Work Text:
The Hawkins Vipers won the Championship game.
At least that’s what it sounds like to the members of Hellfire as they exit the Drama room to find the hallways of Hawkins High teeming with teens in all states of jubilation celebrating as if it’s their last day on Earth.
Eddie Munson sneers as a gaggle of cheerleaders shrieks in celebration as they walk past them towards the exit. She figures they’re probably headed out to one Loch Nora for a party to celebrate the win. Loch Nora because that’s where Heather Holloway lives, and she always throws the best fucking parties. They’re infamous and debauched and Eddie always leaves with an empty stash and full pockets, so even though the mere idea of attending any event celebrating some sort of sport fills her with distaste, she can’t exactly turn up her nose at the easy cash. Eddie mentally calculates how long it will take her to drive back to the Forest Hills to grab her wares and if she needs to stop for gas on the way back, when Gareth pokes her on the ribs.
“Watch it, shrimp!” she groans.
“Chrissy broke up with Carver!” he hisses, “I just heard from Kenny in band!”. His face is flushed from the heat and his fluffy hair is frizzy from the humid air of the busy corridors, though it’s not like she can judge considering the veritable mane she carries around on top of her head. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him.
“And that’s relevant to me because?”
“I don’t know, gossip, I guess? Do you think she’d go out with me?” he asks. They’ve now finally stepped into the parking lot where all the people leaving the soccer match are still milling about, shouting, jumping on top of each other – whatever it is that people with pep generally do.
“Absolutely not, Gare-bear,” Eddie says as she lights a cigarette even though she’s been promising Wayne and Jeff and Miss Lucy from the library that she was going to quit for months, deciding that yes she does deserve it if she’s going to have to listen to Gareth mooning over Chrissy Cunningham of all people. Gareth groans and slumps over the side of the van, and Eddie knows he’s giving her the puppy eyes as if she alone has the power to make the cheerleading queen of Hawkins High fall in love with a dorky little freshman. “Best to get over it, my friend, she’s way out of your league.”
He snorts and playfully shoves her shoulder. “As if you of all people can judge me,” he says. Eddie gasps, staring at him with wide eyes.
“Hm, what the fuck?” she asks, spitting smoke right into his stupid cherubic face.
“I see you looking at Harrington, I’m not the only one of us crushing on a popular girl, Ed.”
“Lies and slander!” she says, like a liar. Eddie feels her face redden and looks away, staring at where some basketball meatheats are performing some sort of biceps-related mating ritual for a group of preppy pastel princesses. “I do not have a crush on Stevie Harrington, you butthead.”
“Do too!”
“Ugh,” she sighs, dropping the butt of her cig on the floor and stomping on it with the toe of her Docs. “Leave me alone.”
At this point, while Gareth cackles beside Eddie, a couple of the girls from the cheerleading squad approach them to ask if Eddie’s going to be attending the party at Heather’s, throwing each other some cute little surreptitious glances. Relieved by the distraction, Eddie tells them she’ll drop by later, and decides to bid Gareth adieu, dropping him off with his fellow A/V kids that are awkwardly standing by an ancient station wagon so they can awkwardly decide if they will actually end up going to the party themselves. Eddie figures they’ll wimp out at the last minute and will end up heading home to eat Doritos and watch Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Not that she can blame them, if she had a choice, Eddie would be going home right now, locking herself in with a bowl and getting blasted to Led Zep. But alas, there are bills to pay, and thus she must show her face at the big event.
And, yeah, maybe the view isn’t so bad either, when she spots some of the Vipers walking together towards Heather’s ridiculous convertible, a cacophony of girlish giggles. There’s Hannah Simpson, with her waist-length blonde hair and fantastic rack; Carol Perkins, all big, poofy red curls and popping bubblegum through a near-permanent sneer; Linda Carlson and her deep brown skin, glowing darkly under the moonlight, her braids cascading over her shoulders; and of course, Heather herself, with her straight brown hair French braided all the way down her back and sharp dark eyes, she’s the most stand-offish of them, the meanest. But there’s someone missing – the most important one, at least in Eddie’s mind.
Stevie Harrington: the most beautiful, and post popular, girl in Hawkins, is nowhere to be seen around her teammates. Eddie feels her absence like an ache, which is so stupid for more reasons than she can count.
Stevie Harrington is… everything. She’s a thorn on Eddie’s side, she’s the chip on her shoulder, she’s everything Eddie hates about forced conformity and the upper echelons of Hawkins society, and yet… And yet, Stevie Harrington is also truly, really, something else altogether.
They’ve never spoken, not really, not ever with any intention, but sometimes Eddie feels Stevie looking at her, feels those huge hazel eyes peering deep into her soul, as if they can see through her skin. There’s something exhilarating about being pinned under her gaze, even from far away. Stevie’s popular for a reason, and it’s all down to how utterly captivating she is. Her chestnut brown hair is always perfectly coiffed in beautiful waves that drape so nicely against her preppy clothes. The pastels she wears in those cute little polos and tennis skirts always contrast so nicely with the tan of her creamy golden skin. She’s covered in little moles, beauty marks dotting constellations across her neck and shoulders and legs, and Eddie’s lost time – hours, days, years – tracing them together in her mind, attempting to paint a pretty picture against all that gorgeous skin. Her laugh is like a bell, soft and a little rough around the edges, and once Eddie heard Stevie singing in the lockers after gym class, and her voice was so lovely, a little gravelly, but with a perfect pitch and just– ugh. So, yeah. Maybe Gareth is right, maybe Eddie does harbor more than a little crush on Stevie Harrington.
The difference is, she knows that this is always going to be unrequited, because this is Hawkins, and this is the 90s, and there’s no way in Hell that the town princess is going to cast a second glance at a grungy, scraggly metalhead chick who chain smokes and wears second-hand flannels stolen from the Goodwill in Bloomington.
In fact, the reason Stevie’s not here right now hopping into her own fancy-ass BMW to head over to the party is because she’s probably having a little private celebration of her own with one of her many meathead suitors who seem to trail behind her like a bad smell. Eddie hates them on principle, but especially now because she can’t help but picture Stevie in all her post-match glory. With her gorgeous hair pulled up in a messy ponytail, that dewy skin all flushed from exertion, her knees all scraped from skidding around the grass, chest rising and falling as she pants–
Wake up, perv , Eddie tells herself sternly. She looks around and the parking lot has significantly quietened as she’s gone through her stupid little day dream, and just as she’s about to unlock her van, Eddie realises she’s left her backpack in the fucking Drama room. Excellent . It has all her dice and notes for the campaign so she can’t even leave it to pick up later lest some mouth breathing idiot decides to pull a prank on the freak girl.
With an aggrieved sign, Eddie stomps her way back to the school, walking away from the setting sun in the horizon behind her. The sky is all deep reds and purples, and there’s a slight chill in the air now that it’s almost fully evening. Hopefully she’ll be out of here before it’s fully dark – Eddie’s a badass but even she knows that freaks shouldn’t be hanging out in empty parking lots after dark.
Having successfully acquired her bag, Eddie decides to also duck by her locker to pick up a couple of tapes she forgot there the other day, when she walks past the doors to the gym locker room. The lights are still on, and as Eddie ducks her head in, she hears a familiar voice echo through the walls as the shower turns off. It’s her .
“ And the sailors, they strike poses, TV covered walls, and so slowly… ” sings the voice of Stevie Harrington. Eddie can’t believe that any of this is happening. From the fact that she’s here alone in the school with Stevie after hours to Stevie’s choice of song to sing in the shower. Her voice is slightly lower than the song asks for, but she adapts so beautifully, and the result is something almost transcendent. Though maybe that’s because Eddie’s too light headed picturing Stevie in the shower.
She doesn’t want to be a creep about this, truly. The last thing Eddie wants is to be the gross pervert people in this small-minded town think she is, lurking in the shadows, preying on the virtues of the young nubile girls of Hawkins High as if just because Eddie is a fucking dyke she doesn’t also have standards. She has her own prospects, thank you very much.
Her feet move out of their own volition and soon Eddie finds herself inside the locker room, closer to the music, captivated by Stevie’s voice and also the scent of her, which is stronger the closer she gets. The lockers and showers are way past the bathroom stalls, and Eddie knows that Stevie only feels comfortable singing so loudly because she thinks she’s all alone, which in turn makes Eddie feels like an even bigger asshole for spying. But it’s like she can’t help it, can’t help her feet moving towards those beautiful sounds and the scent of lavender and bergamot.
And there she is, in all her glory, as Eddie creepily, self-loathingly, tiptoes around one of the lockers to see Stevie Harrington naked but for the small towel wrapped around her body and the blue flip flops on her feet. Her toenails are painted bright green and then up and up go her legs for miles. Miles of lean muscles, creamy flesh, dotted in those little beauty marks that make Eddie’s mouth salivate pretty egregiously. The towel is obscenely small and covers actually very little aside from the most essential bits, so as Stevie leans forward to grab something from her locker, Eddie can peek at the very top of her thighs, where they meet her incredible perky ass. And between those thighs… Eddie shudders and closes her eyes at the thought, leaving heavily but quietly against the locker. God, she’s such a fucking creep, but she just can’t stop staring. She can’t look away from this beautiful girl who is softness and hardness in equal measure, who closes her eyes as she spreads some sort of cream on her skin, impossibly long eyelashes fanning across her flushed cheekbones.
Stevie’s hair is wrapped in another towel at the top of her head, and Eddie watches with rapt attention as she releases it, lets the whole beautiful thing fall across her strong shoulders, and dries it further with the towel. There are no plugs in this locker room, so Stevie will have to let her hair air dry, which for some reason makes Eddie flush. As if this more than any of the other things is a major breach of privacy. The little beauty things girls do when they’re alone.
She needs to leave. This is too much, too intimate, too creepy. She needs to get out of her and–
“You think so loud ,’ Stevie says, just shy of a whisper, but it echoes like a gunshot, bouncing off the walls of the locker room. Eddie holds her breath, hopes that she can somehow crawl out of here before Stevie actually sees who she is, and maybe she’ll chalk it up to one of her teammates playing a stupid prank. “You breathe loud too, you know.” She laughs. Her eyes are open now, though she’s still not looking in Eddie’s direction. Instead, Stevie is busying herself with a toiletry case, picking through different tubes of cream. She doesn’t seem bothered to have been spied on, and Eddie has no idea what to do. Stay or flee. Fight or flight. Speak or die. Stevie then looks into the mirror, and it’s like she can see beyond the metal walls of the lockers. “I know it’s you, Eddie Munson.”
And that does it. Letting out all the air in her lungs, Eddie’s body decides to betray her even further and she starts to cough. “Fuck, Jesus.”
Stevie chuckles as she massages some cream into her hair, now leaning back against her locker and looking right at where Eddie is standing. Eddie, who has now made herself fully visible since she’s been found out. So she is a creep, just not a very good one. Excellent. “Your spycraft needs work, Munson.”
“Harrington, I’m– please, don’t– I didn’t–” Eddie says in starts and stops. She doesn’t know how to get herself out of this mess. Stevie seems unbothered, but she generally is unbothered. It doesn’t mean she won’t march herself to Principal Higgins’s office and tell him all about how the disgusting freak was perving on her in the bathroom. Fuck .
“Eddie, stop, shut up,” Stevie says, seriously now. She’s crossed her arms across her chest and she’s standing in some sort of power pose, in a way that makes her biceps bulge a little and her thighs look impossibly strong. Her eyes though… there’s something there. Eddie can’t place a finger on it, and she’s too afraid to even move now anyway.
“How did you–?”
“That chain of yours. I’d recognise that sound anywhere. Not exactly subtle, is it?”
Eddie looks down at her own body, the wallet chain that she’s got strapped to the belt loop of her Dickies. There’s also the matter of her keys dangling from the carabiner next to her black pocket. So, yeah. Maybe she didn’t think any of this through. Though in her defense, none of this was planned. Eddie is a fucking fantastic Dungeon Master, she definitely would have taken stealth into consideration if she’d been planning this whole thing. Which she didn’t. Because she’s not like a Peeping Tom or anything. Only… inadvertently.
It’s only when Stevie starts giggling that Eddie realises she said all that out loud, and she feels her entire body flush with embarrassment.
“Look, it’s fine. Honestly, I don’t mind,” Stevie says graciously. Her plump link lips are stretched in a playful smirk as she continues to lean back against the metal door of her locker. The strands of her framing her face have begun to dry and she looks altogether a lot less put-together than Eddie has ever seen her, and it’s incredibly alluring. All those little imperfections on display alongside the unreal beauty of her is almost too much for her little gay heart to handle. If this goes any longer, Eddie fears her brain might leak out of her vagina.
It’s like a stand-off, Eddie has no idea what to do. She should probably leave and let Stevie get on with it. And pray that she’ll be cool about this whole thing and not tell anyone. She should–
“You don’t need to leave,” Stevie says, as if reading Eddie’s mind. She steps away from the lockers and walks towards Eddie, who just stands there, trembling in her boots. There’s the barest of kingles from her eyes on the stupid carabiner and the chain on her belt. This is all ridiculous. Any minute now, Eddie’s going to wake up in her bed covered in bong water and the record player spinning out silently because she forgot to flip Led Zep III to side B.
But no, she’s still here, and Stevie’s getting closer by the second. Their breaths are so loud in this echo-y space that her nerves are frayed. What the hell is happening.
“This is kind of a dream, isn’t it? Like a movie or something?” Stevie wonders, close enough to Eddie now that she can feel her warmth. She smells so strongly of that lavender-bergamot something, and then on top of that the sweetness of the cream on her hair. It’s all very girly, very pretty, very un Eddie. Her mouth waters. Stevie’s only in flip flops and Eddie’s got her Docs on, so there’s a non-negligible height difference, and there’s something really special about looking down at Stevie, at those huge hazel eyes as she looks up at Eddie. There’s a glint in them, something playful, nothing Eddie has ever experienced before, ever.
“What kind of movie?” Eddie rasps, struggling to find her voice beyond the embarrassment and arousal. She grouses, really, stupidly. Hoarse like she’s smoked a whole pack of cigarettes.
Stevie smirks, naughty. That glint deepens, there’s something about it. Something…
“Hm, yes. What kind?” Stevie asks, uncrossing her arms to tug at Eddie’s hair, which sits a little limply over her shoulder. The room is still humid and hot from the showers, and her frizzy curly mess never had a chance, honestly. Stevie doesn’t seem bothered. In fact, she takes a thin bunch and curls it around one perfectly manicured finger.
“Harringto–”
“Call me Stevie, Eddie,” she says. “You know, I was so annoyed that I had to stay behind to shower because my hair got covered in mud. It was so gross, I couldn’t go to the party like that, right?” she explains, still playing with Eddie’s hair. Eddie nods, swallows. “But now I’m glad. Because maybe I would have been at Heather’s party, drinking lukewarm beer and listening to Tommy talk about how basketball is actually more important to the school than soccer even though they never win shit… Instead…”
Eddie clears her throat, knows she must be tomato-red now. She has never been so close to Stevie for such a long time, and she feels her brain slowly lose its faculties. It’s all instinct as her senses are entirely filled with Stevie . Her skin is on fire and she has never been so wet her entire life. She can’t even find it in herself to be embarrassed because, well… Stevie’s flushed too. Her pupils are so dilated that her eyes are black, and the freckled skin of her shoulders has gone a delicious shade of pink that Eddie wants to lick. She has no idea what is happening right now, but like Hell is she going to do anything, make any move, that might send this girl running. So Eddie stands still and stares into Stevie’s eyes – beckoning, challenging.
“Instead…” she finally adds, and Stevie smirks, looking up at her all coquettishly through her stupid long eyelashes.
Instead of saying anything, Stevie lets go of Eddie’s hair and trails her hands down her body, feather-light fingers grazing at the length of her neck, the tips of her breasts, then at the hem of her T-shirt. Stevie stares at Eddie’s nipples hardening through the thin fabric of the little bra she wears under her shirt, and she pulls the hem up, up, up, throwing Eddie’s top to the side. Eddie gets goosebumps as the humid air touches the bare skin of her back, her arms, and they deepen as Stevie’s finger touches the barbell pierced through her bellybutton.
“Cute,” she says, her own voice as hoarse as Eddie’s. She almost can’t believe that Stevie could be this affected by her. All of her knobby lankiness. Her breasts are not really all that impressive, and they just kind of hang there instead of bouncing perkily like all those girls who hop around the school braless in their little tanks.
Then Stevie continues to explore Eddie’s skin with those feather-light touches, across the skin of her tummy, paying closer attention to the tattoos on her arms, her rib. Their breathing is intermingling, labored, and so loud as their joint sound bounces against the walls. It’s a heady feeling, Eddie can hardly stand it.
But then Stevie moves on, she reaches behind Eddie to unhook her bra, and pulls it away from the front, letting Eddie’s breasts droop freely. Stevie licks her lips as Eddie’s nipples harden further. She feels so exposed, so much more exposed than she has ever felt before. Never one to shy away from her own nakedness, Eddie feels the sudden urge to cover herself up, and maybe she starts to move a certain way, because suddenly Stevie has her wrists in her own hands, leans even closer so that Eddie feels her hot breath against her chin.
“Don’t. You’re– god, I’ve been thinking about this.”
“You have?” Eddie asks tremulously, around a mouthful of saliva.
Stevie doesn’t elaborate, she simply nods, and lets go of Eddie’s hands, which fall limply at her side, no idea what to do.
“Take these off,” commands, running the tip of her finger along the waistband of Eddie’s pants. She looks up through those damned lashes, her eyes devastatingly huge and wet, and what can Eddie do but obey? Clumsily she unbuckles her belt and unbuttons her pants and awkwardly struggles around the rolled up cuffs and her boots, and it’s all at a big mess that’s somehow distracting enough that suddenly she’s looking up to find herself only in her panties standing across from Stevie Harrington only in her tiny towel. Stevie’s biting her plush lip, looking like she wants to eat Eddie up, which is ridiculous because she herself is a goddess, and Eddie is just some pale weirdo with too-long limbs. “God, look at you.”
“Me?” Eddie scoffs. “Look at you!” Stevie laughs at that and shrugs, unashamed, as she tugs away the flimsy knot at the edge of her towel and lets it fall to the floor. Obviously, Stevie isn’t modest – on top of looking like an actual Grecian statue, Stevie has played sports since before she could walk and she lifeguards at the public pool in the Summer, so she’s used to being nude around people. Not to mention that, if the rumors are right, she has significantly more… experience than Eddie, who figures a little fingering in a dyke bar in Indy doesn’t really mean the same as actually being naked with another person as you fuck them.
But there she is, in all her unabashed glory. Her perfect calves and slender thighs, the little landing strip that is her bush – so unlike Eddie’s – covering absolutely none of her gorgeous pink folds. Those unbelievable hips which flow so smoothly into her tiny waist. Her flat belly which ripples into abs, and her sweet little breasts which are indeed so perky and her nipples are so dainty, so hard, and a perfect shade of cotton candy pink. Her entire body is evenly tanned, making Eddie think of Stevie spending Summer sunbathing in her fancy backyard in that mansion in the middle of nowhere, completely bare. She can’t tear her eyes away from Stevie’s body, and her fingers tingle, begging to touch. She looks into Stevie’s eyes as she steps an inch closer. There’s just a whisper of air between them, and without her boots, Eddie is about the same height as Stevie. Their noses are touching, their hard nipples are touching.
“Your turn,” Stevie says, plucking at the waistband of Eddie’s panties and pulling them down, all the way down her legs, only Stevie is following along the same path, and as the panties get thrown to the side along with her shirt and her Dickies, Stevie kneels in front of Eddie, looking up against, but so much further up, and god those lashes really are impossibly long, and her cheeks are so flushed. Eddie is fully bare now, the trimmed curls of her bush facing Stevie’s nose. She had never done this before, has no idea what to do with her legs, her arms, her hands. “Can I touch you, Eddie?”
“Please,” Eddie breathes, and that’s all the permission Stevie needs because she wastes no time in bringing those manicured hands up to cradle Eddie’s breasts, pinching her nipples so gently with the pads of her fingers as she places soft kisses along the tops of Eddie’s thighs. Eddie shudders, feels awash with overwhelming arousal as well as anxiety because holy shit they haven’t even kissed yet, and here they are, fondling in the bathroom. Yet. Yet? Are they going to kiss at all? Is this something that’s available to Eddie? Maybe not, maybe Stevie’s just blowing off some steam, though none of this feels very heterosexual. Bi-curious. Whatever. Stevie knows what she’s doing, it’s very obvious as she lets go of Eddie’s breasts and caresses her waist, brings her even closer, and Eddie can’t help but grab at Stevie’s head, run her fingers through that rapidly-drying hair which smells like coconut and heaven. With a loud moan at the contact, Stevie goes ahead and buries her nose in Eddie’s bush, inhaling into her pubic hair in a way that Eddie might find weird if she wasn’t so fucking turned on by everything. Stevie’s nose is so delicate, so elegant in its shape and side, and here it is, buried in Eddie’s pussy. Holy shit.
First Stevie noses at it, breathing Eddie in, making her feel all kinds of heady. She looks up at Eddie with those gorgeous eyes, which are clouded over with desire. “Stevie–” Eddie breathes. “Please…”
Stevie simply smirks, though it lacks any of that trademark haughtiness. Instead, she pulls Eddie closer by her ass. Stevie’s hands are long and calloused from sports and they feel incredible against the skin of Eddie’s backside. And then. God. Then .
From underneath, like magic, Stevie finally starts licking into Eddie. Into her folds, which are wet and swollen. Eddie almost screams as she falls back against the locker behind her, and Stevie takes it in stride, just leans forward, follows Eddie’s body as she continues to lap at her messily, then with more finesse. One of Stevie’s hands moves to grab at Eddie’s leg and throws it over Stevie’s shoulder, taking advantage of the support. It’s magic – how good Stevie is at this. She uses her lips and her tongue, flat against her cunt then probing into the hot wet center of her where Eddie feels that heady thrum building. Those plush lips kiss her clit, tenderly and then passionately, and then Stevie adds in her fingers, massaging her clit delicately as she looks up at Eddie with a question in her eyes.
At this point, Eddie is so far gone, so completely blissed out at all the sensations, the moans escaping from Stevie’s throat which get buried into Eddie’s body, that she can only nod, grasping at Stevie’s hair as she does so. And then a finger, a beautiful, long, manicured finger which had been so conscientiously bringing her to the edge over her clit buries itself deep inside of Eddie’s cunt so easily it makes her grunt with pleasure. She feels it so deep, feels Stevie’s body merging with hers so deliciously as she continues to writhe against this fucking locker, with coconut-scented hair between her fingers and Stevie Harrington’s mouth lapping at her clit. It’s unbelievable, it makes her feel so powerful and sexy, and that white hot heat builds more and more, those telltale signs shimmering around the edges of her vision. A vignette, and in the middle – Stevie.
“I’m coming, I’m–” Eddie announces, and it happens all at once. She screams, the sound of it impossibly loud in against these walls, and Stevie continues the relentless abuse on her swollen pussy. Holy shit. Eddie feels so overstimulated, she feels so good, she needs to lie down, she wants to stand her forever – completely bare and open, one leg over Stevie’s shoulder. “Fuck,” Eddie groans, and that seems to prompt Stevie out of a stupor because she gently places Eddie’s leg back down and then stand facing her with manic, red eyes which are glistening. Stevie’s cheeks are read, and her chin is wet – she looks utterly debauched in a way that sends electricity up and down Eddie’s spine.
Eddie touches Stevie’s cheek, caressing her cheekbone. She’s so beautiful, and maybe it’s the post-orgasmic hormones, but Eddie doesn’t think Stevie has ever looked lovelier. And her mouth is too inviting, her lips are so red and plush and wet, and she probably tastes like Eddie now, like the juices from her body. Suddenly she can’t go another second without kissing her, so she pulls Stevie’s body flush against hers – her perky breasts are so hot, her hard abs feel incredibly sensual against Eddie’s piercing, it’s all so completely potent, the alluring arousal of it. And then their mouths touch for the first time.
It’s gentle at first, but almost immediately they are consumed with passion. Eddie was right, Stevie tastes slightly earthy, there’s something musky about the wetness of her lips, something saltier than saliva, and Eddie drinks it all like her own personal oasis. Stevie makes the most gorgeous little noises, these grunts as she presses closer to Eddie’s body, their flushed skin wet with the humidity of the air and sweat and arousal. Their arms are a tangle, Eddie can’t tell where she ends and Stevie begins.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” Eddie moans as she licks her way down Stevie’s neck. She has two dainty gold hoops in each of her earlobes, and fuck if Eddie doesn’t want to eat her up. It feels like now that she’s climaxed, she can finally think clearly, the fog has been lifted and she can access all the parts of her brain which allow her to actually touch Stevie, to grab a handful of that perfect ass and squeeze as she sucks a bruise against her collarbone and plays with her nipple with her free hand. And Stevie is like putty in her arms. She melts completely against Eddie’s touch, simply groaning and whispering her name and rubbing herself closer and closer.
Against the top of her thigh, Eddie can feel Stevie’s swollen pussy, and she looks down to see it. It’s mostly bare and positively glistening with want, with need, swollen bright pink and Eddie thinks she can almost smell it, something so enticing and so attractive, she desperately wants to bury herself in it. But also. Well.
“I’m gonna flip you around, baby, okay? Can you bend over this bench for me?” Eddie asks, gently, as she licks another stripe up Stevie’s neck. Stevie moans loudly.
“Hmkay,” she says, simply, and frowns a little when they have to separate so Eddie can turn her around to bend her against the bench. God, but the perfectly sculpted lines of her. Hardness and softness in equal measure. Feminine but with an edge which rears its sassy head when Stevie looks back at Eddie with a raised brow as if to say, so now what? – it’s so unbelievably hot that Eddie is breathless for a second.
She is a vision like this. Her muscular back, that tiny tapered waist which leads to her enviable ass. Only, Eddie isn’t envious, she is ravenous and she begins by placing endless kisses down the length of Stevie’s beautiful back. Completely unblemished aside from those tantalizing beauty marks, perfectly tanned, absolutely stunning in every way. She bites at the softness around her ribs, at the side of her breasts, making Stevie moan loudly. Eddie then grabs her by the front, teasing at that tempting wetness only just, because not yet, but it’s enough to have Stevie panting, and Eddie not too far behind. But her goal is lower and soon she’s here, she has Stevie’s pert ass in her hands, in front of her, and she pulls her cheeks slightly apart, sees her little puckered hole right here, as it furls and unfurls with each of Stevie’s movements, her halted thrusts against the air. She’s so compact here, and so swollen, that Eddie can see even without bending the wetness at her center. She licks her lips and continues to massage Stevie’s ass. She runs a thumb against that little puckered muscle, making Stevie shiver.
“Can I kiss you here, baby?” asks Eddie. Stevie lets out a whine and nods, looking over her shoulder at Eddie with huge bright eyes which are so wet, so black.
“Anything, please, everything,” she rasps, her voice so hoarse, so beautiful. Eddie swallows it down and dives in, first to pay respects to this most gorgeous derriere. It really is so delectable. The shape of it, so round, so strong, these powerful glutes that carried her all the way to a soccer championship. Then the tender muscle inside, which puckers against Eddie’s tongue. She tastes most like herself here, Eddie imagines. The pure essence of Stevie – like skin, sweat, woman. It tastes like nectar on Eddie’s tongue, and so she greedily laps it up, though she even more greedily simply wants to bury herself in Stevie. To drown completely in all the feelings and tastes of her. She licks her way down, down her ass and her taint and from behind she finally tastes that glimmering wetness that smells so sweet and tastes even sweeter.
Eddie had no doubt, even in her wildest daydreams, that should become immediately addicted to the taste of Stevie. She’d thought of this many times, of bending over a counter or a table or a bench, of crowding over her, dragging her lips and tongue all across her body, of tasting every inch of her skin. And in every one of those fantasies, Stevie is always addictive. Pure heroin in her veins forever. She’s like that first ray of sunshine after a loud storm, like a sip of ice cold water at the end of a long day, she’s a bite of rich chocolate cake.
“Fuck, oh fuck. Eddie, ohmygod–” Stevie sobs, rolling her hips as Eddie continues to lick into her cunt, face buried completely in Stevie. With one hand she continues to massage Stevie’s ass, gently pressing against her hole, and with the other, she starts a more vigorous pace against Stevie’s clit, where she can’t quite reach with her tongue. They’re both splayed out here over this bench, on the floor, it’s completely obscene, Eddie feels so naughty and sexy and fucking perfect as she feels Stevie’s wetness run down her chin and fingers. Stevie’s hips start to stutter, so she keeps the pace, moves faster and faster as Stevie’s whines get higher and higher.
Eddie feels she might come again with no stimulation but where her body is in contact with Stevie’s. Fuck, but it’s exhilirating. Stevie whines and sobs and cries, and Eddie swallows it all down as they rock in tandem, knees knocking against the bench, eyes wet with unshed tears, and faces flushed with pleasure.
“Eddie, I’m–I’m gonna–”
“Come for me, baby, do it,” Eddie urgest, then dives back in and tastes it as Stevie lets go completely. With a cry, Stevie comes against Eddie’s tongue, wet and hot and amazing. Eddie slows her movements but doesn’t stop as Stevie trembles in the aftershocks of her orgasm.
They tumble onto the floor together in a heap of breathlessness. Eddie sprawled out, starfished against the cool tile, and Stevie against her, with her head resting on Eddie’s chest. They simply breathe together for long minutes as their bodies come back down to Earth. Eddie feels spent and absolutely amazing, she thinks she can see through space and time, like she could lift an eight-wheeler with one hand. She also feels so tender, so soft as she runs a gentle hand up and down Stevie’s arm, which is slung across Eddie’s body. It’s quiet post-orgasmic bliss.
It will end soon, as it must, but for the time being Eddie will bask in this afterglow for as long as she can.
🍑
They are covered in a sticky layer of sweat and other unnamed bodily fluids, so once their brains come back online, Eddie and Stevie decide that showers are in order. Since they’re in a locker room anyway, right?
After their separate showers, both girls get dressed in silence. Eddie almost wants it to feel awkward or uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. It feels sated, it feels natural to snap her bra closed across from Stevie while she slathers her skin with moisturiser. It feels natural to exchange shy glances as they lace up their shoes and grab their bags. It’s weird how un weird it is to bump shoulders on their way out of the building and into the parking lot. The sun has set long ago and their cars are the sole occupants of the lot. The van is parked on the opposite end to the bimmer, and it makes Eddie’s heart clench to think that this is it. They will separate now and possibly never talk to each other again, with only their memories of this night as a keepsake.
“Are you, hm, going to the party, then? Will be in full swing by now, I guess,” Eddie asks, trying for casual and pretty certain she missed it quite spectacularly by the eye Stevie’s eyes glint mischievously.
“I’m actually starving,” Stevie says. “The match and, you know, this… I’ve worked up quite the appetite.”
“Oh yeah?”
Stevie nods cheekily, walking slowly backwards towards her BMW. “There’s a twenty-four hour diner not too far from here. They have killer pancakes.”
Eddie grins. “I could go for pancakes.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you wanna do a convoy or..?”
Throwing her long hair over her shoulder, Stevie pops her hip in a way that makes Eddie’s mouth water. She’s really not thinking about pancakes right now.
“I can drive you back to pick up your van,” Stevie says. “Tomorrow morning.”
Eddie presses a tongue against the inside of her cheek as she begins walking towards Stevie. “Morning, huh?”
With a pearly white grin that’s brighter than a Summer’s day, Stevie smiles widely. “Maybe afternoon.” She winks, and Eddie laughs.