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Steve stands in front of the full length mirror leaned against the wall in Eddie’s room. His stomach is flip flopping between knots and butterflies the longer he stares at himself, hoping he doesn’t lose the nerve for this.
The idea stuck in his head weeks ago after seeing Eddie padding around barefoot in Steve’s sweatpants and Hawkins High sweater. He’d stayed the night at Steve’s place after a particularly long session of D&D with the nerds held at la casa Harrington. Steve doesn’t mind sharing his place, having everyone here makes it feel less empty when his parents are gone, which has been a lot lately.
Steve had let Eddie borrow his clothes since the guy hadn’t brought any with him, obviously having not planned on staying over. Not that that’s ever stopped them from staying the night before.
It hasn’t been long since the two of them started sleeping together, a few months maybe? Steve feels like maybe they did the whole relationship thing backwards, it started out purely physical, both of them finding solace in their shared trauma, waking each other up from their nightmares of being torn to pieces by the demobats with soft touches and heavy kisses.
The feelings came later. Steve isn’t sure when the man wrapped himself so solidly in his life, but he can’t remember how he lived a lot of it before Eddie was there.
But seeing Eddie in his clothes? The sweatpants slung low on his hips, just the barest hint of his own scars showing at the edge of the sweater? Steve felt like maybe he’d entered his own personal episode of the Twilight Zone.
If someone had told Steve three years ago that he would watch his boyfriend (his fucking boyfriend ?) move around the kitchen grabbing bowls and shit like he lives here, like he belongs in Steve’s life and nowhere else? He’d have probably laughed in their face.
Steve runs his fingers lightly across his matching scars on either side of his stomach, shivering at the touch as he watches himself in the mirror. He always used to think that scars should be worn as a badge of honor, but these just serve as a reminder of all the bullshit they’ve been through the last few years. Steve usually hides his scars away, under layers of clothing and the false bravado he feels in the face of reality.
But not now. Now he wears a black cropped tank that’s a size too small underneath a black mesh crop top that he’d found buried in Eddie’s closet. He’s never seen the man wear either of them, so he was very surprised to find them at all.
His scars are proudly on display here, the tight black jeans hanging low on his hips. There’s no hiding in this outfit, no layers to wear as a shield against the world that he doesn’t fit into anymore.
Steve just wants Eddie to feel the same way he had when he saw him in his clothes. And he thinks that maybe this will do the trick.
He grabs his keys and makes his way to the door of Eddie’s trailer, better to make a break for the concert venue before he changes his mind all together.
Normally Steve car pools to the Corroded Coffin shows with Nancy and Robin, but he isn’t planning on leaving with the girls afterwards, and made an excuse for them to just meet up at the venue.
——————————
Steve was honestly a little bit worried about Nancy and Robin saying anything about the outfit, but if they had any comments about it, they keep it to themselves.
There’s more people here than usual, and why did it have to be today of all days that Corroded Coffin packs out this hole in the wall?
The three of them are three drinks in when the lights dim even further and the band finally comes out onto the stage from a door beside it.
Eddie is the last one out. He’s got his guitar strapped around him, and he’s a delight in all black, the faux leather pants looking like they were painted onto him, a black crop top showing just the most delicious peeks of the pale flesh at his hip bones, and his signature denim vest.
Steve, Robin, and Nancy are all towards the back of the room near the bar, but when the band comes out they all attempt to push their way to the front. Steve is glad that Nancy is leading the way because he is unable to tear his eyes away from Eddie.
They don’t quite get against the stage, but it’s close enough.
The first song is heavy, Steve knows their set list by heart now. His eyes are glued to the guitarist’s fingers as they grip the neck of his guitar, where they’re strumming so steadily at the body.
Eddie’s wearing a ring on almost all of his fingers, and the way the muscles in his hands tense as he plays just leave his mind blank.
Steve’s had those fingers in his mouth, inside of him, around his neck, around his dick , and that’s all he can think about.
He does manage to look up for a moment around the third song in their set, and he can see the wild hair is tacked to his boyfriend’s forehead with sweat from the effort of playing and the stage lights, his mouth partly open as he pants, his chest steadily rising and falling the same way it does when they’re having a particularly long fuck session. Steve is absolutely logging that image into his brain for later.
It isn’t until there’s a small lull after one of their songs, the front man speaking into the mic to keep the crowd occupied while the rest of the band takes the moment to grab at their drinks on the stage, that Eddie looks up and out into the crowd, his eyes scanning from left to right looking for something.
Steve debates hiding behind one of the girls, to keep this surprise a secret for a little bit longer, but like a moth to a flame, Eddie’s eyes connect with Steve’s and it is suddenly very hot in this dive bar.
Eddie’s pupils dilate, like a cat marking its prey, and his breathing is just that much shallower. His eyes linger at the bare strip of flesh between where the cropped tank top under the mesh one doesn’t cover and the top of the, now, very tight pants. His eyes rove down, taking in every single inch of Steve’s body. He feels bare, like he might as well have just shown up naked with the way the man is looking at him.
Eddie mutters something under his breath, but no one else can hear it. He does visibly swallow though, and very subtly adjusts the body of his guitar in front of him.
The drummer strikes up a beat, and Eddie is almost late to play his part, his eyes never leaving Steve.
It’s intense, this back and forth they’re having here. No words exchanged, but entire conversations are had in their silence, and it’s like there’s no one else in this room with them.
Steve is almost breathless himself, and can feel the heat clinging to his body. Whether that’s the actual heat of having so many people in an enclosed space, the arousal, or the alcohol settling in his system, or some combination, Steve isn’t sure. But he feels like he’s under the influence of more than just alcohol.
—————-————
Steve has no idea how long they play for, but his arousal hits a new high with each drink passed to him from Robin. He should slow down, but he doesn’t want to explain to her why.
The set is finished, the boys are served with loud applause, whistling, and shouts, and they’re making their way off the stage.
Their group has moved back by the bar, each of them with another drink. Steve ordered one for Eddie and is retrieving them from the bartender when he feels someone crowd into his space from behind.
“You’re not playing fair, Harrington,” comes Eddie’s voice quietly in his ear. Well, as quiet as you can get while whispering with the raucous sounds of a bar. They might as well be alone though, with the look Steve receives when he turns around to find Eddie leaning over him, pressing him into the bar behind him.
Steve does his best to look innocent, a smile on his face as he looks up into those beautiful earth tone eyes. He presses the drink he ordered into Eddie’s hand, taking a sip from his own to hide the nerves suddenly fluttering around in his stomach.
“You guys were great, Eddie,” comes Nancy’s voice from somewhere to Steve’s right. He’s not sure where she is exactly, not wanting to look away from him. “Thanks Nance,” is Eddie’s response, but he doesn’t break the eye contact either.
“I think Nancy and I are gonna head out early,” it’s Robin this time. Bless her. “One of us has work in the morning.” This is a jab at Steve, no doubt, for having asked Robin to switch shifts with him at the movie store. He hopes she doesn’t catch on as to why he’d asked her, but he’s not that stupid. And neither is she.
Steve nods his head and has the wherewithal to at least tilt his face towards where her voice is coming from. “I’ll see you Monday, Rob?”
“Ugh. Go get a room guys,” is her response before dragging Nancy away towards the exit.
“Now there’s an idea,” Eddie says, a look of mischief on his face.
He doesn’t have the chance to respond, the man grabs Steve by the belt loop and drags him behind him to the door next to the stage that the band had come through earlier.
“Everyone get the fuck out,” Eddie demands as soon as they round the corner to the green room. Steve’s been to this hole in the wall to see Corroded Coffin before, but he’s never been back here. The room is a little dingy, dimly lit, and there’s a cloud of cigarette smoke and something hazier hanging in the air.
He reaches over and plucks the joint from between some blond’s delicate fingers, giving her a wink whenever she frowns at him. It seems to disarm whatever protest she had, and Steve just brings the joint to his lips, taking a long drag from it.
“What the fuck, Eddie? You can’t just kick us ou-” Gareth is cut off by their guitarist’s finger in the air, the pointer finger with the ring with the cross and skulls in each corner. Steve already had a few to drink during the show, so that’s the excuse he tells himself is the reason he has a hard time pulling his gaze from that finger.
“I said out, Gareth. Clear the Goddamn room. I need to have a private conversation and this is the only place to do it,” and Eddie’s voice is low, and it does things to Steve’s brain (and not brain) that he wasn’t prepared for. There’s more grumbling and complaining, but everyone in here moves, grabbing their things. There are a few looks sent Steve’s way as they move past, but he can’t tell if they know why he and Eddie are here or not.
It takes a while for everyone to leave, and Steve turns to say something but when he does, Eddie is there shutting the door behind the last person, and he’s sure that there’s a click of a lock, but he doesn’t have time to think about it too much because Eddie is suddenly in his space.
He takes a hold of Steve’s wrist, and those rings are so cold pressed against his heated skin, it lights a fire somewhere in his brain and between his legs.
There’s a long moment where Steve is just staring at the hand wrapped around his wrist. He isn’t a small man, and Eddie’s fingertips touching as they hold onto him so delicately is filling his brain with TV static.
Eddie’s hands. These hands that pluck so expertly on his guitar, these hands that have saved Steve's life, that have saved Dustin's life. And God , doesn't that do something to Steve? This man has saved their lives so many times, and yet he's never raised a hand against a creature, could never bring himself to unless the people he cares about are in danger.
The rings, those rings , so cold just a moment ago, are burning against Steve's flesh. The muscles in Eddie's hand are flexed, he's got a good grip on him, but it doesn't hurt. It never hurts unless he wants it to. Steve can see the tendons tensed, raised underneath the skin by the tension of the grip. His knuckles are white, and there is tunnel vision to each point of connection between them.
Eddie raises Steve's hand up between them, and for a moment he’s confused, but then he sees the joint between his own fingers, and it takes an embarrassing amount of time for Steve's brain to register what is happening.
He brings the joint up, by way of lifting Steve's hand, and takes a languid drag from the thing. It's slow, nearly obscene as their eyes connect and never part. There's a darkness in those eyes that is reserved for when he's got an idea in his head that he won't share until he's knuckles deep in Steve. It brings heat south, and Steve feels his dick jump at the idea of Eddie wanting to take him here, in this dingy ass concert hall.
"Eds.." he breathes out, his voice betraying him with how breathy it is. Jesus. Eddie doesn't respond out loud, just leans into Steve's space, not letting go of his wrist. "Open your mouth," he whispers, holding onto his hit from the joint. Steve isn't sure what he's up to, but he does as he is told.
When Steve opens his mouth, Eddie's free hand comes up under his jaw, his grip firm but just right . He's holding Steve in place, keeping him where he wants him.
Eddie leans forward, slowly blowing the smoke into his mouth and holy fucking shit Steve wasn't ready for that . He's seen people shotgun weed before, at the parties he threw in high school, at the parties he sometimes goes to after these shows with the band. But he never participated himself.
He does what he thinks he should, slowly inhaling the cloud seeping from Eddie's mouth, and he thinks that's right because the man fucking smirks and closes the distance to kiss him, his dull fingernails digging into his throat as he demands control of it.
The kiss is hungry, and it tastes of weed, cheap beer, and underneath that something that’s entirely Eddie that Steve hasn’t been able to place yet. He feels like he gets closer to it every time they make out, and maybe he’ll eventually be able to put his finger on it. As it is, the kiss is searing, there’s teeth and tongue, and Steve is dizzy with it until he pulls away, removing his hands and leaving Steve feeling bereft in his absence.
There’s a whimper, quiet and barely audible, and Steve realizes a second too late that it’s coming from him. Eddie is chuckling, it’s low, more of a growl before he whispers, “Be patient, baby.”
They’re alone in the green room, but the whispering just feels right in the moment. “Okay,” Steve mumbles back, even quieter. “Patient. I can do patient.”
This brings out another low rumble from Eddie’s chest, which Steve can feel against his own, and when did Eddie press their bodies together?
“I doubt it, but please prove me wrong,” is the next thing out of his mouth before he’s pulling another drag from the joint between Steve’s fingers.
Steve doesn’t wait for direction this time, parting his lips and leaning forward so Eddie can blow the smoke into his mouth. His brain is already fuzzy, between the drinks and shots they had before they came back here, the pot, and all of Steve’s blood rushing south to his dick, there’s not a lot to keep his brain sharp, but that’s okay. He knows his boyfriend will take good care of him, he always has.
There’s more shotgunning, there’s more heated kissing, and Eddie’s caressing the space under his chin with his thumb, and Steve is so distracted by this that he doesn’t realize that he’s used his grip on Steve’s wrist and throat to crowd him back against a wall until his back hits it.
There’s a thump sound as Steve tosses his head against the wall behind him. The other man’s still got a hold of him, but he’s also in Steve’s space, surrounding him. He knows what a vulnerable position he’s put himself in, his throat exposed, Eddie’s fingernails digging into his skin and causing just the most heavenly pain. He’s manic with it.
“Fuck, baby,” Eddie groans right into Steve’s ear, “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He does have an idea, but it’s always nice to be reminded. He must have said this out loud, cause Eddie laughs with a single huff of air, and does a few things all at once.
The fingers on Steve’s wrist disappear first, Eddie takes what’s left of the joint from his hand, bringing the thing to rest between his own lips. Next, Steve feels his legs nudged apart by one of Eddie’s, and he’s pressing his thigh up against Steve’s groin, and his hips buck on their own, the friction pulling the most hedonistic sound from deep within Steve’s chest.
Lastly, the hand that was on Steve’s wrist grabs his leg by the thigh and lifts up, wrapping it around Eddie’s waist to adjust the angle of Steve’s dick against his own. The hand comes to rest on Steve’s exposed hip bone, almost absentmindedly rubbing tiny circles against the sensitive puckered flesh there.
“Seeing you like this, in my clothes, fuck Steve. Are you trying to kill me?” Eddie breathes into his ear, using the hand on Steve’s hip to roll his hips forward to create more friction.
“Fair’s fair, Munson,” he chuckles. “You wear mine, I wear yours,” and Steve is proud of himself for being able to form at least one full sentence with the way his brain is currently empty of blood.
“Could hardly fucking play,” he’s nuzzling their noses, and it would be a very sweet action if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s still rocking Steve’s hips back and forth. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
Eddie tries to clear his throat of the desire in his voice, it doesn’t work. “You’re gonna take your pleasure from me.”
And isn’t that a hell of a sentence? Holy shit, if Steve had any thought left in his mind, it’s gone now. “ Fuck yourself on my thigh, baby ,” and the way he says it leaves no room for questions. Not that Steve would question Eddie right now anyways.
There’s still the hand on his throat, and almost as though Eddie reads his mind about it, he tightens his hold there, and Steve leans his head back further in response, his eyes fluttering closed. He moans, and it’s a broken sound as he does as he’s told and grinds himself down against the proffered thigh, seeking his own pleasure that’s so willingly given to him by the man in front of him.
Steve scrabbles for purchase, unable to find it on the wall behind him, he reaches his hands up to grasp at Eddie, at anything to help steady him. One hand finds purchase in the front of the black denim vest Eddie is wearing, the other snaking up underneath it in the back, holding on tightly to the shirt beneath.
After a little while of Steve chasing that high, the heat building within him, Eddie groans, another deep sound, and he uses the hand not on Steve’s throat to put out the joint on the wall beside Steve’s head, the dead roach is flicked behind him into the room.
Eddie surges forward, taking Steve into another bruising kiss. The weed has definitely taken its hold, because he almost feels disconnected from his body, like he’s watching these things happen to him from the inside. But yet he’s still very much present as Eddie moves from kissing his mouth to dragging his lips down his cheek, his chin, pulling the lobe of his ear between his teeth, tugging just the slightest bit. Then he’s kissing down Steve’s neck to the spot where his neck meets the shoulder, and there’s a sharp pain—
Did Eddie just bite him?
Steve has to take a moment, a loud hissing moan escaping his lips as his brain completely rewires itself to that new sensation. He’d be embarrassed by his sounds, worried about someone hearing him, if he wasn’t so deep into the debauchery here. His hand in the back of Eddie’s shirt flies to the back of his head, tangling into the hair at the base of his neck in an effort to keep Eddie where he is.
Another dark chuckle, “I know baby, I know.”
Fuck, Steve hadn’t even thought about this particular thing happening before, but in this moment? He really does fucking enjoy it. But he’s unable to articulate this to Eddie, so he settles for tightening his grip on his hair, hoping that gets his response across.
It seems to work, because Eddie’s mouth is there again, oh he’s sucking on Steve’s neck this time. There’s a stream of Eddie, and fuck, and Jesus Christ, and in probably the cruelest move he’s done yet, Eddie fucking backs away from Steve. Not leaving his space entirely, but enough to where Steve can’t grind on his thigh anymore.
The loss is devastating, and Steve whimpers “Why?” in protest, his arms reaching out for Eddie. “I want to try something,” he’s still whispering despite the very loud noises that Steve’s been making this whole time. If there’s anyone outside the door, they definitely know what they’re doing in here.
Eddie reaches out, taking a hold of Steve with one hand on his waist, and the other on his arm, and uses that leverage to spin him around. He pulls Steve’s back to his chest, not that far from the wall, and is that a fucking mirror wall ? How did Steve not notice this when they came in here? Fucking hell.
Steve locks eyes with Eddie over his shoulder in the mirror, and there’s something very clouded and intense in the way he’s staring. He can feel the other man’s own arousal pressed this close together, and Steve leans back, grinding his ass into Eddie’s crotch in what would normally be a very embarrassing move, but it just serves to spur them both on.
Eddie groans into Steve’s ear, and he bites at the lobe, tugging on it with his teeth to keep Steve preoccupied while he does his next move.
Which is, one of Eddie’s hands is sliding around his waist, reaching for the belt buckle. Steve’s breath catches in his throat and he starts unbuckling it, “I’ve changed my mind, babe.”
He’s nuzzling his nose into the space behind Steve’s ear, “I want to watch you come undone, just from my hand. You think you can do that for me, baby?” And Steve very much wants to try his best, and tries to show his enthusiasm by nodding, words escaping him at the moment.
“Good boy,” he rumbles, (and doesn’t that do something to Steve’s brain and dick) and Eddie uses both of his hands to undo the belt, pants button, and zipper to get at Steve’s cock. He’s not wearing underwear, the pair of Eddie’s pants he’s wearing was too tight for them when he got dressed earlier, and he couldn’t be any happier for the choice now.
Eddie brings his own hand up to his mouth, his tongue pressing out to lick a very obscene and frankly hot line across his palm before he brings it down to wrap around Steve’s dick. The slide is rough, but he doesn’t fucking care, there’s pressure just this side of painful, and it’s a lot more satisfying than it should be.
“Don’t look away from me, keep your eyes open,” Eddie commands, his hand pumping Steve slowly, so fucking slowly, and just when Steve can’t handle it anymore Eddie leans forward to bite his neck again.
“Eds!” Steve cries out, doing his best to keep his eyes open, his hands flying out to slap against the mirror in front of him in an effort to support his body as his knees buckle beneath him. Steve’s dick twitches in Eddie’s hand, it’s leaking pre-come now. He uses his fingers to gather it from the tip to spread it along the shaft, making the slide so much slicker.
Steve wants to look so bad, to see Eddie’s rings and those fingers wrapped around his cock, and so he does. He can see around the rings on Eddie’s hand where the come has pooled up a bit, and this might be how Steve dies.
“I told you not to look away from me,” comes Eddie’s voice, it’s quiet but there’s a harsh undertone to it. Steve immediately peels his eyes from the hand with a small sound, a sheepish look on his face as he does.
“Don’t disobey me again,” in his low timbre, and there’s a moment where he uses the forefinger and thumb to squeeze the base of Steve’s cock, and some of the heat that’s built up in his groin is stoppered at the source. There’s a pitiful whine torn from Steve’s throat.
More chuckling from Eddie, the hand not wrapped around Steve’s dick comes snaking up and underneath the cropped mesh shirt that he borrowed, partly to help support his weight, and partly to flick a thumb over one of Steve’s nipples, doing his best to overstimulate.
“You’re so fucking pretty, Harrington. Did you know that?” And Steve moans, Eddie’s hand speeding up just a fraction. “I could write fucking songs and epic poems about you, about your body, about what you fucking do to me.”
Steve is soaking up the praise, the words landing in the right parts of his brain, but he’s unable to properly respond to them, so he settles for more of the sounds he knows drives Eddie crazy.
"Would you like that? If I wrote a song about you and performed it here in front of all those people, and didn't tell anybody else? It'd be our secret, our song." More whimpers from Steve, his mouth open around quiet panting breaths.
“God, and this fucking mouth ,” there’s a pause where Eddie removes the hand from under Steve’s shirt and reaches up to grab him by the chin, turns his face from the mirror to look him directly in the eyes. “You’re so fucking disrespectful with that mouth sometimes,” he leans in and pulls a drawn out, wet kiss from Steve.
“But it’s so pretty when it’s wrapped around my cock. ”
Steve moans again. Dirty talk has always kind of made Steve cringe, but it’s different with Eddie. Everything is, and Steve can’t believe this man sees him like this, likes to see him like this, flushing underneath the praise he’s giving.
How Eddie manages to keep his brain functions about him when they’re in the heat of the moment, Steve will never know. Eddie uses the hand on his chin to make him face forward, and Steve automatically locks their gazes when he does, not wanting to break the order again.
Eddie licks a stripe along the exposed part of Steve’s neck, his hand still jerking Steve off in lazy strokes. He tilts his head back onto Eddie’s shoulder as far as he’s able to without breaking eye contact with the man.
There’s a stream of fuck and Eddie again, and he reaches back with one of his hands to bury his fingers in Eddie’s wild hair, trying to guide him back to the spot where he bit him in an attempt to show he’d maybe like that to happen again.
“I could just eat you up,” he teases, and if Steve wasn’t three sheets to the wind he’d never admit that this turns him on. As it is, he is drunk, and high, and very very aroused right now. “ Bite me , Munson,” he grinds out, which is normally just a phrase they throw around to fuck with each other, but it’s very much a request right now.
His hand in Eddie’s hair tightens, and he seems to get the hint, chuckling (more to himself than anything) as he turns his head and sinks his teeth back into Steve’s flesh.
There’s so much sensation, between the hand pumping his cock, the direct eye contact with Eddie in the mirror, the teeth in his shoulder, the nails digging into his throat and when did Eddie’s hand wrap around his throat again?
“Fuck, Eds.. Mm close..” Steve can’t get full sentences out, apparently. His brain really is shutting down on him here.
“You wanna come for me?” Steve’s nodding his head, unable to verbalize anything else. “Mmhmm,” is all he manages, and his chest is heaving with the pleasure building up. “Lemme me hear how good you feel, Stevie,” and there’s a strangled sound from Steve as Eddie nuzzles behind his ear again.
Steve’s hips buck forward as he chases his climax, fucking himself into Eddie’s hand, trying to pick up the pace. There’s a loud stream of swear words tucked between Eddie’s name and shouts to a God that Steve doesn’t believe in, but maybe he could because a man like Eddie can only be heaven sent with his words, and his hands, and his stupid fucking hair, and those stupid dimples that light up Steve’s soul every time they’re aimed in his direction.
“Come for me, baby,” Eddie says just before pivoting his head around to bite the other side of Steve’s neck, creating a fresh mark in his flesh. And that’s just enough to push Steve over the edge, his balls tightening and his vision swimming as he finally, finally comes in hot spurts over Eddie’s hand and the mirror.
Steve’s brain is fuzzy around the edges, so much stimulation in such a short amount of time has his orgasm high lasting longer than usual. He isn’t sure how long they stay that way, Eddie holding Steve up with his hand flat against his chest, but when Steve does come to, it’s to Eddie staring at his own hand in the mirror.
It’s dripping with Steve’s come, and he’s got enough of his wits about him now that his blood isn’t all down at his dick that he feels sheepish about it when Eddie makes eye contact with him in the mirror again.
Eddie however, does not feel sheepish, and in one swift movement he lifts his hand to his mouth, his tongue darting out to lap up at the offending substance. And mother fucking hell if that doesn’t have Steve’s dick stirring again, he doesn’t know what would.
“Eddie,” Steve whispers, turning himself in the arms encircling him. He reaches forward with both hands to grab Eddie by the face, dragging him in for a filthy kiss.
He can still taste the beer, the weed, and Eddie, but underneath it this time is something else, an aftertaste of himself, and that should disgust him, but it doesn’t.
“So good for me, baby,” Eddie purrs into Steve’s mouth, his hand moving up to push Steve’s hair away from his face, almost petting.
“God, you have no idea what you do you me,” Steve isn’t sure Eddie meant to say this part out loud, but the way his eyes are burning into Steve’s, the bare and unadulterated emotion , want, and admiration, and lust that he sees there is enough to make Steve’s knees buckle again.
He doesn’t fight it this time, he lets his legs fold and slowly sinks to his knees in front of Eddie. There’s a sharp intake of air that Steve thinks is a gasp, and he reaches his hand up to grope at Eddie’s dick through his pants.
The leather pants are tight, so there’s no doubt to Steve that Eddie is just as turned on as he is. “Fuck, Eddie,” he groans, leaning forward to mouth at the outline of the cock in front of him.
There’s no sounds from Eddie, so Steve looks up from his spot on his knees and Eddie is staring down at him with such intensity, pupils blown so wide he can’t see any of that honey brown, his eyes half lidded in arousal. If Steve wasn’t already down here, he might collapse anyway.
“Wanna suck you off, babe,” Steve murmurs against Eddie’s dick, holding their gazes. “Please, let me get my mouth on you.”
The man smirks, the dimples that drive Steve crazy showing, and then, “Since you asked so nicely.” Then Eddie’s hands are undoing his own belt, pulling the zipper down, and wasting no time to get his dick out.
So Steve doesn’t waste any time either, surging forward to lick a long stripe along the underside of the cock in front of him, from the base to the tip. He flicks the tip of his tongue over the slit, and the salty taste of Eddie’s arousal serves as Steve’s own personal aphrodisiac.
He reaches up with his hand to steady Eddie, but a hand smacks his away and Steve blinks up at the man in front of him. “Only your mouth,” there’s a look in his eyes that lets Steve know that this isn’t just a request.
So Steve’s hands change course to hold onto Eddie’s hips, thumbs pressing into the scar tissue there. There’s a low groan from the man above him.
“That’s a good boy,” Eddie coos as he reaches down, grabbing his dick with one hand, and the other, the one with all the rings, takes Steve’s chin between the forefinger and thumb. And he rewards Steve’s good behavior by pressing the head against his lips.
There’s no hesitation, Steve parts his lips and closes them around the head of Eddie’s cock, his tongue pressing against the space where the head meets the underside, exactly where he likes it, and Steve is urged on by the sounds coming from the man.
Steve knows he should get to the point, but staring up at Eddie from his position, his dick in his mouth, makes Steve’s body vibrate with a strange energy, and he gets it into his head to make Eddie suffer as much as he did just moment ago when he wasn’t allowed to watch those fucking fingers on his dick.
There’s a short pause where Steve contemplates this, but it doesn’t last long. He gently drags the edges of his teeth along the shaft of Eddie’s cock, just a light touch, barely there. But it has the effect he was hoping for, Eddie hisses with a sharp intake of breath and the grip on Steve’s chin tightens.
Eddie’s free hand comes to tangle into the mesh of the shirt at Steve’s shoulder, his grip tense as he can see the whites of his knuckles.
“Stevie boy,” his voice is low, quiet , and it commands all of Steve’s attention. Eddie pulls his dick from Steve’s mouth, and he lets his teeth softly graze the flesh as he does so. He tilts Steve’s head up to look at him. He tut tut tuts , the sound pursing his lips into a smirk, and there are those dimples again.
“Baby, you know what that does to me,” Eddie states, matter-of-factly.
Indeed Steve does know what using his teeth does to Eddie, and that had been precisely the point of it. He wants to say as much, but settles instead for, “Are you gonna make me do all the work, Munson? Or are you gonna fuck my mouth and use me like you want to?” and Steve’s proud of the fact that his voice doesn’t falter while saying it. He is a little surprised by the rough timbre of it though.
Steve can practically see his words as they travel through Eddie’s brain, his eyes narrowing in Steve’s direction as he processes the challenge. “If that’s what you want,” his voice is low , a growl escaping his lips behind his words as he pushes Steve backwards and crowds into his space at the same time, trapping him against the mirrored wall.
There’s a small thud when the back of his head makes contact, but he isn’t bothered because soon after Eddie’s got his dick in his mouth again, and all cognitive thought is lost to anything that isn’t Eddie .
The pace is rough from the get go, Eddie rising to the challenge set before him with gusto and thrusting into the open mouth. There’s still his ringed hand on his chin, but when Steve looks up through his lashes at Eddie’s face, he can see his forehead is resting flat against the mirror.
Steve can see out of the corner of his eye that the muscles of the hand caught in the mesh top are taut, like he’s using it as a life line.
And Steve would’ve taken a moment to appreciate his position more, but he notices that Eddie’s eyes aren’t on Steve. They’re looking into the mirror, watching in the reflection there as his dick disappears between red and swollen lips.
“Fuck, Stevie boy, you wear me so well,” are the next words out of Eddie’s mouth. And Steve has a hard time processing it. “Always fit so fucking good,” there’s a litany of other words and sounds, and he is soaking them all up.
Steve reaches his hands back up to touch Eddie, one of them sneaking up between those lithe legs to grip on his belt at the small of his back, the other hand sliding up underneath his shirt to tease at the skin on his stomach. Steve can feel the quiver in the flesh there at his touch, and Eddie’s hips stutter in their pace when it happens.
Steve gags when the head of Eddie’s cock hits the back of his throat, but he forces himself to breathe through his nose, his grips on the hips in front of him tightening as Eddie really does take his pleasure from Steve.
They’ve talked about this before, at length, about just how rough they both like it. Steve knows if it gets to be too much that he could tap out, but there’s nowhere else he’d rather be right now than on his knees for this man.
Steve takes a risk, and attempts to graze his teeth against Eddie’s dick in his mouth again, but with the relentless pace it comes off just this side of too much and Eddie groans, the sound seeping out from deep within his chest.
From there Eddie doesn’t last much longer, a few more unsteady thrusts, each of them hitting the back of his throat, and Eddie grips Steve’s face with both hands as he holds himself in place down his throat as he comes.
“Fuck baby,” it’s drawn out, Eddie’s voice is raw. Steve isn’t able to swallow it all, some of it dribbling down his chin when Eddie pulls free. His jaw hurts, his knees hurt from the concrete of the floor, so he pushes up onto his haunches and leans his full weight against the wall behind him while he lets his breath catch up with him.
They make a hell of an image right now, Steve on his knees, sandwiched between the wall and Eddie, who smacks his forehead against the wall as he comes down from his orgasm, fully leaning over Steve now, Neither of them have put their dicks away. They both smell of sex, and weed, and alcohol.
Steve reaches his hand up to gather the come on his chin with a thumb, swiping it up and back into his mouth. He leaves the digit in his mouth a moment, using his tongue to clean up any last traces of Eddie on his skin.
“Jesus,” comes in the form of a groan, causing him to look up.
His eyes connect with Eddie’s, and there’s something there Steve can’t quite put his finger on, something softer than the very debaucherous things they’ve just done.
“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me, Harrington,” Eddie is tucking himself back into his pants and attempting to look presentable. Well, as presentable as he can be when he’s just had his brains sucked out through his dick.
Steve smirks up at Eddie at the praise, and that’s how he meant it, isn’t it? Praise. Steve basks in it.
He can feel the telltale pinprick staticky feeling in his legs, so he reaches a hand up to Eddie for help, which he provides by twining their fingers together and pulling. Steve was right, his legs are numb, so he loses his balance when he gets most of the way up.
But Eddie is there to catch him, his hands steading Steve on either side of him.
Once Steve is upright again, Eddie reaches forward and tucks him back into his pants, trying his best to right the mess he’s made of Steve.
“Oh shit,” Eddie chuckles softly, and Steve follows his gaze to his shoulder and sees it. He’s ripped a hole in the shoulder of the mesh top where his fingers were caught in it, and he attempts to even it out. It just sits askew against Steve, and he can’t help but laugh too.
“Guess that’s it for this top,” he says.
“Nah,” Eddie is smirking. “It gives me free access to do this.”
He leans forward, and there’s no hesitation as he sinks his teeth into Steve’s shoulder. Steve’s dick twitches at that, and he moans a little bit louder than he’d like, but he doesn’t think he could manage another round just yet.
“Fuck , Eds, if you keep that up we’ll never get out of here,” he warns.
“Would that be so bad?” is the response, and Steve rolls his eyes but leans in to give Eddie an open mouthed kiss.
“I’d like to be somewhere a little less sticky if you’re gonna fuck me, Eddie,” and there are those stupid fucking dimples again .
“Oh, don’t worry. There’s plenty of time for that later, Harrington.”