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This was fucking stupid. Eric Harris had no idea what he was thinking when he agreed to join in alongside Vodka and Chris, who were adamant about attending the party for free booze and free food. Now, here he was, leaning against the wall in the corner of whomever's basement that he was currently residing in, a red solo cup filled to the brim with cheap whiskey in his hand and absolutely nobody standing next to him for mere comfort in such a foreign, uncomfortable fucking atmosphere.
Chris had found something to do. Drunkenly swaying over a pool table, stick in hand and cue ball lined up, swearing loudly at some random dweeb about taking some kind of cheap shot made during his turn.
Hell, even Vodka was occupied. And that was saying something, considering who Dylan was at heart. It’s almost painful watching his best friend chugging from the contents of a liquor bottle while a group of their misfit friends from school cheered him on. Now that Eric's really thinking about it, were they his friends? Doesn't feel like it. Especially not right now.
Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode blared from a set of shitty speakers and he wanted to rip his own ears off, wishing that he would've stayed in his own basement with a decent bottle of Jack Daniels and the rhythmic, heart pumping industrials of Rammstein blaring.
Fuck this, Eric sneered to himself, I'm finishing my drink and then I'll fucking walk back home if I have to.
"You look bored." A soft, vivacious voice speaks from beside him, "We're not entertaining enough for you?"
"No, you're not." Eric retorted without even thinking about it, but that was before he looked at her. First things first, she was a female. A very, very beautiful female. And she was standing so close that he could smell her sticky sweet scent, like lavender and fabric softener from her last load of laundry.
She was dressed as Shelley Johnson from Twin Peaks. He's able to tell from her turquoise uniform and curly, crimped hair. The name tag on her supposed waitress outfit was also a dead give away. Either way, she had intrigued him. Her obvious knowledge pertaining to the provocative, ominous work of his all time favorite director was enough to make him shift a little closer.
"What would you rather be doing?" She quips, taking a large gulp from the contents of her own cup.
"Not surrounding myself with a bunch of morons." Eric declared but his tone was light and playful now. "What about you, have nothing better do than prance around wearing an outfit like that?"
"Guess not." She smirked, "And I don't think that you really mind what I'm wearing. Not even a little bit."
Shit. She caught the sideways glances that he threw at her, how his eyes traveled up the expanse of her thighs, down to her toned calves and delicate ankles.
"Hard to not look." Eric shrugged passively, "You can't blame me when you put it all out on the table like this, practically begging to be gawked at."
"Is that what I'm doing?" She jutted her bottom lip out, he wanted to snatch it between his teeth. "Begging you for something?"
"Kinda seems like it." Eric muttered.
She was just as clever and quick witted as he was. Eric bristled, hazel hues narrowing. He couldn't tell whether or not she was fucking with him, he also couldn't figure out why she was talking to him in the first place. What, did her friends put her up to this or something?
"Aren't your little cronies missing you by now?" Eric snaps, turning his attention back to his red solo cup.
She didn't seem to mind his jab at her, she only shifted closer to him. It didn't help that she smelled so fucking good and her arm was touching his and she kept biting her plush bottom lip, tucking it between her teeth. Her eyes glimmering with something that he couldn't place.
"I'm talking to the cutest guy at this party," She shrugs, a coy smile playing at her lips. "Why would I want to do anything else?"
Eric regarded her with perplexity then. "Uh, how drunk are you right now exactly?"
"Not drunk enough," She rolled her eyes, "Not a big fan of this shitty beer anyways. Do you want to get a bottle from the kitchen and come upstairs with me?"
He was stunned. No, he was fucking elated. He doesn't know whether it was the alcohol swimming through his system or if it was the way that she was looking at him with hopeful and almost pleading eyes, but his feet are moving before he could think logically.
She intertwined his fingers with her own, leading him to the staircase that would take them upstairs and to the kitchen. Throwing one final glance over his shoulder at Vodka and the rest of their close circle, he saw that his friends were all staring after him in utter bewilderment, mouths gaping and eyes rounded.
Me fucking too, he thought to himself, don't even ask me tomorrow how I pulled this shit off because I don't know.
After the pair selected a bottle of Rum from the contents of the counter, with her giggling at his jokes and keeping her hand intertwined with his own, she lead him towards another staircase. But this one looked more . . . intimate, like it leads somewhere more important than a basement filled with inebriated teenagers.
And as they ascended the flight, he noticed some mirror pictures hanging up on the cream colored wall. They are of her and her family, years upon years of memories are right before his eyes. Eric silently admires a photo of her with chubbier cheeks and french braids then it all seems to hit him at once, nearly knocking him off balance.
This was her house. She was taking him to her bedroom, the most intimate place to be with a girl. And he's never even fucking kissed one before— let alone be cooped up in such a private setting with no parents lurking around. His eyes dart back and forth between her bedroom door and the stairs. She noticed.
Her fingers lingered on the door knob. "We could always go back downstairs, my back porch is great too. I guess that I just wanted to be alone with you."
Eric sputtered out the only response he was capable of producing at that moment.
"I want to be alone with you too."
She smiled at him, exuberant and confident, before crossing the threshold into her bedroom. She stood aside, allowing him room to maneuver inside shyly.
Her room wasn't what he expected. No stuffed animals, boy band posters or idiotic chick flicks on her television stand. Instead, there were posters thrown haphazardly onto her wall that ranged from Iggy Pop to Joy Division, which he thought was interesting, but cool nonetheless. There were stacks of books and unfinished sketches on her floor. St. Elmo's Fire was jutting out of her VCR. He felt strangely comfortable though his nerves are frayed.
When she'd closed the door behind them and the latch clicked shut in place, he almost jumped. But he pulled himself together with one deep breath, turning around and opening his mouth to blabber.
"My name is Eric," He rushed out in one breath, "Eric Harris. We're in German together."
Eric recognized her when she first approached him. He would have been a blind man as to not glance her way once or twice during their lectures.
"I know your name." She beams at him, "I really liked your poem last week. I thought it was really cool how you called out all of the hypocrisy in the news media."
"Thanks." He grinned, "Nice to know my valiant efforts when it comes to unveiling the hypocrisy and stupidity which is modern day society has come to fruition."
He blanched when she sat down on her bed, making sufficient enough room for him on the twin sized mattress and patting the spot beside her with a soft, small hand.
Eric sat down beside her and she snatched the bottle from his hands, popping open the cap to take a gulp, flinching when the liquid hit her throat. He chuckled, knowing that most girls don't prefer to drink a harsh beverage like rum. Eric takes the bottle back into his hands, making a funny face at her. She chortled and teasingly shoved against his elbow with her own.
"I like how you think." She revealed, "I don’t think I've ever met anyone like you before. Most people wouldn't want to say something like that out loud."
"Following societal norms is overrated." Eric declared, taking a hearty sip of the brown liquid himself though he'd forced himself not to flinch when it slid down his gullet. Jesus Christ, this stuff was fucking strong. His throat burned at the intrusion.
"You're smart, too." She purred, inching even closer to him until their legs were pressed together. Her fingers, which had been toying with the hem of her Halloween dress just moments ago, were now trailing up his arm. Eric was certain that he stopped breathing.
She reached out to sweep his KMFDM hat from his head, her chest now pressed up against his shoulder. Eric was about to ask her just what in the hell she was doing but he'd never exactly gotten the chance.
Her lips press against the skin of his neck and he froze, breath hitching in his throat. She found a patch of skin just below his ear and bit down, her other hand finding the opposite side of his neck and holding him close. He could feel the tent forming in his jeans.
"Holy shit—" Eric grits his teeth, hissing when she began peppering kisses down to his exposed collarbone, opting to nip at the appendage with careful precision that made his knuckles turn white. He carefully brought his hand to her thigh, squeezing the soft flesh between his fingertips and listening while she gasped out for him.
Eric almost came on the spot.
He was so distracted that he didn't feel her hand going down the front of his jeans, until she grabs at his cock through the denim with a grip that made his hips lurch from the bed. Gasping, he all but flew off her mattress, running his hands through his short, spiked hair. She's breathing just as heavily, her eyes swimming in regret.
"What's wrong?" She asked quickly, "I'm so sorry, I had just assumed that you wanted me to . . ."
"I do want you to." Eric panted, "I really fucking want you to . . . but I haven't done this kind of thing, ever."
"Ever?" She repeated.
"Nope." He shakes his head, looking anywhere but her.
She looked surprised. Then she softened. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth again as she regarded his trembling frame with a strange sort of affection that had made him fidget in place. What was she thinking?
Then, all at once, she was clamoring into his lap. Slowly, like she was afraid of him flinching, she kissed him. Two hands wrapped around his shoulders, her chest pressing against his own and her fleshy hips digging into his lean, rigid torso. Her lips were fucking ecstasy, his own brand of drugs that were sure to get him hooked in no time at all.
His very first kiss, full of fire and passion and need. Eric had waited far too long for this and now he never wants to stop. She had rum on her breath—intermingling with the tangy flavors from her lipgloss and his brain buzzed, fingers tightening their hold around her waist.
One hand tangled into the roots of her hair whilst the other was pressed against the small of her back. She moaned into his mouth and the levee broke. Eric was nervous, of course, but the desire was overwhelming. Too overwhelming to ignore or deny.
She shifted her hips to begin grinding down onto the growing bulge in his jeans and Eric just . . . snapped, something inside of him was scratching its way up to the surface of his very being and begging for release.
"You're fucking beautiful," He breaths into her mouth. She simpered at that, careening into his ministrations.
With two meticulous hands, he slid them between their writhing bodies and up to the front of her buttoned-up, turquoise dress. Without warning, he tore the garment until buttons were flying in every direction of her room, revealing her perky breasts to his awaiting lips. Fifteen seconds passed of him drinking her in before he attacks, lips and tongue and teeth colliding with her chest.
"Eric!" She gasped for him, head lulling back when he planted hungry kisses across her cleavage. Taking her nipple into his mouth, he was the one who moaned, it was all too surreal, to taste her flesh for the first time. He had dreamed about this moment for fucking years.
His tongue twisted and suckled, engraining this moment and this feeling into the back of his mind forever.
His other hand busied itself with rolling the other hard bud between his thumb and pointer finger, listening to the sounds she is producing in the back of her throat, adorable little whines that were for him and him alone. He wanted those noises to be even louder, absorb her keening whimpers and sighs of pleasure like a sponge.
She raked her fingernails across his scalp and pulled his head back to gnaw at his bottom lip whilst her nimble fingers unzipped his denim jeans and shoved themselves inside, grasping his hard on through the thin fabric of his boxer briefs, his mossy green eyes just about rolled back into his skull and his lips parted prettily.
She took that opportunity to reclaim them, sliding her tongue across his pearly teeth and making him groan.
"I want you, Eric. Please touch me."
In a flash, articles of clothing were being strewn about her bedroom. First her dress, which he'd pulled off her body greedily and thrown onto the floor. Then her bra, which he unsnapped after a couple fumbling attempts. She was left in a pair of red underwear, panting heavily atop his lap. When she makes a move to shed off his Rammstein shirt, untucking it from his pants with haste, he snatched her wrist in an unrelenting grip. When he saw her flinch, he pulled away quickly and doubled his efforts into feeling up her luscious curves and breasts.
"No." He glowered, embarrassed. "The shirt stays on."
She pouted at him, carefully tracing her fingers from the hem of his jeans to his slender waistline, stopping at the skin of his navel. Eric drew in a deep breath and holds it. His hold on her skin tightened almost painfully.
"Let me see you," She whimpered, "Please? I want to feel you, really feel you."
Eric relinquished his breath, shoulders slumping. If she wanted to see, he would let her see, because he wants her. End of story. It was completely up to her what she would think about his scar and his deflated chest.
Pulling his shirt over his head with one hand, relishing in the sweet smile quirking her perfect and kiss-bitten lips, her eyes scan him from his neck down to his chest. She placed two fingers on his scar, tracing it lightly, making a sound akin to a hum in the back of her throat. Eric could have cried at the gesture, but he wasn't a fucking pussy.
She placed a hand on his slightly indented chest, right in between his pectoral muscles. Leaning forward, she does something that makes him clench his teeth and wish she would stop being so fucking cute so he could get on with this and forget her tomorrow, just like she would to him.
She kissed him, directly on the part of his body that Eric despised the absolute most about himself.
"Handsome," She mumbled, "You're so, so handsome. I wouldn't change a thing about you."
In order to rid himself of the sappy, sickening feeling in his stomach, Eric leans forward and snags his teeth on her bottom lip and pulled. She squealed, steadying her body by grabbing onto his shoulders again. Giggling in newfound lust, she pushed Eric back into her pillows, making quick work of undoing his belt and shoving his jeans down around his ankles.
This was happening. It was actually fucking happening. But there was something he needed to do first.
Flipping them over quickly in a maneuver that seemed to impress her, Eric pulled her panties down and tossed the flimsy material aside. He kissed her lips and her clavicle, down to her breasts and her navel, then made a pit stop at her thighs to nibble on them before reaching his much anticipated destination and she was beautiful, he's never watched a porno that could even hold a candle to this.
She was already arching towards him, ready and willing.
"I need to fucking taste you," He muttered, his breath fanning her most sensitive area. "Please, let me make you feel good."
She was nodding excitedly before Eric could even finish his sentence. That was enough for him. His tongue slid between her slick folds only a few seconds later. Eric is ravenous almost immediately, holding her thighs apart and pushing his tongue against her swollen clit. She is holding his head to her cunt, rutting against his mouth, driving him fucking feral.
"Fuck, Eric!" She practically squeals, the sound spurring him on. He was lapping at her like a kitten does to milk, savoring her taste and her reactions to him. Eric suckles the bundle of nerves between his lips, dashing his warm tongue across it back and forth, then up and down.
"Please," She squeaked out, "Please, get up here and fuck me. I want to cum with you. I want this to be as good for you as it is for me."
"I can guarantee you that it already is."
Eric pulled his lips away from her, glistening in her sweet slick. He doesn't want to stop but he did want to feel her, to rid himself of this pesky burden once and for all. She's here and she wanted him just as badly as he wanted her.
Kicking off his jeans, he moved on top of her. She looked gorgeous, so flushed and her chest heaving.
"Protection?" Eric asked her, arms trembling as they were braced on either side of her neck. He didn't think to bring a condom, never imagined this would be a reality for him and never imagined that he could end up in a pretty girls bedroom.
"Pill. I'm on the pill." She spoke against his lips after she leaned up to kiss him tenderly, hungrily. She careens her hips against him, rubbing her slit against his weeping tip and that was it. He was pushing into her before he could even process that he's being enveloped by her tight, wet heat.
When his hips met hers, he almost fell against her frame, his head lulling back to stare at the ceiling while a carnal hiss escaped his lips, his pearly white teeth bared to her.
"So fucking good," Eric groaned out, arms shaking. "Du fühlst dich so verdammt gut."
She kissed his shoulder, fingernails scraping against the sensitive skin of his back as he bottomed out inside her, crying out for him when she understood what he said to her. It's a good thing she paid attention in class, piecing the foreign words together quickly enough. Her toes are curled against the small of his back, her legs coming up to trap him inside of her.
Because it was his first time, he had quite an awkward time with finding his rhythm, but she does not seem to mind. She just holds him through it, whispering sweet, incoherent nothings into his ear. Once he found a hard, spine tingling rhythm that worked for him, he becomes insatiable. It's so much better than he imagined.
"Fuck!" Eric grits through his clenched teeth, circling his hips slow and deep, hitting a sacred spot deep inside of her that felt absolutely devastating. Eric was filling her up, taking himself away and giving himself to her again, over and over. Experimenting, he decides to roll his hips against her engorged clit every time that he slams back into her sweet spot. This was fucking heaven, he's sure.
"Shit, right there!" She blubbered into his ear, tears staining his collarbone. "Just like that, Eric, please!"
One of his hands found her breast, harshly pinching the bud and watching her mouth pop open in a silent shout, while his other hand found the headboard to gain some leverage and fucked into her for all he's worth. Eric can feel the pressure building deep in his stomach, could feel her cunt clamp down around him like a vice.
"I know you want to." Eric breathed into her mouth hot and wanting, "I can feel you squeezing me, fuckin' give me your cum. Right now."
Eric learned that little trick in a kinky porno that Vodka gave to him. He hoped it would work. And turns out, it did just that.
Her head lulled back against the pillows, fingernails were creating crescent moons in his shoulder blades. She was careening off the precipice before she could even help it, her back arching so beautifully that he wanted to snap a picture and keep it in his wallet.
Her name sounded so stunning on his lips. It pulled his own orgasm from his very core, hot and sizzling up the base of his spine. Eric stilled, lips in a tight line and his eyebrows clenched together tightly. He pulls out of her just in time, releasing himself on her stomach. And all the while, she'd been mouthing at his jaw and his lips.
"Shit . . ." His irises stared up at her ceiling, his mouth parted and senses dulled. She was leaning over to her nightstand, grabbing a handful of tissues and wiping up his spend from her torso. Eric collapsed beside her in a heap of tired limbs and satisfied libido.
She was nuzzling his chest, throwing her leg over his own before he could even register that it didn't much seem like she wanted him to leave.
"That was . . . perfect." She smiled against his sweaty, silky skin. Eric kissed the crown of her head. He didn't know why, but he needed her to know something. If it wasn't a one time thing for her, it wouldn't be for him.
"Uh, that was easily the most amazing fucking thing that's ever happened to me." Eric laughs breathlessly, slender fingers tangled in her disheveled hair.
"Are you going to leave now?" She asked him quietly, quiet enough that he almost didn't hear it.
Throwing an arm behind his head while the other busied itself stroking the skin of her waist and relaxing into her sheets, Eric flashed her a cheshire grin.
"Think I'm comfortable where I'm at. Oh and by the way, Happy Halloween."