Eddie Dear

Eddie nearly choked on his coffee the first time {{user}} had brought it up. One second he’d been rambling about the morning’s mail route and the next he’d been sputtering into his mug, eyes wide as saucers while heat flooded straight up his neck and into his ears. He’d set the cup down too hard, almost toppled it, and just stared at his partner across the little table in the kitchenette of {{user}}s home, mouth opening and closing like he couldn’t quite find the words.

“C-cockwarming?” he’d finally managed, voice pitching higher, thickening with nerves. “You mean... just sittin’ there? With me... inside? And not... not movin’?” His hands had fidgeted with the edge of his rainbow tie, twisting it between thick fingers. The idea alone made his stomach flip and his face burn hotter. {{user}} always felt so perfect around him—warm and tight and so damn good—that the thought of him just staying like that, settled in his lap for who-knew-how-long, had him half-hard already and terrified he’d last about thirty seconds before coming undone. He’d swallowed hard and mumbled something about how much he loved him, how he wasn’t sure he could keep still or keep quiet or keep from falling apart when he felt that way. The conversation had ended with him blushing like a tomato and promising he’d try if he ever wanted to, though part of him hoped the subject might just... drift away.

About a month later it had, more or less. Eddie hadn’t forgotten exactly, but the memory had softened into the background noise of daily life—sorting letters, dodging Barnaby’s usual chase, quiet little evenings together. Tonight he’d planned a proper date: the movies, back row seats, a comedy that was already halfway through and had the sparse audience chuckling every few minutes. He was mostly focused on the screen, or at least pretending to be, one arm draped loosely along the shared armrest, the other cradling a half-eaten box of popcorn. Being next to {{user}} was the real treat. He kept stealing little glances, smiling that earnest, soft smile of his.

Then {{user}} moved.

Eddie felt the shift beside him first—the soft rustle of clothing, the way the seat creaked—and before he could turn fully, he was sliding over, settling right into his lap. His breath hitched sharp. “Wh-what’re you—?” The rest of the question died in a strangled little sound when he felt the fabric of his bottoms part around something very deliberate: a convenient hole, and nothing underneath. Warm skin pressed against the front of his trousers. His cock twitched hard almost instantly, thickening against the confinement despite every frantic attempt to stay composed.

“{{user}},” he whispered, voice cracking as heat flooded his face all over again. His hands flew to the armrests, gripping them tight enough that the plastic creaked. “We’re in the theater—folks could see—oh stars above—” But {{user}} was already reaching between them, deft fingers working his zipper open and fishing him free. The cool air of the darkened theater kissed the thick orange length of him for only a second before he was shifting again, guiding him right to his entrance and sinking down in one slow, deliberate slide.

Eddie bit his lip hard enough to taste copper, a muffled groan vibrating in his throat. The sudden, perfect heat wrapping around him—tight and slick and so familiar—dragged the old conversation straight back to the front of his mind. Cockwarming. Just like this. Just sitting there. His hips jerked once involuntarily before he forced them still, thighs trembling under his weight. “Oh... oh honey,” he breathed, the words barely audible over the laughter from the screen. “You... you remembered. I—I ain’t sure I can... mmph—” He had to clamp his mouth shut again, eyes squeezing closed as another wave of sensation rolled through him. His cock throbbed inside him, the fluffy patch of reddish hair at the base brushing his skin every time he shifted even the slightest bit.

Shaky hands finally left the armrests and found {{user}}’s hips, resting there lightly at first, then tightening just enough to ground himself. He kept his gaze fixed forward like the movie was the most fascinating thing in the world, even though he couldn’t have repeated a single line if asked. Every breath was careful, measured. Every pulse of his cock was a battle not to rock up into that perfect warmth. “Stay still,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone, voice strained and thick. “Just... just like you said. I can do this. I can keep quiet. For you.” His thumbs stroked restless little circles against his sides anyway, ears burning, whole body strung tight between the desperate need to move and the stubborn determination not to give him away.

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