Fine Line // Eddie Munson x Reader

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

Pain. Pure pain. 

Localized in the center of your forehead but spreading out to a dull ache in your fingers and toes. You groan as you come back to life, the sun beaming into your bedroom. Why on Earth you decided to choose an Eastern facing window when you moved in you didn't know. Hungover you absolutely despised the past version of you that made that decision.

There was a heat behind you that coated you from head to toe and it was the only side of you that felt good right now. "Mmh, it's too bright." A grumbling and hoarse voice comes from behind you, fanning out across your bare neck. Ah, so he'd decided to join you in the end. You hoped his time on the floor wasn't too painful. "Turn the sun off." 

"Can't." You complain about it as well, burying your face into the pillows. The darkness offers some reprieve, as does the palm that starts to caress your waist. It was slow and steady, savoring each dip and curve it came across. Your nightgown hitches up a little but neither of you move to correct it.

"Good morning." Eddie's voice was so sleepy that it bordered on sweet, making you smile against the pillow. Sleep was inviting, but waking up to him was far more intriguing to you. It was the first time you'd woken up together with neither one of you having to make a move to leave soon. Your first day with the house to yourselves - until your dad came home later. 

Lazy lips flit across the back of your shoulder, the cool air hitting his saliva and sending a shiver over you. "Morning." You grumble back, fingers reaching behind you over your shoulder to knot into his curls and to keep him from ceasing his actions. The kisses were light yet teasing, your neck craning to offer him better access.

As the two of you come more to life and wakefulness, his desire for you and yours for him becomes increasingly evident. It was pressing into the back of your hip in fact, insistent and twitching as you brush back against it.

"How's the head?" He asks, trying to at least seem a little caring for your hangover despite his lustful ministrations.

"Never had any complaints." You snort and it takes him a moment to catch your innuendo but when he does he drops his head into the crook of your neck and chuckles softly, lazily. He shakes his head and you delight in having amused him with your harmless little joke. 

"I don't know what to say to that. Except that I'll never complain either." He admits and when you twist your neck to look at him over your shoulder, his sleepy grin sends a flutter to that organ trapped in your chest. You'd rip it free and hand it over to him in a split second if you could. 

"Then don't say anything." And before he can dare to, your mouth is on him, your desire for him too strong to ignore. He makes an appreciative sound low in his throat, something between a whimper and a moan as his hand at your hip grips you a little tighter. His tongue delves past the barrier of your lips, tasting and exploring and devouring whatever you had to offer. 

His erection grinds against you, seeking friction, and you reflexively push back against it, earning another of his sweet noises. Your lips remain entwined together, moving in perfect synchronicity, as his hand moves from your hip to your front. It bunches up the fabric of your nightgown in a clenched fist before tugging it down just enough that one of your breasts slips free.

Slender digits wrap around the plump flesh, kneading with his palm as his fingers tug at your nipple. It quickly hardens under his touch and a mewling sound from you is swallowed by him, muffled by his own mouth. 

But as he twists the bud a little harsher this time, you have to let it out. You break the kiss and moan loudly as you grind back against him again. He couldn't seem to allow himself to stop kissing you though, so he alternates between sucking and biting and licking at the delicate skin of your throat. Your fingers were still in his hair, tugging gently, as his travel South from your nipple and over your stomach.