Work Text:
Your first New Year's with the dateviators could only be described as a wild night.
When Volt first extended the invitation for his Evening Soirée, you had expected something small and classy. Nothing too different from every other night at the Breaker Box, except maybe for a bigger dance floor and flashy gold decorations strewn about. The name proved to be a bit misleading, and didn't prepare you for the absolute mad fest you had walked into a few hours before midnight.
Before you even opened the doors, you could feel the bass of the bumping music behind your eyes. Stepping into the establishment was like being transported to another dimension. (Which you suppose is the normal when using the dateviators.) The Breaker Box was absolutely packed, and as you scanned the crowded bar, you found that almost every object made an appearance. You hadn't seen this many of them in one room since Zoey's seance, and even that paled in comparison.
You were greeted at the door by Kopi and Holly, who were more than ecstatic to see you as they pulled you into a happy embrace. The festivities seemed to already be in full swing if their drunken flushes were anything to go by, and the pair quickly dragged you to the bar so you could catch up with everyone. Holly waved down Beverly to fix you a drink, since Eddie was preoccupied at the other end of the bar top with Stepford, much to your dismay. You had expected her to mix together a Dateviator for you, maybe pour you a glass of the top-shelf Riesling, or, hell, make you the signature Whiskey Sour you've come to love. Instead, she pushed a Lemon Drop to you with a wink, knowing full well how dangerous this drink can be for you. 'Soirée' your ass, this was a fucking party, and you might as well get into the New Year's spirit.
After your third Lemon Drop, the night becomes a bit of a blur. You're aware of yourself, perhaps too aware, but you're also intoxicated by the surrounding atmosphere, which makes time slip past faster than you can keep up with. You let yourself get pulled this way and that, your body pliant to the whims of your friends as everyone wants to spend a bit of time with you.
Stella pulls you over to join a game of blackjack with Washford, Drysdale, Celia, and Florence. After your third victory, Florence shoos you away while Washford sulks. Curt takes his opportunity to pull you in for a game of Spoons with Rod, Daisuke, Beau, and Bobby. The energy of those games was night and day; the few rounds of Blackjack were a nice calm before the absolute hurricane that was the game of Spoons, which you somehow came out the winner of.
Immediately after your victory against Daisuke, Rainey had come up to drag you to the dance floor, and you found yourself in a circle with her, Winnifred, Phoenicia, Betty, and Bathsheba. The girls offered many hollers of encouragement as you danced with maybe a bit too much movement coming from your hips, but you met their energy perfectly for the next few songs.
Eventually, you drifted from that circle to join Telly on the stage behind the DJ booth. With a bit of encouragement in the form of a rum shooter he poured down your throat, you helped him DJ for a bit. It was fun enough, but looking out at the sea of drunk objects dancing only made you miss the one object you wanted to dance with most.
Luckily, he had the same desire, and it wasn't long before you saw the stark white shine of Volt making his way to the stage for you. You thanked Telly before practically jumping into Volt's arms, and the two of you broke into a fit of giggles, barely audible so close to the pumping speakers.
You danced together for a bit, barely any space between your bodies as they rolled against each other in time to the music. It was nothing like how you've danced with Volt before, but your body met his movements like it was made to do nothing else.
Eventually, the excitement wore off, and you yelled through the music that you needed a break. Volt nodded, taking your hand and leading you expertly through the crowd until you emerged at the bar, the two of you barely stepping behind it before Eddie was handing you a glass of water that you eagerly accepted.
"I've been trying to catch you all night," he said. "You sure have gotten around."
Maybe if you were a bit more sober, you would have recognized the jealousy in Eddie's voice, but for now, you're just too giddy to realize it as you gulp down a few mouthfuls of the drink.
"It's been so much fun! I miss going out like this," you slurred, Volt chuckling beside you as water dripped from your chin.
"So much fun you couldn't even say 'hello' to us?" Volt asked.
Fuck, you hadn't actually greeted them since you came in. You've barely had a moment to yourself all night.
"I'm sorry, baby. I got so caught up in everything I didn't even notice," you try to soothe them. "But, hey! Now you’ve got me for midnight."
Eddie playfully rolls his eyes, only cracking you a smile when you swat at him. He wraps a hand around your waist, pulling you in for a quick kiss that's interrupted by the music stopping suddenly as someone clears their throat into the microphone. You whip your head to see Timothy on stage with Telly.
"One minute until midnight," he says, holding out his pocket watch to the sea of objects as if they could have possibly read the time.
"You heard the feline, now let's get on time! Grab a partner and your popper, and let's celebrate this proper!" Telly adds on enthusiastically, which earns a look of annoyance from Timothy.
Instead of finishing the kiss Eddie had seemed so keen on having before the interruption, he uses your proximity to question you, eyes darting to your lips. "So, who you kissing for the new year?"
You hum in faux-thought, midnight drawing even closer. "Maybe… Tony?" you tease.
Eddie scoffs. "Be serious."
It was your turn to roll your eyes, finding it endearing how he even felt the need to ask. "You two, of course. You goof." Your hand reaches out to pull Volt closer, needing to make sure he’s included in this moment. "If you'll have me."
"Darling," Volt drawls, his hand slipping around you to join Eddie's, "we'd want no one else."
"Gotta choose one of us, though." Of course, Eddie had to ruin the sweet moment with rational thinking. You hum again, finally noticing that the other objects had begun counting down. Instead of answering, you join them.
Even for being five degrees short of plastered, you should have been commended for the brilliant thinking you were able to do. When the clock struck twelve of the new year, and cheers erupted all around, you grabbed Volt and Eddie's chins, pulling them down to meet in a three-person kiss that was more determination than it was lips. None of you would have it any other way. You laugh when they pull back, a giddy, drunk laugh. Volt continues to kiss you, trailing down from your cheek to your neck, his nose tickling your skin and only adding to your joy. Eddie presses a long and soft kiss to your temple, whispering'I love you' into your ear. You say it back, practically shouted over the music that began to bump through the bar again, so both can hear you.
Such a perfect way to begin the new year, and the night was just finally starting.
You found that you weren't able to remember much else of it after that.
Just before noon of the next morning, you finally awake in the familiar sheets of Volt and Eddie's bed. You're dressed in one of their t-shirts, who’s exactly, you don’t know. It hangs loosely around your frame, the perfect fit for them to wrap their arms around you under the fabric, just like one of them does now. You try to lift your head to take a peek at who it is, only for a sharp pain to stab behind your eyes. Your head thrums as it remembers that you had, in fact, drunk yourself to the floor last night, and faintly remembers one of them having to carry you up.
"Eddie's downstairs," Volt murmurs into your neck, barely audibly over your groan of pain. His voice is still laced with sleep, and his hold on you refuses to falter.
"Okay," you squeak out, voice groggy and sore. "I need water."
"Also downstairs. I drank what we had up here."
"Prick," you say, before prying yourself from his arms. He doesn't fight to have you stay like he's usually inclined to, instead grabbing the pillow you left warm to take your place. Seems he needs more rest, which you'll happily join him in after quenching the thirst that threatens to overtake you.
You slowly trudge down the stairs after that, not even bothering to pull on pants. If any other object is somehow still lingering, they've probably seen you in less anyway.
Luckily, the only one you find is Eddie, wiping down the bar with a rag that has seen better days.
"Hey," he greets, stopping his cleaning to stare shamelessly at your bare legs. You'd think it was him being lustful if not for the concerned furrow to his brows. You look down, finally noticing the small bruises scattered across your legs.
You groan, voice still hoarse as you speak. "I had a fun night, huh?"
"Don't remember?" Eddie asks, to which you shake your head, wincing as the motion causes another stab of pain.
"Nothing after midnight," you say. The furrow doesn’t leave his brows as his gaze rises to your face. "It'll come back to me once I actually wake up. Only thing I can think about right now is this hangover. Get some water for me?"
Eddie rolls his eyes, discarding the towel and finding a clean glass in the sea of dirty ones left from last night. You spare a quick glance around the rest of the Breaker Box, noticing how trashed it is. It's obvious how out of hand the party had gotten; even behind the bar wasn't spared from the mess. Eddie had managed to clean a small amount, but a lot of work remained to be done.
"You can leave the cleaning for later, you know. Just give me and Volt a bit to sleep off the night, and the three of us will get this done in no time," you insist, hoping Eddie would let himself have a break.
"Nah. Woke up feeling restless. I don't like it when the bar looks like this." His eyes trace the same pattern yours did moments ago as he hands you a glass of ice water, sighing as he takes it in. "Things got a bit wild. I blame you."
"Me? How is this my fault?" you exclaim, offended as you gesture to the bar.
"You have this effect about you—make people go crazy."
"You included?"
"More like drive me crazy," he grumbles.
"Hey!" you laugh, awkwardly teetering off when he doesn't join you.
You stare at him as you sip your water, the clinking of ice the only sound in this sudden quiet. You're about to ask Eddie if he was okay, but he beats you to it.
"You upset me last night," he confesses.
"Shit," you respond immediately. "I'm sorry. What'd I do?"
Eddie brings a hand to rub at his neck. "I was busy with the bar all night. Didn't really have a chance to join the party. Couldn't take my eyes off you, though. You did have a fun night, and I guess I was just mad at myself that I made it so I couldn't join you. It's not like I ever wanted to before; every other year, it's just me and Volt. He does the hosting, I do the drinks. We have a system," he pauses for a moment, dragging a hand down his face before he continues. "But now you're part of it. You gave me a reason to want to join the fun, and I couldn't. All that to say," he sighs, clearly struggling to admit his feelings to you, "I got jealous. Seeing you with everyone else and having fun. Without me."
You down the rest of your water, the pain finally gone from your head. Scooting closer to where Eddie leans against the back of the bar, you wrap an arm around his waist, resting your head against his shoulder so he doesn't feel forced to make eye contact with you.
"I'm sorry, baby. I wanted to see you, but you were always busy, so I thought I shouldn't bother you. I'm probably the only one allowed to, though."
He lets out a breathy chuckle. "Yeah. You, and sometimes Volt."
Both of you laugh at that, and whatever tension there was leaves Eddie's shoulders. You don't miss the way his fingers flex against the bar.
"Are you still angry?" you question.
"I'm not angry, spark."
"It's okay if you are." Your hand slides from his waist to squeeze his forearm, the flexed muscles relaxing slightly under your touch. "I know you don't want to be mad at me, but it's okay if that's the way you feel."
He considers this for a minute, his nose scrunching as he weighs your words. It makes him look adorable.
"Maybe a bit," he finally whispers.
You both fall silent again, the air just a bit tense between you both. You don't know what to do, and like hell Eddie does. Fuck it. "What if you… took it out on me?"
Eddie immediately tenses again, head whipping to stare at you incredulously. "Spark, you don't mean that—"
"Yes, I do. Let's start the year off without any lingering tension. Even if it's a minuscule amount of anger, take it out on me. Use me." You trail the hand resting against his forearm up, tracing his body hair in a light motion. You hope that's enough to convey your hidden meaning.
Eddie chews on the inside of his cheek, a flush beginning to burn at his ears. He whispers, "Like… as a sex thing?"
You can't help but huff out a small laugh before you answer, matching his quiet tone. "Yes, like a sex thing."
That seems to open him up to your proposition more, and he takes on his new role easily. "I dunno, might be more angry than you think. You sure you want to… submit to me?"
An excited thrill runs through you. "More than anything," you say, eyes locked on his lips as you lean in closer, Eddie mirroring your action. You falter just centimeters from his lips, quietly adding, "Is it okay that I'm being selfish with my apology?"
Eddie moves, caging your body against the bar with his strong thighs and even stronger arms. He crowds you against the wood, the bar top pushing roughly into your back as he brings a hand to grip roughly at your chin.
"I'll fuck it out of you. Use you," he murmurs, surging forward to claim your mouth in a rough kiss, your lips moving in a perfect, ravenous rhythm. He wastes no time licking into your mouth, chasing the taste of your spit mixing with his. It creates the best cocktail he’s ever had the pleasure of sampling. The hand on your chin slides down, curling around your throat and squeezing just so. There's barely any pressure to his grip, more a promise than anything. Either way, you gasp into his mouth.
"Eddie—"
"Turn around," his voice is no more than a whisper, but it might as well have been a shout with how fast your body responds to him. You brace your arms against the bar, bending over to jut your ass out to him. He chuckles once you settle, dragging a rough hand to glide against the back of your thigh. You shiver at the contact. "Didn't even have to ask. You just know." His hand skates even higher, lifting your shirt to reveal the pretty little panties you donned just for them the night before. His fingers pinch at the fabric. "I think you deserve a bit of a punishment for how you acted last night. That sound fair?"
You giggle, wiggling your ass just slightly as he slides them down your legs. Even though you can't see him, you can imagine the way his eyebrows pinch together. "I don't know… what do you have in mind?"
"I think—" his fingers hook into the band of your underwear, tugging them down just enough to expose your ass, "—one spank for everyone I saw you flirting with last night. How about that?"
You scoff. "I was not flirting—"
You're cut off when he brings his hand down against your ass, the smack! ringing out through the bar.
"That one was for Kopi." Another rings in the air, your cheek stinging. "And that for Holly."
He shoots you a pointed look when you turn your head back to glare at him. "What?"
"Say you're sorry," he answers. "You don't have to count. I'll keep track."
While you're happy he's slipped into this scene so easily, god, do you hate his bastard face. A smug smile tugs at his features, a wicked glint to his eyes. It makes you throb.
"I'm sorry," you whisper into the air, bracing yourself for the next one, which comes quickly.
"Beverly."
Smack!
"I'm sorry."
"Washford. Celia."
Smack! Smack!
"I'm—I'm sorry," you choke out. Your skin is hot and tingling from his palm.
"Winnifred. Betty. Rainey."
Smack! Smack! Smack!
"I'm sorry!"
"Telly."
Smack!
"I'm sorry! Fuck, I'm sorry."
He goes on like that, each name dripping from his tongue like venom from a bee sting. Some you remember: Curt and Rod, Daisuke, Bobby, Bathsheba, Phoenicia—yet as he goes on, and your mind becomes fuzzy from your punishment, you can't help but think he's making these up. You don't even remember talking to half these objects, much less flirting with them, as he so claims. Chance, Memoria, Airyn, Sophia, Clarence. The most ridiculous comes at the end, once he finally eases up, soothing over your flushed cheeks gently. He opens his mouth again, and you expect him to coo at you; to say how good you're being for him, how beautiful you look when you take your punishment so well. Instead, he practically growls out, "Tony."
"Are you seri—"
The breath leaves your lungs at the harsh impact of Eddie's hand against your already stinging ass. This one had more force than all the ones before, sending you surging forward until your hips dig uncomfortably into the bar top. You hiss through your teeth, breath stuttering.
"Say it," he commands, bending down to speak directly into your ear, his hand groping roughly at your ass. You groan at the pain that shoots straight to your clit.
"I was not flirting with Tony," you argue.
He kneads the meat of your ass even harder. "I'd watch your tone," he warns.
"I wasn't flirting! Are you really that threatened by Tony of all people?" You found it just plain silly that Eddie would be intimidated by a toolbox that doesn't even know the difference between a flathead and a Phillips. You giggle as you remember something Eddie had said last night. "You sure were worried about me kissing him.”
"Fucking brat," he spits, prying himself from your body. He grips the loose fabric of your shirt, pulling your body to stand straight in a dizzying tug. "Got too drunk you can't remember? Maybe we ought to get you back in that headspace, so you can recall what a fucking slut you were." His voice deepens as he talks, the baritone vibrating deliciously in your eardrums. "On your knees."
You quickly obey him, sinking to the floor as he walks a few steps away from you. The rubber mats dig into your skin, and you reposition as Eddie sifts through the cabinet under the sink. You don't know what he's looking for, but god, does his ass look good when he's squatted down like this.
His raspy chuckle is what brings you back from your shameless ogling. Eddie leans back from his scavenging, revealing a clear bottle to you as he stands. He holds it out in front of him, letting the liquid slosh around.
"I got this one from Cam," he starts, low and measured. The bottle doesn't look different from any of the other handles that line the shelves to your right, except for the fact that it has no label. If you didn't know any better, you'd think it was cleaning vinegar. "It's absolutely fucking disgusting. I think if I tried to serve it to the customers, they'd run me out of business." He chuckles to himself, no amusement in his voice. He squats in front of you. "Smell it."
With the bottle held to your nose, you take a tentative sniff. It almost makes you choke at the putrid smell that attacks your senses. "What the fuck is that?"
"Dunno," Eddie answers. "Cam doesn't even know. He pawned it off on me because even he couldn't stomach it. Thought I'd hold it better." He grimaces then, nose scrunching as he seems to remember something. "I tried a shot of this shit and gagged. Me, of all people, fucking gagged. Wonder how you'll react. Open."
Your breathing is labored as you stare up at him, rubber floor mats digging into your knees, the heels of your feet digging into your still crimson-splotted ass. The pain is a delicious treat bestowed upon you, and it'd be rude to decline another gift Eddie so graciously offers.
But where's the fun in being his pliant little doll?
"I'm not drinking that," you try to grit out. It sounds more breathless than you wanted.
"Do you think you have a choice?" Eddie chuckles, lifting the bottle from the half tilt he had it angled, ready to be poured straight into your unwaiting mouth. Maybe to others, the question would seem rhetorical, but you know he's giving you a chance to back out of this scene.
Like hell you would.
"You gonna force me, big guy?" Your smirk is quickly pinched between his calloused hand, cheeks squished until it's gone completely.
"Open. Your. Mouth," he demands, pressing his fingers against your jaw until it falls open. "You think with all the talking you do, you'd know how to do this without my help."
You'd make a quip, but the piercing taste of the mystery booze invades your mouth before the words even form. You practically choke on it, the liquid burning as it pools against your tongue.
"Swallow," he commands, tilting your head up until your eyes lock in a heated gaze; his doesn't leave as your lips press together, your neck flexing as the horrible drink finds its way down your throat.
Eddie releases his hold as you double over, coughing violently. Fucking hell, it's worse than you could have ever guessed. Worse than that Budweiser Eddie made you try once, or that boxed wine you’d live off in college—even worse than fucking Malört.
Somehow, the aftertaste is even more vile. Your coughs turn into half gags as you desperately try to escape the assault on your taste buds.
The worst part of all? Eddie's sick chuckle above you.
"Not used to some shitty, cheap alcohol, huh? Me and Volt spoil you too much. Wine and dined with the best from the top shelf, everything perfectly aged and expertly prepared," he sneers, thick fingers lacing through your hair, tugging you back to meet his glare. "You don't deserve that now. This is the best you deserve." He swishes the bottle in front of you, tilting it over your lips once again. "Disgusting sluts like you don't get top shelf wines—you don't even get bottom shelf. You get whatever I give you."
You purse your lips before the alcohol can pour against your tongue, eyes screwing shut at the fumes that seem to permeate from the booze. Eddie's fist tugs harshly at your scalp, forcing a gasp and letting some of the vile liquid seep into your mouth. Still, you struggle against his hold, not because you want the delicious grip he has on you to leave, or because your legs sting from so long spent on the rubber floor mats—no. The fight is half the fun, and you just want to be a little brat.
Eddie is used to your antics after so many nights spent entangled together, your squirming no exception. He stops the steady trickle of alcohol pouring above you and unthreads his fingers from your hair. You're about to ask him why he's pulling back, but he speaks before you can.
"Take off my shirt," he says, eyes flicking down to the soaked t-shirt that sticks to your skin. Ah, so it was his all along. You should have guessed.
You close your jaw finally, swallowing what little of his pour ended up in your mouth instead of staining your skin through the fabric. You pull it off easily, chest exposed to the cool air of the bar, unaided by the alcohol drying on your skin. Goose flesh appears down your arms, and your nipples pebble under Eddie's hard gaze. You think it's just him checking you out, until his boot presses right in between them, forcing you backwards.
"Lie down," is all he says, and you don't even try to fight against it. Instead, you move your legs out from under you, lying against the floor mats as his boot pushes you toward the floor. He keeps it there, resting an elbow on his knee to stare down at you, pressing even harder against your sternum. You can tell he's purposefully not using all of his weight.
You wish he would.
He sets the bottle of horrid booze next to you. "What a waste," Eddie's gravely voice shakes you from your musings, your eyes shooting from where he presses you down, up to his face. He looks at you with what could only be described as pure, dangerous hunger. "You spilled so much. Is your tolerance that low, or is your palette too refined for something so beneath you?" he drags out the ‘so’, mocking you.
Eddie rises from glaring down at you, lifting his boot to press against your chin, tilting it up. You turn your head away from him, refusing to meet his eyes now that he's so blatantly toying with you. It doesn't discourage him. Instead, the sole of his boot presses against your cheek. "You're so fucking disgusting, making such a mess of yourself. Do you need help keeping your mouth open?"
Even with his boot making your words hitch in your throat, you still respond in a quiet voice, "No."
"Oh, I think you do. Think you need to remember who your mouth belongs to." Your eyes shoot wide open when you hear the clinking of his belt, a sharp intake of air burning your throat. You try to turn your head to see, but his boot presses rougher, forcing you down. You squirm as he takes his time undoing his pants, hyper aware of every sound he makes: opening his belt from the clasp, a zipper being pulled open, the sound of his work jeans finally rolling down his thighs. It's after that one he lifts his boot from your face, and you're able to turn your head to stare at his erect, leaking cock above you. You gulp seeing it slightly twitch, and try to lift yourself to your forearms so you can meet Eddie where he towers above you. Instead, his boot finds your chest again, forcing you down. You're confused for only a few seconds until he sinks to his knees, straddling your body with his thick thighs caging you in. With the way he looks at you, it's easy to feel like his trapped prey.
"I think," he grips his cock in his calloused hand, angling it until his tip brushes against your lips, smearing his precum over them like a lip gloss, "you need help keeping your mouth open. Say 'ahh.'"
You're briefly brought out of your haze. "You've got to be—mmph!" but before you can even say anything, Eddie is forcing his cock head between your lips.
Surprisingly, his taste mixes delightfully with the lingering notes of booze, the flavor profile sharp and tangy against your tongue. You could get addicted.
You moan around his length, welcoming every inch he feeds you. More than welcome—you invite it, hands slipping around his clothed thighs to encourage him deeper.
He stops once half of him is sheathed in your mouth, groaning at the way you drag your tongue along his shaft, sucking lightly around him.
"Fuck, baby," his voice is shaky, dipping in pitch to a low vibrato you swear you can feel hum against you. "Is this all you need to stop being a little brat? My cock in your mouth?" His grin sharpens at your muffled moan, hips twitching above you, feeding you just a bit more of his length. "Fucking desperate. I think you're forgetting this is still your punishment."
Your eyes shoot wide as you watch him grab for the bottle, squirming underneath him as his fingers flex around the handle. The way he leans forward causes even more of his cock to go into your mouth, your jaw stretching around his girth. It'll probably be sore after this. You pray it is.
The added length only lasts a few seconds, being pulled out when Eddie leans back, alcohol in hand. You had gotten so cock drunk you forgot about your struggle, the fight in you now reignited as he slowly tips the neck of the bottle down, just as you bring your hands out from under his thighs.
"Hold—hold still, you fucking," he struggles with you, trying to keep his balance on top of your writhing body as he grunts out, "disgusting," your wrists are caught under his thighs now, pinned by his weight, "slut." His fingers thread through your hair, pulling against your scalp until your head is held in his tight grasp. Finally trapped, Eddie pours the alcohol over you.
You're entranced as you watch the liquid fall, seemingly in slow motion. The lights of the bar reflect off it, making it seem white instead of the sickeningly clear it is. Stray droplets end up on the trail of hair that swirls up Eddie's stomach, the follicles now glistening. Best of all, it streams beautifully down Eddie's shaft, creating patterns that could almost be seen as lace. Fuck, what you would give to see him in something like that.
This will have to suffice for now.
In your blissful state, you don't even notice the way Eddie pulls his cock away once the alcohol starts to kiss against your lips, only to thrust back in a wild motion. You choke around him, the putrid taste of the booze invading your mouth once more, and not even the salty bitterness of Eddie can mask it. He grinds like that against your face, feeding you his delicious cock and the most repulsive drink you have ever had all at once.
The way you gag around his tip doesn't stop you from meeting his thrusts. Yes, his fist curled in your hair guides you to meet them, but only because you let it, enthusiastically swallowing around him even as every sense you have tells you to pull away.
He made good on his promise to fuck it out of you.
"That's a good girl," he sighs, continuing to ride your face like a man depraved. "What do you like more, the taste of my cock or this booze?" He stares at you like he expects an answer, but his hips move like he doesn't care what it would be either way. "Nothing to say? Guess it's not me then."
You try to shake your head no, but it only forces another gag from deep in your throat, your chest fluttering from the sensation. He laughs in such a cruel way above you, looking down his nose to sneer at you. "You're such a disgusting slut. A disgusting, embarrassing slut. I guess you just love being drunk so much, letting your inhibitions run wild like this." His thrusts have sped up, and he grunts at the strain he gives himself. "Fuck! Fuck, baby, if I give you what you want, will you stop being such a brat? Is that what I need to do?" Tears prickle at your blown-wide eyes as he reaches for the bottle again. "You want more, don't you? I'll give you more. I'll give you all you want until you've tired yourself out and I can use you however I want." He pours the alcohol over his shaft again, and unlike last time, he doesn't stop. "And you'd just fucking let me. You'd want it. Maybe even more than I would, because you're just—oh, fuck baby—a slut like that, huh?"
He keeps babbling on above you, but you can't hear much as the drink flows and his cock throbs against your tongue. Eddie's thrusts are so erratic now that if he didn't have you pinned down, you'd slide against the mats from the energy of his hips. Your nails dig into his thighs, relaxing your jaw as the alcohol stops being poured, and Eddie brings his other hand to press against the back of your head, forcing your neck up further to meet his thrusts. His unkempt hair tickles against your nose, the zipper of his jeans digs into your chin, and almost his entire cock is forced down your throat. The fog in your brain is so thick, but you can just barely make out his whines of "Fuck, baby, oh sweet fucking amp—just like that, yes, shit—!"
You moan around him, arms spasming when you feel the first burst of seed against the back of your throat. Then the second. The third. You lose count quickly, determined to drink all that Eddie chooses to gift you. His thighs clench around your head, squishing your cheeks just as he loves to do with his hands, which are busy now keeping a death grip on your hair. He'd rather fizzle out than let you pull off his cock.
And so would you, swallowing around him with just as much hunger as he possesses. His taste is always so bitter against your tongue, but mixed with your thick saliva and the putrid booze, it somehow manages to make a drink you can’t help but crave. You hope that Eddie completely loses himself, that he keeps riding your face with such ferocity you haven’t seen in him before.
He's still Eddie, though, and he finds himself a few short seconds after his orgasm finally subsides. His cock pulls out of your mouth with a wet pop! that seems to ring in your ears. He quickly releases his hold on your hair and moves his knees until he's slightly hovering above you. For all his talk, he still cares enough to make sure you don't feel crushed by his body. How cute.
You don't say anything as you stare at each other, gazes locked on swollen, glistening lips and a beet-red face.
You're the first to speak. "Hey," you say through your pants, voice raspier than it was when you first woke just a bit ago.
A small smile finds its way onto Eddie's face. "Hey. You doing okay, spark?"
"Yes."
"Good, good." He brings a hand to swipe the bangs from his face. "Need anything? Water? To throw up?" He gives a breathy chuckle.
"A nice fuck sounds good right now."
Eddie can't help his laugh, and you quickly join in. Your fits of joy are only interrupted by a sharp, equally raspy voice. Eddie's head whips up, and you lean yours back to see an upside-down Volt, dressed only in his silk pajama pants.
"Well, well," he says from the doorway of the stairwell, leaning against the wood as he takes in the two of you. "This has to be the most interesting sight I've seen in this bar."
You pout as his words make Eddie scramble from his place on top of you. "Even more interesting than when you had me under the bar?"
Volt chuckles. "Well, I would say that was more beautiful than it was interesting. How's that hangover treating you, love?"
"Oh, just great," you say. "Came down for some water, and Eddie decided to force me to drink more alcohol."
Volt feigns a gasp. "My, my, Eddie. How irrational of you."
"Had to. They were being a fucking brat," Eddie grumbles, standing from the floor and leaning down to help you up. He basically has to pry you free from the rubber mats.
Finally standing again, you quickly accept that soon enough you’ll be puking up your guts, but you'll worry about the consequences of your vices later. For now, you just want to take advantage of this time with your boys. Even if they talk like you're not even here.
"Our live wire, a brat? Surely you're not thinking of another human." Volt walks over to the two of you, running his hands up your back as he presses a kiss to your neck. From his ministrations, you can feel the indentation of your skin, which you know looks just like the octagon holes of the mats that dig into your feet now. To anyone else, they might think you got attacked by a giant squid.
"You remember how they acted last night, Volt. Had to teach them a lesson."
Volt hums against your neck, nosing forward until his chin hooks over your shoulder to stare at Eddie. "And did your lesson stick?"
"What do you think?" Eddie grumbles, crossing his arms as he watches the two of you. You know better than to say anything, especially now that Volt's here.
"That's because you're too soft on them, Eddie. They need a hand with more force behind it to truly learn. I'm sure I could teach them; you've given me a wonderful idea with that Everclear of yours."
… There's no way that was Everclear.
"We can give them a break for now," Eddie replies. "Amp knows I need one."
"Another day then," Volt promises. "I do have a new bottle of wine I've been meaning to taste."
You don't even want to begin to think about what he has planned.
"I'm sure you two can talk about it more after our nap,” Eddie says. “C'mon, let's get you cleaned up, spark."
The idea seems daunting. "I'm too tired for a bath," you murmur, the warmth of Volt's skin reminding you of just how tired you are.
"I have some wipes upstairs. That'll do for now while we rest, but you're gonna let me put some cream on your backside."
"And which backside are you referring to?" Volt interjects. You can't help but giggle along.
"Yeah, which one, Eddie?"
"Shut it. Both of you," he says. "Now, c'mon. I'm exhausted." He walks in front of you then, bounding up the stairs to grab what he needs for your half-assed aftercare (which you know he'll make up for later), leaving you and Volt entangled behind the bar.
"Now, what could you two have possibly done to make Eddie, of all things, want to take a nap?"
You turn your head to place a kiss against his cheek, his electric curls tingly against your sensitive skin. "He already told you. I was being a brat."
"I have my work cut out for me then, if I want to teach you how to be pliant."
You give a small laugh, a challenge laced in your voice. "Good luck with that, sir."
His eyes darken at the title, arms slinking to hold tightly around your waist. "Oh, I won't need it.”
… You choose not to worry about it. Especially not now, when you’re so close to being smushed between them. You deserve it after being so good for Eddie, after all, no matter how he tries to spin it. Plus, you have a busy day of talking to different objects ahead of you.
You do, at least, have the foresight to plan not to speak with Tony. At least for today. And maybe tomorrow.