Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter one

White brick house.

Wraparound porch.

Field mouse.

Smashed glass.

Candlelight.

Feathers.

Yellow daisies.

Muddy converse.

Flash of green.

Eddie likes his coffee strong.

He got into coffee in his sophomore year. Takes it black because nothing wakes him up like this dark liquid that tripwires his brain.

It’s the one luxury he allows himself.

This ten-dollar-a-pack of ground Colombian coffee beans that he buys from the indie coffee shop three blocks away. This one is sweet and peachy. Toffee notes with a killer rhubarb acidity.

It’s the only thing he can start his day with.

And it truly is the only fancy thing he can afford. The contents on his shelf in the shared cupboard is budget, own-brand. His half of the top freezer drawer is full of frozen, chopped veggies. Packed into plastic zip-seal bags. 

His Uncle Wayne taught him that. How to make things last. 

How to sew together the holes in his socks.

How to make a meal from two dollars worth of ingredients.

How to have fun and occupy his brain with just a piece of paper and a pencil.

It’s how he got into art.

He’s only ever known how to draw.

And eventually, when he earned a few dollars a week on a paper round as a kid, he bought himself all the essentials to paint.

Eddie struggled with such a vivid mind as a child that he often wouldn’t be able to sleep. At all. Sometimes he would go days without sleeping. Teachers at school would notice the paleness of his skin and the deep purple rings under his eyes.

It got Uncle Wayne into trouble a few times.

Eddie felt awful.

But painting helped him.  

So Wayne encouraged it. 

On only the briefest of occasions, Wayne would come home from a long shift with a new watercolor set.

Looking back, Eddie knows they were hand-me-downs from the kids of the receptionist at Wayne’s work. 

But it was the thought that counted. It still does.

Still to this day, Wayne sends Eddie paints. Little tubes of acrylic paint, usually sets of four in crazy colors. And Eddie is always incredibly grateful because paint supplies don’t come cheap.

Eddie’s college schedule doesn’t allow him for time to get a part time job on the side. But he usually works in the summer. Wherever he can.

Last summer he didn’t go back home, but stayed in Chicago working at an art and crafts store because the staff discount was gonna be essential if he was gonna get through his junior year.

And that’s where he is now. 

Two months into his junior year at the University of Illinois Chicago, studying to earn a Bachelor of Fine Arts in…well, Art.

Freshman year Eddie lived in a complete shit hole. Because he couldn’t afford any better. He didn’t make any friends. Kept himself to himself because that’s what he was used to. It’s how he got through high school. It’s how he got into college in the first place, he’s sure.

Sophomore year was better. He at least lived with other art students except they were rich and, to be totally honest, pompous. Luckily that was the year he met Jeff and Paige in the studio. 

In his second year of his art degree, he had every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon off from classes for free study.

Most students use that to party. Or socialize. Or go back to bed.

But Eddie actually loves his degree and wants to do well. 

So twice a week he would spend hours in the college studio and Jeff and Paige were of the same mind. 

They clicked instantly. Paige is from a smalltown and a low income family too. So she gets it. And they’re both into the same music as Eddie. They’re all partial to smoking joints now and again. Jeff even plays a little guitar, so they would sometimes take in their instruments and jam in between painting. 

And this year…well. There was some kind of mistake with his housing application. He was supposed to be moving in with Jeff and Paige, who live together near campus and luckily had a room going free this year.

But the digital application got lost in the ethers of the internet. And Eddie has somehow ended up in a building on the other side of campus, in the city, with a load of Sports Ed students.

Which Paige thinks is fucking hilarious and Jeff just thinks is bad luck.

The good thing, at least, is that he gets his own room. Because this building is one of the nicer student accommodations. And because of the fuckup he doesn’t have to pay any extra. 

And it’s okay.

Like, he has nothing in common with most of the people in his apartment. There’s six of them living here. They have their own bathrooms, thank god . Tiny, plastic-walled ensuite, but still. He doesn’t have to share and it makes Eddie feel affluent.

Which he isn’t.

He thinks most of his roommates are, though.

Whenever some of them are in the kitchen chatting away, it’s usually a conversation Eddie simply cannot relate to.

And they’re not not nice. 

Jason is a typical jock figure. He’s kinda known around campus as this Sports Ed superstar.  Loves the attention from the girls in the apartment. Heather, Carol and Chrissy are all cheerleaders. And they’re sweet enough. They will start polite conversation with Eddie but don’t make any real effort to get into anything too deep. Which honestly, Eddie is grateful for.

He sometimes wonders if they know about him.

Like…unless they’re wearing blockers all of the time, he’s pretty sure they’re all betas. Not that he likes to assume.

And, as far as Eddie knows from his own experience and knowledge of what goes on in society, beta girls are not too fond of the idea of getting close to alphas. Even in a friendly way.

Alphas are rare nowadays. Or so everyone thinks. Because most alphas try hard to hide the fact they are .

Eddie wouldn’t say that he tries too hard. Like, it’s not his number one priority but he also will not bring it up to anyone and keeps quiet whenever the discussion comes up for debate. He wears blockers, like most do, but they’re only the drugstore kind that he can afford. A roll-on for his glands that he applies before he leaves his room.

Eddie does not care in the slightest that the girls in the apartment aren’t interested in him in that way.

He’s not interested in girls. Beta or not.

Yeah. Because… that.

Being gay and an alpha makes things difficult in the romance department.

It made things difficult in every department when he was 16 and started to present. Uncle Wayne knew something was going on and quizzed him to an inch of his life until he had to tell him the excruciatingly embarrassing ways in which his body was changing.

It explained some things.

Like, why his sense of smell was insanely good. And how he could predict things were going to happen before they did. And how he would go in these colossal moods completely charged with hormones and would be in so much pain he would miss days of school.

And the biting.

Oh god, the biting.

He’d bite into his pillows and his room would be filled with shredded sheets when he was done.

But he learned to control it. To an extent.

Unless he’s in a rut.

And he’s heard that sex can be good for ruts. That it’s healthy to try and have a normal sex life to keep your hormones in check.

He’s sure alphas can have a normal romantic life.

But he’s not one of those alphas.

Because he likes guys.

And if being a gay virgin at the age of 21 wasn’t hard enough to navigate, he’s also an alpha.

So, yeah. It’s complicated. It’s not like he hasn’t tried in the past. He’s been on a few dates. Gave a few hand jobs. But he’s never felt that connection. 

Now, Eddie seamlessly flows through his daily routine. Not thinking about the future. He makes his special coffee. He goes to classes. He paints. He hangs out with Jeff and Paige. He calls Uncle Wayne. 

He doesn’t think about what will happen after college when his two friends move on. Start families of their own that he knows he will never have. Eddie accepts his life for what it is inevitably going to be, when all of this is over.

Lonely.

Eddie is making his morning coffee when his fifth roommate comes back from his early morning run.

Eddie knows he’s there before he hears him.

“Morning,” he says to Eddie. The volume of his voice is slightly too loud because he still has one of his headphones in.

Eddie can hear the music from the one earbud that’s dangling down against his chest.

Fucking Duran Duran.

“Morning,” Eddie responds. He twists to get a look at him over his shoulder. 

God.

He always does look really good.

Eddie is sure he would look like a sweaty little monster after a run.

But not Steve.

“Want a coffee?” Eddie asks. Rather than voicing any of the inappropriate thoughts in his head.

“Please.”

Eddie makes Steve a coffee the way that he has learned, over the last two months, that he likes.

Steve is the only roommate Eddie is willing to share his coffee with.

Eddie won’t go into why.

“Mmm. Love your special beans,” Steve says lightly as he takes the mug from Eddie. He’s not even trying to make a joke which is what makes him so fucking endearing.

Steve is all sweaty and smells nice.

He has these fucking gorgeous sparkling hazel eyes with green flecks in them. 

And he really does smell good.

Eddie won’t get into that either.

“Good run?”

“Really good. Love running in the cold.”

Eddie should have known it was chilly today because Steve is wearing a big hoodie and short shorts and thick sports socks that go halfway up his shins. He always wears that when it’s colder out. 

Steve is studying Sports Ed, too, just like his other roommates.

So, 90% of the time he’s in activewear.

Eddie never realized he had a thing for activewear until now.

Steve wore leggings once and that was…

That was interesting.

Eddie is a detailed oriented person. He notices things. He sees patterns.

He knows that Steve always wears this oversized gray-marl hoodie when it’s below 46 degrees fahrenheit. He’ll always wear his shorts to run in, even when it’s freezing. Chicago has seen some really cold weather this fall.

Eddie can sense a big storm looming.

“Still can’t persuade you to come on a run with me, Munson?” Steve asks, absent-mindedly stretching right there in front of Eddie while sipping on the coffee he made him.

“Do I look like a runner?”

Steve shrugs. “Do I?”

Yes . Eddie thinks. Steve is a runner and you can tell .

His ass is defined and his legs are lean but thick at the top.

Kinda powerful looking.

But whatever.

Eddie shrugs back. “You prance about the kitchen in your running shoes every single morning, so yeah, I’d say you do.”

Steve mock-gasps. Hand on his chest.

“I do not prance.”

He says. While lunging across the kitchen.

Eddie laughs, finishes his coffee.

He’s funny , he thinks.

“Catch you later.”

Steve waves at him. Puts in his other earbud.

And when Eddie leaves the apartment, just before he closes the door he hears Steve singing along to his music, slightly off-key.

“ I howl and I whine, I’m after you! Mouth is alive! All running inside! And I’m hungry like the woooolf!”

Eddie closes the door.

Shakes himself.

The irony is fucking ridiculous.

Most mornings go like this.

In fact, every weekday morning goes like this and it has since the start of Eddie’s third college year.

He’s had roughly 45 coffee mornings with Steve.

But who’s counting?

And most weekday evenings go the same way too.

Eddie leaves the studio at about 5pm. 

He comes back to his room. Paints for about an hour or so and patiently waits for his roommates to finish making their dinner before he grabs his headphones and goes to the kitchen to make his own.

He does so alone. Just…prefers it that way.

He rarely bumps into Steve on an evening. But it’s nice when he does. 

It’s on the weekends that he usually sees Steve outside of their coffee mornings. And his friend Robin, too.

She’s a friend from home, Steve explained, and he has no shame in hiding the fact that he chose this college because she was coming here. She even lives in this building on the third floor.

They’re like siblings. They said that. But they didn’t need to. Eddie can tell they have a special bond. Which is cute.

Eddie enjoys their company. Sometimes Eddie will be getting a drink or making lunch and before he knows it he’s spent three hours sitting with Robin and Steve on the sofa, talking about music and politics and the fucking meaning of life. 

So he’s learned a lot about Steve and Robin and some details from their life before college and their hometown.

And Eddie gives away little details of his too but not everything.

Definitely not everything.

As the weeks go on and winter looms, Eddie’s dreams are getting more intense. 

They’re expressive and lucid. Flashes of images. Like they’re from a secret past he doesn’t know about.

It’s always the same dreams. There’s three of them. Sometimes fragmented and in different orders. 

This dream was the house dream.

White brick house. A porch that wraps all the way around it.

Nothing really happens in the dream. He’s just there. Looking right at it from a distance. He’s been having this dream for around five years.

He wakes up in a sweat like it was a nightmare.

Palms, clammy. Bedsheets, damp.

And he hopes to god it really was a nightmare and he just can’t remember the scary stuff. But he is in denial and he knows what is coming.

It’s a pattern.

Feeling weirdly nauseous and a banging headache pounding behind his eyes, he heads to the kitchen like usual.

Just makes it to his coffee machine before letting out a pained exhale. He does not feel good. 

It’s fucking coming. For fuck’s sake.

Eddie makes the coffee.

And Eddie smells him before he hears him.

“Morning!” Steve chimes. 

Eddie swallows. Mouth dry. Feels desperately dehydrated even though he definitely woke up in the night and downed a liter bottle of water.

Eddie can only smell Steve after his run. 

He doesn’t smell bad. Like how someone might after running.

He always smells fucking gorgeous.

God. Eddie wants to carry him to his shower and wash him and then sleep all fucking day with him.

“You alright?” Steve asks when Eddie doesn’t respond.

“Fine,” Eddie says. Even though his voice is the epitome of not fine.

“Okay. Want me to make the coffee?” Steve asks.

Eddie turns. 

He’s already made Steve’s.

He passes it to him quickly. Almost spills it as he pretty much launches himself forward towards him. “Here you go. Catch you later.”

Eddie basically sprints to his room.

God. Maybe he is a runner.

Why does his room have to be the one all the way at the end of the corridor?

And why does one of his roommates have to be probably the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life? 

Okay. This is just his imminent rut making him dramatic.

He slams his door.

Runs to his bathroom.

Blasts the shower cold. Strips naked and stands in it.

It’s an instant shock to his system.

And he should know it’s not going to help.

He should probably get out of here and message Paige and Jeff. Let them know he’s not very well.

But he’ll stand in the ice cold shower instead. Let the water hit him like mini daggers. Until his teeth are chattering and his skin looks pale blue.

But he tries to enjoy it, in a sick kind of way. He knows this is the last time he’s gonna feel cold, for days. 

Ruts fucking suck.

Due to the fucking shitty education system and society’s lack of acceptance of alphas and omegas, Eddie has never really known what the fuck to do in a rut.

He’s read shit. Tried shit.

But ultimately, he just waits it out every time.

He’s not sure what triggers them. He has a bad one every few months. Some weird signs in between.

Whatever.

What matters is that he’s having one right fucking now.

Turned on to fuck.

He could come just thinking about anything remotely hot. And he does.

He rolls around in his sheets. Jacking himself off and he feels mild relief the second he comes and not a moment before or after.

It’s grim. Real fucking grim.

And that’s not including the sweats. The constant fever-like symptoms.

He can’t eat. He can’t even drink. It hurts his throat.

His vision is way more intense than usual. Whenever he closes his eyes it’s just a swirl of colors. Sometimes goes fuzzy like the onset of a migraine that never actually comes.

He’s lying face down in bed in just a pair of jogging bottoms when he hears a light tap on his door that gets increasingly louder until it vibrates through Eddie’s sore head and he can’t take it any longer.

He opens the door. Eyesight blurry and headrush making him feel all off-centered, he doesn’t register for a moment who it is standing in his doorway.

It’s not an angel.

It’s Steve.

“Hey,” he says. In his running gear. 

Must be morning.

Eddie has completely lost track of time. Another shitty side effect.

“You weren’t…you weren’t in the kitchen for our coffee morning.”

God. Steve looks good. Smells good too.

Oh no. 

Eddie adjusts himself. Hanging onto the door frame. He half hides behind the door.

“I missed you,” Steve says, tongue between his teeth and surely to fuck Eddie is hallucinating. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Uh. Right. Yeah. I’m sick. Flu, I think.”

Steve eyes Eddie. And if Eddie wasn’t already profusely sweating right now that swipe of Steve’s eyes scanning his body would make him evaporate .

“Oh. Sorry, that sucks. Is it like what you had when you first moved in?” Steve asks and Eddie wants the ground to just swallow him up whole.

Because the illness he had when he first moved in was in fact the world’s worst rut .

“Er…yeah. Reckon it’s the same thing.”

Eddie can’t even look at Steve properly. As if he remembered that. Oh god.

“Okay, well…get better soon.”

“Thanks,” Eddie mutters. Can’t even find it in himself to be kind to the guy who he is pretty sure, if he let him , would solve his rut.

But Eddie’s gross.

Even if Steve was into guys, he wouldn’t like an alpha. 

Alphas are known for being possessive and controlling. 

That isn’t necessarily true.

Even so, Steve wouldn’t want to get with an alpha like Eddie.

A loner, loser virgin.

And Steve is a normal fucking guy. Who is sweet and hot and kind. Who has the world at his fingertips and the means to do anything he wants.

He’s nothing like Eddie. 

Eddie’s door slams because Eddie is heavy handed when his alpha is more present.

And he collapses onto his bed so he can yell a frustrated scream into his pillow.

Eddie doesn’t know how many hours have passed. It could be a new day at this point.

This is a bad one.

But Eddie can still sense when Steve is standing behind his door again.

He’s standing up, heaving himself off his stained, damp mattress towards the door before Steve even knocks.

“Oh,” Steve says as soon as Eddie half opens the door. “Shit, you don’t look good, Eddie.”

Eddie manages to make some kind of noise in response. Squinting at Steve and rubbing his hand aggressively onto his forehead. His hand comes away wet with sweat.

Fuck. 

“You’re worse than yesterday,” Steve notes. “Which I didn’t think was possible but look at you.”

Steve cocks his head. Gives a cute smile and his hazel eyes bore into him. Eddie usually craves this kind of attention from Steve, so it would be nice if Eddie didn’t feel like he could die at any given moment.

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles. He leans against the door frame out of necessity, crosses his arms and kinda folds in on himself.

His core aches. Convulsions kicking in strong. He’s gonna have to go back in his room soon.

Seeing Steve has brought the next hit on much quicker than usual.

“It’s, uh, it’s just flu,” Eddie mutters when the silence that Steve is allowing to stretch on and on just doesn’t stop.

“Mhm. You said yesterday, remember?” Steve says softly. 

Eddie wants Steve to touch him.

He knows, deep down, that would help. Just the simple touch of someone else.

Although it could go wrong. Could make him go wild and maybe it’s a good thing that Steve’s hands are occupied right now, holding a small cardboard box.

Steve lifts said box up towards Eddie. He caught him looking.

“This is for you. To help. With the flu.”

Oh. That’s nice.

That’s really sweet, actually.

“Oh, thank you,” Eddie says, just about managing to reach out towards him and take the box out of his hands. 

“If you need anything just text me, okay?” 

God. If only Steve knew what Eddie really did need.

“Yeah. I will. Thanks, Steve.”

Steve smiles softly. Taps the door with his knuckles then backs away.

Eddie watches him as he turns down the corridor towards his door.

Eddie won’t text him. Definitely not. Eddie’s not sure he can even use his cell right now. The colors on the screen turn luminescent when he’s in a rut and it makes his headaches even worse.

But even if he could use it, he wouldn’t bother Steve with something like this.

Eddie goes back inside his room. 

The air feels warm and clammy. Literally smells like he’s been fucking himself and spinning around his bed for days which he has .

He sits on the edge of the mattress and opens the box from Steve.

It’s a health pack.

All the usual stuff to help when you’re sick. Gatorade. Paracetamol. Cold and flu pills. Olbas oil. 

Even though Eddie is suffering a cold-sweat right now, and he’s definitely about to descend into some sick little rampage, he smiles.

He fingers through the contents.

There’s some herbal teas in here too. He picks up a sachet, turns it to read the ingredients, when something else catches his eye.

“Hmm,” Eddie hums to himself, as he pushes the rest of the tea sachets to the side.

That’s when his heart drops. He’s suddenly seeing very clearly despite the blurry vision. Tunneled in on the rest of the items in the box that were hidden underneath.

There’s a fleshlight.

A bottle of lube.

A fucking…

Oh my god.

A fucking butt plug. With a little corner-torn note that says in Steve’s handwriting ‘trust me!’

“Oh christ,” Eddie mutters to himself, turning the buttplug over in his hands.

Does…does Steve know about him?

He must do.

Unless apparently having the best ever masturbation session is a well-known cure to the flu that Eddie doesn’t know about?

There’s one last thing in the box.

Eddie isn’t sure what it is at first.

It almost looks and feels like a stress ball. But it’s slightly curved and oblong in shape, a little more elastic on the outside. 

It takes a few seconds for Eddie to realize what it is, and his thoughts are hurried along by a second note in the box that says, ‘... and bite me!’

Eddie’s mouth drops open.

In shock. In desire. 

His mouth feels sticky. He hasn’t eaten properly in days and even drinking water has been repulsive. 

Curious, Eddie sticks out his dry tongue, and swipes the stress ball along it.

Oh. He shivers.

It feels like skin.

Skin that isn’t his own.

And it tastes like nothing but that’s fine.

Quickly, his little fangs protrude and he bites.

His eyes roll. Holding it against his mouth like a fucking apple, he pierces down into it. He’s never bitten into anybody before but fuck he imagines this is a close feeling. 

It’s much better than biting down into his pillow, anyway.

He’s shuffling himself out of his pajamas absentmindedly. 

The faux-flesh in his mouth. He breathes heavily out of his nose, little wolfish grumbles in his throat.

The hit is coming fast. 

His dick is leaking precome. 

He scrambles in the box, grabs the lube.

Squeezes it into his hand, rubs it together quickly and jacks himself.

He moans with relief, like he always does during rut, but this is more. 

He leans back, head hitting the wall. His knees bent and legs wide he fists at himself with a wet, sticky hand that, fuck, feels so good.

This is actually starting to satisfy the alpha inside.

It’s definitely satisfying human Eddie.

“Mmm,” he moans from the back of his throat, unable to form anything else when his mouth is stuffed full. Like he’s wearing a gag. Or a bit.

Oh fuck.

His free hand fumbles in the box again. Grabs the fleshlight.

It’s soft, kinda squishy. Made of a transparent silicone and he’s never used one, never thought of making his ruts more pleasurable. Always thought they were something to endure.

But Steve knows how to make this feel good, clearly.

That must mean Steve really does know.

And maybe…oh god.

Steve must be an alpha too.

Eddie groans. Drops the faux-flesh out of his mouth. Gasps for air as he squeezes the lube directly into the fleshlight.

He’s impatient. He doesn’t bother fingering the fleshlight first to test it out.

He immediately lines himself up.

Pushes inside.

“Oh. Oh . Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He slides the fleshlight up and down. Gripping unforgivingly onto his hard, leaking dick as he fucks himself into it.

It’s warm and slick. 

Wonders if this is anything like the real thing. Oh god. Eddie thinks he’d simply fucking die if he ever got the chance to.

Wonders if Steve uses this when he’s in a rut himself.

Oh. That’s a thought, isn’t it?

“ Fuck,” Eddie pants, digging his heels into the mattress and lifting his hips up, bucking them, rutting into the fleshlight.

His core is hot. Vision bright, flashes of white crossing it as his orgasm pools.

It’s gonna be a good one.

But maybe still not enough.

Until he remembers.

He’s squirming. Wriggling his hips, twisting his body, due to the sensation of the fleshlight still tight around his dick, while he grabs the buttplug.

Covers that in lube too.

He’s already nearly used a full bottle. Jesus Christ.

He’s never used a plug before but like…he’s watched porn. 

He lays flat, lifts his legs in the air, spreads them wide, tilts his hips up.

Breathless, turned on, disastrously fucking gone at the thought of Steve doing this to himself, Eddie pulls at a cheek and slowly pushes the plug inside.

“Ah! Ah, fuck !” he hisses. There’s a strike of pain that his alpha fucking loves quickly followed by this beautiful press of pleasure.

Precome spurts up through the fleshlight.

His eyes roll.

His vision swims again. Bright, jagged. 

His head feels far too heavy for his neck as it rolls back, the crown of it pushed hard into the duvet as he lifts his hips into the air and wraps his hand around the fleshlight.

He pumps at it wildly. Out of control. Complete lack of rhythm.

It takes him a few seconds to realize that he is growling.

Eddie’s growls are always quiet and low; they could be mistaken for a human rumble in the throat. But he’s growling, alright, as he imagines fucking into…

Fuck.

Into Steve.

Hazel eyes looking down at him.

This could be an illusion. A mirage .

It all looks so real.

The pool in his core is back. Orgasm impending. Mouth wet and drooling. His little fangs are back, pressing against the underside of his lips. The plug firmly pressed against his prostate.

He’s gonna come.

And this is gonna be a good one.

One to end it all.

He reaches his free hand for the faux-flesh.

Spit-covered. Punctured.

He laughs a little, before hovering it over his mouth.

He wants this to be perfect.

His teeth ache for it.

The pop and sink into skin.

And just as he can feel the orgasm come. Just as the sensation shoots up his limbs and through his core.

He bites into the faux-flesh.

Bites so hard he hears the pop.

He moans. He almost screams into it, as his fangs dig deep.

And he comes. He’s coming so much, knot swelling already, so quickly, because it feels so fucking good .

With his eyes squeezed shut and mouth wide and gagged , he comes over and over and over again through the fleshlight. Covering himself, once again, in sticky white.

He fucks upwards. The sensation overwhelming. Better than anything he’s ever felt before. This could be addictive.

He hopes Steve doesn’t ask for this back.

And with one last thought of Steve’s muscular arms and defined thighs and pretty face, Eddie knots into the fleshlight.

He spits out the faux-flesh. Needs to so he can breathe. It lands on the sheets and he turns on his side.

The fleshlight feels warm, comfortable and, his alpha thinks, well and truly seeded .

His fever begins to dissolve. 

First from his fingertips and toes, slowly dissipating from his whole body. Every sore muscle suddenly feels like goo.

He feels pliable, as he relaxes into the mattress. His head sinks into the pillow, dick still hard and knotting, but no longer painfully aroused.

He sinks deep into sleep. 

The deepest slumber he’s ever been in. Long and wide and submerged into his colorful dreamworld.

Except this time, he has new dreams.

Dreams of things that seem real. Like they’re really going to happen.

God.

Even in his dreams, Eddie wishes.