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“Firelight Confessions”
The fire crackled low between you and Eddie, spitting tiny embers that danced upward and died before they could reach the stars. You were both bundled up in mismatched blankets- Eddie’s was a faded Iron Maiden tapestry that smelled faintly like weed and engine grease, and yours was some pillowy-soft quilt you’d brought from home that he kept calling “fancy” like it was a slur.
A cooler sat lopsided between your chairs, half-full with beer and a suspicious-looking bottle of “whiskey” that probably hadn’t been sealed when purchased. One or both of you might already be buzzed. Probably both.
The boombox on the porch played something classic- Zeppelin or Sabbath, muffled by distance and the occasional hiss of firewood settling. Firelight licked along Eddie’s cheekbones, catching in the dark swoop of his hair. He looked relaxed, for once, head tilted back, throat bared, lips curling around a half-finished sentence.
“Okay, but if I had a werewolf phase,” he said, swirling the beer can like it was a goblet of wine, “it was entirely justified. Seventh grade was rough, sweetheart. Puberty and silver chains don’t mix.”
You snorted. “So that’s why you claimed you had moon tattoos.”
Eddie clutched at his chest like you’d stabbed him. “Claimed? Claimed? How dare you insult my sacred body art.”
“Sacred?” you echoed, amused, watching him with hooded eyes over the rim of your drink.
He was already shifting in his seat, pulling the blanket down and hitching up his shirt like he was unveiling a priceless artifact. “Observe,” he said, trying to sound serious but slurring just enough to ruin it, “the marks of my former beastly self.”
What he actually revealed was… pale skin. A freckle constellation that might’ve been a Big Dipper if you squinted sideways. A few real tattoos, chaotic things, some of bats, a spider, one you thought was a demon skull but also looked suspiciously like some kind of kabuki yokai horror creature, and several others on his arms.
Definitely no moons.
But there was a strip of dark hair running from his navel downward. A narrow path disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans like it had somewhere sinful to be. Your brain paused for a moment, eyes catching the faint trail of it, just above his belt buckle.
You coughed, almost believably casual. “Wow. So scary. Real beast-mode going on here.”
Eddie grinned and let the shirt drop back into place- slowly, just slow enough to know he caught your stare. “Don’t mock the happy trail, babe. It’s part of the curse. Every full moon, it grows… fluffier.”
You laughed. Couldn’t help it. “You’re drunk.”
“And you’re warm,” he shot back, eyes flicking toward where your blanket was half-draped across his chair, too. His knee brushed yours- light, careless, but it stayed there. “You always get this warm when you drink?”
“I always get this honest when I drink.”
Eddie raised an eyebrow at that, the firelight catching the gleam of it like a challenge.
“Well,” he said, leaning forward with that grin that always got you into trouble, “now that’s interesting…”
The laughter between you settled into something softer- less sharp, more tired. The kind of mellow that only comes when the drinks are just low enough to make the stars look blurry and the fire starts to feel like a heartbeat. Eddie leaned back again, legs stretched out, fingers tapping absently on the arm of his chair.
The boombox had trailed off into something instrumental- bluesy and slow, leaving only the fire to fill the silence with its occasional pop and hiss. For a few moments, neither of you said anything. It wasn’t awkward. It was nice.
Then your eyes caught on him again- his profile against the night, the faint smudge of ash on his jaw, that mop of hair falling into his eyes like it always did, and something warm curled up in your chest, insistent and tipsy.
“Y’know…” you murmured, lazily swirling the last of your drink, “your face is kinda freaking adorable.”
Eddie turned to look at you, eyebrows half-raised in suspicion. You smirked, met his eyes.
“And I bet the rest of you is too.”
There was a split-second of silence. Then:
Eddie froze mid-sip, like you’d just sucker-punched his soul through the Miller Lite. He snorted, then choked. Coughed like he’d swallowed the whole can wrong. You were immediately cackling, nearly dropping your drink in your lap as he gasped dramatically.
“Wha- what the hell… You can’t just say that!” he rasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes wide and pink.
“Why not?” you asked innocently, trying to stop giggling. “It’s true. You’ve got this whole rockstar-trash-prince look going on, but then your face is just…” You squinted at him like you were studying a painting. “Ridiculously cute.”
Eddie immediately turned away, tugging his hair down like a curtain. “Okay, stop. I’m gonna combust.”
You leaned forward slightly, peering around the edge of his defense mechanism. “Are you… blushing? Did I get the ever stoic, hardcore, total badass Eddie Munson to blush?”
“What? No.” He peeked at you between fingers and curls, completely betrayed by the dark flush creeping up from his neck to his ears. “It’s… It’s the cold.”
“Ohhh,” you teased, setting your drink aside to lean in with exaggerated understanding. “It’s the cold. Not the part where I said you’re adorable and that I bet the rest of you is too?”
Eddie choked again, this time on air, and blushed harder. “N-no… shut up-!”
“You’re blushing. Oh my God, that’s adorable, too.” You were full-on laughing now, tipsy and delighted, and Eddie looked like he was considering rolling directly into the fire to escape.
“Great,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Amazing. This is going so well for my whole mysterious metal bad boy image.”
“You lost that image when you wrapped yourself in an Iron Maiden blanket and called it ‘sacred armor.’”
“Okay, that was metaphorical. That was art.”
You grinned. “That was adorable.”
He groaned, dragging his hands down his face, but there was a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth- reluctant, but very real.
“…You really think that?” he asked after a second, voice quieter now.
You tilted your head, let it hang in the stillness for a second. Let it land.
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”
Eddie looked over at you again, eyes shining a little in the firelight. He didn’t have a comeback this time. Just sat there, staring at you like maybe he was trying to memorize something.
Like maybe he wanted to say something back.
But he didn’t.
Not yet.
The fire crackled low, casting flickering gold across his jaw. Your blanket had slid down a little in the last few minutes, heat rising from somewhere deeper than the flames. Maybe the booze. Maybe the fact that Eddie Munson- loudmouth metalhead, gremlin of Hawkins High, king of sarcastic comebacks, was currently hiding behind his hair, too flustered to form a sentence.
You tucked your legs up under yourself, blanket pooling in your lap, and leaned just a little closer. Just enough to watch his breath stutter.
“You’re usually all bark, Munson,” you said, voice quiet and teasing. “What’s got your tongue now?”
Eddie glanced over, hair falling into his face, eyes wide like you’d caught him in a lie. His lips parted. Closed. Opened again.
“…Maybe I’m just… processing,” he mumbled, fingers tightening slightly on his beer can. “Or combusting.”
Your grin went slow and wicked. “Processing what exactly?”
He tried for his usual cocky smirk, but it was… twitchy. Shaky around the edges. “You. Being all…” He gestured vaguely at you. “That.”
“That?” You arched a brow. “C’mon, rockstar. Use your words.”
Eddie groaned, flopping back in his seat, dragging both hands down his face like he could scrub the heat off his cheeks. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
“Doing what?” You gave him your most innocent look, curling forward just enough that your knees bumped against his again. “Sitting here? Talking to you? Complimenting your ‘sacred body art’?”
“That was slander, actually,” he mumbled behind his fingers. “You laughed at my werewolf phase.”
“You named your werewolf form. I should have laughed.”
He peeked at you again, lips twitching. “…Lupus the Dread was a solid name.”
You were laughing softly, but you didn’t pull back. Your eyes lingered on his face- his ridiculous, adorable, flushed face, and you let the air between you stretch, taut and warm.
“Y’know,” you said, quieter now, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you speechless before. It’s kinda hot.”
Eddie blinked. Froze. Then groaned again, louder this time, tipping his head back like he was begging the stars to strike him down. “You’re killing me.”
“Am I?” you asked, voice feather-light now, nearly a whisper. “Or am I just… burning you up a little?”
His head snapped back toward you so fast the curls bounced. His eyes were wide, pupils blown dark. For a second- just one, he looked like he was gonna lean in.
Then he stopped. Licked his lips. Stared at yours.
“I think,” he said slowly, “you’re trying to start something you can’t finish.”
Your heart skipped. But you didn’t move back.
You smiled.
“Mmm, Eddie,” you whispered, leaning in until your faces were barely a breath apart. “What if I want to finish it?”
The air had gone still.
Not quiet- there was still the crackle of the fire, the distant rumble of the stereo, the clink of a beer can rolling lopsided off the cooler, but still. Charged. Like the space between lightning and thunder.
You could feel it on your skin. In your lungs. That look he was giving you, wide and dark and locked on your face like you were gravity and he was already falling.
And you weren’t backing off.
Not this time.
Eddie’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. His voice came rough, like it’d been dragged over gravel.
“You keep talking like that, sweetheart…” His gaze dropped to your mouth, lingered. “And I’m gonna do something real stupid.”
You tilted your head, your smile lazy and inviting.
“Like what?”
A moment passed. Then another. And then-
He moved.
Not fast. Not sudden. Like a tide rolling in, steady and sure, sweeping in to crash against the shore. His hand came up first, fingers threading gently through your hair, then sliding to cradle the back of your neck, warm and calloused and careful.
His eyes flicked to yours.
One last second. One last chance to stop.
You didn’t.
So he didn’t.
Eddie kissed you.
Soft, at first. Cautious. Testing, tasting- like he didn’t quite believe he was allowed to. His lips brushed yours once, featherlight, then again, firmer this time. His other hand found your waist beneath the blanket, anchoring him, grounding him, like he needed proof this was real.
And god, his mouth was warm. A little clumsy. A little shy. But hungry underneath it all. Starved.
You leaned into him, one hand curling in his jacket, the other pressing to his chest. He made a sound against your lips- somewhere between a groan and a sigh, and pulled you closer, his thumb stroking softly at the nape of your neck.
The fire behind him hissed and popped, sending a flurry of sparks skyward, but neither of you looked away. The world could’ve cracked open, and you wouldn’t have noticed.
When he finally broke the kiss- just barely, his forehead rested against yours, his breath shaky and uneven.
“Definitely stupid,” he whispered.
“Maybe,” you breathed back. “But worth it.”
Eddie was still catching his breath when you crawled into his lap.
You didn’t ask. You didn’t have to.
The moment your knees hit the outside of his thighs and your weight settled in his lap, he went still, wide eyes blinking up at you like he couldn’t decide whether to worship you or spontaneously combust. His hands hovered at your waist, unsure.
So you took them and guided them up under your shirt, over your ribs, against your bare breasts, until he got the message.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, reverent.
You smiled and leaned in, mouth brushing his jaw as you spoke. “You’re so hot like this, Eddie.”
He made a strangled sound, fingers gripping your flesh like he couldn’t believe any of this was real. His eyes roamed your face, then dropped to your mouth, your neck, the shadowed curve of your chest.
“I’m not even doing anything,” he mumbled. “You’re the one… you’re- fuck.”
“You’re hot,” you repeated, slow and certain, like you wanted it etched into the bones of his memory. You kissed the corner of his mouth, then down to the hinge of his jaw. “Your skin’s soft. Your hands are rough. Your hair’s a mess. Drives me crazy.”
Eddie’s breath hitched. His hips shifted beneath you, and the tiniest groan escaped his throat. You could feel him getting harder, right there under you, and god, he was trying so hard to stay respectful- polite, even as his self-control frayed by the second.
“I’m gonna die,” he whispered. “I’m gonna die and this’ll be on my tombstone- ‘Beloved freak and sex idiot. Died happy.’”
You giggled, then rolled your hips down just enough to make him gasp. “You like when I say nice things about you?”
Eddie’s hands clutched tighter. “I- I like when you say anything about me. I like when you touch me. I like when you’re on top of me. I like… fuck, babe, I like you.”
His voice cracked a little. Honest. Unfiltered. That talkative edge Eddie got when he was overwhelmed- babbling praise like it spilled straight from the heart without hitting any filters on the way out.
“You’re so pretty,” he said suddenly, voice hoarse. “You’re just- your eyes and your mouth and your laugh, fuck, I’m never gonna survive this. You’re gonna kill me, and I’m gonna thank you.”
You bit your bottom lip to hide the smile, then leaned forward and kissed him hard, swallowing his next groan. His hands were everywhere now- up your back, across your thighs, gripping your hips like he was anchoring himself to reality. You rocked against him again, and his whole body jerked.
Clothes started to shift. His flannel pushed off one shoulder, your shirt riding up, denim shifting against denim in friction-heavy bliss. You could feel every twitch, every breath.
“Need you,” Eddie muttered into your mouth, almost desperate. “Need you so bad.”
“I’m right here,” you breathed. “And you’re beautiful.”
That broke him.
His eyes fluttered shut. His mouth opened. His hips bucked up just enough to make you gasp. You felt his whole body shiver beneath yours.
“Say it again,” he begged.
“You’re beautiful.”
A full-body shudder. His fingers dug into your thighs.
One of you tried to stand. Maybe both. There was some fumbling, some off-balance giggling, your blanket falling off your shoulders, a shoe lost in the grass. You tried to make it to the trailer. You really did.
But about halfway there, Eddie’s mouth was on your neck, and suddenly the idea of making it inside seemed way less urgent.
Your back hit the side of the trailer with a thud softened by giggles and breathless moans, the cold metal sending a shiver up your spine. The night air kissed your exposed skin, but Eddie’s body pressed up against you- hot and solid, keeping you warm, keeping you anchored.
He looked at you like he wanted to crawl inside your soul.
“Tell me this is real,” he whispered, voice ragged, forehead pressed to yours. “Tell me you want this. That you want me.”
You grabbed his face, fingers in that ridiculous hair, and pulled him down for a kiss that said everything. But you answered anyway, because he needed it.
“I want you,” you murmured against his lips. “I’ve wanted you.”
Eddie groaned like it pained him- in the best way. His hands were all over you now, not frenzied but hungry, sliding up your shirt, tracing every inch like he couldn’t memorize you fast enough.
“You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he breathed, “and I love it.”
You helped each other undress in pieces- clothes tugged just far enough to make room. Your pants around one ankle, his belt hanging loose, jeans shoved just far enough down to free him. Your shirt bunched up beneath your arms. His fingers fumbling your breasts, reverent even in their clumsiness.
Then- finally, his hand between your legs, and the groan that came out of him when he found how ready you were?
Almost obscene.
“Jesus H. Christ,” he muttered. “You’re- fuck, you’re already so-”
“Eddie,” you gasped, cutting him off, eyes wide and dark and needing. “Now. Please.”
And that did it.
He lined himself up, hand braced on the wall beside your head, eyes searching your face for any hesitation, and when you nodded, soft and sure, he buried himself in you with a gasp like he’d just been blessed.
“Oh my god,” he whimpered, forehead falling to your shoulder, hips still. “You feel- you feel… fuck.”
You clutched him close, one leg hooked around his waist, hips rolling against his, and that’s when he started to move.
Slow at first. Testing the rhythm. Pressing you into the trailer wall like you were something sacred. His hand slid up your back, gripping the nape of your neck, pulling your forehead to his again like he needed the contact.
He talked the whole time.
“You’re so warm- fuck, you’re perfect, can’t believe I get to touch you… Can’t believe this is real-”
“You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this, baby, look at you-”
“I could stay right here forever. Never stop. Never… shit- never stop.”
Every time you moaned or gasped or whispered his name, he got messier. Deeper. Closer. You could feel how undone he was becoming- how praise and pressure turned him into a desperate, reverent mess.
And when you cupped his jaw and whispered, “You’re so sexy, Eddie,” right into his mouth-
He lost it.
His thrusts stuttered, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open against your cheek as a broken, “Oh fuck-” tore from his throat.
He didn’t finish yet, not quite. But it cracked something in him.
Suddenly, he was grabbing under your thighs, lifting you up fully against the wall, arms straining, grinding into you with dizzying pressure as your back scraped the trailer’s siding and your hips found perfect rhythm with his.
The firelight flickered nearby, casting his hair and shoulders in a golden glow. You kissed him hard. He kissed you like he wanted to breathe you in. Like your mouth was the only thing keeping him alive.
When your body started to tremble and you let out a broken gasp- he felt it. Froze. Pulled back just enough to see your face.
“You close?” he whispered, awestruck.
You nodded.
His voice dropped to a reverent whisper, barely holding it together. “Come on, baby. Come with me. Let me feel it- please… please.”
His rhythm grew messier- sloppier, with every roll of your hips, every gasp you gave him. Sweat clung to his skin, damp curls sticking to his neck, and he looked ruined in the firelight. Blushed all over. Lips kiss-bruised. Pupils blown so wide there was almost no brown left.
And god, he was still talking.
Not all of it made sense- half of it was just breathy curses and your name and desperate, reverent nonsense:
“Baby, fuck, you feel so- so good, I can’t-”
“I’m not gonna last- I’m not gonna… shit-”
“You’re perfect, you’re so… shit, please, don’t stop doing that-”
You were clenching around his length, your thighs were trembling, nails digging into his back as you chased the finish. Every thrust pushed you closer. He felt it, could tell.
And he wanted you to fall first.
So he dropped his mouth to your neck, kissed right beneath your ear, and whispered-
“Come on, pretty girl. Let go for me. Wanna feel you fall apart around me. Wanna feel you lose it, baby.”
Your body snapped.
It was sudden- hot, and electric and everywhere. You cried out, shuddering, your entire body tightening and pulsing around him as your orgasm slammed into you. Your legs clenched, your breath hitched, and Eddie groaned like it was killing him as your body milked him.
He stilled.
Then- one last grind forward, and he followed with a hoarse, desperate moan, hips rocking into yours as he spilled himself into you, forehead pressed to your cheek, body shaking. His voice went all strangled and ruined as he babbled through it:
“Oh fuck… fuck… thank you, oh my god, you’re… baby-” “You’re gonna break me… holy shit-”
It took a long minute for either of you to breathe right.
He was still holding you up, though his arms were trembling now. You both laughed- quiet and breathless and a little wild. Like you couldn’t believe what just happened. Like maybe the world did just shift.
You kissed his cheek, then his jaw, then his mouth- slow and lazy and smiling. His fingers rubbed soft circles into the backs of your thighs. Your heart still thudded in your chest, heavy and warm.
“I think,” he murmured finally, “we should probably try to stand straight before I collapse and we both die in a sex heap against the trailer.”
You snorted. “What a way to go.”
“No, seriously. They’d write it on my headstone. ‘Died from being too horny.’ Wayne would never live it down.”
You gave him one last kiss, then wiggled until he helped you down. Your legs were jello and your clothes were a mess, but somehow, it just made you laugh harder.
He took your hand. Twined your fingers. Still a little dazed, still glowing.
And the two of you walked back toward the trailer steps like you hadn’t just fucked like wild rabbits against the wall- but everyone could’ve guessed it by the flush on your faces.
Once seated on the metal steps, Eddie collapsed beside you with a sigh that came from the depths of his soul.
You leaned against his shoulder. He kissed your temple. Firelight crackled in the distance.
And after a quiet moment, he mumbled:
“…So, uh. You wanna go steady, or…?”
You looked up at him, still flushed and glowing, lips curling into a smirk. “After that? I might make you mine forever.”
Eddie blinked. Then grinned like a lunatic. “Okay. I’m good with that. You hear that, universe? I’m a taken man.”
“Don’t yell at the stars, Munson.”
“I’m in love, I do what I want!”
You laughed into his chest. He wrapped an arm around you, smug and spent and so unbelievably yours.
And in the golden quiet of the night, the fire crackling low and the scent of pine smoke still lingering in your hair, you knew you’d never forget a single second of this.
