And then Eddie takes in a wide lungful and the shape of piercings stand out proud and obvious from small, perky tits and Tommy's fucked. He's so fucked.
His mouth is dry and he doesn't know if it's the weed or arousal but luckily he's high enough that his dick doesn't try to leap into action. Tommy finds himself staring at some nothing-hotel art on the wall. He blinks, tries not to remember the sight of Eddie's chest, and looks back at her. Keep to her face, Tomás.] Dida. [Tommy nods, because her name works, it makes sense.]
[ Eddie's starting to feel the edges of a buzz, the dull background throbbing of her headache melting away, and she winds up leaning back against one hand, cocking her head to one side until she remembers the heavy towel wrapped around her hair. She has to sit up a little straighter to pull the damn thing off, squeezing the ends for good measure before tossing the whole thing aside in the vague direction of the bathroom. It leaves her hair hanging loose in wet tendrils, but she just rakes them all out of her face with her fingers before turning her attention back to him. ]
What's that? [ she asks, picking up the pipe again and holding it out to him in a silent question. ]
[Tommy's attention is a waterfall, following her towel, the drape of her dark hair as it falls loose, the pull of her fingers. He blinks and then shakes his head at the offered pipe even though he wants to say yes. Next time.] Dida. Your name. Edith Dawn. Dida is what... [He inhales, and exhales.]
My family, or. Spanish. Kinda. Like, I probably shoulda been Tomi, but because my mother always called me Thomas Antonio, instead of Tomi she called me Toto. So Edith Dawn, you'd be Dida. Because Edith Dawn, it's too nice to not say the whole thing. So the nickname's from both. [Obvious. Obviously. Tommy grins, feels the stretch of his face and laughs.]
[ She's a little relieved when Tommy declines taking the pipe, especially when he starts talking.
Which isn't to say she doesn't think the explanation is incredibly cute, especially since it's apparently the same math his mom did to make his childhood nickname, but she's pretty sure he would never have told her that information if he'd been in his right mind, so maybe it's a good idea that he's pacing himself.
Not that he didn't know what he was getting into when he followed her up here. She had been pretty clear about her intentions. ]
That's really sweet. [ His eyes crinkle adorably when he grins at her that wide, little crow's feet streaking out across his temples. Eddie remembers his freckles, wishes she was a little closer so she could admire them properly. She takes a hit off the pipe mostly to keep her mouth occupied so she doesn't say something stupid, even though she knows Tommy's in no state to hold that against her right now. ] We're like bookends. We match. Toto and Dida.
Toto and Dida. [Jobi, Toto! That had been the call that wound through his childhood. But he likes this version. He likes her. Tommy leans over the back of his chair with a stretch, the hem of the too-small shirt riding up before he winces at the pressure against his back and laughs, tilting to the side, catching himself on the edge of the bed.] It's a good name, [he repeats.] A pretty name.
[ If he's going to put himself on display like that, of course she's going to look. Especially when the hem of his shirt rides up his belly a little. She kind of wants to bite him. In the medic's tent, she'd been too distracted by the whole "potential concussion, definite glass cuts" thing to really properly ogle him when he was shirtless, but now she's starting to feel good.
She'd feel better if she'd have also taken a hot shower, but hey, she's warm and dry now, so it's fine.
Poor Tommy is still in those wet jeans. She kind of wants to offer him her sweats again. (There's a part of her that wants to ask him to just take them off entirely and leave it at that, but she's pushing that part of her aside. For now. As much as possible, at least.)
It's so obviously a line, and it's so obnoxious that it's working on her. ] I bet you say that to all the girls, [ she counters, wrinkling her nose at him again as she holds out the pipe one more time. ]
[The pipe is taken, but held instead of pulling on. Tommy looks up at her with dark eyes, a little darker from the weed. He smiles, shakes his head.] Never met another Dida. And.
[He waves the insinuation away with his free hand before crossing his arms on the bed. The position pulls on the stitches but his nerves are pleasantly cosseted and for the moment he doesn't move.] Not a lot of girls. Got... [Control issues. He tongues the words in his mouth.] You know. Catholic upbringing. We're good boys. [Didn't hurt, anyway, having his role model end up in wedded not-bliss when he got his high school sweetheart knocked up. Without real thought, Tommy's eyes track to the box of condoms he'd thrown down on the dresser across the room.]
[ She's not surprised he's never met another girl like her. Eddie is, whether fortunate or not, a one-of-a-kind kind of woman, even she knows that.
She firmly tells the smug little demon in the back of her mind to shut the hell up and stop crowing over the fact that it kind of sounds like Tommy's not the type of man to go out and pick up girls at bars (or music festivals) to fuck and then immediately forget. That's irrelevant.
It gets a little bit harder not to think about it when he bends closer, propping up his elbows on the bed beside her crossed knees. Her hand automatically finds its way to his shoulders without any conscious direction from her brain, and she finds herself carefully tracing the edges of his bandages through his shirt. ]
You know, when I was in high school, my shitty hometown was all convinced I was the leader of some kind of demonic cult hell-bent on seducing their corn-fed Indiana babies away from the light of the Lord? [ She gives him a crooked smile, twirling the end of one curl from his ponytail around her fingertip. ] A good Catholic boy like you oughta keep his distance.
Think I read something like that. [An admission he wouldn't make, sober; giving up the fact that he's looked into her like some groupie, pulling up search results on the internet. He hadn't done a lot of poking, but the wide web of fans give up their thoughts pretty easily. He's still here. He still thinks she's beautiful.
Tommy's head rocks forward, hanging slightly in response to the touch of Eddie's fingers on him.] Some might think so but I've seen enough that I can't really believe in that anymore. But maybe I want to, because you sing like someone pulled you off a cloud. Like maybe it all really exists if you can sing like you do.
You did? [ He's got a favorite song and he's read at least her band's Wiki page; she'd be worried she was picking up a fan except he's more of a colleague now, and at this stage of their acquaintance, she's having a hard time thinking of him as anything other than what he is: a handsome man who looks at her like she's worth something, worth knowing. And Eddie's never had very good self-control.
He lets his head fall down a little, leaning in closer to her, and she lets her fingertips play along the back of his neck, slipping beneath the collar of his borrowed shirt to touch his warm skin. ]
Tommy. [ God, he's sweet. How the hell is an Army vet, a fucking sniper, so sweet? She can believe he was raised Catholic, a true believer, that he never let himself go out and have too much of a wild youth, when he says shit like that to her. How the hell is she supposed to resist that? ] I'm hardly an angel, papi. Kind of the opposite, really.
[His shoulders raise and fall in a soft approximation of a laugh at her using that damn word again but maybe she was right in the beginning: the shape of it sounds good in her mouth. Eddie's fingers feel as hot as brands against the air-conditioned skin of his back.] Way I count it, it's been... [He tilts his arm just enough to check his watch.] About four hours.
Four hours since I met you and you've gone out and done a set you could have begged off to for a field full of wet fans, helped break down a stage you didn't have to when your crew was short-staffed, offered comfort to some random stranger when he was in pain, and. [Tommy chuckles, moving just enough to tap the bottom of the pipe lightly against Eddie's shin as he looks up at her.] Shared your very good stash with that same pendejo. Don't sound to me like you got the devil in you, chica.
Sure wish you'd been around in Hawkins when everyone was convinced I was a Satanist and-or possessed. Coulda saved me a lot of trouble and heartache.
[ She's joking, obviously, to cover the squirmy feelings she's battling under her skin. Of course she did all that shit. How could she not? Those kids out there, the fans, they scrimped and saved to get tickets (or found a way to sneak in) specifically to see their favorite bands play. The crew work their asses off to make sure that the show's a success. Tommy's hardly a random stranger to her, not now. And she always shares her weed.
He tilts his head to look up at her, tapping the warm pipe against her leg, and Eddie watches her free hand lift from her lap so she can trail the tip of her finger down the bridge of his nose. ]
[Tommy blinks up at Eddie as her finger slides down his nose and he's not it's not the weed telling his brain to kiss her.] I don't have freckles. [He does, he knows he does. He doesn't hate them but sure doesn't love them either.] Yours look like constellations on a cloudy night.
[ She laughs at him, the weed in her system making everything just that little bit funnier than it really is, and cups his face in her palm. ]
Yes you do!
[ His are much more pronounced than hers, dark and obvious and painfully charming. Eddie's are really only obvious when she's blushing, or when she's taken her makeup off like she has this evening, when her skin is bare and she's allowing herself to feel flattered by an attractive man making eyes at her.
No, I'm saying there's an impression of a fuller picture. [His voice is softer than it might have been otherwise, now that Eddie's hand is on his face. Tommy's heart is doing a very slow, very heavy, tapdance against his ribs.]
Can I kiss you? [It's out of his mouth, no attempt made to snatch it back.]
[ Eddie's never met Tommy's brother, knows nothing about him besides his full legal name, but she feels fairly confident she can guess which one of them is the song-writer in that duo, if the things Tommy says to her are any indication.
She's feeling a little soft and hazy around the edges, her sharpness blurred by the weed and the fact that they've spent so much time together tonight and Tommy literally put himself between her and at least a very painful injury if not something more serious.
It means when he asks to kiss her, she doesn't turn it into some kind of joke, doesn't say something snarky or quippy in return, just brushes her thumb over his cheek and nods, a pleased little smile curling her lips. ]
Yeah. [ She'd like that a lot, actually. But then she adds: ] Give me the pipe, though, I don't want to accidentally set the bed on fire.
[Eddie wouldn't be wrong; Joel's mind is calculating, logical - he's good with the music itself, the craftsmanship of fingers on frets while Tommy is... artistic. 'Sensitive.' He enjoys constructing sentiment out of words in a way that is capable of laying down tracks for Joel to follow - though he doesn't think that Joel would consider it that way.
He likes the softened edge to her answer, that lilt of a smile that doesn't try to be anything be pleased - some people would call him stupid, or naive, but it's not like Tommy has asked permission of every girl he kissed, or aimed for the perfect moment... but this feels something like that anyway, and it makes his pulse respond. Kick forward.
At least until she asks for the pipe.
Tommy nearly chokes on his exhale, laughs as he drops back down from how he was beginning to push off his elbows up toward Eddie's mouth as he hands her the pipe.] Cautious, that's good. Hope you're not speaking from experience.
[ It's sweet, him asking her permission. People have started treating her differently now that she's more well-known — Eddie and the Dead Girls are more than an indie band, now, that's a given, but it's not like they're selling out stadiums or anything, they're not famous-famous — but it's very rare for anyone to treat her with delicacy or sweetness. She doesn't really cultivate the image for it. And maybe, maybe if she got it all the time she'd get annoyed by it, but right now it's a novelty, and the look in Tommy's eyes has her own pulse ticking faster.
She's not even annoyed when he breaks for a moment, almost snorting a laugh as he hands her the pipe. She's laughing, too. ]
What? No, no way. I've definitely never set my bed on fire before, not even once. Or twice. [ She leans away for just a moment, just so she can stretch out and carefully place the pipe on the little nightstand by her bed, on top of a (clean) plate from a previous room-service order. ] Or three times.
[ Turning back to him, she wiggles a little on the bed, readjusting the way she's sitting to make it easier for her to reach out and twist her fingers in the front of his too-tight shirt to tug him up to her level. ] C'mere.
[Easier for her because Tommy was already moving. Already crawling forward off the chair and toward the bed as Eddie stretched out, all long pale flesh and dark ink, to follow through on his started joke. But he'd asked. And she'd answered.
And Tommy really wants to kiss her.
So there's no more joking, no more laughing - for now; Tommy is moving into Eddie's fingers even as she's grabbing for him, knee onto the bed in order to press his mouth to hers quickly enough to cut off the word on her lips.]
[ Eddie's other hand lifts to reach for Tommy's shoulder as he meets her half-way, surging up out of his chair and half-crawling onto the bed to kiss her, and she winds up sliding her arm around the back of his neck to keep him close as his lips press to hers even before she's finished talking.
This is Eddie's favorite way of being shut up, just for the record.
There's something in the eagerness in the way Tommy moves into her that sinks a hook under her sternum, yanking her off-kilter, and originally she'd just slipped her arm around his shoulders for somewhere to put it and so that he wouldn't get any bright ideas like pulling away, but it doesn't take long for her to grip the back of his shirt as well as the front, holding herself upright against him as much as she's holding him close to her. ]
[His arm wraps itself low around her waist with very little thought and the way the end up aligned, holding on to each other, that feels like a helluva lot more than implied chastity of 'Can I kiss you?' but to hell with it now. Eddie is warm and receptive and leaning in just as much as Tommy is and there ain't nothing bad about that.
He doesn't crush into the kiss but it's not - like the rest of him - in anyway shy or tentative. Tommy takes his time, though, he lets himself take his time. Explores the feel of her lips, the taste of her teeth, the way her back arches beneath the spread of his hand.]
[ It's difficult, making herself slow down. Eddie's always had what she calls a "Too Much Gene," where she can't convince herself not to greedily grab at the things she wants. Maybe it comes from her upbringing, maybe it's just a personality flaw, but she's always been the type of person to glut on something good when it's in front of her, just in case it gets taken away. Moderation has never been her strong suit.
It means she smokes too much, drinks too much, gets in fights too much. It also means, when a handsome man is leaning over her and licking into her mouth, she has to fight the urge to pull him back onto the bed with her, to haul his body overtop of hers so she can enjoy the way he presses her down and pins her to the mattress.
She didn't get to enjoy the feeling of Tommy sprawled on top of her earlier, a little preoccupied with the knock on her head and the crashing light behind them, and she wants to rectify that now.
But she makes herself slow down, forces her hand to unclench from the front of his shirt so she can smooth her palm up his chest to cup the back of his neck instead, the tips of her fingers tangling in the curls that are barely restrained by his hairtie. He kisses her with purpose, like he's mapping her out, and that focus is actually incredibly sexy, so she gives herself over to it and relaxes into his touch. ]
[Tommy has enough moderation for the both of them - but it's been imposed on him, something prone to crack under strain when there's no immediate consequences in sight. More of Eddie isn't a consequence... or at least not one that he's bothered by. He kisses her until they're both panting, finally resting a hand to the mattress to keep them from tipping backward and his forehead to hers.] I swear I did not follow you up here to sleep with you.
[Yeah, he's repeating himself. But he's high and it feels necessary.]
Uh huh. [ She doesn't disbelieve him, she's just having a hard time focusing right now. Her lips feel a little tingly, his facial hair is tickling her face, and his breath is a warm wash of air across her chin as he leans over her, his forehead pressed to hers. She's still clinging to his shoulders.
Maybe she should let him go?
But she doesn't want to. She tilts her chin to kiss him again, more briefly this time, her fingers curling and then spreading out across his back like a cat kneading a blanket. ] No, of course.
[Eddie's uninterested in his excuses. He gets it. He does; even though it takes his weed-soaked brain a moment to equate that with maybe she doesn't give a shit because she's interested. She's interested in him. Doesn't think he's a creep.
Okay. He can work with-] Ow.
[Her fingers hit a bandaid and the stitches beneath and his arm on the bed buckles, dropping them both back a foot before Tommy catches them, inches above the mattress, one arm still around her back and the other locking again to keep them up. Sort of. For a half-second - before Eddie drops down on the disheveled blankets and Tommy winds up propped up, hovering, overhead. He blinks down at her.] I'm gonna kiss you again.
[A warning, this time, instead of a question. And he does.]
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2025-05-25 01:04 am (UTC)And then Eddie takes in a wide lungful and the shape of piercings stand out proud and obvious from small, perky tits and Tommy's fucked. He's so fucked.
His mouth is dry and he doesn't know if it's the weed or arousal but luckily he's high enough that his dick doesn't try to leap into action. Tommy finds himself staring at some nothing-hotel art on the wall. He blinks, tries not to remember the sight of Eddie's chest, and looks back at her. Keep to her face, Tomás.] Dida. [Tommy nods, because her name works, it makes sense.]
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Date: 2025-05-25 01:09 am (UTC)What's that? [ she asks, picking up the pipe again and holding it out to him in a silent question. ]
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Date: 2025-05-25 01:33 am (UTC)My family, or. Spanish. Kinda. Like, I probably shoulda been Tomi, but because my mother always called me Thomas Antonio, instead of Tomi she called me Toto. So Edith Dawn, you'd be Dida. Because Edith Dawn, it's too nice to not say the whole thing. So the nickname's from both. [Obvious. Obviously. Tommy grins, feels the stretch of his face and laughs.]
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Date: 2025-05-25 01:38 am (UTC)Which isn't to say she doesn't think the explanation is incredibly cute, especially since it's apparently the same math his mom did to make his childhood nickname, but she's pretty sure he would never have told her that information if he'd been in his right mind, so maybe it's a good idea that he's pacing himself.
Not that he didn't know what he was getting into when he followed her up here. She had been pretty clear about her intentions. ]
That's really sweet. [ His eyes crinkle adorably when he grins at her that wide, little crow's feet streaking out across his temples. Eddie remembers his freckles, wishes she was a little closer so she could admire them properly. She takes a hit off the pipe mostly to keep her mouth occupied so she doesn't say something stupid, even though she knows Tommy's in no state to hold that against her right now. ] We're like bookends. We match. Toto and Dida.
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Date: 2025-05-25 01:48 am (UTC)Fits you.
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Date: 2025-05-25 01:53 am (UTC)She'd feel better if she'd have also taken a hot shower, but hey, she's warm and dry now, so it's fine.
Poor Tommy is still in those wet jeans. She kind of wants to offer him her sweats again. (There's a part of her that wants to ask him to just take them off entirely and leave it at that, but she's pushing that part of her aside. For now. As much as possible, at least.)
It's so obviously a line, and it's so obnoxious that it's working on her. ] I bet you say that to all the girls, [ she counters, wrinkling her nose at him again as she holds out the pipe one more time. ]
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Date: 2025-05-25 02:02 am (UTC)[He waves the insinuation away with his free hand before crossing his arms on the bed. The position pulls on the stitches but his nerves are pleasantly cosseted and for the moment he doesn't move.] Not a lot of girls. Got... [Control issues. He tongues the words in his mouth.] You know. Catholic upbringing. We're good boys. [Didn't hurt, anyway, having his role model end up in wedded not-bliss when he got his high school sweetheart knocked up. Without real thought, Tommy's eyes track to the box of condoms he'd thrown down on the dresser across the room.]
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Date: 2025-05-25 02:10 am (UTC)She firmly tells the smug little demon in the back of her mind to shut the hell up and stop crowing over the fact that it kind of sounds like Tommy's not the type of man to go out and pick up girls at bars (or music festivals) to fuck and then immediately forget. That's irrelevant.
It gets a little bit harder not to think about it when he bends closer, propping up his elbows on the bed beside her crossed knees. Her hand automatically finds its way to his shoulders without any conscious direction from her brain, and she finds herself carefully tracing the edges of his bandages through his shirt. ]
You know, when I was in high school, my shitty hometown was all convinced I was the leader of some kind of demonic cult hell-bent on seducing their corn-fed Indiana babies away from the light of the Lord? [ She gives him a crooked smile, twirling the end of one curl from his ponytail around her fingertip. ] A good Catholic boy like you oughta keep his distance.
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Date: 2025-05-25 02:22 am (UTC)Tommy's head rocks forward, hanging slightly in response to the touch of Eddie's fingers on him.] Some might think so but I've seen enough that I can't really believe in that anymore. But maybe I want to, because you sing like someone pulled you off a cloud. Like maybe it all really exists if you can sing like you do.
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Date: 2025-05-25 02:29 am (UTC)He lets his head fall down a little, leaning in closer to her, and she lets her fingertips play along the back of his neck, slipping beneath the collar of his borrowed shirt to touch his warm skin. ]
Tommy. [ God, he's sweet. How the hell is an Army vet, a fucking sniper, so sweet? She can believe he was raised Catholic, a true believer, that he never let himself go out and have too much of a wild youth, when he says shit like that to her. How the hell is she supposed to resist that? ] I'm hardly an angel, papi. Kind of the opposite, really.
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Date: 2025-05-25 11:17 am (UTC)Four hours since I met you and you've gone out and done a set you could have begged off to for a field full of wet fans, helped break down a stage you didn't have to when your crew was short-staffed, offered comfort to some random stranger when he was in pain, and. [Tommy chuckles, moving just enough to tap the bottom of the pipe lightly against Eddie's shin as he looks up at her.] Shared your very good stash with that same pendejo. Don't sound to me like you got the devil in you, chica.
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Date: 2025-05-25 01:31 pm (UTC)Sure wish you'd been around in Hawkins when everyone was convinced I was a Satanist and-or possessed. Coulda saved me a lot of trouble and heartache.
[ She's joking, obviously, to cover the squirmy feelings she's battling under her skin. Of course she did all that shit. How could she not? Those kids out there, the fans, they scrimped and saved to get tickets (or found a way to sneak in) specifically to see their favorite bands play. The crew work their asses off to make sure that the show's a success. Tommy's hardly a random stranger to her, not now. And she always shares her weed.
He tilts his head to look up at her, tapping the warm pipe against her leg, and Eddie watches her free hand lift from her lap so she can trail the tip of her finger down the bridge of his nose. ]
I love your freckles.
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Date: 2025-05-25 02:10 pm (UTC)[He laughs at himself. It's funny, but true.]
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Date: 2025-05-25 02:15 pm (UTC)Yes you do!
[ His are much more pronounced than hers, dark and obvious and painfully charming. Eddie's are really only obvious when she's blushing, or when she's taken her makeup off like she has this evening, when her skin is bare and she's allowing herself to feel flattered by an attractive man making eyes at her.
It's fucking working. ]
So they're invisible, is that what you're saying?
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Date: 2025-05-25 08:06 pm (UTC)Can I kiss you? [It's out of his mouth, no attempt made to snatch it back.]
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Date: 2025-05-25 08:11 pm (UTC)She's feeling a little soft and hazy around the edges, her sharpness blurred by the weed and the fact that they've spent so much time together tonight and Tommy literally put himself between her and at least a very painful injury if not something more serious.
It means when he asks to kiss her, she doesn't turn it into some kind of joke, doesn't say something snarky or quippy in return, just brushes her thumb over his cheek and nods, a pleased little smile curling her lips. ]
Yeah. [ She'd like that a lot, actually. But then she adds: ] Give me the pipe, though, I don't want to accidentally set the bed on fire.
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Date: 2025-05-26 01:40 am (UTC)He likes the softened edge to her answer, that lilt of a smile that doesn't try to be anything be pleased - some people would call him stupid, or naive, but it's not like Tommy has asked permission of every girl he kissed, or aimed for the perfect moment... but this feels something like that anyway, and it makes his pulse respond. Kick forward.
At least until she asks for the pipe.
Tommy nearly chokes on his exhale, laughs as he drops back down from how he was beginning to push off his elbows up toward Eddie's mouth as he hands her the pipe.] Cautious, that's good. Hope you're not speaking from experience.
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Date: 2025-05-26 01:52 am (UTC)She's not even annoyed when he breaks for a moment, almost snorting a laugh as he hands her the pipe. She's laughing, too. ]
What? No, no way. I've definitely never set my bed on fire before, not even once. Or twice. [ She leans away for just a moment, just so she can stretch out and carefully place the pipe on the little nightstand by her bed, on top of a (clean) plate from a previous room-service order. ] Or three times.
[ Turning back to him, she wiggles a little on the bed, readjusting the way she's sitting to make it easier for her to reach out and twist her fingers in the front of his too-tight shirt to tug him up to her level. ] C'mere.
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Date: 2025-05-26 02:09 am (UTC)And Tommy really wants to kiss her.
So there's no more joking, no more laughing - for now; Tommy is moving into Eddie's fingers even as she's grabbing for him, knee onto the bed in order to press his mouth to hers quickly enough to cut off the word on her lips.]
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Date: 2025-05-26 02:21 am (UTC)This is Eddie's favorite way of being shut up, just for the record.
There's something in the eagerness in the way Tommy moves into her that sinks a hook under her sternum, yanking her off-kilter, and originally she'd just slipped her arm around his shoulders for somewhere to put it and so that he wouldn't get any bright ideas like pulling away, but it doesn't take long for her to grip the back of his shirt as well as the front, holding herself upright against him as much as she's holding him close to her. ]
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Date: 2025-05-26 01:53 pm (UTC)He doesn't crush into the kiss but it's not - like the rest of him - in anyway shy or tentative. Tommy takes his time, though, he lets himself take his time. Explores the feel of her lips, the taste of her teeth, the way her back arches beneath the spread of his hand.]
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Date: 2025-05-26 02:16 pm (UTC)It means she smokes too much, drinks too much, gets in fights too much. It also means, when a handsome man is leaning over her and licking into her mouth, she has to fight the urge to pull him back onto the bed with her, to haul his body overtop of hers so she can enjoy the way he presses her down and pins her to the mattress.
She didn't get to enjoy the feeling of Tommy sprawled on top of her earlier, a little preoccupied with the knock on her head and the crashing light behind them, and she wants to rectify that now.
But she makes herself slow down, forces her hand to unclench from the front of his shirt so she can smooth her palm up his chest to cup the back of his neck instead, the tips of her fingers tangling in the curls that are barely restrained by his hairtie. He kisses her with purpose, like he's mapping her out, and that focus is actually incredibly sexy, so she gives herself over to it and relaxes into his touch. ]
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Date: 2025-05-26 11:16 pm (UTC)[Yeah, he's repeating himself. But he's high and it feels necessary.]
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Date: 2025-05-26 11:51 pm (UTC)Maybe she should let him go?
But she doesn't want to. She tilts her chin to kiss him again, more briefly this time, her fingers curling and then spreading out across his back like a cat kneading a blanket. ] No, of course.
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Date: 2025-05-27 01:07 am (UTC)Okay. He can work with-] Ow.
[Her fingers hit a bandaid and the stitches beneath and his arm on the bed buckles, dropping them both back a foot before Tommy catches them, inches above the mattress, one arm still around her back and the other locking again to keep them up. Sort of. For a half-second - before Eddie drops down on the disheveled blankets and Tommy winds up propped up, hovering, overhead. He blinks down at her.] I'm gonna kiss you again.
[A warning, this time, instead of a question. And he does.]
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