me alive".

"Oh my god, fine, but please shut up," you mutter, already caving as you grab the hem of your hoodie and lift it. No bra anyway. Might as well.

The moment your bare skin is exposed, he sighs, all dramatic and reverent, and dives right in. "Ahhh," he moans, smashing his face between your breasts like he’s sinking into a cloud. His hands immediately slide down to your ass, gripping and pulling you closer as he buries himself completely, letting out a deep, content sound like he’s just been blessed by the gods themselves. "There they are," he mutters, squeezing you tighter as he nestles in, "The twins. Missed you, girls."

You snort, trying so hard not to laugh but failing miserably. "Really?"

Eddie just hums, completely unashamed. "What? They deserve names."

You shake your head, but the warmth of his breath on your skin sends a shiver down your spine, "You’re insane, Munson".

"And yet," he muffles against you, voice smug.

"Don't finish that sentence," you warn, but it's hard to sound serious when he's practically motorboating you like a damn idiot. You huff again, knowing full well there's no fighting it, and instead let your oversized hoodie fall over his head, completely covering him.

"Ohhh fuck yes," Eddie groans from under the fabric, the sound all muffled and ridiculous, "Now I live here. This is my house now. Everyone leave me alone, I'm moving in."

You can't help but laugh, a hand covering your mouth to keep it down, "You are so fucking lucky no one can see this right now."

"Are you kidding?" His hands tighten on your ass, "They'd be jealous as fuck."

More dramatic sighs. More happy little hums. And then - A kiss.

Soft. Warm. Right between your breasts.

You shiver. He feels it, you know he does, because he hums again. Another kiss. Then another. Slow, lazy, his lips dragging against your skin, mouth parting just enough for his breath to warm you.

"Careful, rockstar," you murmur.

"Mmhm," Eddie hums against you. One hand leaves your ass, slides up your side, cups one of your breasts, firm, squeezing slightly before his mouth moves lower. His lips wrap around your nipple.

You gasp, the sensation sudden, electric. Your back arches instinctively, pressing into him, and he groans, his other hand on your ass tightening as he sucks. "Eddie," you whisper, torn between warning and wanting.

He ignores you. Flicks his tongue. Sucks again.

Your breath stutters, "Behave."

"Mm," he hums, like he's considering it. But then he nibbles lightly, making your breath hitch, your body press even closer.

Oh, he's so smug now.

You can feel it in the way his lips curve against your skin as he starts peppering kisses all over, sucking softly, leaving marks behind like he just can't help himself. Warm lips are moving lazily from one breast to the other like he has all the time in the world. He flicks his tongue over your nipple again, then lightly sucks, the warm pull sending a sharp jolt straight through you.

You shudder, your fingers threading into his hair automatically, half to steady yourself, half to warn him. "Baby".

He groans at the contact, tilting his head back slightly so your nails scratch over his scalp. "Fuck, baby, you know I love that", he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin. Then, without hesitation, he wraps his lips around your nipple again, sucking harder this time.

Your breath hitches, thighs pressing together as heat flares low in your stomach. You were not expecting this. You thought he just wanted to be dramatic, make a scene, joke around to get through the day. But now...

Now he's moaning against your skin, his hands gripping your ass tighter, his tongue teasing and flicking, mouth hot and insistent.

"Eds" you gasp again, trying to sound firm, trying to make him stop before this turns into something even worse.

"What?" he murmurs between kisses, trailing his mouth across your chest, sucking another spot just to hear you gasp, "You knew what you signed up for, sweetheart."

"I did not sign up for- fuck."

He bites gently, just enough to make your knees go weak. He chuckles, smug as hell, still buried under your hoodie. "You gonna behave?" he teases, mimicking your earlier words, voice dripping with amusement and something darker.

You swallow hard, trying to ignore how badly you want to grind down against him right now. "I swear to god, Munson, if you make me walk out of here with hard nipples and shaky legs, I’m gonna-"

"Gonna what?" he interrupts, squeezing your ass hard, pulling you flush against him, "Punish me?" His tone is pure filth, all teasing.

You feel it. His hard-on. Pressed right against you.

Oh, fuck.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, your body thrumming with heat as he licks a slow circle around your nipple, then lightly blows on it. You twitch, your breath coming quicker now.

He nips, just enough to make your body jolt, your nails scraping against his scalp in response. He chuckles, low and raspy, pulling back just enough to peek up at you from under the fabric of your hoodie. His eyes are dark, lidded, filled with nothing but amusement and hunger. "You gonna let me have my fun, sweetheart, or do I have to convince you?"

You scoff, trying to steady your breath, "This is already pushing it, Munson."

He grins, nuzzling into you again, letting out a happy little sigh like he’s never been more content in his life. "Nah. This is just me enjoying my happy place," he says, voice muffled against your skin. Then, after a beat, "But if you wanna take it further… you just say the word, baby."

Your stomach flips, heat coiling low as his fingers squeeze at your waist, his mouth pressing lazy kisses along your chest again. You can feel his smirk, the way he’s waiting, teasing, pushing just enough to make you squirm. You exhale sharply, tilting his head up with a firm hand in his curls and pulling him out from under your sweatshirt.

He groans in protest, nuzzling against your skin one last time before finally looking up at you.

And oh, you regret it instantly.

He’s wrecked.

Smug as hell, lips rosy and damp, eyes heavy with heat and mischief. He knows exactly what he just did to you.

You should tell him off, call him an asshole for winding you up like this, for leaving you aching while he just sits there all cocky and content. But instead, you’re leaning in, hands sliding into his hair, breath catching as his fingers tighten on your ass. You kiss him slow, teasing, dragging your lips over his like you’re trying to make him suffer just as much as you are.

But Eddie never suffers. No, he takes and takes and gives it right back.

"Keep this up, and we’re both gonna be late to class," you murmur against his lips.

Eddie grins, completely unbothered. "You say that like it's a bad thing." He kisses you again, warm hands roaming, sliding under your hoodie again, palms warm and rough as they skim your ribs, your waist. Then higher. Fingertips grazing over sensitive skin, sending a shiver straight through you as his mouth moves, your jaw, your throat, sucking and nipping his way up, making you gasp, making you melt. Your grip tightens in his hair, and he moans, a deep, satisfied sound that only makes the heat in your stomach coil tighter. He’s still teasing, still taking his time, dragging his lips back to yours just to swallow the soft noises you’re making. Your breath is uneven, coming in soft little gasps between kisses as his hands keep moving, slow and deliberate, like he has all the time in the world to unravel you. His thumbs graze over your nipples, teasing, rolling just enough to make you whimper into his mouth. He swallows the sound greedily, deepening the kiss as his fingers tighten on your waist, pulling you closer. His legs spread wider where he sits on the edge of the desk, and you step between them without hesitation, pressing against him, feeling the solid warmth of his body, the hard line of his dick beneath his jeans.

He groans into your mouth, hands sliding down to your ass again, gripping tight, guiding you to grind against him, slow, subtle, just enough to make you feel how much he wants this. How much he wants you. "Fuck," he mutters against your lips, voice thick and wrecked, forehead resting against yours for a brief second, like he’s catching his breath. "You’re killing me, sweetheart."

You smirk, dragging your nails gently over the back of his neck, "You started it."

His laugh is low, dark, breathless. "Yeah?" His hands tighten on you, rocking you against him again, dragging you over his lap with just the right amount of pressure to make your thighs tremble, "Then I better finish it, huh?"

Before you can even answer, his mouth is on you again, hot, desperate, claiming. His hands slip under your hoodie once more, palms trailing up your bare back, pulling you closer, keeping you exactly where he wants you. His fingers are warm and rough as he palms your breasts again, teasing your nipples with lazy, practiced circles. You moan softly into his mouth, your hips pressing against him on instinct, and he chuckles, low and smug. "So fuckin' easy for me," he murmurs, rolling a nipple between his fingers, making you shudder, "You like it when I play with you, huh?"Your only response is another shaky breath, another press of your hips against him, and that’s all the confirmation he needs. His hand drifts lower, down your stomach, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans. He doesn’t rush, just drags the button open, then the zipper, knuckles brushing over your stomach as he moves lower. "Bet you're soaked already, mh?" he breathes against your mouth, lips teasing yours but not quite kissing you, savoring the anticipation.

And then he’s there, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric, into the warmth of your underwear. His breath catches, a groan slipping from his lips as his fingers find just how worked up he’s gotten you. "Oh, baby," he breathes, grinning against your cheek, "Won't you look at that". You gasp when his fingers move, slow but deliberate, teasing before sliding deep, your legs spreading instinctively to let him in. He moans, low and raspy, pressing his forehead against yours, "Fuck, you feel good."

You don’t answer, can’t, not when he’s curling his fingers just right, not when the heel of his palm presses against that perfect spot.

He’s smug about it, of course, whispers something filthy against your lips about how well he knows your body, how easy it is to get you trembling for him. And then a second finger joins the first, stretching you just right, and you whimper his name, gripping his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

"That’s it, baby," he murmurs, dragging his lips over your cheek, down your jaw, letting you hear every breath, every groan as he keeps working you open, "Let me make you feel good."His other hand stays firm on your hip, keeping you pressed against him while he moves his fingers in slow, practiced strokes. His jeans are so tight now, his own arousal painfully obvious, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t care, he just wants to ruin you first.

And he does. Easily.

"Oh, god yes", you pant softly, feeling how the pressure builds fast, faster than you expected, your body tightening, heat pooling low in your stomach.

He feels it inside you, and grins, his voice low and wrecked. "Already?"

You gasp and nod your head, eyes falling close as you move with his fingers, digging your hands into his shoulders. He pumps just a little faster, just a little deeper, and you cry out softly, clinging to him, your hips rocking instinctively into his hand. "I wanna see you cum, baby" he murmurs, kissing just beneath your ear, lips warm and teasing.

When you finally let go, your whole body tensing, a choked moan spilling from your lips, he groans, cursing under his breath, his fingers slowing but not stopping, letting you ride it out. His breath is ragged against your lips, his fingers still deep inside you, curling just right. You grip his shoulders, knees weak, hips grinding into his touch as he works you over with a smug little grin. "Goddamn", he rasps, eyes dark, pupils blown wide, "so fucking wet for me, baby". He presses a kiss to your jaw, then your throat, groaning at the way you pulse around his fingers, "You were made for me, weren’t you?"

You whimper, biting your lip, trying to keep quiet, but he’s relentless, fingers twisting, thumb circling, his voice low and filthy in your ear. "Bet I could make you cum again", he murmurs, teeth grazing your skin, "Bet you’d let me, too".

You should stop him. Should pull back. But you don’t. Instead, you’re shifting, fumbling at his belt, pressing a hand against the solid heat straining behind his zipper. His breath stutters, hips jerking into your touch as his grip on you tightens. "Fuck", he hisses, forehead dropping to your shoulder, his fingers slowing just enough to tease, "You gonna take care of me too, baby?"

You hum, rubbing him through denim, relishing the way his breath catches. You grab his wrist, pulling his hand out of your jeans, squinting at his watch. His breath catches, a low groan rumbling in his chest as his fingers twitch, still slick from you as you palm his dick. You smirk, rubbing slow, teasing circles, watching his eyes flutter shut, his jaw clench as his hips jerk into your touch.

"God, fuck," he mutters, forehead dropping to your shoulder, his whole body tensing under your hand.

But you don’t stop. No, you squeeze, just enough to make him suck in a sharp breath, dragging your hand down the length of him, feeling how hard he is, how badly he needs this.

His fingers dig into your hips, his breath coming out in shaky little huffs as you keep working him up, your own body still thrumming from the high he just gave you.

"You like that, rockstar?" you murmur, your other hand sliding up into his hair, tilting his head back so you can see his face. His eyes heavy, pupils blown, lips parted in a quiet moan.

"Fuck yes," he rasps, hands gripping at you, his hips shifting, pressing into your palm like he can't help himself.

You lean in, biting his lip, tugging just enough to make him groan, and then you’re already undoing his belt, popping the button, pulling the zipper down with deliberate slowness. His breath is uneven, his whole body strung tight as you slip your hand inside, fingers wrapping around him properly now.

He lets out a choked noise, hips bucking into your grip, eyes squeezing shut. "Jesus Christ," he breathes, his voice a wreck, forehead knocking against yours, "You’re gonna fucking kill me, Sam"

You smirk, squeezing him, stroking slow, teasing. "You got five minutes, Munson," you murmur against his lips, your voice turning just as filthy as his, "Think you can do it? I don't wanna be late for class just because you couldn’t pull off a quickie in a fucking storage closet."

His eyes snap open, dark and wild, something dangerous flashing behind them. "Oh, baby" he breathes, his grip tightening on you. Then, suddenly, he’s grabbing your wrist, stopping your movements. "5 minutes? That almost sounds like a challenge." His grin is sharp, breathless, his other hand already yanking your jeans down over your hips, shoving them just enough to bare you to him, just enough to make this quick, messy, desperate. "Bet I can finish us in 2". He reaches down into his lap, fingers flexing on your naked hip as he quickly pulls himself free, pushing up from the desk.

You shudder at the sight of his dick, how thick he is, how eager, already leaking at the tip as you reach down and wrap your fingers around him properly again, grinning up at Eddie's face.

"Shit," he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut for a second, his hips jerking into your touch, "You’re really gonna do this to me, huh?" 

You lean in, smirking smugly as you squeeze him just right, dragging your hand down slow, teasing. "You started it, rockstar."

His breath stutters, and then he’s had enough. He grips your hips tight, spinning you and bending you forward over the desk so fast your breath catches. 

"Fuck," you gasp, palms landing against the worn wood, your jeans tangled low on your thighs, leaving you completely at his mercy.

Eddie groans, sliding his hands up the curve of your ass, squeezing before slipping a finger between your thighs. "Jesus Christ," he mutters, his voice shaking, "You’re still fucking dripping, baby. You wanted this just as bad, didn’t you?"  

You bite your lip, pushing back against his hand, gasping when he slides a finger through the mess he made of you already. "Shut up and fuck me", you snap, breathless and impatient. 

He chuckles, low and dark, gripping himself and pressing against your entrance, teasing, rubbing against your slick heat. "Goddamn," he mutters, his free hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. "Five minutes, huh?" He leans forward, lips ghosting over the back of your neck, making you shiver. "Guess I better make ‘em count".

And then he’s pushing in. 

You both gasp at the same time, his grip bruising as he sinks into you inch by inch, stretching you just right, making your whole body tremble. "Fucking hell," he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder for a brief second, like he needs a moment to pull himself together. "You feel-" He cuts himself off with a ragged breath, his fingers digging into your skin.

You whimper, pushing back against him, urging him deeper. "Move, Eds," you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper.

He pulls out almost entirely before snapping his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt, drawing a sharp cry from your lips. He sets a pace immediately - fast, desperate, pure need. The desk rattles under you, the edge biting into your hips, but you don’t care, you just cling to the wood and let him take, let him lose himself in you. "Fuck," he grits out, his hand slipping under your hoodie, trailing up your spine, pressing against your bare skin, "So fucking tight, so good for me, baby."

You whimper, breath catching with every deep, brutal thrust, your fingers curling against the desk. "Fuck, Eddie," you gasp, voice wrecked, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure coils tight inside you.

He groans, leaning over you, his lips brushing against your ear as he fucks into you harder, deeper. "Say my name again," he breathes, his voice shaking, desperate. 

You don’t just say it, you moan it, half a plea, half a curse, your body shuddering beneath him.

He curses under his breath, his hands sliding down to grip your hips tighter, holding you still as he pounds into you, chasing both of your highs with reckless abandon.

You can barely breathe, barely think, your fingers scrambling for something to hold onto as he pounds into you mercilessly.

"You like that, baby?" he pants, his hand sliding up your spine, fisting in your hoodie to yank you up slightly, forcing you to arch into him.

You nod frantically, too far gone for words, your body already tightening, pleasure winding sharp and fast.

Eddie laughs, dark and smug, slapping your ass hard before gripping it, spreading you wider. "That’s right, baby. Knew you’d take it so fucking good. Knew you’d cum for me so fucking fast." His hand snakes around, fingers finding your clit, rubbing rough, merciless circles. Your legs are shaking already. "Cum on my dick, baby, show me how good I fuck you", he growls, his breath hot against your ear, his cock slamming into you so hard you can barely stay upright. 

"Fuck, I-" You don’t even get the rest of the sentence out before you’re cumming, the pleasure crashing through you so hard you nearly collapse against the desk. Your whole body clenches around him, and Eddie chokes out a wrecked groan, his grip bruising, his movements stuttering.

"That’s it," he grits out, his thrusts turning desperate, erratic, "Fuck, I'm not  gonna last, shit, baby, you’re squeezing me so tight".

"Yeah?", you pant, glancing over your shoulder, licking your lips as your legs still tremble under his touch, already rolling your hips up against him, moaning at how he thrusts back into you.

His eyes go dark the second he catches your smirk, the way your hips roll back against him even though you're still shaking from your orgasm. "Oh, you’re fucking insatiable, aren’t you?" he growls, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises, "Still greedy for more when I’ve already wrecked you?"

You bite your lip, breathless, giving him a half-lidded look over your shoulder. "Thought you said you could handle me, Munson," you tease, voice still shaking, legs still weak, "But if you’re tapping out..."

He laughs raspy, grabbing you by the back of the neck, shoving you back down onto the desk, "Baby, I’m gonna fuck you so stupid you forget how to run that filthy mouth."

And then he’s moving, fucking into you with a brutal pace, deep, punishing, like he’s got something to prove. 

"Yeah, you like that, don’t you?" he pants, his fingers wrapping around the back of your neck, holding you down as he pounds into you, "Like being used, like being fucked dumb on my cock."

You moan, your fingers clawing at the desk, your body already starting to tense again. "Fuck, yes-- ohmygod yes fuck me--"

His free hand moves down, sliding between your legs, rubbing tight, merciless circles over your clit. "That’s right, baby, take it," he grits out, his breath ragged, his cock slamming deep, "Take it like a good fucking girl." Your whole body clenches at his praise, pleasure winding so tight it’s almost unbearable. Eddie groans, his grip tightening. "You gonna cum again for me?" he taunts, voice thick with smug satisfaction, "Gonna squeeze my cock so fucking tight while I fill you up?"

You whimper, nodding, barely able to form words.

The pleasure slams into you with blinding force, your whole body shaking, your walls clenching around him so tight he chokes on a curse while listening to your satisfied sounds, gasps and moans of his name. "Fuck, oh, fuck," he groans, his hips stuttering, his movements desperate now, frantic, chasing his own release, "Goddamn it, baby, you’re- fuck" He’s burying himself to the hilt, his cock throbbing deep inside you as he cums, his whole body shuddering, his grip on you unrelenting as he ruts through it, grinding as deep as he can get. He groans as he rides out his high, buried deep inside you, his whole body shuddering with the aftershocks. His grip on your hips is tight, his breath ragged against your shoulder.

But even as he’s coming down, you can’t help yourself, you roll your hips back against him, giving a little playful wiggle, grinning over your shoulder.

His exhausted groan turns into a breathless chuckle. "Oh, you little shit," he mutters, swatting your ass lightly before gripping it with both hands, giving a satisfied squeeze, "Still shaking and already teasing me again?"

You hum, stretching lazily like a cat, completely unbothered. "Didn't exaggerate when saying you'll finish us in two minutes", you tease, peeking back at him, still flushed, still grinning.

Eddie scoffs, slipping out of you and stumbling back slightly, catching himself against the desk. "Oh, don’t even start. That was the best two minutes of your life, and you know it."

You roll your eyes but laugh as you straighten up, legs still a little shaky, "Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that, Munson."

He tucks himself back into his jeans, still looking all blissed-out, cheeks flushed, curls a mess. He watches as you pull up your underwear, then your jeans, and just before you can step away, he grabs your wrist and tugs you toward him. "Not so fast," he murmurs, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.  You sigh into it, melting against him instantly. His hands slide under your hoodie, warm palms roaming over your back, up your spine. You hum happily, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing up on your toes to kiss him deeper.

"You love being absolutely filthy with me," he mumbles against your lips, grinning, "Don’t even try to deny it."

You snort, shaking your head, "Oh, and you don’t?"

Eddie tilts his head, pretending to consider, "Hmm. Maybe. But I think you love it more." You pinch his side playfully, and he yelps, laughing as he pulls you closer, "Okay, okay, fine. We’re both equally depraved."

You grin against his mouth, "There we go. That’s better."

His hands slide up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones, "But you know what else I love?"

You raise a brow. "What’s that?"

Eddie kisses you again, softer this time, "That slow, sweet, romantic shit. Fuck, baby, never thought I'd be so into that, but with you? That's fucking heaven to me".

Your heart flutters, and you can’t help but smile, "Yeah?"

He nods, nudging his nose against yours, "Mmm. Love taking my time with you. Love kissing you for hours. Love making love to you".

You hum, pressing another soft kiss to his lips, "Me too."

Eddie grins suddenly, looking way too smug, "Crazy how all this started with me just wanting to motorboat your tits."

You groan, smacking his chest as you laugh, "You’re an idiot."

"But you love me," he sings, waggling his brows.

You shake your head, still giggling, "God help me, I do." 

The warning bell rings, jolting you both back to reality.

"Shit," you mutter, pulling back, "We gotta go."

Eddie sighs dramatically, "Or… we could just lock the door and go for round two?"

You roll your eyes, rubbing your hands up his chest, "Tempting, but no."

He groans, rubbing his hands over his face, "Fine, fine. But damn, that was the best lunch break ever." You laugh, trying to tame your hair, "Agreed." 

He grins, grabbing your wrist again to pull you in for one last kiss. "I love you, baby." 

Your heart swells, and you cup his face, brushing your lips against his, "I love you too"

 You stumble into your algebra class, dropping into your seat with a sigh, your body still buzzing in that ridiculous mix of lingering pleasure and the last dregs of a hangover.

Your legs feel a little weak, your skin is warm, and your brain? Absolutely fried.

Between last night’s drinking and… well, lunch break activities, there is no way you’re making it through this test in one piece.

Eddie strolls in a few seconds later, looking way too smug, curls still a little messy, lips still a little swollen. He catches your eye as he walks past, biting back a grin as he drops into his seat, stretching his arms over his head with a groan.

You narrow your eyes at him, lips twitching. Smug bastard.

He winks at you, subtle, just a little flick of his dark eyes, but it sends a whole new wave of heat through your already wrecked body.

You press your thighs together, shifting in your seat, shooting him a glare that only makes him grin, because he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

The test is handed out, and you barely suppress a groan as you glance down at the page. Numbers. Equations. Letters where there absolutely shouldn’t be letters. Your head is not built for this right now. You peek up at Eddie, and he’s got his test flipped over, twirling his pencil between his fingers like he’s debating whether or not to actually try.

When he catches you looking, he smirks, tilting his head slightly, mouthing: How’s it going, baby?

You roll your eyes but can’t help the little grin that tugs at your lips. Then, just to mess with him, you shift in your seat, arching your back slightly, stretching just enough that your hoodie rides up a little. His eyes flicker down automatically, and when he looks back up, there’s something heated behind them. Payback, you think, smirking to yourself.

Eddie leans forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand, looking at you through his lashes. Then he licks his lips, slow, exaggerated. Two can play that game.

You press your lips together, fighting back a laugh, cheeks warm. You should really be focusing on this test, but honestly? It’s already a lost cause.

The teacher clears their throat, shooting a suspicious look in your direction, and you both immediately snap back to your papers, pretending to be innocent.

You glance at the first problem again, brain struggling to make sense of the numbers. Your body still feels like it’s been put through the wringer, and there is no way in hell you’re solving for X right now. You sigh, scribbling down a guess.

Whatever. Maybe the universe will be kind.

Eddie catches your eye again, smirking. Then, ever so slowly, he drags his thumb across his bottom lip, like he’s remembering exactly what that mouth was doing minutes ago.

Your stomach flips. Your face burns.

You take a deep breath, blinking hard, trying to focus.

Okay.

Maybe if you just stare at the problem long enough, some part of your brain will start working again. You tap your pencil against the desk, furrowing your brow.

Come on, Sam, think. You forced yourself here for this fucking test.

A fraction. Cool. You know fractions. And that’s… a quadratic equation?

Maybe?

You squint at it, and somehow, against all odds, a distant memory of your teacher droning on about factoring actually sticks. You quickly scribble something down, the numbers starting to make just a little bit of sense.

Okay. Maybe you’re not completely doomed.

Then Eddie stretches again, his shirt riding up slightly, exposing a sliver of bare stomach, the sharp V of his hips disappearing beneath his belt. His happy trail.

Your brain short-circuits. You snap your eyes back to your paper, pressing your lips together, biting back a groan.

That smug little asshole.

You peek at him out of the corner of your eye, and of course, he’s looking right at you, smirk deep, eyes dark with amusement. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Slowly, he picks up his pencil, twirls it between his fingers, then drags the eraser end across his bottom lip, staring at you the whole time.

You grip your own pencil tighter, pressing your thighs together, heat crawling up your neck.

Oh, it’s like that, huh? Fine.

You lean forward slightly, just enough to subtly push your chest out, tilting your head as if deep in thought, letting your lips part ever so slightly. When you shift in your seat, you let out a tiny, completely innocent sigh, just barely audible, just enough to make Eddie’s fingers tighten around his pencil.

His jaw twitches.

You bite back a grin.

But then, when you finally glance back down at your test, you actually remember how to solve the next problem.

Like, completely out of nowhere, the steps make sense.

You start writing, quick and confident, filling in numbers, drawing little lines, and for the first time in the last twenty minutes, your test doesn’t seem like total garbage.

You hear a huff from Eddie’s direction.

When you glance over, he’s staring at his own test like it personally offended him, tapping his pencil against his temple, looking beyond frustrated.

He’s totally lost.

Serves you right, Munson.

You smirk, flicking your eyes down at your paper just to rub it in, making a show of writing an answer. When you glance back up, Eddie is squinting at you like he knows exactly what you’re doing, but instead of being mad about it, his lips curl up into a wicked little smirk. He leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head again, this time slower, more deliberate. His shirt rides up even higher, exposing more of his stomach, that perfect dip of his waist.

You glance around quickly, checking if anyone else is seeing this blatant seduction attempt in the middle of class, but of course, no one’s paying attention.

Just you. Because Eddie Munson is your problem.

He catches your stare, grins like the devil himself, then mouths, Having trouble concentrating, sweetheart?

Your fingers tighten around your pencil, and you force your eyes back to your test. You are not going to let him win this little game.

Yet, your mind is still stuck in that damn storage closet, the way his mouth had felt on you, how he'd wrecked you so fast your legs had barely held up afterward.

Your thighs press together instinctively at the memory, and when you glance back at him, Eddie’s already watching, eyes locked onto your legs like he knows exactly what you’re thinking about.

The bastard smirks.

You narrow your eyes at him, considering your next move. 

Slowly, you shift in your seat, crossing one leg over the other, dragging your foot up along your calf in a way that makes your jeans tighten just a little over your thighs. You don’t even look at him. You just keep scribbling on your test, acting completely innocent.

Eddie shifts in his chair. You hear it, the tiny squeak of the desk, the way his foot moves under his seat.

Gotcha.

When you finally glance over, he’s gripping his pencil so tight his knuckles are white, his jaw clenched, eyes dark. He looks wrecked. Frustrated.

You bite your lip, suppressing a smug little grin.

Eddie tilts his head at you, considering, then drops his pencil and stretches again, but this time, he lets out the tiniest, most satisfied fucking moan.

You nearly snap your own pencil in half.

His smirk deepens, eyes locked onto yours. Your move, baby.

You huff a quiet breath through your nose, then, ever so slowly, you bring the end of your pencil up to your mouth and bite it, rolling it between your teeth absentmindedly like you’re just deep in thought. Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, you let your tongue flick over the tip, sucking just a little before pulling it back out.

Eddie chokes. Actually chokes on air. His whole body jerks, and he has to cover it with a cough, fist against his mouth, shaking his head like he’s trying to physically reset his brain.

You smirk to yourself and finally turn your attention back to your test, feeling victorious.

Something hits your desk.

You blink, glancing down.

A tiny, folded-up note.

You look up, and Eddie is staring at you expectantly, his hand still resting on his desk like he’d just flicked it over. His smirk is gone, replaced with something darker, something far more dangerous.

Curious, you unfold the note and glance down at the messy scrawl.

If I fail this test because of you, I’m fucking you stupid after school. Even harder.

Your breath catches. Your eyes flick back up to his, and Eddie just watches you, expression unreadable, waiting for your reaction. Your stomach flips. Your face heats as you stare back down at his note, heart hammering in your chest. Your thighs clench involuntarily. Your mouth goes dry. And when you glance back up at him,

Eddie is already watching, eyes dark, lips curled into something smug and dangerous. His hand moves.  Slow, deliberate, he lifts two fingers to his mouth.  The same two fingers that had been buried between your thighs just moments ago, the ones that had you gasping his name into his shoulder, clinging to him as he dragged you over the edge. 

You watch, spellbound, as his tongue flicks out, dragging over the pads of his fingers before he takes them fully into his mouth, sucking lazily.

Your body lights up. Your pencil nearly slips from your grip, and you have to force yourself to breathe, to remember where you are, to remember that you are still sitting in class.

But Eddie doesn’t care. He just watches you with those hooded, knowing eyes, lips wrapped around his fingers, tasting you like it’s nothing, like it’s a fucking game.

And worse? It is a game. 

A reckless, stupid game, and neither of you seem capable of stopping it. 

You shift in your seat, pressing your thighs together, forcing yourself to look back at your test. But the numbers swim uselessly on the page. Your head is still buzzing, your body still thrumming, every nerve ending focused on him, on the way he licks his fingers, the way he hums under his breath like he can still taste you. You swallow hard, willing yourself to ignore him, to focus.

"Miss Carter"

Your breath catches, you quickly move Eddie's note under your test paper as your head snaps up, eyes wide, heart slamming against your ribs. Your teacher is staring at you.

Shit.

You freeze, grip tightening around your pencil, face burning. "Y-Yeah?"

Your teacher frowns, eyes flicking between you and Eddie, suspicion written all over their face, "Everything okay?"

Your stomach drops. You feel Eddie shift beside you, sitting up straighter, but you refuse to look at him.  "Yeah, uhm...", you clear your throat, willing your voice to sound normal, "Yes. Just… just thinking".

Your teacher raises a brow, clearly unconvinced. "Well, maybe you should think a little quieter and actually write something down".

A few students snicker.

Your face somehow burns hotter. "Right. Yes. Of course". 

Your teacher lingers a moment longer, gaze flickering between you and Eddie again before finally moving on.

You exhale sharply, slumping slightly in your seat, heart still pounding.

Jesus Christ. 

For a second, you swear you hear Eddie laugh under his breath.

You shoot him a glare, but he just smirks, looking completely unbothered, like he didn’t just almost get you both caught.

You shake your head, turning back to your test, trying to will yourself to focus. You can’t.

The bell rings, jolting you out of your daze.

You drop your pencil, rubbing your temples, your head still pounding, your body still thrumming with leftover frustration, both academic and sexual.

You fucked up that test. Hard.

And Eddie Munson? The smug little shit is the sole reason why.

You push back from your desk with a huff, glaring at him as he stretches like he just had the best nap of his life instead of failing the same test you did. His curls are still messy, his lips still swollen from you, and worst of all? He looks completely unbothered.

It pisses you off.

"You're way too fucking happy for someone who should be dying of a hangover," you mutter, shoving your stuff into your bag while your teachers grabbing your test papers from your desk.

Eddie smirks, leaning on his elbow, "What can I say, sweetheart? A good fuck will do that to a man."

You glare. "I could've at least gotten a D, you asshole."

Eddie grins. "Oh, baby, don’t worry. I’ll always have a D for you."

You blink. Stare. Then smack his arm, hard. "Fuck. Off."

He cackles, dodging as you try to hit him again, following you out of the classroom like the menace he is. "Hey, hey, don’t get all mad at me just ‘cause your pencil-sucking backfired."

You scowl, marching down the hall, "Backfired? You were the one choking on air, Munson."

Eddie hums, eyes glinting, "Oh, I was choking on something, alright. Choking on the absolute urge to bend you over that desk in front of everyone."

You gasp, your face flaming. "Eddie!"

He laughs, absolutely shameless, keeping up with you as you shove through the hallway doors and out into the crisp afternoon air.

You barely pause before digging out your pack of smokes, fingers still shaking, not from nerves, but from rage. "You’re the worst," you mutter, shoving a cigarette between your lips.

Eddie follows you, pulling you in by the waistband of your jeans before you can light it. "Oh, come on, sweetheart," he murmurs, lips brushing against your ear, sending an unwanted shiver down your spine, "You’re not that mad at me, are you?"

You huff, shoving at his chest. "Yes. I am."

He grins, completely unfazed, nosing along your jaw, "Yeah? Well, let me give you a little incentive to forgive me, then." Before you can react, Eddie dips his head, lips brushing against your throat, his hands firm on your waist. "That little note I wrote you?" he murmurs, voice low, dangerous. "That’s happening. Today."

Your stomach flips. Your knees almost buckle.

But Eddie isn’t done.

"And you know why?" His grip tightens, his body pressing into yours, "Because that class? Got me fucking riled up for you all over again. When my cum is probably still inside you."

Your breath catches. Your face burns. "Eddie, what the fuck?"

"Mm?" He tilts his head, smirking. "Something wrong, baby? You look a little... flustered."

"Stop it, Munson," you groan, trying to push away, but he only laughs, chasing after you as you light your cigarette, your hands trembling.

The bastard does it again. Grabs your wrist. Spins you around. And kisses you. Right here. Right in front of everyone.

It’s obscene, the way he does it. Not just a peck, not just a teasing graze. But a full claiming, his hands pulling you close, his mouth hot and unrelenting, his body pressing you against the cold brick wall as if he’s starving for you.

You let him. Because fuck, he feels good.

Your cigarette drops from your fingers as you melt into it, as you sigh against his lips, as his hands slide down, gripping your ass right in broad daylight.

There are whistles. Snickers. Someone in the distance calling, "Get a room, Munson!"

But Eddie doesn’t care.

He just kisses you deeper, harder, until you’re dizzy, until you forget why you were even mad in the first place.

Your boyfriend is all over you. Hands roaming, fingers teasing at the waistband of your jeans, his lips moving from your mouth to your jaw, then down your neck like he doesn’t give a single fuck that you’re outside, that people are watching.

And truthfully, you don’t give a fuck either.

You roll your eyes at him, at how needy he is, at how he’s practically grinding against you like he’s seconds away from taking you right up against the brick wall. "Hungovers always make me so fucking horny," he groans against your throat.

"Jesus, babe," you laugh, biting back a soft moan as he sucks a mark into your skin, "That is not a normal reaction to a hangover."

"Yeah?" He grins against your jaw, fingers digging into your hips, "Well, I’m not exactly a normal guy, am I?"

You can’t help but giggle, tilting your head back as he claims you in broad daylight, like he’ll die if he doesn’t touch you right this second. "God, you’re ridiculous."

"And you fucking love it."He kisses you again, deep and messy, like he’ll have you right here, in front of everyone, no shame whatsoever. "Can’t wait to get you home," he mutters, his hands sliding lower, "Gonna do all the filthy shit I was thinking about during that fucking algebra test."

You chuckle, carding your fingers through his curls. "Yeah? Hate to break it to you, Munson, but I’m working after school. Won’t be home ‘til 8:30."

Eddie freezes.

Then leans back, brows furrowing. "The fuck do you mean, 8:30?"

You smirk, amused at how fast his mood shifts, "I mean, I won’t be home until 8:30."

"Unacceptable," he declares, scowling like you just personally ruined his entire life,  "That’s too fucking long."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah, well, some of us actually need to earn money, Munson. Sorry I’m not a fucking drug dealer like you."

Eddie groans dramatically, leaning back against the wall, rubbing his hands down his face like you just told him you were leaving the country forever,  "Un-fucking-believable."

You smirk, flicking his nose, "You’ll survive. And when I get home, we have all night for your little fantasies, baby".

"Will I?" He sighs, pouting, then suddenly perks up as if he just remembered something, "Oh, shit, wait. I have rehearsal tonight. Meeting the guys at 7".

Now you pout. "When are you home?"

He shrugs. "Dunno, babe. Probably late."

You cross your arms, lips twitching. "But you promised to fuck me stupid later."

Eddie groans, dropping his head back against the brick wall, "Don’t fucking remind me."

You grin, tilting your head at him, pretending to be so devastated about it, just to mess with him. "Oh, no…" you sigh dramatically, "I guess I’ll have to take matters into my own hands tonight…"

Dark eyes snap open. His head lifts. "Wait"

"Maybe have some quality time with the shower head..." You trail off, tapping your chin thoughtfully, "Or dig out my vibrator... God, I hope the batteries are still full."

Eddie stares at you, eyes going completely black, jaw tightening, "You wouldn’t fucking dare."

You shrug, all innocent. "Maybe just one or two orgasms while thinking about you, Eddie…" You sigh, feigning disappointment, "All alone in our bed… moaning your name…"

Eddie chokes.Right there. Absolutely dying.

"Baby," he growls, grabbing you again, "You are not touching yourself. You will fucking wait till I get home."

You smirk, tilting your head at him, "Oh, yeah? And what if I don’t wait?"

His hands tighten on your hips, his breath hot against your ear, "Then I’ll have to fucking punish you for it."Your breath hitches, and Eddie smirks, feeling how your body responds to just his words, his promise. "Oh, you like the sound of that, huh?" he murmurs, his lips grazing your ear, his hands gripping your hips so tight it’s like he’s claiming you all over again, "Like the idea of me tying you down and making you beg for it after you’ve been a bad girl?"

Your fingers tighten around the lapels of his jacket. "Baby," you warn, voice already shaking, already dangerously close to forgetting that you have an actual life outside of his filthy mouth and filthy hands.

"What, baby?" He grins, all teasing, all cocky as fuck, pressing his body closer, forcing you back against the wall, "Just reminding you what’s waiting for you tonight."

You groan, shoving at his chest, not hard enough to actually move him, but just enough to show that you would walk away from this if your knees weren’t currently made of fucking jelly, "You’re impossible."

"And you fucking love it," he throws back effortlessly, already chasing your lips for another kiss.

"Eds" you try again, but this time your voice is weaker, breathier, because his hands are sliding lower, his fingers teasing under the waistband of your jeans, his body pinning you between him and the rough brick wall of the school.

"What, baby?" His voice is low, almost a growl, his nose nudging against yours, his lips brushing over your jaw, his thumbs rubbing slow, torturous circles over your hip bones. "Tell me what’s got you all worked up, hmm? Is it the thought of me spreading you wide open after you’ve spent all night making yourself cum without me? Is it knowing that you’ll regret every single orgasm you steal because I’ll be making you pay for it?*"

"Eddie," you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut, already feeling the heat pooling low in your stomach.

"Yeah?" He grins, voice dripping with satisfaction, his lips moving lower, his teeth scraping against your pulse. "Gonna be good for me, baby? Gonna be a good girl and wait?"

You hate how easily he ruins you. Hate how much you love the way he talks to you, the way he owns you with just his words, his touch, his fucking presence.

You roll your eyes, trying to play it off, trying to act like your whole body isn’t thrumming with need, "I make no promises."

His hands tighten. "Baby."

You smirk, tilting your head at him, "Guess you’ll just have to find out when you get home."

Eddie growls, eyes dark, jaw clenched, looking like he’s one second away from dragging you into the nearest empty classroom to remind you exactly who you belong to. "You’re fucking killing me," he mutters, shaking his head, but there’s nothing but hunger in his expression, nothing but raw, unfiltered desperation as he stares at you like you’re the only thing keeping him alive.

"Good," you tease, patting his cheek, and then you duck under his arm, slipping out of his grip before he can trap you again.

"Baby".

"I have class, Munson," you call over your shoulder, smirking as you throw him a little wave, "Try not to die without me."

Eddie groans loudly, rubbing his hands down his face, looking wrecked, feral, completely undone by you, "You are so fucking lucky I love you."

"Mmm-hmm," you hum, winking before disappearing into the building. Eddie stands there for a moment, breathing hard, fists clenched, whole body aching with frustration.

Then he grins, licking his lips, already plotting.