Black Sheep - Eddie Munson x Reader

Crimson and Clover

You paced the foyer back and forth. Constantly. Obsessively. Heels clicking against white marble floors. Guests had begun arriving half an hour ago and you'd specifically instructed Eddie to be here at five o'clock sharp.

"Mom probably still has time to call Dudley." Your little brother mocked from the mouth of the hall separating you from the cocktail hour being had in the study. "You know, in case your imaginary boyfriend doesn't show."

"Fuck off, Stan!"

"Language, dear." Your mother sang, her voice muffled by the laughter surrounding her.

Thunder boomed in the distance, but not a single cloud sat in the sky that it could've originated from.

"What the hell is that?" Your brother made a beeline for the bay window.

A plume of smoke billowed down your parents' beautiful driveway — not dust, smoke, followed by another roar of an engine.

It was happening.

Before your father had the chance to storm down the corridor and put a stop to this plan before it began, you raced toward the front door and threw it open.

Eddie slung one leg over the side of a motorcycle just in time for you to come jogging up to him.

"Whoa, whoa! Running in heels?" He laughed as you threw your arms around his neck in a meticulously planned embrace. "Not very ladylike, sweetheart."

As discussed, Eddie wrapped his hands around your waist and hugged you back.

What wasn't discussed were those same long, greedy fingers sliding against the fabric of your dress, slipping down over the swell of your ass but never groping like a more famished part of him wanted.

"Eddie," you hissed in his ear.

"What, baby? Your mom's lookin'. Gotta make it believable, right?" He mumbled back.

The two of you'd gone over the basics all night. Favorite and least favorite bands, allergies, daily schedules. You'd touched on the limits of physical affection and didn't feel it necessary to discuss religious beliefs. As far as you were concerned, Eddie probably could've come to this dinner blind as a bat and the two of you would've winged the whole damn thing just fine.

Turns out Steve was right after all. Eddie Munson was the male version of you in every way. A little less filtered maybe, thanks to your polarizing upbringings, but nevertheless identical.

"How do I look?" You asked while pulling away by a few inches.

Eddie's eyes raked over your form, dragging along the curve of your breast and dip of your waist. You did a little spin for him and he cocked his head as if thinking before he spoke for once.

"Somehow still very metal." He decided. He took you under his wing, draping his arm over your shoulder while walking you toward the front steps where your mother was waiting. At least he'd put on a black button up to tuck into his ripped jeans and frayed old denim vest. "Ready to fight for your life?" He whispered with his lips pressed against your temple.

Not too physical. That was the limit you'd set for him last night. Except you were learning now that Eddie was plenty comfortable pushing those limits.

"Ready as I'll ever be. Are you ready to be absolutely picked apart?"

Warm breath washed through your hair as he laughed. "Nothing I haven't dealt with before, buttercup."

To say your mother was rightly shocked when you bounced up the steps with what might as well have been Lucifer Morningstar himself was an understatement. Horrified is more like it. Disgusted, perhaps. She kept her painted lips pursed tight with her hand pressed against her chest.