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1
The first party after Halloween 1984, Steve Harrington gets drunk. Like, Nancy Wheeler on spiked punch, can’t walk in a straight line, tell you all my secrets drunk . And when your secrets include there’s an interdimensional hell dimension under the town and a monster killed a girl in my swimming pool , that’s not a great idea.
So Steve stumbles through whoever's house ( Ellie? Elise? Ally? He’s pretty sure she’s blonde, maybe tall, but that’s about all that comes to mind right now), watching his feet intensely as he makes his way to a bedroom. He finds one second try and cheers internally, locking the door behind him and flopping his body down on the bed. When he’s met with a shout, he jolts back.
“Fuck!” Someone yells, and he realizes he just landed on some guy's lap. He knows he recognizes him, but he can’t seem to organize his thoughts beyond the fact that the guy looks really good.
Where did that thought come from?
“Hey, man, are you okay?” The guy says and Steve blinks hard, trying to focus.
“Um, yeah. Yeah, I’m good, you just startled me.”
The guy laughs, “ I startled you ? You’re the one who jumped on me, Harrington.” He says and Steve can’t keep his eyes off his lips. Pink and shiny like he’s just drank something or licked them. “Seriously, you good?” He actually looks kind of concerned, which feels… nice. Deep in Steve’s chest.
Steve catches up with the fact that he’s been asked a question, “Shit, yeah. I’m good. Just drunk, a little.” He says and the guy smiles. “Came in here to lie down for a minute.” He tries his best not to slur his words but he can feel himself swaying a little.
“Well, sit down, your highness,” The guy says, extending his arm dramatically. Steve cringes but sits down.
“Don’t call me that.” He grumbles as he leans his back against the headboard. The guy mirrors him.
“What, no more King Steve? ” He teases and Steve shakes his head.
“No. Fuck that guy.”
The guy smiles and raises a flask, his face looking almost bewildered but amused, “Cheers to that,” Steve raises his hand to cheers him but realizes he’s not holding a drink. He mimes anyway and the guy laughs. Steve watches his throat as he drinks, his skin going hot as he watches his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows. He spills a little out of the corners of his mouth and wipes it off sloppily with the back of his hand. His lips still glisten when he pulls his hand away.
“So why are you in here?” Steve asks, consciously having to pull his attention away from this guy's mouth. He drags his gaze up to his eyes and that’s not much better. Fuck, this guy is pretty.
“Wow, way to make a guy feel welcome,” The guy laughs, slurring a bit. He continues before Steve can backtrack, “Same reason you are. I think I like people less and less the more I drink, doesn’t make for great business” He says and Steve can’t help but agree, even if he doesn’t exactly know what he means by business.
“Yeah. Fuckin’ hate people,” Steve says and the guy hums in the affirmative. He passes his flask to Steve who takes it appreciatively, taking a big swig, very aware that the other guy's mouth was just on it. His brain is a little too fuzzy to understand why that thought makes him shiver. His throat burns on liquor as he chugs.
“Woah, slow down there, big boy,” The guys laughs, taking Steve’s hand in his to take the flask. Steve’s skin burns at the contact. He can’t stop staring at where they’re touching. His mind is an echo chamber of big boy big boy big boy . The guy pulls his hand away and Steve leans into him, resting his head on his shoulder. “Okay, yeah, you’re definitely drunk,”
“So’re you,” Steve defends.
“Yeah, but you’re like, cuddly drunk, man. This isn’t exactly what I imagined Steve Harrington doing in bedrooms at parties,” He jokes but Steve just leans closer. He presses his nose into the crook of the guy's neck and his breath hitches.
“You smell good,” His mouth says before his brain can green-light it, but it’s true. The guy smells like smoke and vanilla body wash and just warm . Steve breathes in deep. He tries to organize his thoughts, “What did you think Steve Harrington was doing in bedrooms at parties?” He asks against the guy's skin.
He chuckles nervously, “Uh, not this? Making out with pretty girls, mostly.”
“You’re pretty,” Steve says simply and the guy stiffens for a second.
“... Not a girl, though,” Steve hums noncommittally but keeps his face pressed into the guy's skin, shifting even closer so his whole body is facing him. And the thing is, Steve has always kind of struggled with impulse control, especially when he’s drunk, his recent concussion probably not helping with that. But he doesn’t care, when he wants something, his body has a habit of just going for it before his brain can intervene, and now Steve wants.
He presses a kiss to the man's pulse point, satisfied with the way he shivers under him. He bites down experimentally and feels a hand card into his hair. “Uh, Harrington?” The guy's voice comes out a little shaky and Steve feels a little spring of pride in his chest at the thought of making him flustered. He drags his teeth over the same point again before running his tongue over it like a salve and the guy honest to god quivers under him. “Harrington,” This voice is a little firmer this time and Steve hums in response against his skin.
Suddenly, he’s being pulled off by his hair and he whines at the feeling of the tug. The sound echoes in the quiet room and he has a vague feeling that he’s going to be really embarrassed about it in the morning, but right now he doesn’t care at all. All he wants is to get his mouth back on skin, to make his brain happily numb. He looks up at the man and licks his lips hungrily - he looks so fucking good, flushed a little pink and big eyes glinting in the low light of the room, long curly brown hair that’s just begging to be pulled. Steve tries to push forward again but the guy holds his hair fast.
“You’re drunk, Harrington,” The guy says, sounding like the words are physically causing him pain. He bites his lip and Steve is overwhelmed with a spike of something like jealousy, a need to have his teeth around those lips, to taste his mouth. “Beyond the fact I’m like 40% sure someone’s about to jump out from behind that door to beat the shit out of me, I’m also not an asshole, so…” He trails off and it takes Steve a few seconds to catch up with the fact that he’s done talking.
He runs a hand over the guy's chest, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt. “M’not that drunk,” He says and the guy raises an eyebrow at him, “Just want you,” He almost whispers, his eyes dipping down to the guys lips again. “Don’t you want me?” The question stings coming out of his own mouth, the idea of not being wanted, not being worth anything. He’s aware that he probably sounds pathetic, but there’s that sting in his chest he’s started to get used to, an ache of loneliness, and he doesn’t care.
In front of him the guys eyebrows furrow together and a hand rises to cup his face. Steve leans into the touch like he’ll die without it and his eyes flutter shut. “I want you,” Mystery guy says quietly, running his thumb over Steve’s jaw clumsily. Steve shivers.
“Then have me,” He says pleadingly. This time when he leans forward there’s no resistance, the hand in his hair looser and almost leading him in. Steve takes the guys lips against his, almost gasping at the contact, opening his mouth softly to breathe him in. He feels the warmth spread through him, electricity running all over his skin and something rosy blooming in his chest. Hesitantly, he runs his tongue over the man’s bottom lip before biting down, drawing out a moan from him. The sound sets something in his brain on fire and he pushes up onto his knees, bracing himself on the guy's chest so he can straddle over his thighs.
There’s a warmth low in his gut, a cocktail of cheap liquor and arousal, and he grinds his hips down, gasping into the guy’s mouth at the feeling of friction in his jeans. Hands drop to Steve’s waist and thumbs come to brush under the hem of his t-shirt, rubbing small gentle circles right where his boxers meet his skin. The tenderness is almost too much for him - he craves so much more, wants something painful, something to remind himself he’s alive. Fuck, maybe Billy Hargrove knocked a screw loose in his brain last month, broke something deep within him. Though, that’s not quite right, is it? He remembers idly back to Jonathan Byers straddling his hips and striking hard against his jaw, remembers the way he felt his body go pliable and set alight under his weight. How he’d thought about the sting for weeks after.
He grinds down again, driving the thoughts out of his mind and replacing them with the sounds of the man underneath him that reverberate through his skull, hidden under the muffled sounds of music and chatter from the other side of the door. He fists his hands into the fabric of his shirt, pulling himself closer to the man almost desperately. The man rolls his hips up against Steve and Steve pulls off his mouth to let out a wanton whimper, pressing his forehead against the man’s to pant in his mouth.
“Fuck,” The guy moans, “Fuck, wait,” He pants, sounding pained. Steve freezes above him.
“Shit, sorry, did I hurt you?” He slurs and the guy smiles at him, out of breath and flushed, their noses still pressed together.
“God, you’re full of surprises, aren’t you? No, no I’m fine, fuck,” He pants again, his hands moving to fiddle with the hem of Steve’s shirt almost nervously. “We should just stop. You’re drunk, Harrington,” The use of his last name feels like a spike in Steve’s chest, a sting of rejection that starts hot and bleeds over his skin like a wave. The guy seems to see his disappointment, “Hey, how about if you still want this tomorrow, you give me a call?” He offers and Steve nods slowly. His head feels slow and foggy, and maybe he is drunker than he thought. The guy shifts and Steve lets himself be pushed upright until he’s sat on the guy's lap. From this position he can feel the hard line of the guys cock against his thigh and it’s really not helping him concentrate.
“Do you have a ride home?” The guy asks, running a hand down the outside of Steve’s thigh affectionately, like he really doesn’t want to let go of him. The gentle touch combined with the thought goes a long way to calm the sad spike in his chest and Steve lets himself revel in the feeling for a moment before forcing himself to focus on the question.
“No, I was just gonna walk home,” He says truthfully. Originally he’d considered driving here and crashing in his car overnight, but the idea of sleeping exposed to whatever might be in the woods made him shiver. Now he thinks about it, walking home through the woods in the dark while drunk isn’t a much better option, but it’s not like he has much choice now. It’s not that far of a walk anyway, and he can take care of himself just fine. The guy doesn’t seem to agree.
“Why don’t you just crash here?” He says, tilting head as if gesturing to the bed. Steve has to admit it’s tempting - the late November air was cold when he got here hours ago so he can’t imagine how frigid it is out now, and he can’t seem to remember where he left his jacket. But something in the guy's eyes puts his back up, a nervous kindness that makes his skin prickle with annoyance.
“I’m a big boy. I’ll be fine.” He says bluntly and the guy nods, sticking his tongue into his cheek and sucking in a harsh breath like something’s just slotted into place. Like Steve finally showed his hand. “Why don’t you crash here, if you’re so fuckin’ worried?”
“I’d love to, Harrington, but duty calls,” He says, pushing Steve out of his lap gently. Steve lets himself be pushed back into the bed till he’s lying on his back, the lingering warmth from the other man’s body reflecting off the sheets onto his bare arms and neck. Pulling away, the guy picks up a metal lunch box from beside the bed that Steve hadn’t noticed before. It looks familiar and puzzle pieces start to swim in his head, like clues and memories almost fitting together. The guy opens the box with a creak of the lid, pulling out a sharpie and uncapping it with his teeth. He seems to ponder something for a second before grabbing Steve’s arm roughly and clumsily scribbling something down. The scratch of the pen and the heat of his hands on Steve’s skin make him shiver. His brow furrows so nicely as he concentrates and the pen cap wobbles as he fiddles with it with his tongue and god Steve is a goner.
“Call me, Harrington.” The guy says quietly. Steve looks at his arms but the scribbles swim around under his fuzzy vision, and by the time he looks back up, the guy is gone. Steve’s head swims dizzily and he lies back, clenching his eyes shut to stop the ceiling from swimming. Eventually, the thumping of the music in the next room seems to fade away, and he drifts off to sleep, dreaming of brown eyes and pink lips.
Steve wakes up to the fuzzy sound of someone shouting at him. He blinks his eyes open reluctantly and winces sharply at the light streaming through the window. The shrill sound of an angry girl's voice spikes in his brain painfully as it comes into focus. He pushes up gingerly till he’s sitting up and braves a look at the door. Standing there is a girl he now remembers is called Angie, glowering at him furiously. He realizes all at once that he’s waking up in her guest bed after sleeping over, definitely without permission, and he cringes as he forces himself up.
He raises his arms in surrender and mutters out an apology, dipping around her as she continues to berate him. Braving a quick hunt around the living room before she goes completely mental on him, he finds his jacket nowhere to be seen, and he lets out a frustrated huff. That’s just great . He checks in the pockets of jeans and at least finds his keys and wallet in them, so he supposes it’s not the end of the world, but fuck, he really liked that jacket. He doubts Angie would be eager to help him look for it if he asked, so he decides to just eat the loss and leave.
He’s halfway back on the walk to his house when he notices the scrawly writing on his arm. It’s upside-down and clearly in the sloppy handwriting of someone who’s had far too much to drink, so it takes him a little while to decipher. It’s a little message and a name above a string of numbers, and he feels a wave of nausea as everything from last night floods back to him all at once. The pieces slot into place - a dealer with curly brown hair and dark clothes.
Call me. - Eddie x
Eddie fucking Munson.
2
Steve decisively does not call the number. Instead, he does his very best to repress the experience entirely. Even if his dreams are haunted by pretty eyes and quiet whimpers and broad masculine hands. Even if he wakes up with phantom feeling of those hands on him, his chest heaving and his head swimming.
He catches glimpses of Eddie at school - he’s vaguely aware that Eddie is repeating his senior year and so he’s in the same grade as Steve. They share an English class, and he can’t help but notice the way he drums on his desk with his pencil, the way he scowls whenever Mrs. Click calls on him unfairly, the way he bites his lip or sticks his tongue out when he’s concentrating… Steve does his best to ignore the image, and the way it makes his chest tighten and warm uncomfortably. Occasionally Eddie catches his eye and it makes Steve jolt every time. He starts off nervous, looking at him like Steve might come over and beat the shit out of him if he breathes wrong (Steve supposes he deserves that, his reputation being what it is). But after a while it changes, Eddie’s glances becoming teasing, a smirk crossing his face when he catches Steve staring. One time he caught Steve watching as he chewed on the end of his pencil and he’d stuck out his tongue and let it swirl around the wood in a way that made Steve’s face flash bright red and had him staring at his desk for the rest of the period.
Still, he was ignoring him. He completely planned to never speak to Eddie Munson ever again. That plan fell through at Lisa Brady’s Big New Years Bash.
In an effort to mend his friendship with Nancy, Steve had offered to be designated driver for both her and Jonathan to the party. Things have been… tense since they’d broken up, the awkwardness in the air from the blurry lines of their breakup lingering. But he’s determined to be her friend, Jonathan’s too if he can help it. As much as the Nancy situation makes his skin crawl, he does feel guilty for how he treated them both last year, and he doesn’t resent either of them for what happened. They seem to have this bond forged in blood, and no matter how uncomfortable it is, he wants them as friends.
So that’s how he’s ended up standing stiffly in the corner of Lisa Brady’s living room nursing his third and last beer of the night while Nancy and Jonathan dance. In a small consolation prize, Jonathan seems almost as uncomfortable here as Steve feels, letting Nancy lead him around for a while before the alcohol sets into his system and lets him let go a little. He more shuffles than dances but an affectionate smile spreads over Steve’s face despite himself as he watches them together. They seem happy, happier than they were when he was with Nancy, so he’ll take that as a win.
As he sips his drink, he spots a flash of dark curly hair and hears the echo of a familiar warm laugh that makes something freeze in his chest. Eddie Munson. He takes another swig and desperately wishes he could get blackout right now.
He decides to head to the kitchen for safe haven, happy when he finds it empty other than scattered bottles of liquor on a small table. A window sits above the sink and he can hear the muffled chatter of people in the backyard, hidden by a thick curtain. Briefly he considers doing a shot or two, knowing it won’t be enough to get him completely fucked up, just even him out a little - he could probably still drive just fine, but he knows Nancy would hate it and feels a spike of guilt for even thinking it. Instead, he leans over the sink and takes a deep breath before splashing cold water over his face. Why the fuck is he feeling so hot all of a sudden? Why the fuck does Eddie Munson of all people do this to him?
Distracted by the cold water running over his skin, he doesn’t hear the door open behind him, and when a hand taps his shoulder he leaps out of skin with a shout.
“Fuck!” He yells as he turns, fists raised defensively. In front of him, Eddie raises his hands in surrender, the ghost of a smile on his lips. Steve scowls at him and drops his fists to his sides. “What do you want?” He bites, hoping his embarrassment looks more like annoyance than anything else.
“Bitchy tonight, aren’t we?” Eddie teases, leaning against the counter beside Steve. The kitchen is small and Steve can feel the heat radiating off him in the tight proximity. He tries to not let his eyes drag over Eddie’s body, but fuck , he looks good. He’s wearing a leather jacket but as he leans to the side he can see that his shirt is cut choppily down the sides, showing off a sliver of his ribs, a shock of pale skin under dark fabric. There’s just a glimpse of a tattoo sticking out and god Steve wants to lick it. The thought shocks his whole system and he looks indignantly at Eddie’s face, embarrassed to find him smirking at him. “See something you like?”
“You wish.” Steve shoots back, hoping he sounds cocky and uncaring. Eddie smiles at him and he shivers.
“You sober tonight?” Eddie asks and the implication makes Steve’s head swim for a second. He swallows hard.
“Designated driver,” He manages to say and Eddie nods.
“Ahh, ferrying around Miss Wheeler,” He says, pulling a cigarette down from where it balances on his ear. Following his movement, Steve notices the glints of silver in his ear, a thin chain hanging between two holes at the top and bottom. “What a doting boyfriend you are, Harrington,” Eddie says as he puts the cigarette in between his teeth.
“Not her boyfriend,” Steve says firmly. Eddie raises his eyebrows at him disbelievingly. “I’m driving her and her actual boyfriend. Jonathan Byers.” He’s not sure why he’s giving Eddie details, but Eddie lights his cigarette and shifts it to the side of his mouth with his tongue and Steve’s mouth goes completely dry.
“Didn’t he beat the shit out of you last year?” Eddie says, seeming genuinely taken aback, and Steve bristles uncomfortably.
“In his defense, I deserved it.” He says, refusing to let himself elaborate. Eddie raises his eyebrows again but doesn’t press further. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth and offers it to Steve silently. Steve freezes for a second at the thought of sharing Eddie’s spit, but Eddie licks his lips and he can’t resist. He takes the cigarette and breathes in deep before passing it back to a smiling Eddie.
“Hidden depths, Harrington. You continue to surprise me.” He pauses and Steve feels giddy. “So, you’re a free man tonight. A sober free man,” Eddie grins and Steve’s stomach flips at the way his voice goes low and conspiratorial. The kitchen seems to get smaller, more intimate, and his head swims.
He wants to be pissed off, maybe to shove Eddie hard and tell him to fuck off, but Eddie’s smile makes him dizzy from his head to his knees and he bites his lip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says, trying to keep his voice firm and steady.
Eddie presses forward till his hand is ghosting over Steve’s hip, their knees brushing together. He dips his head close to Steve’s ear and his breath is warm against his cheek, making him shiver, “I think you do, Harrington.” Against his will, Steve licks his lip and Eddie smirks at him. He almost starts to lean in when the door to the kitchen suddenly swings open.
Steve and Eddie step back in unison and Steve feels like he’s breathing air for the first time since Eddie walked into the room. A couple girls stumble into the room, giggling loudly and ignoring them completely as they crowd around the bottles on the table. Steve swallows hard and looks back at Eddie nervously. Eddie just looks at him as jerks his head back, gesturing out the door behind him, before turning on his heel and leaving. It takes Steve a total of two seconds for his brain to catch up before he’s following Eddie blindly. He sees him a few paces ahead, slipping into a room with a wink over his shoulder.
Steve forces himself to wait at least thirty seconds, counting Mississippi's in his head, before he follows Eddie behind the door, slipping into the room with a nervous glance over his shoulder. He finds Eddie sitting on top of a dryer, his boot braced against the wall as he smokes lazily. As Steve shuts the door behind him, Eddie’s eyes rake up his body with a smirk that makes Steve feel exposed, his skin buzzing with anticipation.
In one quick move, Eddie stands up and crowds into Steve’s space, pushing him up against the door with a hand on Steve’s waist. The other hand rests beside Steve’s head, making him feel almost trapped. He swallows hard and tries to look confident, but Eddie’s dark eyes and dangerous grin make him weak at the knees. His mouth feels dry as Eddie drags a hand up under his shirt, his thumb brushing over his ribs.
“I’m not gay,” Steve manages, whispering despite the loud music in the next room. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him and dips his head close to his neck. He runs his tongue hotly over the curve of Steve’s jaw and Steve gasps, feeling Eddie smile against his skin.
“You sure about that, Harrington?” He says and before Steve can respond he bites down on his jaw. Steve’s hands move against his will, clutching at Eddie’s back to keep him upright. His back arches off the door a little and Eddie takes the opportunity to run his hands up Steve’s back, dragging his nails over bare skin. Eddie starts sucking a dark mark under Steve’s ear and Steve whimpers out loud. “You want me, pretty boy?”
Steve scowls despite every part of his brain screaming more than air. Instead, he spits out, “Fuck you.” Eddie pulls away from him all at once and he whimpers at the loss, his face flushing with the embarrassment of it.
“Not how this works, Harrington,” Eddie growls with a glint in his eye. “You followed me in here. You’re the one who’s been staring at me with that filthy look in your eyes all month. You kissed me first, princess. All in all, s’adding up to sound a little gay,” Eddie crowds closer again, edging Steve’s legs apart with his knees, his hands bracketing his head against the door. “But I’m a gentleman, sweetheart, despite what you might think, so I’m gonna ask you one more time, and you’re gonna answer me like a good boy, okay?” He practically purrs the words into Steve’s ears, silky smooth and deep like dark chocolate. Steve nods and resists every impulse in his head to grind down on Eddie’s knee, feeling the older boy grin against his cheek. “You want me?”
“Yes,” Steve gasps out, and as soon as the word is out of his mouth, Eddie’s lips are on his, swallowing all the air from his lungs. He lets out an involuntary whine as his hips move on their own accord, rolling against Eddie’s thigh, desperately chasing friction. Eddie’s mouth moves against his with this almost expert touch, tasting sweet like bubblegum and soda and the last drags of his cigarette still in his hand. Steve can feel the heat of the cherry ghosting at the side of his face as Eddie ruts against him. Experimentally, he runs his hands under the holes in Eddie’s shirt, feeling up his ribs and across the toned muscles of his back. He feels the weight of Eddie’s leather jacket shift with his touch, the jangle of metal and chains harmonizing with the high pitched sigh Eddie lets out beautifully. There’s a prick of satisfaction at the thought of getting to make Eddie make those sounds, to have him drop his cocky persona with the simple touch of Steve’s fingers.
Eddie’s mouth drags away from his and starts trailing down his neck, his chin pushing impatiently at the top of his shirt to nip at his collar bone. Steve lets out a moan as Eddie’s teeth drag across his skin and suddenly Eddie’s pulling away again.
“You’ve gotta be quiet for me, princess. Think you can do that? Can you be good for me?” Steve almost whimpers at the nickname but he bites his lip and nods. Eddie looks at him with a raised eyebrow and Steve is overwhelmed with such a strong need to please, to be good. “Use your words, baby,”
“I can be good, I promise,” He pants out. “I’ll be quiet, you just… feel good.” He stutters on the compliment, hating the cocky grin that spreads over Eddie’s face.
“I can help you stay quiet, if you want.” Eddie offers, his voice low and growling, scratching at an itch so deep in Steve’s brain he’d never noticed it before. Without even thinking, he nods, watching as Eddie’s hand snakes behind himself and returns with a black bandana from his back pocket. Steve watches as he balls it up and holds it in front of Steve’s mouth, asking a silent question. Steve drops his jaw obediently, letting his tongue roll onto his chin, feeling a little swell of pride when Eddie swears at the sight. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me, Harrington,” He says as he pushes the ball of fabric into his mouth. It feels gross and scratchy against his tongue, but fuck he kind of loves it. “Tap me three times if you want to stop, okay?” Eddie says genuinely, the dangerous tone dropped from his voice for a second, and the tenderness of it sends Steve reeling. Sure, Eddie had called himself a gentleman, and maybe making sure Steve could tell him to stop if needed to is the bare minimum, but fuck if the thoughtfulnes doesn’t make him giddy. He nods his head dumbly and watches as Eddie’s face shifts, that tenderness gone as soon as it came, his eyes darkening again like the moment had never happened.
With no ceremony, Eddie drops to his knees in front of Steve, dragging hands over his thighs as he goes, scratching lightly through the denim of his jeans. He sits on his heels and puts his cigarette back in his mouth so he can use both hands to unbuckle Steve’s belt and fuck the sight of Eddie looking up at him through his lashes, balancing his smoke loosely in the corner of his mouth, acting bored and nonchalant despite the clear want in his eyes, it makes Steve feel like he could come in his pants. Eddie pulls down his jeans and boxers in one quick movement. Thankful for the help of the bandana in keeping him quiet, Steve swallows a moan as his cock springs up, free of the tightness of fabric. Eddie fucking licks his lips , looking like a starved man presented with a feast. He takes one final drag of his cigarette before flicking it behind himself and leaning forward to lick at the head. Steve’s hips thrust forward against his will and Eddie’s hands come flush against his thighs, shoving him back against the door with a slam. In the back of his mind, Steve’s aware of the noise, of the people on the other side of the door hearing them, finding out exactly what they’re doing in here, but Eddie chooses that moment to take Steve’s full length all at once, and all thoughts go out the window. He presses his nose in the dark hair around the base of Steve’s dick, his throat opening pliantly for Steve’s cock, and he fucking moans around him.
Steve’s hands drop to Eddie’s hair and he hesitates, but as his fingers interlock with the curls Eddie moans again and he can’t resist tugging. Eddie lets out a ragged breath and he somehow takes Steve deeper, his fingers bruisingly tight against Steve’s thighs. Steve has a vague notion of those bruises, of being marked with Eddie’s handprints for days like a brand and his legs tremble. A sick little reminder of his dirty little secret.
Eddie pulls his mouth away and starts pumping Steve with his fist, leaning his forehead against Steve’s abs and catching his breath. When he speaks his words come out in a breathy whine, “Taste so good, sweetheart. You’re doing so well, so quiet for me,” He pants and Steve’s hips buck forwards again, Eddie’s hand tight around him. “Such a good slut for me, so desperate, writhing away like that. What would they all say if they could see you like this, huh? All worked up over my mouth?” Drool drips down Steve’s chin, soaking into the fabric of Eddie’s bandana, and he’s so happy for the aid in being quiet because the thought of everyone seeing him like this makes a keen fight its way up his throat. His brain almost short circuits with the need to stay quiet and obey Eddie, to make sure he gets to come.
With a quick kiss to his abs, Eddie dips his head back down and takes Steve in his mouth again, twisting his tongue over the head while his hands continue to work the shaft quickly. Steve feels that familiar coil of heat building in his gut, his thighs trembling with it, and he realizes with his mouth gagged he has no way to warn Eddie. After an agonizing moment of internal moral battle, he reluctantly taps three times on the side of Eddie’s face. Instantly Eddie’s pulling off him, looking up at him with nervous eyes.
“Are you okay?” He says and Steve nods quickly. He pulls the bandana out of his mouth and tries to wet his tongue enough to speak.
“So okay, so good,” He pants out and Eddie looks up at him confused. “Gonna come. Figured- figured it was a dick move not to warn you,” He says, feeling the blush spread up his chest and onto his face. Eddie’s eyes soften, looking almost emotional for a second. Then he has this kind of goofy smile, pulling his lip between his teeth and looking down.
“Fuck, Harrington,” He chuckles and Steve squirms. He goes to snark at Eddie for making fun of him, but Eddie continues before he gets the chance. “You can come in my mouth, if you want to keep going.”
Steve’s eyes roll back into his head at the thought and he hears Eddie chuckle below him as he nods frantically. Eddie’s mouth is back on him quickly and Steve has to bite down on the flesh of his arm to hold back a gasp, the bandana forgotten about in his fist. He shakes all over and this time when he thrusts forward Eddie doesn’t stop him, just moaning around him in a way that has Steve’s whole body on fire. He quivers as Eddie works over him quickly, his nails dragging down Steve’s thighs and up his hips and abs, leaving harsh red streaks that he hopes will linger on his skin.
He snakes his fingers back into Eddie’s hair, more to hold himself upright than to lead him, and he comes hard down Eddie’s throat. Eddie works him through it and swallows, licking his lips greedily as he pulls away to sit back on his heels, his head lolling against Steve’s thigh. He pants against Steve’s skin like he’s just ran a marathon. Steve lets his hand run almost reverently down Eddie’s cheek, silently thanking him while he waits for his brain to settle back into his body enough for words.
As soon as he catches his breath, he leans down to tug Eddie by the collar of his jacket, yanking him up to his feet. There’s a flash of something like fear on Eddie’s face for a second but then Steve kisses him and he melts forward. Steve tastes himself on Eddie’s tongue and has to hold back a whine. He spins Eddie around, still a little unsteady on his feet, and presses him into the door before sinking onto his knees himself. He pulls down his jeans before he can second guess himself, but with Eddie’s cock right in front of his eyes he feels a shiver go down his spine. He’s big and flushed red and fucking pretty.
A hand brushes across his jaw softly, a thumb hooking under his chin and dragging his gaze up. Eddie looks down at him with soft eyes. “You don’t have to,” He says tenderly and Steve shakes his head.
“I want to,” He says, worrying his bottom lip with his tongue. “I’ve just never-” He cuts himself off, feeling shame prickle at his skin under Eddie’s gaze.
“I can help you?” Eddie says and Steve’s mouth waters with want. He nods slowly and Eddie’s thumb rises from his chin to press his lips open gently, Steve opens easily at the intrusion, taking Eddie’s thumb between his teeth, licking at it hesitantly. It seems to be the right thing to do because Eddie’s eyes flutter shut for a second. He pulls his hand away and Steve can’t help but groan at the feeling of spit trailing down his chin as Eddie holds it in place between his thumb and finger. “Good boy, Harrington, open up for me,” Eddie whispers and Steve complies quickly. Something shifts in his head at the thought of obeying Eddie’s every command, a feeling like TV static spreading from the base of his skull pleasantly. He rolls his tongue out onto his chin and feels Eddie press the head of his cock onto his tongue.
He’s not expecting to enjoy the weight on his tongue so much. Sure, he’d always loved going down on girls, putting his mouth to good use, but the feeling of heat intruding into his mouth drags a groan from deep in his throat. He presses forward a little, pulling his lips over his teeth gingerly as he takes another inch of Eddie, loving the pressure on his tongue. Eddie huffs out air and cards a hand through Steve’s hair, guiding him gently forwards. He pushes as far as he can go until the stretch is too much on his lips and the pressure tight at the back of his throat, but there’s still more of Eddie to take, so he wraps his hands around the base of him. “Fuck, so good baby,” Eddie mutters quietly. Steve moans at the praise and Eddie gasps. The hand in his hair tightens to the point of pain that shoots all over Steve’s skin and if he hadn’t just come harder than he ever had in his life, Steve is sure he’d be half hard again just from that. Eddie guides him back a little before pulling him again and Steve whines at the thought of Eddie manipulating him, using him just how he likes.
He hollows his cheeks as Eddie picks up his pace, flattening his tongue on the underside of Eddie’s cock and twisting his head a little. Eddie pushes a little further again and Steve almost gags, jolting a little and forcing himself to breathe through his nose. Eddie’s other hand runs over Steve’s cheek, “So perfect, sweetheart, take my cock so well, just like that,” He says and Steve’s eyes flutter shut. “Fuck, I’m so close. You got me all worked up with your pretty little noises, sound like such a whore even when you’re gagged,” He growls out and Steve moans around him. “Want me to come on your face, princess? Get you all messy for me, paint you so everyone knows how well you take it on your knees,” He practically spits and Steve does his best to nod with his mouth around Eddie. He thrusts a few more times, his pace quickening and his rhythm starting to stutter before he yanks Steve off by his hair. Steve keeps his tongue lolled on his chin as he jacks Eddie off quickly until he’s shooting hot ropes of cum all over his face, mercifully missing his eyes and hair as it drips over his mouth and down his chin.
Eventually Eddie stills in front of him and his head rolls back against the door with a thump. Slowly, the noise of the party comes back into focus and Steve realizes that he’d been hearing everything around them as if it was underwater for a while, everything but Eddie’s voice fading into a haze. He’s vaguely aware of Eddie wiping off his face kindly with some fabric - his bandana maybe - but his mind can hardly focus on anything but the sound of cheering beyond the door as he realizes they just missed the New Years Countdown. Steve just rang in the new year with Eddie Munson coming all over his face.
Along with his hearing, a sense of shame floods into Steve, washing over his body and making him feel sick. His head starts to swim with the thought of everyone on the other sound of the door, making him dizzy and nauseous. Eddie sinks down in front of him and he flinches away from his touch.
“You okay, Harrington?” Eddie asks nervously and Steve nods quickly.
“You can’t tell anyone about this,” Steve blurts out and for a second he swears he sees a flash of hurt on Eddie’s face. But it’s gone as soon as it came and maybe he just imagined it.
“I wouldn’t.” He says curtly and Steve nods once, breathing hard. After a pause Eddie speaks again, “I gotta know if you’re okay, Harrington. Will you look at me?”
Steve drags his eyes up to Eddie’s face again and finds him looking anxious. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m great.” He says, trying to force the nausea back down. “I have to go, I have to drive people home-” He pushes up to his feet and Eddie does the same, his brows furrowed together. Steve is struck with the urge to kiss the crease away softly and the thought makes him dizzy all over again. “Uh, I’ll see you around. Maybe like… Like wait a while, after I leave?” He almost pleads and Eddie nods.
“I’ll see you around, Harrington,” He repeats the sentiment and Steve slips out the door gratefully. He checks all around him and is thankful to see no one really looking at him, most of the noise coming from the living room down the hall. In fact, the only people by the laundry room at all are a couple making out against a wall that definitely don’t notice him. He breathes out a sigh of relief and heads into the kitchen.
He runs head first into Nancy, “There you are, Steve, I was looking for you,” She says, her voice slurring just a little, but she smiles at him. “Have a good time?” She asks, a pointed hint in her voice, and Steve realizes she’s looking at the red mark Eddie left on his neck. He feels his face flush hotly.
“Uh, yeah, um, you guys ready to go?” He asks and Nancy giggles at him but thankfully doesn’t ask him any more questions. They find Jonathan sitting on the sofa in the living room, looking a little spacy and drunk. Steve props himself under his shoulder and leads Jonathan on unsteady feet back to his car. Only as he’s starting the engine and checking his mirrors does he see Eddie leaning against the wall of the building, smoking and staring right into his soul.
3
The next two times he runs into Eddie Munson, Steve doesn’t think should count towards the tally (which he’s totally not keeping track of in his head). The first is during an arcade run with the gremlins, when he spots Eddie on the side of the street and nearly wraps his car around a telephone pole. Dustin shouts his name loudly and Eddie whips his head around to look at him, catching Steve’s gaze dead on. They share about five seconds of painfully electric eye contact before Steve remembers the six screaming kids in his car and clears his throat, continuing on his way.
The other is after school. Despite his best efforts to ignore Eddie’s loud personality as he jumped through the halls and launched himself onto cafeteria tables to make emboldened speeches, Eddie was in front of him again. This time, in the school parking lot, being straddled by some guy in a letterman jacket.
For a second, Steve almost feels jealousy, but then the guy pulls back a fist and cracks it into Eddie’s jaw, knocking his head back with a snap. Steve sees red. He swerves from where he was walking back to his car and the next thing he knows, the guy from the basketball team is on the floor and his fist is stinging. He looks down at his hand and finds a trickle of blood over his knuckles, matching Jason Carvers’ gushing nose. The crowd around them looks at him stunned, Eddie shocked most of all where he scrambles back, trying to sit up, and he does his best to clear his throat and stay calm. He walks over to Eddie, offers him a hand, and pulls him up, before crossing back to Jason and leaning down with a sneer.
“No one gives a shit who you think you are, Carver. Leave him the fuck alone.” He spits and Jason nods frantically, cowardly, blood staining his white shirt sickly pink. Steve doesn’t let himself look back at Eddie, just crosses back to his car and drives away, trying to force the taste of bile back down his throat.
The next time he sees Eddie that counts is a start of spring break party at Betty Monroe’s house. The weather is getting warmer but as soon as Eddie walks in, Steve clocks him in his usual leather jacket and big boots. The thought makes him scowl into his red solo cup, taking another mouthful of whatever gross combination someone had concocted in that big punch bowl in the kitchen.
He sees Eddie throughout the night making pointed glances at him as he sticks to the edges of the room, even when he leans close into people’s ears and passes them little baggies of something in exchange for a handful of crumpled bills. Steve attempts to send him glares filled with vitriol, but a cup and a half down of whatever was in the punch bowl has him holding his gaze more and more.
About an hour after arriving, Eddie looks at him and nods his head towards the stairs casually, before slipping away. Steve watches as he slips nonchalantly under the lazily constructed barrier rope on the stairs with a sign instructing no one to enter, and tries not to let himself think that that’s hot, the smooth confident way he always moves. He decides, pointedly, to stay downstairs, to ignore him, let him stew alone in some bedroom and have to come back down sheepishly in half an hour. His resolve breaks after three minutes.
He ducks under the rope and takes the stairs two at a time, opening doors down the hall until he finds Eddie sitting on a bed in a deeply plain room - white walls with one mirror and a painting of some fruit, definitely a guest room, and a depressing one at that. When he shuts the door behind him, Eddie looks up at him with a smirk.
“Was starting to think you were gonna leave me hanging, pretty boy,” He says almost sweetly and Steve already has that tight feeling in his chest. Billy called him pretty boy, but it didn’t feel like this. No one has ever called him pretty before without it being an insult. At least, with Eddie he’s pretty sure it’s not an insult. Maybe halfway.
“Almost did,” He says as Eddie stands up and stalks close to him in three confident strides, practically strutting. “You just looked so smug,” He says with a sneer that Eddie bats away with a laugh. His hands come to rest either side of Steve’s waist and Steve hears the resolute click of a lock being turned. Steve’s heart thumps so loud in his ears that he’s sure Eddie can hear it.
“Not smug, Harrington, thankful . Wanted to get you alone so I could repay you for defending my honor last week,” He says with a grin that does look decidedly smug before leaning in to kiss Steve’s cheek quickly. “But someone’s been ignoring me,”
“I’m not ignoring you, I’m just not generally aware of you. I just don’t care ,” Steve says, though they both know it’s a lie. Eddie scoffs.
“Sure, you don’t care. And that’s why last month you nearly crashed your car when you saw me. Your car full of children, I might add. Steve Harrington the babysitter, now there’s an image I never thought I’d see. And with Zombie Boy Byers too-”
“Don’t fucking call him that.” Steve cuts him off, whipping his head back out of Eddie’s space. Eddie looks a little shocked at his reaction but holds his hands up in surrender.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like- It’s a cool nickname, man. Very metal.” He says like that means anything at all to Steve but he seems genuine so Steve settles back in place, letting Eddie’s hand rest back on his hips. “I just didn’t expect you to be this big brother protector type, y’know?”
Steve watches his face carefully before shrugging. Who gives a shit what Eddie Munson knows? If he wants to tell anyone anything, he’ll have to admit why he was in a locked room with Steve Harrington at a party. Maybe Eddie has as much to lose here as he does.
“I like looking after them. Since Will went missing. They’re good kids, y’know? I get nervous with them riding around on their bikes through the woods.” He admits and Eddie’s eyes soften, seeming shocked. Like his worldview is rearranging in real time behind his eyes.
“You’ve really changed, Harrington. Did you get Freaky Friday ’d or something?” Eddie jokes and Steve bristles.
“I was an asshole before.” He says simply and Eddie smirks.
“You called me a faggot and let Tommy Hagan cut the straps off my backpack,” He says and Steve cringes.
“I’m sorry- '' He starts but Eddie cuts him off with a kiss. Without thinking, Steve’s hands jump up to Eddie’s shoulders, one burying itself of its own accord into the soft curls at the base of his skull. Eddie pulls away just enough to rest their foreheads together and Steve finds himself panting already.
“It’s okay. You made up for it. Last week.” He kisses Steve again quickly, “My knight in shining armor, or whatever,” He jokes and Steve blushes.
“It wasn’t for you,” Steve says quietly, though he’s not sure that’s true. Eddie smiles like he knows it and kisses the cluster of moles on Steve’s jaw.
“Don’t you want your reward, princess? For being so sweet,” He purrs and Steve holds back a whine.
“Thought I was your knight. Doesn’t that make you the princess?” He tries to quip but Eddie’s hands tighten on his waist and the words come out breathy and pathetic.
“Come on sweetheart, answer me like a good boy,” Eddie presses a kiss to Steve’s jaw again. “You want your reward?” When he nods, Eddie pulls off him a little to look him in the eyes. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”
“Like two cups of jungle juice. Less than. I’m barely buzzed, man,” He says, hating the tinge of desperation that slips into his voice. Honestly, he does feel pretty drunk, but he’s pretty sure most of that is just from Eddie’s mouth on his.
Eddie smirks at him again evilly, “Prove it.” Steve doesn’t even have a chance to ask him what he means before Eddie’s going on, “Say the alphabet backwards.” He demands.
“I can barely say the alphabet forwards, Munson,” He says and Eddie laughs like he’s joking. It’s true though, he always stumbles over the order unless he sings that stupid song and the letters seem to swim around in his mind. Eddie seems to ponder for a second.
“Can you touch your nose for me? Like arms out, one after the other. Walk in a straight line, heel to toe?”
“Why are you giving me a DUI test right now?” He says and Eddie laughs.
“You know the field sobriety tests off the top of your head, Harrington? A lot of wild late night drives in your fancy Bimmer?” He says and Steve rolls his eyes.
“Chief Hopper’s like practically adopted me,” He says without thinking, then blushes furiously. Okay, maybe the little bit of alcohol he’d had is making him a little loose-lipped - he’d barely admitted his quasi-parental relationship with Hopper out loud to himself let alone Eddie Munson. It was just some unspoken protective bond in the aftermath of the Mind Flayer, when Hopper had found him sitting alone and concussed in a hospital room, his parents not even bothering to call him back. Eddie looks shocked at his confession for a second before slipping back into that persona he wears so well.
“Bet he’d be furious if he could see you now, huh? Hard in your jeans over the town freak, thinking about getting my mouth on you. He’s caught me before, y’know, high in the back of my van with some other pretty boy in my lap, pants around his ankles begging for me to let him come,” Eddie says, pushing one hand up under Steve’s shirt. His thumb brushes over Steve’s nipple and Steve lets out a pitchy gasp, arching his back into the feeling. How the fuck does Eddie get him so keyed up so quick? A spring of jealousy sits in Steve’s chest at the thought of Eddie fucking some other guy, making him come undone the way he had with Steve. He wonders how many guys he’s fucked and his jeans get even tighter over his crotch.
“Promise I’m sober enough,” He manages to pant out and Eddie looks smug at how his voice shakes. It pisses Steve off no end but Eddie pinches his nipple and suddenly it doesn’t fucking matter at all.
“Scouts honor, Harrington?” Eddie asks with a stupid dramatized voice and Steve can’t even find it in himself to mock him or bite back, just nodding his head quickly. Eddie seems to consider for a second but puts another hand on Steve’s body, pushing his shirt up over his head. Steve’s chest soars as Eddie throws the shirt behind them and kisses his chest, running his hot tongue down his sternum. He whines loudly and Eddie’s firm hands find their way back to his hips, squeezing tightly.
Steve drapes his arms over Eddie’s shoulders, letting his fingers trace the dip of his spine, admiring the tattoo peaking out of the neck of his shirt with his increasingly foggy brain. He pushes off the door and leads Eddie towards the bed. Eddie seems to get the message, flipping them around so the backs of Steve’s calves hit the mattress and pushing him down, straddling his thighs all while keeping his mouth moving on Steve’s chest. He takes one of Steve's nipples in his mouth, tracing the other with calloused fingers and Steve moans loudly, clutching at Eddie’s hair.
“Fuck,” He gasps out and he swears he feels Eddie smirk against him.
“So sensitive, Harrington. You think you could come from just this? Held down on the bed with my mouth on you, not even touching your dick? You could get your jeans all messy like a little slut and then take my cock like I know you want to, let me come down your throat.” He says and Steve’s head rolls back as he lets out a ragged whine. Fuck.
“Thought I was getting a reward, Munson,” He manages to grind out and Eddie grins at him before rolling his hips back over Steve’s crotch. Steve doesn’t have time to stop the breathy moan that slips out of his mouth.
“Do you beg as pretty as you moan, sweetheart?” Eddie asks with a fake innocence in his voice, all dripping sugary sweet that makes Steve shiver. He leans in close and nips at Steve’s ear, running his tongue along the shell of it. “Good boys ask for what they want nicely,”
“Fuck,” Steve grinds him hips up unconsciously but Eddie plants to firm hands on him, holding him down. “Fuck, please. Please, Eddie,” Something about saying Eddie’s first name feels far too personal, somehow more intimate than anything else, but he doesn’t let his mind linger on it.
“Please, what?”
“Touch me, make me come. Please, I’ll be good.” Steve moans pathetically, feeling like his brain is leaking out of his ears and his body is floating off the mattress.
“Touch you where, princess? I’m gonna need some specifics here,” Eddie teases and fuck Steve hates him. Hates his stupid voice and his stupid hands and his stupid tongue running over his chest so perfectly.
“Want you to finger me.” Steve blurts out and Eddie actually freezes for a second. Steve looks up at him and is proud to find his face flushed and taken aback, satisfied with getting Eddie Munson flustered. Emboldened by the reaction, Steve takes one of Eddie’s hands and pulls it to his mouth, taking two fingers between his lips until he tastes the metal of his rings. Eddie shudders. “Please, need your fingers inside me. Need you to make me come,” He says, pitching his voice up and planting a kiss to Eddie’s knuckles at the end of the sentence, never breaking eye contact.
It takes Eddie a couple beats to catch up with him and when he does his voice comes out breathy and pained. “Fuck, sweetheart, your mouth,” He says and Steve lets the feeling of pride wash over him in a pleasant buzz.
“Shirt off, please? Wanna see you,” Steve is really playing it up, but he’s surprised by how much it’s affecting both of them. He can feel the hard line of Eddie’s erection against his own and he cants his hips up in a slow grind that has them both gasping at the sensation.
Eddie’s smile is back and he leans in to kiss Steve one more time, sweet and slow, before sitting back on his haunches. “Since you asked so nicely, princess.” He says before shucking off his jacket and tugging his shirt off from the back of his neck. He digs around in his jacket pockets for a second and comes out with a small bottle of lube. Of course he carries fucking travel sized lube in his jacket.
Quickly his weight is off of Steve and Steve mourns the loss for one quick second before Eddie is yanking off his jeans and boxers, bundling them around Steve’s knees and kissing at the base of his cock hungrily, breathing him in deep. Steve bucks up in the shock and Eddie runs his hands down his thighs softly, soothing over his hip bones. Steve shivers at the touch before Eddie takes his hands back. He can hardly make himself look, just hearing metal jangle as Eddie sheds his rings, hearing Eddie uncapping the bottle and squirting liquid onto his fingers. Suddenly there’s a sting of cold against his hole and he clutches at Eddie's hair.
“Can you look at me, pretty boy?” Eddie says , his voice half sweet and half commanding. Steve forces his eyes open and braves a look at Eddie. “Good boy. You ever done this before?”
Steve shakes his head. “Tried it, in the shower. Couldn’t get the angle right.” He admits, all his shame leaving his body when Eddie plants a soft kiss on his thigh. Truthfully he hadn’t been able to think of anything else since he felt Eddie’s hard on pressed against him months ago.
“I’ll make it feel good, sweetheart, I promise. Let me know if I hurt you, okay? We can stop anytime.” He says and Steve nods, taking his lip between his teeth. Eddie takes that as permission enough and after circling his hole one more time he presses one finger into him. Steve’s jaw drops as he lets out a gasp. The intrusion is… different. The slight stretch makes something buzz in the back of his brain and he finds himself shifting his hips down into Eddie’s hand. He hears a quiet chuckle from below him. “So desperate for it, baby,” Eddie says, and it should sound mocking, but it doesn’t. Eddie’s tone sounds adoring, reverent. Like he’s praying. Steve shifts his hips down again and whines, hoping Eddie gets the hint to keep moving.
He seems to, because he pushes his finger even further in, agonizingly slow until it’s as deep as it can go within Steve. He lets Steve adjust to the feeling for a second before pulling out and pushing in quickly. Steve moans at the push, scratching his hands over Eddie’s bare shoulder. Eddie seems to take this as a sign of encouragement because he speeds up his hand, picking up a rhythm as he fucks his finger into Steve quickly.
“More,” Steve manages to whimper out, “More, please,” On command, Eddie slows down and adds another finger up to the first knuckle, repeating the motions of getting Steve used to the stretch before he starts fucking into him. Steve is about to ask for more again when Eddie fucking scissors his fingers apart and Steve sees white. “Fuck!” He practically shouts and Eddie’s spare hand grabs at his thigh, silently commanding him to be quiet. Steve obeys, his whole body shaking with the need to do anything Eddie might ask of him. He’s pretty sure that Eddie could do anything he wanted to him right now, he’d spill all his secrets, NDA’s be damned, if Eddie just kissed him. “Please, more,” He begs, his voice quiet and quivering. Eddie adds another finger and Steve rolls his hips in satisfaction.
Suddenly Eddie’s hands hit some point deep within him and Steve sees stars. “Holy shit,” He whines and he feels Eddie grin against his skin. He looks down and sees Eddie’s cocky face looking up at him from behind his brows, planting a kiss low on his gut before curling his fingers again inside of Steve and making him shake. He scratches harder at Eddie’s back, hopes he’s leaving dark red marks, hopes that Eddie can feel how good he’s making him feel through his touch. He forces himself to keep his eyes on Eddie as he fucks into that sweet spot relentlessly and realizes his spare hand has left Steve’s thigh, has dipped under himself and is jerking him off in time to his thrusts into Steve. The thought makes Steve keen and has hot pressure building in his gut. Something swims back into his mind, something about boys begging…
“Fuck. I’m close, Eds. Can I come? Please can I come?” He pleads and a harsh gasp comes out of Eddie’s mouth, his hot breath hitting Steve’s leaking dick and making him shake.
“Holy shit, you’re perfect. So good for me, yes sweetheart. Come for me,” Eddie commands and as soon as he has permission Steve is spilling over his own chest, his body wracked with shakes as Eddie continues to work into him. Eddie moans beneath him as Steve buries his hands into his hair, digging his fingers into the scalp in a way he’s sure is painful but Eddie definitely doesn’t seem to have complaints about. When the overstimulation starts to be too much he tugs Eddie up by his hair, pulling him into a filthy, sloppy kiss. He feels his come rub between them, spreading over Eddie’s chest filthily. The thought seems to jumpstart his brain and his hand moves of its own accord, snaking between them to take Eddie in his fist, pumping him quickly. He spreads some of his own cum over the head to help the slide and it doesn’t take long before Eddie’s thighs are quivering where he straddles Steve’s hips and he’s spilling onto his chest, mixing a mess of them together.
They pant together for a moment, sharing breath until they get dizzy and Eddie rolls off him, collapsing beside him on the sheets. Their chests heave with exertion and Steve feels that hazy buzz settle all over his body, soaking deep into his muscles. He’s never had sex that feels like this before, where his brain seems to leave him and he turns into a being of pure want, cock-drunk and stupid for Eddie. Maybe those rumors about Eddie are true, maybe he has cast some satanic spell over Steve. Somehow Steve doesn’t care, happier to find out that the other prevalent rumors about him are true, namely that he gives insanely good head, better than any girl you’ll meet.
Slowly he comes back to his body and finds Eddie wiping his chest clean with a damp cloth. He wonders where he found it but sees light coming from a door he assumed was a closet and figures Eddie found it was actually an en suite bathroom. Who the fuck has an en suite in their fucking guest room? Eddie wipes himself clean with the same cloth and tosses it in a trashcan by the side of the bed, reaching to the ground and tugging his shirt over his head. Steve silently mourns the loss of the great view until Eddie is lying down next to him, draping a hand over his chest. He freezes and Eddie sighs.
“Are you gonna kick the shit out of me if I do aftercare?” Eddie asks and Steve shakes his head, his body still too loose and lax to speak. Eddie looks up at him and Steve uses what little energy he has to push forward and kiss him softly, letting one hand rest lazily on Eddie’s hip.
Eddie lets out a shocked noise but kisses him back after a beat and Steve feels something churn in his gut. Something like shame and fear and self loathing but something else too, something rosy and warm and fluttery that makes his head swim. It climbs up his body and sits in his chest, almost making his breath catch painfully in his lungs, but Eddie runs a hand up to his face tenderly and suddenly it fades into the background. For right now, this is all that matters.
4
Once again, Steve has been avoiding Eddie like the plague. When he goes on one of his rants in the lunchroom, Steve keeps his eyes resolutely on his food, trying to swallow his sandwich in his dry mouth. When he spots him around town, he keeps his eyes straight ahead, ignoring his loud voice and the way he bares his throat as he laughs. In class he definitely avoids contact, struggling to focus as he feels those eyes burning into his skin through his clothes. Every glimpse makes that rosy feeling tangle with panic in a way that has him reeling, so he opts to put Eddie Munson as far out of his mind as he can.
He does notice that Jason Carver seems to leave Eddie alone (not that he’s paying attention, shut up), joining Billy’s reluctant stalemate with Steve that formed in the aftermath of the Mind Flayer. Carver sends Steve daggers in the hallways but his newly crooked nose seems to keep him from escalating beyond, even when Eddie coos and winks at him dramatically as if he’s asking for a beating. When he hears Eddie shout pretty boy on one of his rants his whole body burns but he just tries to push the thoughts away, shouldering his bag onto his back and stalking out of the room.
The next time he sees him is at another party at another random girl's house as the seasons shift to summer. A fancy two story mini-mansion on Loch Nora surrounded by high hedges and wrought iron fences. It even has a fucking boat house.
Which is exactly where Steve finds himself tonight. The party echoes quietly in the distance and he just focuses on the feel of water lapping over his feet, watching his reflection morph with the ripples. He skirts his fingers over the surface, watching ripples spread from his touch before taking a swig from a bottle of liquor he’d stolen from a table in the kitchen a half hour ago. He’s not quite sure why he’s here. He hadn’t wanted to come in the first place, not exactly in the partying mood, and when he’d gotten here things had only gotten worse. The volume of the house made his skin itch uncomfortably, his head prickling with the tell tale aura of a migraine. Hence the liquor.
Maybe the reason he’s here is because his parents are home, making the huge house seem oppressive and claustrophobic. Hopper had offered him a place to stay, at least while they’re in town, but he’d turned him down. He appreciates it, and he loves hanging out with El, but he knows how cramped the cabin is, knows he’d just be a nuisance, so he opted to spend as much of his night out as possible.
He’s so focused on the water that he doesn’t hear footsteps coming up behind him until heavy boots are by his side, sitting down with a sigh. Steve doesn’t even have to look to know it’s Eddie, he can smell him, a lingering musk of leather and smoke and vanilla clinging to him like a brand. Eddie takes the bottle from him wordlessly and swallows a mouthful without so much of a wince. He holds out a lit cigarette to Steve and he takes it gratefully.
After a long pause Eddie finally speaks, “You okay, Harrington?”
“Peachy,” Steve bites, his eyes still trained on the water like a hawk. Eddie sighs beside him and he feels guilty for his snap, but he can’t bring himself to apologize. He takes another drag of the cigarette and passes it back to Eddie.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Steve says flatly and Eddie scoffs.
“Sure. Whatever,” He says, shaking his head enough that Steve can feel it as their shoulders brush. “You’re a real piece of work, y’know that? You could fuckin’ look at me at least,” Eddie bites out and Steve looks at him. He intends to glare but when he looks Eddie in the eye he can’t help but soften, seeing the way his brows furrow together with worry more than annoyance. Eddie seems taken aback by the lack of heat in his gaze, his mouth open like he was about to say something else but the words fell from him.
“You really wanna know what’s wrong?” Steve asks quietly and Eddie nods genuinely. He shifts closer till their knees touch and the contact sends sparks sputtering over Steve’s dulled senses. “My folks are home. My dad went on a half hour rant about how much of a failure I am before I left. Because I couldn’t keep Nancy, because I’m barely scraping through senior year and didn’t get into a single college, because he knows there’s something wrong with me.” He spits it out and Eddie catches the meaning beneath the words. He drops a hand onto Steve’s knee gently and Steve shivers at the touch. “This is the first time I’ve seen them since I got concussed in November and they didn’t say shit, didn’t even ask if I was okay. They don’t fucking care,” He admits, hating how pathetic the words sound as they flow out of his mouth but his inhibitions gone enough that he can’t stop them.
“You’ve been alone since November?” Eddie says quietly and Steve nods, dragging his eyes away from him to look back at the water.
“Steve Harrington. Big house, no parents.” He says bitterly, quoting something Tommy and Carol used to joke about, like it was some huge gift to be granted an empty house for months at a time. He doubts either of them would be quite as excited if they’d been making all their own meals and doing their own laundry since they were twelve.
“They send me money now and then, enough for groceries and bills and shit. And Hop helps a lot. I go to Joyce Byers house for dinner every couple of weeks, and I’m busy enough looking after the kids all the time, I’m not like, alone alone. It’s just-” He chews at his lip, tasting blood, and grabs the bottle back from Eddie. The liquor stings against the split skin. “It’d be nice if they gave a shit, y’know?”
Eddie’s thumb runs back and forth on his knee comfortingly and he feels like yeah, maybe he does know. It’s fairly common knowledge that Eddie transferred to Hawkins in 8th grade - shaved head and covered in bruises. There was no shortage of rumors, about his dad getting locked up, about his mom dying, about him living in the trailer park on the edge of town. Steve wonders now how much of them are true. He looks back up at him and finds that sad look on his face, striking him with the need to make it go away. Pushing up on one hand, he leans forward and kisses Eddie gently, his other hand rising to cup Eddie’s face. Eddie sighs against him and pulls him closer, leaning into the kiss sweetly. Steve pushes forwards until he’s in Eddie’s lap, clinging to the back of his neck like a lifeline.
As he grinds down Eddie makes a low sound in his throat and pushes him off gently. Steve whines, a feeling of desperation rolling over him. Before Eddie can even speak, he’s pleading weakly. “Please, I need- Need you to want me. Why don’t you want me?” He whimpers and shivers as Eddie places a tender hand on his face. This is what he’s good for, what people want him for. Steve Harrington, slow in the head but pretty enough to keep around for a night. Strong arms and a head that can take a punch, his body is all he is. And if Eddie doesn’t want it, then what good is Steve to him? He feels the rejection coming and honestly would rather Eddie just hit him - another concussion had to be better than this. Anything is better than this.
“I want you, sweetheart,” Eddie says and the words shock Steve still, his eyes snapping open. He leans in to kiss Eddie again but Eddie holds him back and confusion spreads over his face. “Not here, okay? Not now. Not when you’re-”
“When I’m what?” Steve cuts off indignantly, feeling the first prick of frustrated drunk tears behind his eyes. “I’m fine. I know what I want. You don’t have to play gentleman,” He says, dipping his head to kiss at Eddie’s jaw. Eddie makes a harsh sound in his throat and Steve knows that he wants this. Still, with reluctant hands he pulls Steve off him.
“I’m not playing anything, sweetheart. You’re drunk and you’re miserable. I’m not taking advantage of you,” He says, brushing Steve’s hair out of his face and tucking it behind his ear. Steve shivers at the gentle touch, just wants Eddie to make him hurt, but when Eddie presses a soft kiss to his temple the tears start flowing freely down his cheeks. Eddie pulls him in tight and lets him cry against his chest, stroking Steve’s hair in a way he can only describe as lovingly. And that scares him more than anything.
He forces himself out of Eddie’s lap and scrubs at his face furiously, knowing he’s already red and blotchy all over. After a beat, Eddie stands up and holds out a hand to him. Steve looks at it hesitantly and Eddie rolls his eyes. “Come on, Harrington. You can crash in my van.” The offer confuses Steve, the kindness of it. No matter how many times Eddie is nice to him it still feels unnatural, undeserved. Eventually, he takes Eddie’s hand and lets himself be pulled upright, picking up his shoes as he goes, not bothering to put them on as Eddie leads him down the road to his van.
He opens the back and gestures for Steve to climb in. Steve clambers in, letting Eddie offer him a steadying arm when he stumbles over his feet, and collapses onto a mattress. Part of brain can’t help but wander to thoughts of Eddie on the mattress, Eddie fucking guys into the sheets till they beg him. Eddie fucking him. He shivers and Eddie drapes a blanket over his shoulders, lying down next to him.
“Are you not selling tonight?” Steve asks after a moment, when it seems like Eddie is going to stay with him. Eddie shrugs.
“Nah. Slow night, didn’t seem worth it.” He says simply but Steve doubts his honesty - big party full of drunk teenagers and not one of them wants to buy? Steve ponders for a second, then takes a risk.
“Not even to me?” He asks, shifting a little closer. Eddie raises a brow at him.
“You want to buy drugs off me right now?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Steve justifies. He’d bought a little weed off Eddie at parties before, back in his King Steve days. “You sell painkillers, right?” Eddie looks at him with a hint of sadness in his eyes. “It’s not a big deal, man. I’m just- I’m on this medication for these headaches I get, like really bad headaches. But they make me super dizzy and weird so I don’t like taking them,”
Eddie pauses for a second. “... You probably shouldn’t be drinking on that medication.” He says and Steve rolls his eyes. Now Eddie mentions it, he is pretty sure he remembers Doctor Owens mentioning something about not mixing drugs when he prescribed them to him. Him and all the kids had been looked over after their little adventure in the tunnels, and apparently two concussions in as many years had fucked Steve’s head up a little. “Tell you what, Harrington. You still want painkillers in the morning, we’ll talk, okay?”
Steve nods. “And if I still want the other thing?” He asks, pushing further into Eddie’s space. Eddie grins at him but he’s blushing, his chest warm against Steve’s.
“Sure, sweetheart. You let me know in the morning.”
When Steve wakes up in the morning, he doesn’t remember falling asleep. Doesn’t remember much of the night at all, at first, which proves unfortunate when he comes to under the weight of a heavy arm draped over his waist. Panic starts to rise in his throat for about three seconds before he looks over and recognizes the mop of dark curly hair next to him. Eddie’s face is buried into the crook of his neck, their legs tangled together, Steve’s hand pressed up under Eddie’s shirt flush against his hip. The panic doesn’t disappear but it… Takes a step to the left. I’ve been kidnapped panic shifting over to his skin is on mine and I don’t hate it the way that I should panic.
Steve freezes, considering a plan of escape without waking Eddie, but he seems to notice the shift in the air and opens his eyes groggily. After a few blinks he smiles and fuck if that isn’t the nicest smile Steve has ever seen. Soft and sleepy and all for Steve. It sends butterflies shooting in his stomach and makes his mouth go dry. “Mornin’ sweetheart,” Eddie says quietly, fingers circling softly on Steve’s waist. “Feeling better?”
Steve nods, an embarrassed flush coming to his face as he remembers his conversation with Eddie last night. How he’d told him about his dad and practically begged him to fuck him, how he’d been rejected. “Yeah. Sorry,” He says softly and Eddie’s brow furrows.
“Nothing to be sorry for, handsome.” He says. Steve almost quivers at the nickname. Never in his life has he met someone so casually affectionate with his words like that. Even when he’d been dating Nancy she hated pet names - at most she would call him by his full name in faux exasperation. One time he’d called her ‘baby’ in bed and she’d cringed so hard they’d had to take a break. He looks Eddie in the eye nervously, suddenly so aware of how close they are. He can feel Eddie’s breath and hair tickling his face, his hand still on his hip. Eddie seems to notice the way he looks at him because he leans in and kisses Steve gently.
Steve doesn’t hesitate to open his mouth, letting Eddie’s tongue trace softly over his bottom lip. He gasps quietly as Eddie presses forward, his hand trailing under the hem of his shirt. The shivering touch makes something jolt in Steve and he launches into Eddie, running his hand over his chest fervently. He presses up onto Eddie, straddling one of his legs. He moans as the movement creates a wonderful friction in his jeans. With all his self control, he pulls his mouth off Eddie and feels a swell of pride at the breathless noise Eddie makes at the loss.
“What were you telling me? About pretty boys in the back of your van?” He says nervously, watching as Eddie’s confused looks turns into a grin. His grip tightens on Steve’s waist and he pitches his thigh upwards as he holds him in place, forcing him to feel the drag of denim through his boxers on his quickly hardening cock. Steve gasps and braces himself against the mattress, his hands bracketing either side of Eddie’s head. Eddie rolls his hips up again and this time Steve meets his movements, riding his thigh with quick little gasps. They rut against each other for a while, until Eddie shifts Steve upwards so he can fumble at his jeans, tugging them down around his thighs. He pulls his own down as well and takes both of them in hand, jerking them off together in quick strokes, the heads of their cocks leaking over each other.
Steve dips his head down to suck a mark onto Eddie’s jaw, whining as Eddie tugs at his hair. He takes one hand and intertwines his fingers with Eddie’s over their cocks, guiding Eddie’s pressure and drag over his skin.
“Fuck, so good for me, princess,” Eddie groans and the praise shoots over Steve’s skin like lightning.
“Mmm - ah, fuck, can I- m’close, can I- please baby,” Steve babbles, the pet name slipping past his lips before he can stop it. Eddie’s pace quickens, guiding Steve hand and squeezing the base on every stroke till Steve is squirming in place.
“You think you’ve earned it, pretty boy?” Eddie teases, snapping Steve’s head back and holding him still by the tight grip in his hair, “Only good boys get what they want, I think you need to show me how much you need it,”
“Please, baby, fuck, need it so bad, can’t stop it,” Steve whimpers, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes with the sting in his scalp and the strain of holding back his orgasm, his balls tight and his gut aching. He can feel Eddie’s pre-cum mixing with his own with every stroke, slicking up his hand. “Please Eddie, you can do anything you want to me, fuck me into the mattress, make me choke on your cock, just lemme come please,” he slurs the words in a high pitched high and feels a phenomenal hit of pride when Eddie moans and his hand stutters.
“Fuck, sweetheart, yeah, come for me baby,”
Steve doesn’t need to be told twice. He captures Eddie’s mouth in a sloppy frantic kiss as he comes, Eddie following him over the edge when he bites his lip and buries a hand in his hair. They stay like that, panting into each other’s mouths, grinning like idiots till they catch their breaths. Steve is overwhelmed with feeling at the thought of taking the breath straight out of Eddie’s lungs, sharing air till they get dizzy.
When Steve rolls off of Eddie he realizes that Eddie got the worst of the aftermath, cum soaking into his shirt and splattered on his jeans. Being on top, Steve’s clothes had mostly come out unscathed, Eddie catching most of his load in his fist. He smiles at him apologetically but Eddie seems unbothered, leaning over to kiss him sweetly, his clean hand grazing Steve’s cheek. For a moment it almost feels easy, almost feels like something Steve is allowed to have. For just a moment, he holds this in his chest and is shocked how nicely it fits there.
The peace of the moment is ruined by three loud bangs on the doors of Eddie’s van. Steve jumps back and he and Eddie make anxious eye contact while Steve does his best not to devolve into panic as the knocks come again.
“Open up, Munson, I know you’re in there.” Hopper's voice calls and Steve’s brain turns to static. Fuck. He looks at Eddie with terrified eyes and finds his expression reflected back at him. Eddie looks down at himself and after a moment of deliberation he tucks himself back into his jeans and zips his leather jacket over his cum-damp shirt, cringing uncomfortably at the sensation. Steve has just enough time to realize what he’s about to do and pull his jeans back on too before Eddie’s opening the door.
“Hey Chief,” Eddie says, his voice almost nonchalant. If not for the way he’s blocking the door with his whole body, Steve would almost think he was completely unbothered, cocky even.
“This is private property, Munson.” Hopper says flatly and Steve can see the grouchy look in his mind.
“My mistake. I had a bit too much to drink last night and decided to be a responsible driver. Don’t tell me you’re encouraging me to drive drunk now, Chief,” Eddie jokes and Steve almost laughs at his easy tone. Fuck is Hopper not gonna like that.
“Might I remind you that the legal drinking age is 21,” Hopper says through gritted teeth. There’s a short pause where Steve is pretty sure Eddie’s rolling his eyes, then Hop speaks again. “Who’s in there with you this time, kid?” Steve’s skin goes cold, painfully frozen with dread.
“Who says I’m with anyone?” Eddie quips back, probably too quickly, and Steve knows that Hopper doesn’t buy it. “Chief, wait-'' Eddie starts but it’s too late and Hopper is tugging the door of the van open in one quick swing. The light of the morning pours into the relative dark, spiking in Steve’s head in a biting reminder of the liquor he’d forced down last night. All three of them freeze in place as Hopper registers him there and, in a loss for what to do, Steve waves at him. He fucking waves at him? Eddie snorts and Hopper sends him a withering glare.
“Hey Hop,” He manages to force himself to say. There’s no denying how this looks - the van reeks of sweat and sex, Steve’s hair is probably a mess and Eddie has a harsh bruise forming right on the crook of his jaw.
Hopper’s jaw is dropped a little in shock and in any other circumstance Steve would find it funny - he’s seen this man fight literal monsters from an alternate dimension without batting an eye and this is what has him flustered? - but the rock of anxiety in his gut makes him think he might not find anything funny ever again. After a long pause, Hopper clears his throat uncomfortably.
“Get out of the van, kid,” He says and Steve winces at the harshness in his voice. He shifts awkwardly, shuffling out the van and standing in bare feet on the gravel road. In clearer light, Steve can see a light blush on the man’s face, and he wonders how much of it is rage versus embarrassment. He looks Steve in the eyes invasively and it takes all of Steve’s control not to look away, knowing that it would definitely be a bad idea to piss him off more right now. After a long time Hopper grunts and looks back to Eddie. “If he’s on anything-”
“I’m not on drugs, Hop,” Steve mutters out. Hop glares at him quickly before looking back at Eddie.
“He’s telling the truth. I swear,” Eddie says quietly and Hop seems to take him at his word, however reluctantly. He looks back at Steve and claps him on the shoulder.
“You. Car. Now. I’m taking you home.” He turns on his heel and Steve lets out a huff of breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He looks back at Eddie nervously.
“Uh, call me when you get home, okay? Let me know you’re alright?” Eddie seems genuinely nervous and Steve feels those butterflies in his stomach again, something akin to a swoon. Fuck.
“I uh. I don’t have your number,” He says. Eddie nods and turns to hunt for a pen.
“Don’t you dare give him your number,” Hopper calls back and Eddie’s face pales. Steve looks at him apologetically.
“I’ll see you around,” He’s struck with the intense urge to kiss Eddie goodbye and the thought makes him sick. Eddie nods and he turns around, suddenly eager to be anywhere but right here. He follows Hop to the car, slumping into the passenger seat and awaiting his fate. Hop slams the door closed as he sits next to him and Steve flinches. They watch in silence as Eddie gets back in his van and drives away.
After an agonizing silence Hopper finally breaks, “Munson? Really?”
Not exactly the response he was expecting. “... Huh?”
“Of all the boys in all of Hawkins, it just had to be Munson.” Hopper shakes his head and starts the car. Steve just stares at him as he sucks in a heavy breath. “I… Support you and your choices,” Joyce’s diplomacy is really rubbing off on him, “But if you bring him to dinner I will arrest him. Got it?”
Somehow that actually drags a laugh out of Steve, a choked off hysterical sound that has Hopper’s lips quirking up too. “Got it.”
5
Steve doesn’t see Eddie for another month and a half. Eddie avoids his gaze in the halls the last few weeks of school and Steve doesn’t see him at graduation, or at any graduation parties (not that he was looking for him, staying uncomfortably sober all night in anticipation with his eyes peeled for curly hair and leather jackets. Definitely not). When he does finally see Eddie again, it’s in possibly the worst situation possible. Eddie calling him princess and having him beg to come? Embarrassing in a weird, sexy way. Steve’s pseudo-adoptive father figure catching them seconds after sex in the back of Eddie’s van on the side of the road? Awful, shameful, deeply unsettling. But nothing could be quite as toe-curlingly mortifying as this moment.
Eddie standing in front of him, looking gorgeous with his hair pulled into a loose bun, his jacket wrapped around his waist revealing his toned tattooed arms, slightly shiny from the summer heat. And Steve, wearing a goddamn sailors hat.
“Ahoy, sailor,” Eddie says with a smirk and Steve yanks the hat off his head indignantly, running his fingers through his hair. Eddie’s eyes soften slightly. “You okay?”
Steve nods. “He, uh. He’s not gonna tell anyone.” He says awkwardly, fiddling with his scooper. Eddie cocks his head to the side and fuck he’s so goddamn cute.
“Not what I asked.” Eddie says firmly. “I know he’s not gonna- I wanted to know if you’re okay. With Hop and like, with your dad and stuff,” He shrugs and pretends to look at the ice cream flavors. Steve feels the flush rise up his neck and the butterflies in his gut swirl traitorously.
“Oh,” He says quietly and Eddie snorts.
“Yeah. Oh.”
Steve can’t help but smile at him. “I’m okay. Hop was… Nice. Or as close as cops get to nice, I guess.” He says, proud of the little laugh that earns him from Eddie. He feels himself relax a little and leans forward, resting his forearms on the counter and smiling coyly up at Eddie, “Hates you though,”
“I think it’s probably a compliment to be hated by the sort-of-dad of my-” Eddie cuts himself off abruptly and clears his throat. “Uh, y’know. Hook up, or whatever.” He whispers the words even though the store is empty. Hook up. For some reason the word simmers under Steve’s skin icily. It sounds so wrong, but that’s exactly what he and Eddie are doing, isn’t it? Hooking up. Even though Steve’s not gay, and maybe Eddie isn’t either. Just thrown together and horny and lonely and- He cuts off the stream of thoughts and looks back at Eddie, finding him with nervous eyes.
“Yeah, I guess,” He says, desperate to soothe the nervous lines on Eddie’s face. “I think it’s at least 40% the drug dealer/habitual semi public sex thing, but I’m pretty sure he also just thinks you’re an asshole.” Eddie snorts at that and Steve counts that as a win.
“He might be a little right on that one. Corrupting the golden boy is hardly the worst thing he’s caught me doing,” Eddie taps his rings against the glass barrier over the ice cream with one hand, the other pulling a loose strand of his hair in front of his mouth, looking actually… Bashful? Blushy and nervous. All of a sudden he blurts out, “Do you wanna come to a party?”
Steve blinks at him dumbly. Eddie. Inviting him. To a party. “A party?”
“With me.” Eddie specifies, not meeting Steve’s gaze. He actually fucking kicks his shoe like a nervous little kid, scuffing his boot on the shitty mall linoleum. Steve catches the meaning under the words: A party with Eddie. With Eddie. Every party he’s spent with Eddie has ended up with them… Not exactly partying. “You don’t have to, it’s probably not like, your scene or whatever, and you probably have plans already. It’s only like, twenty people max, but me and my band are playing. It’s like this anti-independence day thing. Like kind of a fuck you to America on the fourth of July,” He rambles, scratching the back of his neck as he looks up at Steve with this goofy little nervous smile. Steve should say no, has every intention of saying no, but that fucking smile…
“Sure.” He breathes out, shocked even as he says it. He almost backtracks but Eddie just beams at him and he’s so gone.
“Great. Awesome, uh. Cool, it’s at Forest Hills Trailer Park, on the fourth of July. Obviously, uh.” He shakes his head and starts backing away, before seeming to remember that he was here for a reason. “Uh, can I get a cone of the USS Butterscotch?”
Steve nods and builds him a cone, passing it to him and trying to keep his hands steady. Eddie takes it gratefully and goes to reach for his wallet. “No worries, man. On the house.” Steve says before he can even think and Eddie grins at him.
“See you around, Harrington,” Eddie says as he backs out of the store. He spins on his heel as he reaches the door and Steve lets a heavy breath drop out of his chest as he watches him walk away. He’s so caught up in his own little spiral that when the window shutters clap open he jumps about a foot in the air.
His coworker Robin looks at him with an eyebrow raised, holding her You Rule/You Suck dry erase board. Making dead eye contact with him, she adds the first tally into the You Rule column. “That was the most painful thing I’ve ever had to listen to, I hope you realize that,”
He scowls at her, “You didn’t have to listen. That’s 100% on you.” She grins.
“Enjoy your date, Popeye. You losers deserve each other.”
Despite his insistence that it absolutely wasn’t a date, Robin, that is exactly what Steve calls it in his head when he misses it. Trapped in a Russian basement, his ears ringing and the room spinning, all he can think about is how he’s missing his stupid date with Eddie Munson. Throwing up by Robin’s side in the mall bathroom, he wonders if Eddie is disappointed that he never showed. When Robin nervously comes out to him, still a little loopy from truth serum and the rush of surviving, he lets himself say it outloud for the first time, a whispered nervous confession even when they sit alone on the dirty bathroom floor. And when he sits on the ground in the mall parking lot, emergency shock blanket draped over his shoulder and government doctor's flashlight shining in his eyes, someone asks him if he’s okay and he shrugs. “Yeah. I just… Had a date.”
He goes through the motions for a little while, visits Joyce and Hopper for dinner (who are apparently officially cohabitating now. He supposes that just barely surviving the apocalypse tends to bring people together), ferries the kids around, keeps a special eye on Max as she starts to retreat in her shell. Busies himself with a new job, still saving to move out of his parents place. He goes to doctors appointments, finds himself with a hearing aid on his left side where he keeps getting hit and in physical therapy twice a week to keep the vertigo at bay. But still, he can’t keep his mind off Eddie. Robin helps a little, helps him find the words for what he feels, what he might be. He starts to let himself want, lets himself feel that shimmer of pink in his gut that comes with Eddie without so much of the sickly shame he’s used to.
However, he doesn’t do anything about it. He doesn’t let himself visit, doesn’t know how to seek him out. Sure, he’s pretty sure he lives in Forest Hills, sees his van parked there when he helps Max move in. But, what, is he supposed to cross the trailer park and just knock on the door? What would he even say? Sorry I stood you up last month, I was kidnapped by evil Russians and had to stop the End Of The World. Again. I watched a man die right in front of me and I wake up screaming at night seeing it. I don’t even know if you like me at all, if I’m just reading into all this too much. I can’t see why you’d want me then, let alone now, but I think of you every day. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop. He can’t imagine any of that being particularly successful.
Robin calls him dramatic when he drunkenly rambles something along those lines to her, but he ignores her.
+1
So the next time he speaks to Eddie Munson is nearly a year later, the next time the world decides to end. Meets him in a boathouse on Loch Nora that looks eerily similar to one they’d spent an evening together in what felt like a lifetime ago. Eddie pushes him against a wall, holds him in place with firm hands and a bottle to his throat, and doesn’t this feel familiar. If the kids weren’t with him, if the world weren’t ending, if everything were different, he wonders what might’ve happened.
Robin teases him mercilessly later, says he looked like he was about to come in his jeans. He shoves her hard but smiles affectionately when she sticks her tongue out at him.
He tries to get Eddie alone, to apologize to him, but what he’s not expecting is for Eddie to push him towards Nancy with this almost bitter sounding insistence. Something painful and sharp digs into Steve’s gut, almost worse than the hundreds of demon bat teeth, as Eddie rambles about Nancy’s clear devotion. Steve’s obvious pining. Steve bristles at that, tries to insist he’s over Nancy - that he loves her but in a new way, almost like a sister - but Eddie gives him whiplash by complimenting him.
“It’s very metal, what you did. That’s all I’m saying.” Steve’s still not 100% sure what that means but he catches Eddie’s blush as he says it and he knows it’s a compliment.
“Back at ya, Munson,” He says and Eddie smiles, just a little, and maybe that’s all he needs for now. All they have to do is save the world, and they have time.
Or so he thinks.
Eddie is bleeding out in his arms as he cradles him in the back of a stolen RV and he’s fucking dying and Steve can’t do shit to stop it. “Eddie! Eddie, you gotta stay awake, man, okay? Look at me, please, can you just look at me?” He pleads and Eddie’s eyes open slowly, like they’re too heavy to hold open for long. Steve can feel Eddie’s blood, hot and sticky, soaking through the fabric he’s holding to his stomach, oozing over his hand as he holds him together. Still, Eddie smiles at him goofily.
“Stevie,” He slurs and Steve barks out a sob when he realizes it’s the first time Eddie’s called him by his first name. “You an angel?” He asks, running his tongue over his chapped lips. It leaves a sheen of blood that makes Steve’s stomach turn.
“Just me, baby,” He says quietly, running one hand over Eddie’s face lovingly, the one he isn’t currently to keep Eddie’s insides where they belong. “You don’t need an angel because you’re gonna be fine, okay? We’re gonna get you all patched up, good as new.” He says, trying to keep his voice steady and confident, as if he can will it true if he just says it right. Eddie hums and his eyes droop shut again. “Eds? Eddie, look at me. Fuck, Nancy!” He shouts towards the front seat, begging her to drive quicker, as if she’s not already flooring it, as if the roads aren’t crumbling underneath them.
“Eddie, baby, you gotta stay awake, okay? You’re not allowed to die. You’re gonna stay awake so I can take you on a date. You are not. Allowed. To Die.” He’s crying now, his hands shaking over Eddie’s body frantically.
Eddie moans and winces as Steve tries to steady his hand over his wounds and he takes it as a good sign that Eddie can feel the pain. That’s good, right? It would be bad if he wasn’t feeling anything, would mean his body was shutting down. Still with the pained whimpers coming from Eddie it’s hard to see an upside. Eddie mutters something and Steve leans in close.
“Bossy,” Eddie repeats and Steve laughs hysterically, still crying.
“You can boss me around when you get better. Just stay awake,”
“You better… Make it worth my while, angel…” Eddie trails off tiredly, having to gasp for breath and pause between slurred words. “Want my kiss. When I wake up.”
Despite everything, Steve smiles tearily and agrees. “When you wake up.”
Steve carries Eddie over the threshold of the hospital with some kind of hysterical strength, probably the same strength he summoned to hoist him through the gate in the trailer after Eddie had cut the rope. He forces a doctor to take Eddie’s body, sleeping and limp against his chest, hopes that with the chaos of the ‘earthquake’ that no one pays much attention to what he looks like. He follows the gurney as far as he can before two nurses hold him back, saying they’re taking him to surgery and Steve can’t follow, and that’s when he collapses.
He wakes up with 27 goddamn stitches in his torso, his body still grimy and aching, but he forces himself out the hospital bed and goes searching for Eddie. Robin, who was by his side when he woke up, who’d given a pint of blood that had kept him alive, helps him search, tells him that Eddie is stable but comatose, tells him Max is much the same. The thought of them lying there, sick and broken makes his legs shake.
They’ve been placed in the same room, guarded by two government officials with big guns that try to stop Steve getting past, but he tells them exactly where they can fucking shove it and elbows through the doorway, ignoring the tug on his stitches. He finds Eddie and Max in matching twin beds, hooked up to matching machines. He also finds a man he doesn’t recognize, older and graying and exhausted looking, holding Eddie’s hand. Steve slumps into a chair and takes Eddie’s other hand, ignoring the fear he feels over the looks the man might give him.
“I’m Steve,” He says after a long silence. The man nods, watching as Steve rubs his thumbs over Eddie’s knuckles rhythmically, watches him take his pulse under his fingers.
“Wayne,” He responds eventually. Steve hums and turns in his chair, wincing as the movement tugs on his stitches again. He readjusts himself gingerly so he can reach another hand over to Max, taking her hand too, the beds mercifully close together in the small room. “You hurt?”
“No,” He says, ignoring the way Wayne raises his eyebrows. He looks down and realizes there’s bandages all over his torso, stained with fresh little blooms of red. “Not as bad as them,” He amends. Because that’s all that matters really. “Do they have any updates? Robin said he’s stable…”
“He’s gonna be just fine. My little fighter.” Wayne says adoringly. “They said the coma is induced, to help him heal. They’re waking him up soon, few days or so,” Relief washes over Steve like a high and tears prick in his eyes. Not caring what Wayne thinks, he leans down and presses a careful kiss to Eddie’s knuckles.
“Do you know anything about Max?” He says, gesturing his head back at her since he has no free hands left. She’s covered in casts and has bandages wrapped over her eyes that make him feel sick. Wayne shakes his head.
“They won’t tell me. Said I’m not family.” Steve nods sadly, noting that Max’s mom isn’t there. Wonders if she survived the earthquakes, if she’s looking for her. For now, he just tries to focus on the positives: Eddie and Max are alive. They all made it out, and that’s all that matters.
Eddie wakes up two days later, doped out of his mind.
“Angel!” He slurs excitedly when he spots Steve. Steve starts crying immediately and Eddie’s smile turns into a frown. “Don’t cry, angel,” He goes to cup Steve’s face but makes a face somewhere between annoyance and confusion when his arms are tangled with wires and drips. He goes to pull them out and Steve takes his hands in his own.
“Don’t try to move, sweetheart, you need those,” He says and Eddie beams at him again.
“Sweetheart?” He asks and Steve nods with a smile, blinking back more tears. “‘M I dreaming?” He asks and Steve laughs.
“You’re awake. Finally. Three day nap you took there, Munson.” Eddie’s brow furrows again almost comically and Steve corrects himself, “Sweetheart,” As soon as he says it the smile comes back to Eddie’s face.
“Then why am I still so tired?” He asks with a yawn.
“You earned it, love. Go back to sleep. Wayne will be back when you wake up again.” Steve says, planting a kiss on the palms of Eddie’s hand. Eddie smiles and drifts away again, and it takes all of Steve’s self control to drag himself away and call for a nurse.
Eddie drifts in and out over the next few days, a steady stream of visitors cycling through his room. Lucas is a regular staple by Max’s bed, but he still has parents and curfew and injuries of his own to look after. The only constants in the room are Steve and Wayne, never leaving for longer than it takes to shower or grab ‘dinner’ from the vending machines down the hall. Steve even makes the nurses change his bandages at Eddie’s bedside, much to Wayne’s entertainment. He and Steve don’t talk much, but they grow comfortable with each other, bonded over this magnetism to Eddie.
The meds start to wear off and Eddie complains about it constantly, even if it means he’s awake for longer increments. Steve is happy to let him moan as long as he likes, just happy to see him breathing. Four days after he first wakes up, in a brief reprieve of privacy when Wayne leaves to speak to a doctor, Eddie gives Steve a blushy smile, looking nervous and rosy and gorgeous.
“So,” He says, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “I think I was promised a kiss.” Steve kisses him slow and sweet and gentle and they both come back out of breath, leaning their foreheads together as if they can’t bear to be even an inch apart.
Max wakes up a week later, half blind and wheelchair bound maybe forever but alive. They track down her mom, find her in a recovery room after getting surgery for a badly broken leg. Turns out the government, in their infinite wisdom, decided not to inform her that the daughter she was frantically searching for was one ward over in the same hospital. Steve fucking hates the government.
The party all crowd into the small room for a brief and slightly claustrophobic reunion. There are tears and laughter and no one mentions how Steve doesn’t let go of Eddie’s hand the whole time. Hop even glares at him a little less. Only a little, though.
It’s another two weeks before Max and Eddie are discharged, subjected to a million different tests in return for their complete and total medical bill forgiveness and of course, the clearing of Eddie’s name. Steve hates it but god it’s worth it when he gets to watch Eddie hobble out of the hospital on his own two feet, whooping and hollering as he goes.
In Eddie’s new and improved government funded two bedroom apartment, Steve kisses Eddie sweetly and drags up the courage to ask him a question. “Do you wanna go to a party with me?”
Eddie snorts at him. “What party, angel?”
“The Big End Of The World Bash. It’s customary,” Steve insists with a fake confident voice, like this is common knowledge that Eddie should just know. Eddie plays along, looking giddy. “This is only your first apocalypse. I’m on round four, trust me, I’m an expert.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Eddie says, kissing Steve quickly. “Maybe I should say yes and then stand you up, call you up in a year,” He teases and Steve rolls his eyes.
“I did not stand you up. I was kidnapped by evil Russians. There’s a difference,” Eddie's eyes widen and Steve realizes with a laugh that Eddie knew nothing about this.
“Okay, I assumed it was End Of The World related, but I think I’m gonna need a crash course on Steve Harrington lore.” He says and Steve kisses him again, hands roaming his chest carefully avoiding healed but still tender wounds. He’ll tell Eddie Munson anything he wants to hear, he thinks, for as long as he’ll let him.
The party is a hit. Steve’s parents' house, normally the go-to party destination, was destroyed in the ‘earthquake’, so they all cram into the living room of Max’s new apartment, a direct copy right across the hall from Eddie and Wayne’s. Eddie spends the lead up shamelessly ogling Steve as he hangs up decorations for him ( “I’m an invalid, Stevie, I couldn’t possibly put up streamers. You’ll just have to do it. Maybe you should take your shirt off too, it’s pretty hot in here” ). The rest of the party gather slowly until the party hits full swing, a horrible mashup of Metallica and Tears for Fears and The Clash blasting out of the speakers as everyone takes a turn. Eddie only teases Steve a little when he reveals that his Vecna song would’ve been ‘Everybody wants to rule the world’ ( “You’re never living the King Steve allegations down, angel,” ).
When the rest of the party are thoroughly distracted, Eddie takes his hand and leads him out the door, across the hall to his own apartment. He pushes Steve up against the inside of the door and kisses him longingly, like a drowned man taking in his first gasp of air. Steve arches his back off the wall, pressing their chests together and holding onto Eddie with desperation. He shucks off Eddie’s jacket, tugging his shirt impatiently. They part just long enough to pull both their shirts off before Eddie reconnects their mouths and starts leading Steve backwards down the hall. He presses his bedroom door open with Steve’s back and kicks it closed behind him, guiding Steve towards the bed.
Steve falls back, tugging Eddie down on top of him. They land in a heap with Eddie’s knees between Steve’s thighs. He kisses down his jaw, pressing soft careful kisses over the jagged scar on his throat. He trails further, licking and pecking and worshiping the raised pink marks all over Steve’s torso, the indents of missing flesh and the raised ridges and the flat planes of skin grafts Steve doesn’t even remember getting. The skin is so sensitive that his whole body is shaking under the gentle touch, an almost ticklish buzz lingering everywhere Eddie plants his mouth. Steve runs his hands in unison over Eddie’s scars, brushing his fingers over the blank spot where Eddie’s right nipple used to be, the craters over his ribs and arms. Eddie moans against his skin and Steve feels like his whole body is on fire.
Eventually, Eddie pulls off him and Steve whines, but he just grins and leans over to his bedside table, already cluttered with little pieces of Eddie, dice and notebooks and goofy novelty mugs, reaching into the drawer and pulling out a bottle of lube. He tosses next to Steve and pushes up on his knees so he can pull off his jeans and boxers clumsily, letting his cock free. Steve reaches forward and takes it in his hand, leaning up to swallow the moan Eddie lets out in a kiss. As he pumps over him, Eddie pulls Steve’s jeans and boxers down, manhandling his hips up off the bed enough to strip him naked.
“Fuck, so good for me, angel,” Eddie groans out as Steve jerks him off quickly. He catches Steve’s by the wrist and pulls him off of him - a year ago Steve’s chest would’ve stung with rejection, but now he kisses Eddie sweetly and knows he has other things in mind. Steve lets himself be pushed back onto his back, spreading his legs wider around Eddie. Eddie dips down to kiss his hip softly before retrieving the lube from the sheets, squirting a generous amount onto the pads of his fingers. He circles Steve’s hole teasingly and Steve keens at the cold feeling, clutching at Eddie’s shoulders.
Eddie circles his fingers a few more times till Steve is whimpering with need, and he realizes Eddie is waiting for his cue. “Please, need you Eds, please,” He says, and as soon as the words are out of his mouth Eddie is pressing one finger into him. Steve gasps at the sensation, incapable of being annoyed at the smug little chuckle Eddie lets out. Eddie starts to slowly work his finger into Steve, gradually adding more and more until Steve’s legs are writhing around on the bed and he’s begging Eddie to just get on with it already.
“You’re the one always going on about how big my dick is, angel,” Eddie jokes as he pulls his fingers out and Steve rolls his eyes, pulling Eddie up by his shoulder to kiss him. Eddie melts into the kiss instantly, licking into Steve’s mouth filthily and pressing them together so Steve’s hard cock is trapped between their stomachs. One hand buries itself in Steve’s hair and the other trails down, wraps around his cock to line himself up with Steve’s hole, and the kissing devolves into panting into each other’s mouths. “You ready for me angel?” Eddie asks and Steve nods frantically, grinding his hips down and feeling the slick head of Eddie’s cock brush against him.
A wonderful upside of being half eaten by demon bats is a series of government funded medical tests, including but not limited to, blood work. Extensive blood work that came back resolutely All Clear. The knowledge that Eddie is about to fuck Steve without a condom, that he’ll fill him up and drip out of him, has Steve’s head swimming and thinking that maybe the government isn’t all bad.
Eddie chuckles at Steve’s wanton need and the little twinge of meanness has a whine ripping through Steve’s throat almost painfully loud. “Come on, angel, use your words for me. Be a good boy now, ask nicely,” The hand in Steve’s hair tightens and he keens, his eyes rolling back into his head.
“Please, m’ready. So ready. Need you now, please, ” His words slur together sloppily and Eddie gives him another mocking laugh that almost covers the hitch in his breath and Steve’s words. Steve would consider calling him on it, mocking him right back, but Eddie pushes into him, breaching his rim suddenly and all the air goes out of Steve’s lungs in one go.
His fingers scrabble where they sit on Eddie’s shoulder, squeezing the back of his neck and digging his nails into the skin and Eddie grinds forwards. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, this overwhelming feeling of being full . Eddie continues forwards slowly, the slow stretch has Steve aching just right, panting and trembling until Eddie’s buried to the hilt, their hips slotted together like they were made for each other, puzzle pieces joining perfectly. Steve wraps his legs around Eddie’s hips and holds him there on pure instinct alone, not wanting to lose this feeling even for a second. It’s possible, just maybe, that Eddie was right and he could’ve used another few minutes of prep, but god the burn is phenomenal, the stretch pushing his boundaries in ways he’d only ever imagined, lighting up every nerve in his body. Eddie really is huge.
“Fuck, you’re so big,” He groans, not even sure if he’s actually speaking the words, “Can feel you in my fuckin’ chest,” Eddie chuckles breathlessly at that, and the tiny shaking movement has both of them moaning into each other’s mouths. Steve takes the opportunity to pull Eddie into a kiss as he gets used to the feeling, their mouths sloppy and slow. Eddie’s hand trails to Steve’s hip and Steve can feel the tremble in his fingers as he holds back from thrusting, always so considerate and loving of Steve even when he’s overwhelmed with his own pleasure.
Steve grinds back and Eddie practically growls, biting down on Steve’s bottom lip and licking over his teeth. Steve repeats the movement and Eddie’s grip in his hair gets so tight it becomes almost too much, the pain sending shivers down his spine. “Come on, Eds, fuck me, please,” He whimpers into Eddie’s mouth and Eddie apparently doesn’t need to be told twice.
He pulls out a few inches before snapping his hips forward hard, sending an obscene wet noise and the sound of sweat damp skin slapping together echoing out into the room. God, Steve’s so glad that the music from the party is loud and that no one’s home, because the moan he lets out at the sound and the sensation is downright pornographic, and Eddie isn’t exactly much quieter. He pulls out again, a little further this time, and thrusts forwards. Steve feels his brains start to leak out of his ears as Eddie starts to set a pace, hard and fast and unrelenting and-
“Oh fuck, right there, like that,” Steve babbles as Eddie hits his prostate. He’s done it before, of course, his fingers knowing Steve’s body inside and out better than his own, but the broad hard intrusion of Eddie’s cock hitting him just right is better than anything Steve’s ever felt, filling the corners of his vision with stars and making his stomach quiver. Eddie smirks as he pants, his voice desperate and high pitched and embarrassingly needy.
“Yeah, that’s how you like it, huh princess?” He grinds out the words with that gravelly tone that drives Steve wild and he can’t do anything but nod frantically. He can feel himself drooling as he tilts his head back into the pillow, his back arching off the bed. Eddie dips forward and bites his exposed Adam’s apple, dragging his teeth down the hard point till Steve yelps, then swirling his tongue over the dark mark he’s no doubt left. He drops his head down to the side of Steve’s neck to bite at his pulse point and Steve feels the humid air of the room sting cold against the wet patch of his skin, like running your head under cold water when you're drunk. God, his skin is on fire, buzzing and hot with need.
Eddie’s hips rabbit forwards and Steve can feel his stomach drag over his aching cock with every thrust, spreading pre-cum over his skin in a filthy mess that’s almost too much. He almost can’t handle the feeling, so overwhelming from all sides, and he whines at the painful throbbing in his cock as Eddie grinds down hard.
“Eddie, fuck-” He pants out, “Eddie- ah ah- fuck - Ed’s s’too much,” He slurs as Eddie bites hard enough on his shoulder Steve’s wonders idly through the haze if it broke the skin. Eddie pulls back just enough to lick at Steve’s ear, nipping at the lobe and running his tongue over the curl behind the wire of his hearing aid. The hand on Steve’s hip slips between them and wraps tight around Steve’s cock, hard enough that Steve feels a hot spurt of pre-cum leak out of him and he can’t help the pained wail that spills out of him. “Fuck, hurts, ”
“You can take it, can’t you angel?” Eddie growls, punctuating it with a broad tongued lick up the side of Steve’s neck and another tight squeeze to the base of his cock. He keeps his hand mostly still, holding his rather than stroking, like he’s holding back Steve’s orgasm like a dam, but his thumb rubs hard back and forth over a protruding vein and Steve feels the last of his higher functioning leave his body all at once. He’s not sure how long he goes without answering before the hand in his hair tugs tightening to force him to look Eddie in the eyes. “Answer me angel, remember your words.” Steve tries his best but his tongue feels thick and heavy in his mouth, his whole body lax with pleasure. A flash of concern crosses Eddie’s face and his hips stop suddenly. The hungry yelp that Steve lets out might be embarrassing if he wasn’t so completely lost to the feeling of Eddie inside him.
“Stevie, you okay?” Steve nods groggily, his mouth still not quite working, and something else crosses Eddie’s face, an almost awe filled recognition. “Holy shit, can you not talk?” Steve nods again and Eddie moans, seemingly unable to hold himself back from kissing Steve’s jaw. “Fuck, you’re perfect, so good for me angel,” He moans and Steve rolls his hips back into him. “Tap me once for yes, twice for no. Think you can do that, angel?” Steve manages to nod again and taps his fingers once on the back of Eddie’s neck, earning him a grin. “Good boy. Can you keep going?” One tap. A hand finds his cock again. “Can you take it?” One tap. “Good boy,” Eddie repeats, and Steve barely has time to whine at the praise before Eddie is fucking into him again, even faster than before, his hand jerking him off in time, twisting on the rise. Steve’s thighs tremble and he’s unable to do anything else but lie there and take it, panting out involuntary little ah ah ah ’s and scratching at Eddie’s back while Eddie gives him whatever he wants to, using him like a toy.
Steve’s so far gone in pleasure that he doesn’t realize how close he is to the edge until he’s coming hot and fast all over Eddie’s fist and his own stomach. He’s pretty sure he’s never come that much in his life, ropes of slick liquid coating his chest hair filthily. Eddie lets out a moan as Steve clenches around him and suddenly he’s spurting into Steve’s ass, filling him up and dripping out past the edges of his own cock just like Steve had dreamed about.
He keeps thrusting through the aftershocks, stroking Steve to the point of pain until he collapses forward onto Steve’s chest, spreading the mess of Steve’s load between them. The thought of his cum marking them both up, lingering on Eddie’s skin, mingling with his skin, would probably be enough to get Steve going again in like five minutes, but Eddie kisses him on the temple and pulls out gingerly. Steve feels Eddie’s cum drip out of him, making a little wet patch under his ass on the sheets and, god, they really should’ve thought to put a towel down before they started, but Steve doesn’t care. He’s so barely aware of anything but the dull buzz over his skin, of Eddie manhandling him gently until he’s resting with his back against his chest, Eddie’s chin tucked into Steve’s sweat damp hair as he strokes through it with his fingers.
They lie there contentedly for a while, comfortably quiet except for their breathing and the faint hum of music from across the hall, before Eddie’s pulling away. Steve makes a noise of protest and goes to grab at Eddie’s hand.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m just gonna grab you some water and clean you up,” Eddie assures, the words floaty and distant in Steve’s ear. He shakes his head resolutely and Eddie chuckles next to his ear. “I’ll be right back, angel, I promise,” He starts to pull away again but Steve clings to his hand. Eddie pauses. “How about this, you count to thirty for me, and I’ll be back before you know it,” Steve considers for a second before nodding sleepily. Eddie plants a gentle kiss to his temple and leaves. Steve starts counting and making it to fourteen before Eddie is back by his side.
He presses a cool glass to Steve’s bottom lip and makes him drink all of it before running a cool cloth over Steve, wiping his chest and thighs and ass lovingly. Steve almost mourns the spread of Eddie’s cum on and inside him, but the lovely cool feeling feels so nice on his hot skin that he figures it’s worth it. Eddie must get rid of the cloth at some point, because the next thing Steve knows, he’s being dressed in boxers and a well worn t-shirt that smells like Eddie and being pulled back into Eddie’s chest again. He nuzzles into Eddie’s jaw and wraps his hand around his middle, running his thumb back and forth over his knuckles.
Eventually, Steve feels himself start to come to, the pleasant haziness fading into a gentle glow, and he turns to face Eddie and leans up to kiss his smiling face.
“Hey,” He whispers, like the moment has earned the respect of quiet, like they get to exist in this tiny little bubble as long as they stay hushed and gentle. Eddie ghosts his thumb over Steve’s jaw and kisses him back.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, angel,” He says and Steve manages to roll his eyes in mock exasperation.
“Don’t talk about nerd shit when you’ve just fucked my brains out,” Eddie laughs.
“You love it. I just made you go non-verbal with my dungeon master voice, nerd shit is definitely your friend, Stevie,” He smirks and Steve groans, resting his head against Eddie’s shoulder.
“God, you’re gonna be so smug about that forever, aren’t you?”
“Yup,” Steve can hear his smirk even without looking at him, “I fucked Steve Harrington till he was too dumb to talk, I’m putting that on my goddamn headstone,”
Steve shakes his head against Eddie’s skin, “I fuckin’ hate you,”
“You love me,” Eddie says, then stiffens all over. Steve pulls back just enough to look at him and finds all the color draining out of his face, his mouth dropped open like he really didn’t mean to say that. “Fuck- I mean-”
“Yeah. I do.” Steve says and Eddie’s face blooms into a broad giddy smile. He presses forward to kiss him slow and deep. He completely melts into Eddie, that rosy feeling filling every part of him till he’s loopy with it. He’d be happy to kiss Eddie for the rest of time, but against his will, he splits into a huge yawn that has Eddie chuckling at him.
“Go to sleep, angel, you’ve earned it.” He murmurs against Steve’s lips and Steve nods, kissing him once more before letting his eyes droop closed. Just as he’s drifting off, he feels Eddie lean close to his ear and whisper, “I love you too, angel,” and he’s out like a light.