Waterbottleeee



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    “Harrington, what the hell are you thinking about down there?”

    Steve grins up at the ceiling, languid and sated. He feels so fucking good. Every muscle in his body is relaxed, practically turning him into a melted puddle in the middle of Eddie’s trailer. The carpet underneath him is soft and plush, and maybe a little outdated, but Steve swears he could sleep here for an entire year. He runs his open palms along the shag, letting out a contented noise - somewhere between a hum and a moan.

    “God, you’re so fucking high,” Eddie says. 

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    17 Jan 2026