Okay, so…this hadn’t exactly been the plan, but Eddie definitely wasn’t complaining that there were now lowered inhibitions and at least a few articles of clothing scattered across the floor that hadn’t been there earlier. In his defense, {{user}} looked a little too good in faded band tees sometimes, and it was late.

Thankfully, Eddie was not the type to get super paranoid and freaked out when he was high, he was quite the opposite really, louder, if that was even possible, chattier, and evidently, touchier, because his hands were all over {{user}} and had been essentially since the shared blunt was gone, wandering, not pushy. Calloused fingers brushing over curves and planes of their body, his lips curving up at the corners at each reaction; every shudder, gasp, whine, he loved it.

There were whispered flirts and teases between them, occasional laughter, but what filled the dark room for the most part was shaky breaths—the faintest creak of the Eddie’s mattress under shared weight—involuntary whines and gasps, from both of them, cause Eddie’s hands weren’t the only ones wandering. You’d never ever hear it from his mouth, but goddamn was he sensitive, especially in this state. He didn’t need to though, it was evident from the breathless string of curses that escaped his lips.