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It’s been weeks since Eddie had to fly back home. The weather’s changed again, cooler, and Steve begrudgingly steps into worn out slippers as he sits in his “home office,” a walk-in closet – barely – as he sets up his laptop and grabs up his headset. He’s not in the headspace to take calls today. He’s not exactly achey just…it’s gotta be the clouds. The weather. He’s forlorn. He misses the comforting weight of his boyfriend and nibbles of popcorn out of Eddie’s hand. And school’s picked up again, so Robin’s gone most of the time. Their funds are tight, and, like, Robin’s got a full load this semester. He’s so proud of her. He’s so, so proud of her. And he promised to cover rent again for them this month, just until she can catch up on assignments. She’ll pick up some more shifts, she swears, and he knows she will. Doesn’t want her to worry.
Steve sinks back, kneading away a headache as he touches the headset and plugs in to take the first call. The line connects and Steve breathes deeply, about to start, shifting back and forth in the swivel chair, when a familiar voice takes over.
“Tell me I’m first.” Steve can hear the smile in Eddie’s voice, bubbling up even through what sounds like the dull roar of a car in the background. He must be driving to work. “I know the time difference is hell, but…baby? You there?”
Steve laughs, shaking out this loose wet sound from his chest, so relieved to hear him but –
“How many times have I told you, you don’t have to call on this line, Eds.”
“Are you accusing me of being a bad listener?” Eddie asks, mock offended.
“I’m the professional,” Steve counters, and shifts again, tucking one leg under the other as he leans on his tiny desk. “I’m just saying, you can save your money.”
“Nah. I tried the other hotlines. I like yours best, big boy.”
Steve only smiles, closing his eyes, fond, exasperated, aching.
“You sound a little tired,” Eddie continues, the rush of air through a window growing quieter. How he’s still driving around with his window down when…nah, but that’s right. He’s further south. Probably warmer there. “You have a rough day, sweetheart?”
“A bit,” Steve answers, before immediately trying to cover it back up, tuck it away so nobody is bothered by his business. “I’m good, man, promise. We got some rain here today, I think we really—”
“Park it right there,” Eddie says, firm, but with that hint of warmth in his voice, that gentle growl. “Don’t you dare start talking about the weather with me unless it starts raining blood and licorice, Harrington. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Steve says. He must be getting too soft, because he immediately spills out, “I didn’t eat yet. I’m just. Tired, man. Kinda hungry.”
“Whad’ya want, baby?”
“I dunno.” True. Mostly. He is hungry and feeling lazy and he rubs his forehead again. “We’ve got some leftovers. I should see if I can put something together. Chicken or…I dunno.”
“What. Do. You. Want?”
And there’s the little twist in his abdomen, a spooling heat, as Steve knuckles his eyebrow.
“Pizza,” he whispers, like he’s admitting a cardinal sin.
“Pizza’s good,” Eddie says, his voice curling around Steve just like long fingers, stroking over his cheek, his throat. “Real good. Like when you tell me what you want.”
Steve swallows. It shouldn’t be like this. Has Eddie been picking up lessons from him, because this is usually how he talks to his callers, except it doesn’t have that veneer of desperation and falsehood. Steve tugs on the collar of his sweatshirt.
“Oh yeah?” Steve quirks a smile, knows Eddie can probably hear it in his voice. “Get a big sausage?”
“You know I’d give you one.”
“I know,” Steve says, but the smile fades. “I wish you were here.”
There’s a beat of silence, the sound of the car, and Steve wonders if he’s asked too much again. Clingy. Fuck, he’s not supposed to be so clingy. Nobody likes a whiner. Nobody loves—
“I wish I was too,” Eddie says, sounding closer, his mouth pressed to the receiver. Is someone in the car with him? “I wish I was brushing your hair and feeding you and have you all spread out for me.”
Steve blinks, sitting up a little. Okay, he probably wouldn’t say that if someone was in the car. Right?
“I’d make sure you were nice and full and eat you up, Harrington.”
“Eat m—”
“Gobble you right up, baby,” Eddie says, that cheeriness returned. “Top to bottom.” Steve opens his mouth to snark him when Eddie cuts him off again. “Do me a favor.”
He should consider, should at least ask for clarification, but Steve just shrugs and says, “Sure.”
“Open your door.” For the briefest second, Steve’s heart jumps with hope, so much that he almost chokes on it, before Eddie continues. “Get out of that shitty little ‘office.’”
“It’s not shitty,” he mumbles.
“And go to your bed.”
“Really?” Steve scoffs as he swings his hips in the swivel chair, a little embarrassed about how flushed he’s become. “You putting me in time out or something, Munson?”
“I’m doing what I can,” Eddie answers all amused. “Working with what I’ve got. Go to bed.”
“I can’t,” Steve answers with a sigh and leans back on the desk. “I really should take some calls.”
“I didn’t say hang up.”
That…okay. Okay, that makes him pause. Steve shifts again, licking his lips before he dares to ask, “And what am I doing in said bed, Eds?”
“Depends. What’re you wearing?”
That’s my fucking line, Steve almost blurts out, but he’s feeling a new sort’ve buzz that replaces the cold and the pain of loneliness, and he sits up hard enough that his chair wheels into the wall.
“My sweatshirt and, uh, and jeans,” Steve answers, looking down at himself and scrunching his eyebrows as he steps back out of the slippers. He does leave the closet/office and hurries over to his bed. “Socks,” he adds quietly, knowing it’s not exactly sexy, but he’s personally worked with worse. One guy called talking about a whole suit with zippers and tufts and stuff, and it had been interesting to say the least. No shame, but he’d been nitpicked about where to find zippers on a thing he couldn’t see and so not the point when his boyfriend was on the other line with him.
“And are we wearing underpants today?” Eddie purrs. Steve tucks his chin down to laugh, nodding even though Eddie can’t see it. “Yes?”
“Yes. Yeah. I’ve got….” Steve tugs at his waistband and eyes himself. “Went with the blue boxer briefs today, actually.” Hey, he’ll be honest with Eddie. A client, he’d have lied and said something better. Silky black something or a jockstrap or, hell, nothing but a pretty pink ribbon for whomever he was calling ‘Daddy,’ that hour. He’s so fucking relieved he doesn’t have to bother.
“Perfect. Lay down.”
Steve slides onto his mattress, the bedding tucked all neatly, his pillows fluffed at the headboard. He’s anal about it, keeping his room tidy, and it leaves a nice clean surface for him to spread out on before he adjusts the headset.
“Are you—”
“Yes! Christ,” Steve answers, then laughs, folding his hands onto his stomach.
“Needy boy.” The whimper from Steve is completely involuntary and he wishes he could have trapped it in his throat. “Heard that, Harrington. Why don’t you touch your neck for me? Have my little love bites all healed up?”
Steve recalls Eddie’s teeth on his neck, his tongue lapping up after sucking another bruise, after biting over freckles until he almost has a mushroom ring of red and purple marks, only for Eddie to whisper he should put a collar over them so nobody else gets to see them. Only three days after Eddie flew back home, there was a box outside marked for Steve, with a simple black collar and a little bat charm dangling off the end. Steve never bothered to wear it, secreted it away in his room, his face burning so brightly, so hard almost instantly at the simple unexpected gift.
“Yeah,” Steve sighs and thumbs his own jugular. “I miss them so much.” Miss you so much.
“I know you do. You know you make the prettiest noises when I’m sucking on you?”
“Yeah?” Steve lets the sound slide out of him unbidden this time. He’s not afraid of being noisy. He’s noisy for work, hence all the blankets and pillows piled up in the closet to muffle him, so he doesn’t bother anybody. But this is different. This is more earnest, almost sweeter. He squeezes his hand around his throat, the barest pressure, and moans for Eddie.
“Already worked up, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, laughing but so fucking gentle about it, too. “Love that. Love how you sound for me. Almost like my hands on you too, isn’t it? Want you to take the other one and pull up our sweater. Drag it up to your chin for me.”
Steve’s breath whistles a little harsher, still holding his neck, and he tips his hips up to pull up his sweater as Eddie asked, hooks a pinky into the bunch of fabric to keep it in place and looks down at himself, his jeans tented already.
“Look at that beautiful canvas,” Eddie whispers, like he’s right in the room with him, and Steve shivers at the thought. “Bet you’re a sight. Fuck, and all that hair, Stevie? Want you to touch your chest for me. You’re gonna put your hand on your stomach.” He does, instantly, his palm warm and flat. “And scratch your fingernails up to that gorgeous chest.” He sighs at the light friction, his eyes fluttering shut. Easier to pretend it’s not him that way. “Start with the left one, baby. He needs to be encouraged, doesn’t he?”
There’s that little flash of a laugh again, quick and quiet, as Steve slides his hand over to his pec and closes his fingertips around his nipple, squeezing it until he pinches, and then pulls his fingers off.
“He’s shy.”
“Put your other hand up on the bedframe,” Eddie orders and he doesn’t want to. He wants Eddie’s mouth on his neck or his little collar he’s never dared to wear except once over a video chat where Eddie talked him through stripping down and had him wear just that while he fucked his fist near the screen and made Steve watch, sitting on his hands, the little charm jingling quietly while he wriggled, wanting to move, wanting to touch, wanting to do more, more, more. Steve whines again, now, squirming as he plucks at his nipple, before rolling it to hardness. “Grip one of the slats for me. You’re so good to me.”
And, really, Steve wants to be good. He could be good for Eddie. Reluctantly, Steve reaches up and grabs at the slatted headboard, threading his fingers into the gaps and grips it hard. He gives it a little rattle, just in case Eddie thought he wasn’t being good. Not even sure if he can hear it, but that isn’t the point.
“Breathing so fast. Are you gonna last for me?”
“Yes,” Steve promises and crosses his legs quickly, just to be certain. “Yes. Yes, please.”
“Such manners,” Eddie whispers, and he sounds pleased. “What about the other one? Touch the other one.”
Steve drags his hand over his sternum, makes a soft sound again when he’s touching himself, when he’s pinching.
“Wish you were between my teeth,” Eddie says, a jangling sound of laughter with that hard edge of desire that creeps in, that makes Steve feel wanted, feel loved. “Wish I was sitting on your thighs playing with you. Watching you squirm. Have you in those handcuffs I got us.”
Us. Another gift, another handful of days later, tucked in with simple things like hard candy treats because Robin had made an off comment about liking jolly ranchers better than chocolates and little goodie bags with different die sets for the kids, who had stolen Eddie as their monthly DM during their little DnD nights. The fact that they love him, too, makes it so much easier and so much harder, because they’re nosy shits and Steve loves them. And he’s sweet, and he gets them gifts just like Steve’s always trying to get them gifts, ever since he had to strike out on his own with Robin, with the apartment. And, even then, tucked in between the game shop paraphernalia from Eddie’s town, wrapped in crepe paper with a little heart sticker on it and a note that said STEVE, which was silly and simple and perfect, those handcuffs. For us. Not for him. Not only for Eddie. Not only for Steve. Us.
“Never used them,” Steve answers, panting.
“That’s a shame,” Eddie says. His phone shifts, maybe from one cheek to the other. “I gotta fix that for us sometime.”
“Please,” Steve’s begging again. He needs a muzzle, he can’t just ask for what he wants, but Eddie makes it too easy. It falls out of him.
“I will,” Eddie says, his own promise. “’Til then, how’re those jeans feeling.”
“Awful,” Steve answers with another pathetic sound as he rocks his hips, his face flashing hotter when Eddie laughs.
“Yeah? You should probably do something about that.”
Steve immediately drops his hand to his fly and struggles with the button. He looks back up at his hand on the headboard, then tucks his chin against the scrunch of his sweater. He chews his lip, fussing with the button still.
“Baby?”
“I can’t get the button undone,” Steve groans. Instead of laughing at him, which he expects, Eddie tuts.
“No good with one hand, Harrington?” Then, a little louder, as though he’s curled up right around the phone, he says, “You’re being such a good boy. Holding onto the headboard for me. I know you can do it.”
It’s not fair how much that makes Steve melt. He’s practically a puddle on his mattress, sinking back before he tries again, twisting until he’s got his fly undone, immediately pushing down to get the restrictive fabric to his thighs. He’s about to palm himself, relieve some of the mounting pressure, when Eddie says, “don’t touch,” and Steve freezes. Eddie can hear exactly how worked up Steve is, how he’s panting, the throaty moan, and he says, “Not yet. Hand on your belly button, baby. Tell me what you look like.”
“I look like I’m fucking hard,” Steve answers, almost snarls it into the receiver. He exhales, wriggles his hip, and looks down as his hand flattens over his belly button, exactly as asked. “I’m….” Okay, it makes him blush so hard he feels tears prick his eyes. “Wet. Eddie.”
“Yeah?” He knows Eddie likes that. Knows it revs him up a little and Steve wants to press his hand over the dribble of precome on his underpants, but Eddie had told him not to. “Soaked through?”
“Leaking,” Steve says, his voice breathy.
“Fuck, you’re so tasty.”
“Wanna touch.”
“Not yet,” Eddie says, ignoring another whine. “Soon. You need to get out of those jeans first. All the way.”
There’s no arguing this time. Steve gets to work, pushing his hips up, the sweet hiss in Eddie’s ear as he thrusts against absolutely nothing, the little grunts as he twists this way and that to push them down his legs before his jeans are down to his calves and he can toe them off, kicks them high enough to grab, to chuck them over to the corner near his hamper. Misses. And he doesn’t even care, not right now when he is finally hot enough that he doesn’t really need the sweater either, but Eddie hasn’t told him to remove it. Hasn’t said anything at all, the line oddly quiet for a moment. Steve is too distracted to notice until he is lying flat again, panting.
“Eddie?”
“Still here,” Eddie says. “Still here.” His voice is a little jumbled and the engine sound is gone, now just the distant sound of traffic. He must be walking. Steve feels a slight flutter of panic that Eddie’s gonna be gone soon. That he’ll get to work and he’ll have to hang up and Steve is so fucking hard and so fucking needy, he can’t stand the thought. Steve sobs. It’s once, it’s just a little sound, but it breaks through. “Stevie? Baby, I’m here.” And like he can read Steve’s mind, he adds, “Not going anywhere.”
Steve covers his mouth, swallowing hard until he’s got some control again. He believes him. He believes him.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Eddie says. “Nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry, actually. Bet you look so gorgeous right now and nobody to appreciate you? Hold on one second, baby.”
Steve covers his eyes with one hand, quickly biting his lips shut as he breathes through his nose. Some of the bitter edge has tapered off in the moment, his emotions clashing with each other, fighting against a hunger headache at his temples that he has been solidly ignoring. Steve’s still flat out on the bed with his socked feet pointing in towards each other. He takes a big, shaky breath and smooths out his sweatshirt, his hand gliding over his hip towards his inner thigh, towards—
“Don’t touch yourself yet,” Eddie reminds him, suddenly breaking through the silence of the muted line. Steve gasps, his skin prickling as he balls his hand into a fist and pulls it back to his stomach. “Sorry,” Eddie adds and he’s even clearer now. Street sounds all gone. He’s inside wherever he was driving to. Steve still thinks their little game is going to be over soon, but he doesn’t break down about it this time. “Just had to make sure…doesn’t matter. Where were we?”
“Eddie,” Steve says and is surprised at how rough his voice sounds. “If you gotta go….”
“Nuh uh. And leave my sexy boyfriend all hard over nothing?” Then, as though leaning in, he asks, “You still hard for me, Harrington?”
Steve swallows before answering.
“Yes, Eddie.”
“Good,” Eddie whispers. “Want you to close your eyes for me. Keep them closed, alright?”
Steve does, of course. He considers covering them with his hand, but if this is going anywhere, he might want that to be free.
“Are they closed?” Eddie asks, insistent.
“Yes, Eds, damn,” Steve answers before he hears something outside the door. Robin’s back from class. Maybe she’s trying to figure out dinner. He makes a mental note to be quieter. “Eyes are closed.”
“Promise?” Eddie asks and Steve can swear he can hear it surrounding him. Steve gasps despite himself. “Just want to be sure.”
“Yes, promise,” Steve says, trembling before he hears something, the soft click of the door, the brush of fabric, and then, so warm and full that it sets his body on fire, he hears Eddie over him.
“You really do look delicious.”
Steve yanks the headset off only to have Eddie’s mouth on him, cool-breeze clothes covering him, the rattle of a chain and pins and necklaces, the steady fist with rings in his hair as Eddie’s kissing him down, right back down to Earth because he seriously skyrocketed. Eddie tastes like sea salt and cherries, licking hungrily into his mouth. He pulls back just enough, covering Steve’s eyes with one hand, like they aren’t allowed to look at each other or this illusion will break. He does it because Steve will probably start to cry and then Eddie will cry and Steve is seriously so hard against his thigh right now, he wants to stave off the tears as long as he can.
“I ordered pizza,” Eddie says, brushing his lips down Steve’s cheek. It’s one of the hottest things he’s ever said, and Steve almost explodes. He’s rewarded for everything, fucking everything with little nips along his jaw, and fresh teeth on his neck, with Eddie’s tongue dipping against his clavicle, tasting him as he pushes down Steve’s underwear and takes him in hand. “Robin’s away. Be loud for me, baby.”
Steve rolls his hips while clinging to long curly hair and leather, feeling so dizzy with the surprise. He comes way too fast, so hard his toes curl, so hard it feels like he might break them, actually, and cries out Eddie’s name against his shoulder, his vision going fuzzy.
Takes a while to come back to himself. He was floating somewhere in the atmosphere for a while, but he comes back and Eddie’s curled over him, resting his cheek on Steve’s chest. He’s taken off his coat at some point. It’s flopped in the middle of Steve’s room, along with his shirt, which Steve realizes he must have stained. It’s alright. Eddie already stole one of Steve’s in the interim, Jesus, how long was he just…out of his mind there? Steve finally moves, grabbing Eddie closer, and begins to kiss him. Soft and tender at first, of course, a dreamy smile, but it’s soon harder, until Eddie is laughing and pulls back first.
“So, a really good surprise?” Eddie asks, brushing Steve’s cheek as he leans over him, drinking him up.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Steve jabs Eddie’s shoulder, only to yank on the collar and pull him close. “I had no idea.”
“I can tell,” Eddie says. “So, Robin’s good at keeping secrets sometimes.”
“Robin knew?”
“Planned it together, baby,” Eddie says and kisses his brow. Steve tries to chase him for more, is rewarded, gets to lick into Eddie’s mouth and pull him so he’s all atop Steve.
“You still want that pizza?” Eddie asks with a laugh.
“Want you,” Steve insists, because he can be petulant now. Eddie is here. Eddie is real and he’s here and Steve just had one of the best orgasms of his life, so.
“You’ve got me,” Eddie answers, brushing their noses together. Doesn’t matter how long, because that is the truth. Right now, Steve’s got him in his arms. He almost starts to cry again, but Eddie kisses that, too, sooths that, too. “I’m gonna get us some slices,” he whispers, one more quick peck before he’s standing up and, alright, Steve’s stomach is growling. Betrayer.
Steve lets his hands fall useless to the mattress only to remember to cover himself, at least a little bit, and tugs his sweater down towards his thighs. He props himself up on an elbow, watching Eddie – in the flesh! Right there! – head out of his bedroom. He bites his lip, waiting for him to come back with paper plates and slices, and sits up completely to draw him into his lap. Eddie flops down with a contented sigh, handing over one of the plates with the offer of a kiss, which Steve happily pays, and they settle in, all comfortable against each other. Steve almost takes a bite when he pauses and looks down at his boyfriend, who has a long string of cheese connecting his mouth to his hand.
“Wait. But how did you get here from the airport?” Robin still hasn’t gotten her license, despite Steve offering to help her. “Did you take the bus or something?”
“Lyft,” Eddie says, and clinks their hands together like they’re holding champagne. “And, yes, they were very interested in our conversation. Half thought they were going to ask to join in.”
“Oh my god.” Steve’s face is so red he feels like he’s going to die, and Eddie looks up at him, scrunching his nose with mirth.
“Love you,” he says before taking another bite.
“Love you,” Steve answers and rolling his eyes. The pizza is truly a thing of absolute beauty when he finally takes a bite.