[ the sharp nip at his lip stings a little, but eddie likes it, as evidenced by the low, pleased little laugh that he hides in her mouth. he feels... obsessed, and in some corner of his mind he knows that's dangerous, but between hawkins and here, eddie's life feels like it's been one giant risk for who knows how long anymore - so what's one more?
but his thoughts are elsewhere. on julie, and the metallic buzz of a zipper as she opens up her hoodie, the solid, warm weight of her thigh up over his hip, the slide of her palms under his shirt—
it's very brief, very blink-and-you'll-miss it, but there's a quick moment in which eddie pauses. he doesn't flinch or pull away, but his inhales sharpens a little and the hand on her thigh stills just for that one tick of a second when her hands splay over his sides, drift over the spread of welted scar tissue mapped across his torso. eddie's not terribly insecure about his body and the way it looks now, after the number the demobats did to him, but he knows it's ugly. he knows no one else knows about it, except maybe harrington. maybe buckley, too.
but it's fine. the moment is fleeting, and eddie pushes forward, sinks a little closer to julie, slides the hand on her thigh further up, his thumb following along the inseam of her jeans. he buries his face against the side of her neck, finds her pulse with his mouth and presses the flat of his tongue over it like he can measure her heartbeat that way, the way he's thought about doing too many times before now.
when he runs out of thigh and can go no higher, eddie turns his hand, presses three of his fingers between her legs and moves them slowly, just once, rubbing her over her jeans. ]
no subject
but his thoughts are elsewhere. on julie, and the metallic buzz of a zipper as she opens up her hoodie, the solid, warm weight of her thigh up over his hip, the slide of her palms under his shirt—
it's very brief, very blink-and-you'll-miss it, but there's a quick moment in which eddie pauses. he doesn't flinch or pull away, but his inhales sharpens a little and the hand on her thigh stills just for that one tick of a second when her hands splay over his sides, drift over the spread of welted scar tissue mapped across his torso. eddie's not terribly insecure about his body and the way it looks now, after the number the demobats did to him, but he knows it's ugly. he knows no one else knows about it, except maybe harrington. maybe buckley, too.
but it's fine. the moment is fleeting, and eddie pushes forward, sinks a little closer to julie, slides the hand on her thigh further up, his thumb following along the inseam of her jeans. he buries his face against the side of her neck, finds her pulse with his mouth and presses the flat of his tongue over it like he can measure her heartbeat that way, the way he's thought about doing too many times before now.
when he runs out of thigh and can go no higher, eddie turns his hand, presses three of his fingers between her legs and moves them slowly, just once, rubbing her over her jeans. ]