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“Can’t sleep, sweetheart?”
Eddie’s voice wars with hammering rain, both on his end and yours. It’s late. You’re half horizontal, phone lodged between chin and shoulder. A book lies open on your chest.
“How do you know you didn’t wake me up?” you ask. You try your best to sound annoyed. Tired. Imposed upon. God forbid you let him know how welcome a distraction he is.
“Your light’s on,” he says. There’s an edge of mischief to his voice that kicks your pulse out of hibernation. You straighten so suddenly that the book is knocked to the floor.
“Lucky guess.”
“Nope. Look out the window.”
He’s probably bullshitting you, but you make your way to the window anyway. It turns out to be a pointless trip. You can’t see anything beyond the torrent of glossy raindrops. You bring the phone back to your ear and say, “Liar.”
“You sure you don’t want to come out and check?”
“I’m sure. I’m going to bed.”
You slam the nearest light switch off like you really mean it. Eddie’s laugh is perfectly timed. “Alright. Goodnight then.”
“Night.”
The dented door of Eddie’s ancient, box-arched car groans when you open it. You slide into the passenger seat, your yellow raincoat soaking the interior. Said raincoat is perhaps the droopiest, least flattering garment you own, but that doesn’t stop Eddie from fixing on your legs.
“Get lost on your way to bed?” he says. He’s damp where you’re drenched, dark hair slicked back with rainwater. His shirt clings to him in the spots that haven’t fully dried.
“If anyone is lost here, it’s you,” you reply, slamming the door shut, “given that this is my driveway.”
“Fair point.”
Grey air swirls around the car, streaming from a half-finished cigarette between Eddie’s fingers. He takes a final drag, directing his exhale through a small crack in the window. It doesn’t do much good. You’re still swaddled in his second-hand smoke.
“Five minutes in the real world and you’ve already started collecting bad habits,” you remark.
He stubs the cigarette out in the built-in ashtray that came with his relic of a car. “What can I say?” he says, fanning the residual smoke. “I take this whole being human thing very seriously.”
Thunder rumbles in the distance. The rain increases tenfold, coming down so hard you’re not sure the roof can withstand it. Any plans you had to return to the house are washed away in that deluge – not that you were likely to stick to them. Eddie notices your tense posture and reaches across the centre console to squeeze your leg.
You can’t help but relax at his touch. You close your eyes and sigh. Still, you don’t feel ready to let him off the hook. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” he says. His thumb presses the dip behind your knee.
“Why are you here?”
“I need a reason to visit my girl?”
“At two in the morning in the middle of a thunderstorm, yes.”
He makes his way to your thigh. He’s only half committed to the conversation, lost to the feeling of your soft skin. His fingers slide between your flesh and the seat cushion. “Just missed you. Couldn’t sleep for missing you.”
“What about Volt?”
“I thought about waking him, but we’d be up for hours if I did. He’s incapable of a quickie.”
“Oh, so that’s what this is. Can’t sleep for horniness, more like.”
Eddie makes an embarrassed little grunt. He’s learned many things since becoming human, but he still doesn’t think before he speaks. He tries to distract from his verbal blunder by moving his hand higher but gets trapped in layers of rubbery fabric.
“It’s okay, baby,” you tease, reaching out to pinch his flushed cheek, “I’m no better.”
He turns his head to give your hand a brief kiss. “In that case,” he utters against your palm, “you gonna keep torturing me or are you gonna show me what you’ve got on under that raincoat?”
As appealing as the former option sounds, you’ve been itching to cast off that unpleasant wet fabric since you got in the car. It’s sticking in all the wrong places, not helped by Eddie cranking the stale air conditioner all the way up. You turn your body towards him and nod vaguely towards the plastic zip.
You have to admire Eddie’s restraint. His ability to take his time, revealing you piece by piece. Shoulders, collarbones, a peek of lace. His breath catches in his throat as he traces the neckline of your negligee with trembling fingers. “All dressed up for me, princess?” he whispers.
“Not for you,” you lie, “for bed. I told you.”
“Yeah, right. I’ve seen the stained t-shirts you sleep in.”
You’re about to retort, but he dives at you before you can. He laps at the rainwater that has drizzled down your neck as he pulls the zip down the rest of the way. You push him back into the driver’s seat, giving yourself room to shrug off the coat and toss it into the back.
After straightening your negligee, you look to Eddie for comment. He just stares at you, panting and wide-eyed. Eventually, you ask, “What do you think?”
“I think if you don’t get over here right now, I’m gonna die.”
“Can’t have that.”
Getting from your seat to Eddie’s lap is something of an ordeal. Every jagged edge of his clunky car seems determined to trip you up, even when he steadies you with hands on your waist. Then there’s the matter of squeezing past the steering wheel. It’s a clumsy, writhing performance; one that leaves Eddie hissing through his teeth by the time you’re settled. His arm comes around you like a seatbelt, and he pulls you into a soft kiss.
You lose yourself in the taste of Eddie’s mouth – smoke, whiskey, cherries – and your distraction provides the perfect opportunity for him to fumble with the underside of the seat. With terrifying speed and a discordant screech, it jolts into a reclined position. You leap back from the kiss, startled. “I didn’t know the seats go back.”
Eddie laughs. “Course they do. That’s why I bought it.”
The sudden movement has you chest to chest, so close that your speeding pulse echoes through his torso. Shock melts into surrender as he nips at the shell of your ear. You’re at his mercy now. Just where you belong. He wedges his hand between your bodies, fumbling with his belt. Another roll of thunder soundtracks his efforts to wrench it out of the buckle. You arch away to struggle free of your own underwear, desperation rendering you graceless.
Eddie finally manages to yank his trousers down with one hand, using the other to palm your bare ass. The patch of precum on his boxers makes you wonder how long he’s been ready for. Was he hard the entire drive here? The idea makes you so dizzy you don’t know how to verbalise it. Instead, you ask, “What were you thinking about?”
“Mm?” he mumbles.
“When you couldn’t sleep. Were you thinking about me?”
“Of course.”
“Tell me about it.”
He hesitates, but he’s nothing if not a prisoner of your desires. His breath tickles your neck as he details every fantasy that has tortured him from the moment the sun set. Some involving Volt, some just the two of you. Some gentle, some rough. “Mostly, though,” he finishes, his hand moving between your legs, “I was just thinking about this. What we’re doing now.”
Preparing you with his fingers is entirely unnecessary at this point, but Eddie does it anyway. It’s entirely for his own benefit, the satisfaction he gets from feeling just how wet you are. You let him play for as long as you can stand it, which turns out not to be very long at all. “Cut it out, Eddie,” you whine, clawing at his biceps, “I need you inside me.”
“Come on, sweetness. You can do better than that.”
He looks at you expectantly. “Please,” you force out. That’s all it takes. He withdraws his fingers and brings them to your mouth instead, a last exchange before he gives you what you want. As you clean yourself off him, he aligns his cock with your entrance. Lowering yourself onto him is easy, but agonising. You bite down on his fingers as he bottoms out.
Even when you’re on top, Eddie never lets you do all the work. He sets the rhythm with his upwards thrusts, and you follow it with the rolls of your hips. His fingers at the back of your throat warp your moans into barely audible gasps, so he retreats, smearing your face with saliva as he clasps your jaw.
You’re suddenly aware of where you are, of the possibility of nocturnal neighbours hearing you getting pounded into oblivion, but you’re emboldened by the unwavering volume of the rain. The sounds that come out of you are barely human, and Eddie rewards you with some frenzied growls of his own.
“Good girl,” he huffs, grip tightening, “let everyone hear who you belong to.”
There’s so much noise everywhere. The thunder. Eddie’s whimpers. The little squeaks of complaint the car seat makes with every movement. One noise, however, cuts through the rest, shrill and uninvited. Eddie reaches over your shoulder to retrieve his phone from the dashboard.
“It’s Volt,” he says.
You slow down, trying to catch your breath. “Are you...gonna answer it?”
“Do you want me to answer it?”
Encouraged by your wry smile, Eddie answers the phone. You can’t quite make out what Volt’s saying on the other end, but Eddie does a remarkable job of sounding normal. “Hey, Volt. Yeah, I went out. Just swung by to see our girl. You wanna talk to her?”
Evidently, he does want to talk to you. Eddie presses the phone into your hand, and you shakily bring it to your ear. Your impression of innocence is much less convincing. “Hi, Volt. Um... H-How are you?”
Volt’s tone swerves sharply. “He’s fucking you, isn’t he?”
You can’t resist laughing. “Maybe?”
“And why wasn’t I invited to this little late-night rendezvous?”
“Because you’re incapable of a quickie. Eddie’s words not mine,” you explain. Silence on the other line. You add, “Don’t be mad at me! I was ambushed!”
“Oh, I could never be mad at you, darling. You just tell that bad boy he better fuck you hard enough for the both of us.”
You lock eyes with Eddie. “He says-.”
Eddie cuts you off. “I heard him.”
What happens next is so effortless on Eddie’s part, you start to wonder if he planned it all along. He pries the phone out of your hand and renews his movements inside of you. He speaks into the receiver in a conspiratorial tone, making you feel like you’re the one who’s interrupting. “You want to know how she feels, baby? She feels incredible. So fucking wet and messy for me. Yeah, that’s it. Touch yourself. Tell me how much you wish you were inside her.”
Invigorated by whatever Volt is saying to him, Eddie fucks you even harder. So hard it unsteadies you, forcing you to anchor yourself against him. From there, you can make out a little more of what’s on the other end of the phone call: Volt moaning Eddie’s name and yours in between pleas to hear what you’re doing to each other.
You close your eyes, picturing Volt tangled in bedsheets, stroking himself needily. You moan his name into the fabric of Eddie’s shirt, earning yourself a firm tug of the hair. “Again.” Eddie says, holding the phone to your mouth. You comply. Volt mewls in response.
Volt’s pleading mingles with yours. He wants more details, more sounds, more exclamations of his name. You just want it harder, harder, harder. Eddie provides for you both, slamming into you with punishing force and describing every pretty tear that you shed out loud.
With Volt content, Eddie leans towards your ear. “So close, sweet girl,” he whispers, “you want me to pull out?”
You shake your head, sneaking your hands under his shirt to dig your fingernails into his back. “N-No. I want it inside. Please.”
Eddie kisses you, suppressing a noise of strangled ecstasy. He’s happy to do whatever you want, but he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t what he’d hoped to hear. He offers you the phone, eager to focus all his attention on burying himself in you. You’re no longer bothering to grind against his thrusts. You couldn’t keep up if you tried.
Volt’s breathless crooning is so close you could almost believe he’s in the car with you. “Is that you, darling?” he asks.
“Yes.” you answer weakly.
“How do you feel?”
“Like I’m on fire. Can’t take it.”
“You can take it, angel. You always do.”
Volt’s voice is replaced by a cacophony of bumps and creaks. You try and puzzle out what he might be doing, eventually settling on an image of him turning onto his stomach to rut into the mattress.
“Put it on speaker,” Eddie says. “I need both your hands on me.”
You obey, tossing the phone into the passenger seat. If Volt can still hear you, you have no way of knowing. All you can hear is Eddie’s shallow breaths and the unrelenting rain. He’s pulling you closer and closer, like he wants you to smother him. Maybe he does. Maybe you will.
One rogue buck of Eddie’s hips and a bomb goes off inside you, an orgasm so intense you can even feel it sparkling down the length of your hair. Eddie follows soon after, uttering a tangle of names and curses that would be incomprehensible to anyone but you. It leaves you frayed and fragile, slumping against one another as though you haven’t the strength to hold up your own bodies.
Several minutes pass before either of you can be bothered to reach for the phone. When one of you finally does, Eddie says, “Well? Did you come for us, baby?”
“Not yet,” is Volt’s feeble, pent-up reply.
“Keep it that way. I’ll be home in twenty.” Eddie says. When he hangs up the phone, he shoots you a smug look. “See? I told you he’s incapable of a quickie.”