Eric Coulter Imagines

What If: New Toy (Part 2/2)

The sound of metal scraping against the blade filled the small workshop, and Y/N let out a soft grunt of frustration as she struggled to cut through the stubborn piece of metal. It wasn't cooperating, and the more she pushed, the more difficult it became to keep the tool steady.

Her arms were starting to ache, and though she wasn't one to admit defeat easily, the task was getting under her skin. She was about to readjust the blade when she felt his presence behind her.

"Need some help, princess?"

Eric's voice dripped with sarcasm, sending a familiar ripple of annoyance through her. Y/N didn't turn around, choosing to focus on the metal in front of her instead.

"I've got it," she muttered, her voice tight.

Eric didn't move, but she could feel the heat of his body just inches away from hers. "Doesn't look like it," he said, stepping even closer. "You're not using the right pressure."

Y/N clenched her jaw, about to retort, but before she could get the words out, Eric's hands were on her waist. The contact was sudden, firm, and intentional. She stiffened immediately, her heart skipping a beat. His grip wasn't rough, but it was controlling, his fingers pressing into her sides as he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear.

"Let me show you," Eric murmured, his voice low and smooth. "You need to apply more force here."

Y/N's mind raced, her focus completely shifting from the task at hand to the way his body was now practically enveloping hers. She tried to stay calm, tried to ignore the way his hands lingered, but it was impossible. He was close—too close—and she knew damn well that this wasn't about teaching her how to cut metal.

"You just want an excuse to touch me," Y/N muttered, her voice sharper than she intended, though she couldn't deny the slight tremor in it.

Eric chuckled softly, the sound deep and amused. "Is it working?"

His hands stayed on her waist, guiding her movements as he applied pressure with his own strength, though it was clear he wasn't really focused on the metal. His focus was entirely on her. The way her body tensed under his touch, the way her breathing quickened slightly, though she tried to hide it.

Y/N gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through her at his proximity. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. "I don't need your help," she muttered, though the slight hitch in her breath betrayed her.

Eric smirked, his hands tightening just slightly on her waist, not enough to hurt, but enough to make her hyperaware of his presence. "That's not what it looks like."

He leaned in even closer, his chest brushing against her back as he guided her hands on the tool. "You need to apply more pressure—right here," he said, his voice a low rumble as he pressed down, his fingers tightening on the metal.

Y/N's pulse raced, her skin burning from the inside out. She hated that he had this effect on her, hated that he knew exactly what he was doing. But what frustrated her more was that she didn't pull away. She could have—should have—but she didn't.

Eric's smirk deepened, clearly sensing her internal struggle. "There. You've got it now."

The blade finally cut through the metal with a clean slice, and Y/N exhaled, feeling the tension in her arms release. But the tension between her and Eric was far from gone.

His hands didn't move from her waist, and he didn't step back. Instead, he lingered, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her sides as he watched her from the corner of his eye.

"You're welcome," Eric murmured, his voice smug and knowing.

Y/N shot him a glare over her shoulder, trying to regain some semblance of control. "You're insufferable."

Eric grinned, finally letting go of her waist and stepping back, though the heat of his presence still clung to her skin. "And yet, here we are."

Y/N turned back to her work, refusing to let him see how rattled she felt. Her fingers trembled slightly as she picked up the newly cut piece of metal, trying to focus on her task. But the memory of his hands on her, the way his voice had wrapped around her like a command—those thoughts lingered far longer than she wanted.

As Eric walked away, the smirk still on his lips, Y/N knew one thing for sure: he had done it on purpose. He didn't care about the metal or the pressure. He just wanted to get under her skin. And, unfortunately, he had succeeded.