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The rain lashes against the library windows. You sigh and lower your head to your paperwork, running a pen along the ‘budget’ column. Being head librarian at Hawkins Library, your days are filled with the scent of paper and ink. You like it most days. It’s quiet, and peaceful. You take a sip of your tea. The steaming brew warms you from the inside.
And of course, it’s even quieter when it’s pouring rain outside, because no one wants to brave the deluge just to check out some dusty books.
You sigh softly in contentment and sweep your hair back out of your eyes. You’re so deep in your financial conundrum that you don’t even hear the door open, nor the squeaking of wet Reebok sneakers on your pristine wood floor.
“Uhh. ‘Scuse me?”
You pause before looking up - you don’t want to lose your place in your math.
“Welcome to Hawkins Library, how can I help--”
You look up at last, and see a dripping wet metalhead grinning nervously down you.
“… you?”
His grin widens and he leans on the counter.
“Hi,” he says, casual and calm. A stark contrast to the stormy weather outside. “Hope you can help me.”
“You, uhm…” your eyes look him up and down, taking in his appearance. From his ripped black denim jeans to his worn leather jacket and tattered denim vest, adorned with band pins and patches, from Dio to W.A.S.P and everything in between. There’s a red and yellow demon head on his t-shirt, with the words Hellfire Club printed in a scrawling font above it.
But it’s his hair that grabs your attention. Dripping wet from the rain, shaggy and messy and shoulder-length. Though it’s a dark, dark brown, the fluorescent lights of the library highlight the faintest strands of red and gold in those loose curls.
“… you’re sort of… dripping on my floor…” you mumble, and glance down at the floor, where a pool of rainwater is gathering at his feet.
“Oh shit,” he says, and instinctively shakes his head like a dog to rid himself of rainwater. Droplets splash on your face, and you blink and flinch.
“Oh--!”
You delicately wipe away the splash of water from the bridge of your nose and smile weakly at him. You can’t even be angry at him, he’s too cute.
“Oh, shit!” he chuckles and squeezes water out of his hair. “Did I get you?”
You nod and look down at the puddle of water again. You sigh and grab a ‘wet floor’ sign to bring it round to his side of the counter. You plonk it down beside him with a significant look of wry amusement, then return to your seat.
“Uhh… heh… sorry,” he says with a slight smirk. “Bet you just cleaned the floor, huh?”
You fold your arms and pick up your pen again, tapping it against your ledger.
“Can I help you? Or did you just swim here to make a mess?”
He chuckles and pulls out a sodden piece of paper from his pocket.
“Yeah, I wanna book a room,” he says, and lays the paper flat on the counter with a wet squelch. You stare at its illegible scrawl for a second, then shoot him a look of ‘really?’
“Uhh. Yeah. Okay. Maybe I need a new form, huh?”
Smirking, you grab a clipboard, fresh form, and pen, and slide it over the counter to him.
“I’ll need a form of ID, too. Driver’s licence, passport, something like that,” you tell him, as he looks over the form and has already started to fill it out.
“Uh. Yeah, sure thing sweetheart. Hey, uhh, this bit here wasn’t on that other form?”
He shows you the form, pointing to the new box at the bottom. The one that asks for credit card details.
“Oh,” you say. “That’s just in case you break anything. The booking of the rec room itself is free, but that’s just in case we have to charge you any fines for breakages or illegal activity.”
“Illegal activity? You guys party hard in a library, huh?”
You smirk and raise your eyebrow at him, “You’d be surprised what goes on in there.”
He laughs, a proper laugh this time, not that cute little chuckle he’s been doing for the last ten minutes, and goes back to filling out the form. You feel his eyes flickering up more than often to look at you, and you hide your smile behind your fingers as you rest your chin on your hand, feigning boredom.
“There. Done.” He slides the form back to you, along with a rumpled driver’s license.
“Okay, thank you very much, Mr…” you check his license “… Munson.”
He crinkles his nose and waves his hand.
“Just Eddie is fine, sweetheart.”
You smile at him, then lower your eyes to the form, reading through the information he’s submitted. Your heart gives a little jump when you see his date of birth. August 2nd, 1966. So he’s a Leo. It also puts him almost exactly three months older than you.
“So, then, Mr-- Eddie. You want to book a room for your Hailfire Club--”
“Hellfire Club,” he corrects you gently. “We play D&D. Y’know. Dungeons and Dragons?”
“I’m aware of it, yes. We have manuals here at the library. I can give you a little tour if you like when we’re finished here. If you don’t want to go back out in the rain.”
“Sure.” You notice his eyes gleam a little. You’re not sure if it’s because you know D&D, or because he’s into you. You hope it’s the latter.
“Okay, let me just get this all booked in and then you’re good to go.”
You reach under the counter to the little cubby and grab the leatherbound ledger. You hum softly to yourself as you check the dates and times. You can feel his eyes on you, and a warm blush crawls onto your cheeks, but you force your eyes to stay focussed on the words before you.
“Looks like Fridays are free. 5pm until 9pm sound good?”
Eddie nods wordlessly, and you don’t miss the way his tongue darts out in concentration as he leans forward to rest his elbows on the counter. You quickly write his name and the name of his club in the ‘Friday’ column every Friday for the next six weeks. It takes every ounce of your willpower not to dot the ‘i’ in his name with a little heart. C’mon, girl, you’re not fourteen years old, get a grip.
“So…” he says slowly. “That it?”
“That’s it,” you nod. “Easy-peasy.”
A warm smile breaks out onto his face, and you can’t help but feel the same warmth inside as you did when you sipped your tea. It’s like his smile is a cure-all for any ailment you might have. A soft dappled ray of sunlight through a stormy sky. You force yourself not to sigh wistfully.
“So how about that tour?”
You blink yourself back to reality, and clear your throat.
“Right. Tour. Okay. Uhm.”
You take a final gulp of your tea to settle your nerves and stand up. As you walk around the counter, you forget about the puddle of rainwater he’s brought in with him, and suddenly you feel your legs sweep out from under you.
“Gah--!”
The library lurches around you, and then you feel a pair of strong arms around your waist, and warm breath fanning your hair.
“Woah, easy there!” Eddie catches you in his arms, holding you tightly. You stare at him and swallow the nerves down. “You okay?”
Your heart is racing. Thundering like the sky outside. Is it from the fall, or the fact that he’s holding you? You’re not completely sure. It could be both. Either way, you don’t want him to let go.
“Sweetheart? You okay?” he prompts, and you giggle, a little hysterically from nerves.
“Y-yeah,” you say coyly. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
He straightens you up, setting you on your feet again, then brushes a lock of hair out of your eyes. You could quite easily swoon back into his arms, like in those dumb cheesy Mills & Boon romance novels you shelved only yesterday.
You clear your throat and smooth down your shirt.
“F-follow me. I’ll show you around.”
Let’s get this show on the road.
You lead him into the stacks and shelves, gesturing towards the various sections and naming them as you go.
“You’ve got your non-fic over here. Anatomy starting on your left… then you’ve got your reference books down there, they don’t leave the library. Further down this way, you’ve got the fiction section. Horror first, obviously. We’ve got a lot of Stephen King--”
“Any fantasy?”
“Beg pardon?”
“D’you have a fantasy section? Y’know. Lord of the Rings?”
“Oh. Uhm. Y-yes, over this way.”
The library is empty today. The driving rain seems to have kept everyone indoors.
“You ever read it? Lord of the Rings, I mean?” he asks, his deep voice quieter now that you’re both further in a secluded corner.
“Once or twice, yeah,” you reply. His eyes light up. “You?”
“Oh, yeah. One of my favourites.”
Just the way you like your men. Well-read and leather-bound.
“There’s a cafeteria down that hallway, by the way. Mostly coffee and tea and stale sandwiches but it’s not half bad. Just don’t spill anything on my books, or I will actually disembowel you.”
Eddie laughs again and sweeps his hair back. You can’t help but stare at the tendons of his throat when he speaks or laughs or swallows. You just want to… nibble. Just right there.
You clear your throat to chase those naughty little thoughts away. “Well, that’s basically it. That’s the library. I mean, you could stay for a while if you didn’t want to head back out into that pouring rain--”
Suddenly his lips are on yours. His soft, full, warm lips. Your eyes widen for a brief second, and you blink in surprise, but you don’t pull away. He holds the kiss for a couple of seconds, then draws back slowly, standing back up straight again.
“Uhh…” he giggles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “S-sorry… I just wanted to do that for like twenty minutes.”
You pull your breath back into your throat, trying to stop your heart from pounding with excitement. A little grin tugs on your lips.
“Twenty minutes, huh?” you say playfully. “You’ve got a lot of self-control.”
He smirks, and then the caveman in him seems to take over for a second, because he bites his lip and looks you up and down, then nods admiringly.
“It’s quickly running out.”
He leans forward and wraps his hand around the nape of your neck and pulls you close to press his lips to yours again. His fingers in your hair sends a shiver down your back, and you move closer to him, your hands resting on his chest. His other arm wraps around your waist and holds you flush against his own body, and he feels warm and hard and seems to be vibrating with anticipation.
His tongue ventures cautiously into your mouth, teasing yours and pulling a soft moan from your lips. He worries your lower lip with his teeth and grins when you hum in gentle contentment.
“Mmm… you taste really nice…” he murmurs when he pulls away and looks down at you with those big beautiful brown eyes.
“I just had tea,” you mumble, a little stupidly. You’re too dazed from his kiss to make much sense right now. He chuckles and trails his thumb along your jawline. You repress a shiver. You want those lips on yours again.
“You’re adorable,” he says, and leans in again. His breath is warm against your lips, and he eases you backwards until you feel the bookshelf behind you press into your shoulder blades. His thumb traces the outline of your lips, and your breath quickens. He leans forward, and you think he’s going to kiss you again, but then he surprises you by moving your hair aside and beginning to nibble gently on your neck.
“Ohh… hello…” you giggle and squirm as he kisses and licks and sucks the warm flesh of your throat. He’s marking you. How feral.
His lips trail lower, down onto your collarbone. Suddenly, he draws back, and you frown.
“Why’d you stop?”
He looks a little uncomfortable.
“I never asked if you were okay with this,” he mumbles awkwardly. Your heart swells. He is absolutely the sweetest thing. You gently touch his face, lifting his gaze back to yours.
“It’s more than okay,” you smile, and pull him back to you, tugging gently at his shirt. He takes that as permission, and runs his hands up your torso.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, his words blurred with kisses as he peppers your face and neck and throat with his lips. His hands travel downwards, and toy with the hem of your skirt. Your heartrate increases. He’s lowering himself down onto his knees. You watch him, a little confused, but he looks up at you, reverently and adoringly, a zealot kneeling before his goddess, a cultist before his queen.
“May I…?” he asks softly, and you nod quickly. You don’t know exactly what he’s planning, but the soft chestnut gaze of his gorgeous eyes makes you want to trust him with your life. He smiles up at you, and gently lifts your skirt. You blush so hard, you feel lightheaded.
“Oh.”
He chuckles, licks his lips, and then his face disappears beneath the plaid pleats of your miniskirt.
You tremble, half in anticipation and half in arousal, as you feel his nimble calloused guitar-player fingers tug your panties down. They fall with silken silent grace around your ankles, and you carefully kick them aside. No need to be careful, there’s no one here, you remind yourself.
But then all thought, all words, all sense, is driven from your mind, because Eddie has taken hold of your bare thighs beneath your skirt and gently leaned his face close to the soft, warm, wet space between your legs.
His nose brushes your mound first, and you gasp sharply, a slight unconscious buck to your hips. Beneath the pleats of your skirt, you hear him chuckle.
“Just relax, sweetheart,” he said, and his mouth is close enough to your flesh that you feel the heat of his words. There’s a pause, an aching slow delay, and then his tongue has darted out and flicked your warm velvet flesh. You whine, and grip the bookshelf behind you for support.
He teases you again, and then after he pulls a shivering moan from your lips, he leans in a little closer, and buries his face in your pussy. His nose brushes your bundle of nerves, and it takes everything in you not to cry out in pleasure.
“Ohh… Eddie…” you whisper, and his grip tightens on your thighs. He moans softly, and the vibration through his mouth to your pussy lips is like sweet fire. He flattens his tongue, pressing the strong muscle into your moistening folds. You see stars behind your eyes, and your head tips back. Thank god this bookshelf is bolted to the floor.
He nods his head as he flicks his tongue expertly against your slick core, sucking here and nibbling there, his lips and tongue and teeth all working in tandem to heighten the pleasure. He knows what he’s doing.
His tongue probes deeper, and the soft wet sounds coming from beneath your skirt might’ve made you feel embarrassed if you weren’t tingling all over with abject bliss. Your trembling fingers find his hair, and it’s just as soft as you imagined.
Eddie moans quietly again, and a ripple of electric heat tingles through your pussy, all the way to your brain until your eyes roll back in your head.
The tiny part of your brain that still has sense suddenly realises he’s spelling a word with his tongue.
H… E… L… L… F… I… R… E
Ohhhh damn this boy, he’ll be the absolute death of you.
You shiver and grip his hair a little tighter, and he responds by gripping your thighs harder and driving his face further under your skirt. A little whimper escapes your lips when one of his hands slides around to your ass and squeezes it.
“E-Eddie--!” you moan, your head falling back and your breathing growing heavy.
“Mhm?” he murmurs.
“I-- I th-think I’m… I-I’m gonna…”
You can barely think. Barely speak. You hear his throaty chuckle from somewhere below, and he suddenly increases his speed. His fingers snake up to join his tongue in his ministrations, and as his lips suck eagerly at your clit, his fingertips - calloused and clipped-nailed and nimble, the fingers of a guitarist - gently ease inside your silken folds.
You suddenly lose all sense of self, and suddenly there’s only a neon sign burning bright behind your eyes, branding his name in your brain until it’s only him… Him, and him alone. Eddie.
“E-Eddie-- god-- fuck--!”
You buck your hips suddenly, and his tongue dips deeper inside you, his fingers teasing, toying. Warmth expands from your clit through your hips and down your legs and up your spine and everything inside you vibrates and shudders with pleasure and desire and a bright ball of bliss and… and… and…
You slump, your legs shaking like a baby deer, and Eddie emerges from under your skirt and smiles up at you. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stands up straight.
“How was that?” he asks, and there’s a mischievous glimmer in his eye. Barely able to speak, you hum and nod shakily, and blink your eyes open again.
You swallow down a moan and lick your lips nervously, and then offer him a tentative grin.
“Y’know… the, uhm…” you giggle shyly. “The rec room is soundproofed. If you wanted to book a little extra time in there?”
Eddie chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. That soft, luscious mane of wild and shaggy curls. He leans closer to you, and you blush a little as you smell your own arousal on his breath.
“Well,” he says softly. “Guess I was right when I said you librarians party hard.”