eddie psl post.

[heatmetal]

boop boop banoop

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[heatmetal]

[ Eddie feels Jason go limp and pulls himself back and off, pinker than he was before. the leg doesn't look much better, but the other wounds do.

His eyes are on Billy. The joint between Billy's lips. Billy's lips themselves. He's a beautiful man, a goddamn greecian statue made flesh.

Jason's adrenaline is pumping through his veins. He feels drunk on it.

And Eddie reached out tentatively - Uncertain if he remembers his final moments of life correctly or not - to touch a hand to his cheek, the other pulling the joint away so he can lean in and kiss. ]

[camarod]

[Before he’d probably find the way he melts into embarrassing. But before Billy didn’t have to look far for gratification. Now even just Eddie’s fingers on his face feel electric. He’s never been so fucking touch-starved before: never so relieved to have a mouth against his own.

Sure, there’s the blood - sour and copper - but there’s Eddie, too. He can smell it, has his breath catching as he reaches for Eddie’s shirt to grasp tight. Fuck, even his eyes feel wet. It should be humiliating, not grounding.

And yet - it is. He feels anchored inside his own body when he swipes his tongue against Eddie’s lips, chasing blood and heat. He feels solid, feels wholly himself for a moment. ]

[heatmetal]

[ it's a desperate kind of kiss. Mournful in a way. He tastes Jason's blood on his own lips and the hunger he feels disgusts him, but the desire he feels for Billy outweighs that. The way Billy reaches for him, the way he licks into his mouth with both literal and figurative hunger.

It's overwhelming. It's perfect.

He breaks first, resting his forehead against Billy's. Breathless and grinning. ]

Guess that answers that.

[camarod]

[He huffs out a laugh, grips Eddie’s shirt a little longer before his fist relaxes, finger moving to tangle in those curls. ] Small towns, [he murmurs, relieved.

God he hopes Jason stays out cold for a while, because Billy wants to enjoy something for once. The press of their foreheads, then Billy nosing against him, dipping in for a peck, then pressing a kiss against Eddie’s jaw, insatiable for the contact.]

[heatmetal]

[ he tilts his head with a rumble, ringed fingers petting through billys golden curls. ]

Wanted to chance it the first time I heard you laugh, pretty boy.

[camarod]

[There’s a sound low in his throat that is mostly all for having fingers in his hair. He press a kiss just between his jaw and ear, grins. ]

You like ‘em mean, Munson?

[heatmetal]

Mm-mm... Like being mean too.

[ except this is soft. So soft he sort of feels like crying, twirling these golden waves between his fingers. ]

[camarod]

[He lingers there, lips against Eddie’s neck before he sighs, almost content. He noses a little, breathes close to his ear. ]

You can be as mean as you want, [and he means it. Just, later, maybe. When he’s cleaned up the mess Jason will leave behind. When it’s just them and some clarity. ]

[heatmetal]

Mmm... Holding you to that.

[ he's tired again. This fresh blood is being put to work trying to mend his ravaged insides, focusing on healing death from him before it can tackle the bigger problens. Letting his arms fold comfortable around billy and sinking back into the bed, tugging the bigger man with him. ]

[camarod]

[He goes with a snort, moves from a sprawled straddle to Eddie’s side, back to the wall just to keep his eyes on Jason. It’s easier to comb his fingers through Eddie’s hair while he drifts, too.

It’s a lot of that, while he’s out. Billy’s never been much of a comfort to anyone, but he strokes and soothes and watches Eddie’s body knit itself into scar tissue.

The leg he wonders about. It might be kind of badass to have the bone stay in view, but walking - hunting - might be an issue. Jason, at least, stays breathing shallow. Pale, almost grey. One more feed and he’ll be too gone to save. ]

[heatmetal]

[ it doesn't take sleep long to come once they're settled. Eddie's a cuddler, not that he's done it much. Curls into Billy and holds fast, breathing deep and even.

The leg isn't doing much in the way of mending. It stops bleeding, but the damage is... Extensive. Even bits of the bone have been gouged by hungry bats. It could require more feedings. It could simply be a lost cause. Rotten the way some things get even after death.

What is cetain, though, is that eddie is decently warm and breathing.

It's Jason that wakes him. The gag worked mostly out if his mouth, praying fervently for salvation. ]

[camarod]

[He must have dozed too, in the end. The warmth lulling him down, cushioned by his own arm. It takes him a minute to stir, though.

Jason’s just as sluggish, no matter how intensely he’s praying. It takes him a moment to see Eddie’s not lying still anymore; takes him less to hiss out a I knew you were queer, Munson, but Hargrove - and there’s still bite to it. Hatred.

Billy hears it, vaguely. It really does sound like Neil. ]

[heatmetal]

[ Eddie cocks his head. Feeling more like the man he was a week ago than he has since Chrissy Cunningham died in front of him. ]

Did you even know she was suffering. [ he shifts a little, able to sit up on his own despite the dead weight of his leg. ] Losing her mind, scared so shitless she was buying drugs from the town freak - and not saying a word to her golden boy boyfriend who punches holes in walls.

I might be a queer, Carver. But at least I'm not a monster.

[camarod]

[Monster, Billy hears, slightly choked. Incredulous. I'm not drinking goddamn blood like some kind of vampire!

And yeah - yeah, that's. That's probably what the are, huh. He hums softly, reaches and arm over Eddie's waist, but keeps his eyes closed. And - and him. He's not a monster? You see what he did to Steve Harrington's face?

Yeah, yeah, that too. Billy knows. Should have known - all those girls he - ] Fucking hell does he ever shut up, [he mutters, pressing his forehead to the small of Eddie's back, like he's done this before. ]

[heatmetal]

Wasn't a monster, then. Unfortunately your dramatics got me, Patrick, and probably many many others killed.

[ he smiles, all sharp fangs. ]

But until the life drains from your hateful little eyes, my body count is at zero. Can't speak for Hargrove, so you'd better do as he says and shut the fuck up.

[camarod]

Dramatic, [is muttered into Eddie's back. Billy's body count is - a lot, he guesses. Does it count, if he were being controlled? Yeah. Yeah, probably. If not for him, Heather Holloway would still be yelling at kids by the poolside. Her parents wouldn't be mush.

A lot of shit to think about, one day. Not today.

Jason sneers, chokes, and hisses out a fuck you and a you killed Patrick and then, weaker, you're both disgusting. He's not sure which of those make him stir at last, shifting up onto an elbow to look at Jason, face real blank, eyes dark. ] Carver, if you don't shut the fuck up I'm gonna take your head clean off your fucking shoulders.

[So calm, too. #growth. ]

[heatmetal]

I'm so sad you're gonna die here. [ Eddie sinks back down, closing his eyes. ] I'd set you up to take the fall for me in a heartbeat. Frame you for my own fucking murder and watch the town turn. You got motive for every murder...

[ not that it matters. ]

Could put my rotten leg in your fuckin' basement and wouldn't the media just love that.

[camarod]

[Hmmm. All that spite is, hmmm. Does a little something to his gut. His mouth curves to a grin, eyes on Jason and yeah, yeah that would be real funny. Golden boy like Carver, secret cultist. ]

Y'know, I think they'd believe it. Sweet all American boy prays to Satan to win big.

[ha. Jason splutters, but Billy's already moving, half straddling Eddie on his way up to regag Jason. His hand is tight around his throat, squeezes hard enough for him to go still and quiet, still breathing shallow. ] I think I like you mean, Munson.

[heatmetal]

[ it feels... Good. This vindictiveness. Like a sorely needed release.

His hands slide up to rest on billys hips, letting his gaze wander up that bare chest. ]

Is there another room we can put him in?

[camarod]

Yeah - yeah. Whole house to ourselves.

[He thinks: bathroom. The widows too small to escape. He lingers a little, relishes in the warmth of hands on his skin, on feeling wanted. He could kiss Eddie stupid with Jason right there, if he's honest, but he gets it. So reluctantly, he leans down to ghost a kiss against Eddie's mouth, murmurs soft: ] I'll be a sec, [before he's up and off, grunting as he drags Jason's heavy weight down across the wall, locking him up in bathroom.

He comes back rolling a shoulder, has some extra gauze for later. ]

[heatmetal]

[ god, he's gorgeous. Eddie has to just admire him for a moment...

And then remembers something. ]

Do you have some kinda music player? Any tapes?

[camarod]

I did, on the other side. I don't know what this place is but - this is my room, but none of this shit is mine.

[He pauses, shrugs. ] There's a boombox in the kitchen. The tapes are some middle aged mom shit. You wanna make out to some electro pop?

[heatmetal]

Fuck, that's right. This is the past. It's 1983 here.

[ uuugh which means he doesn't have most of his good shit. ]

Music. It keeps Vecna -- the thing, the wizard controlling all this shit -- it keeps him out.

[camarod]

['83. He'd be in Cali. Sun, sea. He tries not to dwell on that, tries instead to dwell a little on Eddie Munson, sits his ass back down on the bed and and nods. ]

Then I'll grab the boombox if he - he comes. He's distracted, though. The storms outside. He's angry, not paying attention.

[His watchful eye is cast toward El, he figures. ]

[heatmetal]

[ he swallows tightly. ]

Should we be getting the hell out of here while we have the chance?

[ not that he's sure where they could hide in Hawkins with the town hunting for him. ]