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This is a really bad fucking situation.
Eddie would know.
Jaw working, he leans in, says, ‘You’re not my type.’
And when he draws away, Steve is laughing, like it’s genuinely funny. He’s got this light sheen of sweat over his skin, it’s glittering. His hair moves, he pushes it back with his hands as his hips sway in time with the rhythm like he’s commanding it and he moves like a siren; a creature who exists only to lure.
‘I’m everyone’s type,’ he tells Eddie, like he just knows it and pities Eddie for lying. ‘To fuck, at least.’
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Bookmarked by finnicubed
17 Sep 2024