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Buck stood at the edge of the firehouse, the newly waxed floor beneath his boots gleaming under the fluorescent lights. He'd been here long enough to have seen a dozen new recruits come and go—most of them eager, all of them green. They'd stumble over protocols, fumble with the equipment, and look wide-eyed at the smallest flame. But Eddie Diaz? Oh no, Eddie Diaz was certainly not any of that.
From the moment Eddie had walked in, Buck felt the shift in the room's atmosphere. The guy moved like he owned the place, like he’d been born with a firehose in one hand and a helmet in the other. His uniform clung to him perfectly, not a wrinkle in sight, as if it had been custom-made to fit every inch of muscle. He had that kind of jawline that seemed almost arrogant, as if it could cut through anything that dared to get in its way, and brown eyes that seemed to see everything and give away nothing.
Buck’s eyes followed Eddie as he introduced himself to the team, his grin radiant and effortlessly magnetic. There was something almost too smooth about the way Eddie’s smile wove through the air, making the other firefighters laugh with an intensity that seemed almost ritualistic. Each chuckle and nod came with a reverence Buck had never seen bestowed so freely.
Buck couldn’t believe him. How could someone just waltz in and fit right in like that?
Eddie’s smile was easy, natural—the kind of smile that made people feel at ease, as if he'd been everyone's friend for years. Somehow, Buck saw through it. He saw how everyone gravitated toward Eddie, how other firefighters laughed a little louder at his jokes, leaned a little closer when he spoke. There was a magnetic pull around Eddie, something that drew people in, something Buck couldn’t quite put his finger on but pissed him off all the same.
From his spot at the corner, Buck watched Eddie slide into a chair across the room. A few of the guys gathered around him, talking and laughing as if they'd known him forever. Buck's fingers tapped a rhythm on his thigh—a steady beat that matched the irritation bubbling in his chest.
Look at him. Buck narrowed his eyes as Eddie leaned back in his chair, a confident smile playing at his lips. It wasn't just the way Eddie seemed to glide through everything like it was the easiest thing in the world—it was how he did it all with that same relaxed, effortless grace.
Buck could remember his own first day. The nerves that had tightened his stomach into knots, the way his hands had trembled slightly as he fumbled with his gear. He'd had to prove himself, sweat through every task, earn every bit of respect he got. But Eddie? He just showed up, and it was like he'd always been part of the team.
The way Eddie's laughter cut through the air, warm and genuine, made Buck's jaw clench. He caught snippets of Eddie's conversation, the low hum of his voice drawing everyone in. It was annoying how every word seemed perfectly measured, how his laugh hit just the right pitch to make the others laugh along. Buck could feel his irritation flaring up again, a spark ready to ignite.
Suddenly, this guy walks in, and everyone believes he's the greatest thing since sliced bread.
Buck's gaze flicked back to Eddie, who was now sharing some technique with a casual flair that had everyone nodding along, hanging on his every word. Bet he’s got a whole scrapbook of military accolades too. Probably a wall of medals at home. And if he was to guess, he also had a tragic backstory to boot, just to make him even more annoyingly perfect.
He huffed out a breath, annoyed at himself for even caring. It wasn’t that he disliked Eddie, exactly—it was more that Eddie seemed to highlight all the parts of himself that Buck hated. Every smooth move Eddie made, every effortless smile, every nod of approval he got from the guys—each one was a little dig, a reminder of how Buck had never quite fit in that easily, how he’d always had to fight for his place.
As the day wore on, Buck had found himself staring Eddie more than he had intended. The guy was everywhere—helping with drills, sharing tips, even getting Chimney to crack a full on laughter.
Buck couldn’t shake the tension from his shoulders as he walked through the common area of the firehouse, every muscle in his body coiled tight from the strain of the day’s call. His skin still tingled from the heat of the flames, his head throbbing from the cacophony of sirens and shouted orders that had filled his ears for hours; his thoughts felt like they were tangled in a thick fog that he couldn’t quite seem to clear.
The day had been rough—rougher than most. They had barely been able to catch their breath between calls, and when they finally did, it seemed like the rest of the crew couldn’t stop talking about Eddie’s performance. As if everyone else hadn’t been fighting just as hard, risking their lives just as much.
Buck’s jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he overheard Bobby and Chimney in the corner, recounting Eddie’s flawless maneuver during the rescue.
“Did you see the way Eddie handled that?” Chimney was saying, his voice loud and animated. “I mean, I thought we were goners for sure, but he just... swooped in, like some kind of hero.”
“Yeah,” Bobby added, his voice warm with approval. “Looks like he’s got a natural instinct for this. Certainly not something you see every other day.”
Buck rolled his eyes, feeling a familiar wave of irritation rise in his chest. Eddie Diaz, the silver star boy. The guy who had just swooped in and won everyone over with his perfect smile and annoyingly good instincts.
Buck couldn’t help but feel a stab of jealousy twist in his gut. It was like Eddie had stepped straight out of a firefighter recruitment poster—Mr. Silver Star, always in the right place at the right time, never a hair out of place even after the most intense blaze.
The thing was, Buck was tired. He was exhausted, actually. Bone-deep, soul-weary tired in a way that not even hours of sleep could fix.
The kind of tiredness that came from too much thinking, from too many late nights in Abby’s empty apartment, trying to forget the feeling of her ghost lingering in the sheets. He had hoped that throwing himself into his work would have helped, that the adrenaline and the camaraderie of the job would have drowned out the echoes of her absence. But it hadn’t. Not even close.
And now, here he was, stuck in the firehouse while everyone fawned over Eddie. As if Buck hadn’t just sprinted into the heart of the blaze as well. As if he hadn’t pushed himself to the brink, trying to make sure they all came back alive.
He let out a breath, heavy and frustrated, and turned away from the group. He just needed to get out of here, to be alone for a moment without everyone buzzing in his ear about how great Eddie was. He started toward the locker room, his boots heavy on the floor, each step echoing through the empty hallways.
He thought he was alone as he pushed open the door to the changing room, the creak of the hinges breaking the silence. But then, of course, there he was—Mr. Silver Star in person, standing by his locker, his hair still damp and slicked back presumably from a quick shower, his brown eyes catching the light just so. Even now, when everyone else had looked wrecked and weary, Eddie’s cheeks were a soft shade of pink, like he’d just stepped in from a brisk autumn wind.
Buck felt a fresh wave of annoyance wash over him. “Of course you’re still here,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for Eddie to hear but soft enough that it could have been mistaken for talking to himself.
Eddie glanced over, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Just finishing up. You look like you could use a break.”
Buck huffed, dropping onto the bench in front of his locker, yanking his boots off with more force than necessary. “Yeah, well, some of us are just trying to do the job without worrying if they’re looking good while doing it.”
Eddie’s smile widened, but it wasn’t unkind. “You sound jealous, Buck.”
Buck’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “Jealous? Me? Please.” He tried to keep his tone light, dismissive, but there was a hard edge to it that he couldn’t quite mask.
Eddie took a step closer, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp and assessing. “It’s okay to admit it, you know. I mean, I get it. You’re pissed off because everyone else thinks I am pretty great.”
Buck let out a short, bitter laugh, standing up to face Eddie, his chest tightening with frustration. “You don’t get it, Eddie. It's not just as simple as that. You just waltz in here like you’re God’s gift to firefighting, and everyone just eats it up. It’s like you can do no wrong.”
Eddie’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a new intensity in his gaze, a challenge. “And that bothers you? Why, exactly?”
Buck opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. Because, what was he supposed to say? That it bothered him because Eddie seemed to fit in so effortlessly where Buck always felt like he had to prove himself? That it bothered him because everyone seemed to see something in Eddie that they didn’t see in him?
“I don’t want to do this right now.” Buck finally said, his voice low, almost defeated.
Eddie took another step closer, his eyes never leaving Buck’s. “Do what, Buck?”
There was something in Eddie’s tone that made Buck’s skin prickle, a suggestion beneath the words that sent a rush of heat through his veins. He blinked, taken aback, his frustration momentarily overshadowed by confusion. “What were you thinking about?”
Eddie’s lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile, and he took another step closer, so close now that Buck could feel the warmth radiating from his body. “I can name a couple ways this might go, depending on what you’re up for.”
Buck’s breath hitched, his pulse quickening in his throat. He wasn’t sure what Eddie was implying, but there was a look in his eyes—a heat, a curiosity.
Buck’s mind was whirring; each word Eddie spoke was sharpening the edges of his already frayed nerves. The suggestion in Eddie's voice, the way he seemed so confident, sent a rush of adrenaline through Buck’s veins, hot and wild. A spark of anger flared up in Buck's chest. What was Eddie playing at?
Eddie's smile had a knowing edge that made Buck's skin prickle with both anticipation and irritation, his fists clenched at his sides as he took a small step back, his shoulders tense.
Eddie was still watching him closely, those dark brown eyes taking in every movement, every breath Buck took. His face was calm, but there was something simmering just beneath the surface, something that made Buck’s own pulse quicken. Eddie took another step forward, his body moving with a smooth confidence that set Buck on edge. “Maybe you just need to get some of this frustration out; blow off some steam. You look like you’ve got a lot of pent-up energy.” His tone was almost teasing, like he was challenging Buck, daring him.
Buck stared at him, trying to read the intent behind those dark eyes. He was irritated, his anger mixing with a rough laugh, a scoff, as he rolled his shoulders. “You wanna fight, Diaz?” he asked.
Eddie didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. He just smiled—that infuriatingly calm smile that seemed to see right through Buck. “If that’s what it takes,” he replied, his voice steady.
Buck’s jaw clenched, and before he could stop himself, he threw a punch. He didn’t even know where the anger was coming from—maybe from the long day, the exhaustion, the constant comparisons to Eddie—but he just wanted to hit something, to feel something other than the endless, gnawing frustration.
Eddie dodged easily, a quick sidestep that had Buck stumbling forward, his own momentum carrying him off balance. Eddie’s hand came up, pressing against Buck’s chest to steady him, but Buck swatted it away, annoyed with himself more than anything.
“Oh, come on, Buck,” Eddie said, his voice still calm but with a new edge of amusement. “Is that all you’ve got?”
Buck’s blood boiled at Eddie’s tone, and he threw another punch, this one more calculated, aiming for Eddie’s midsection. But Eddie was fast, faster than Buck expected, and he caught Buck’s wrist, twisting it just enough to make Buck hiss in pain.
“What’s wrong?” Eddie taunted, his grip firm but not painful, his eyes locked on Buck’s. “You seem a little… distracted.”
“I—” Buck started, but his voice faltered. Eddie’s knee was pressing lightly against his, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through him. Buck’s body reacted before his mind could catch up, a flush of heat pooling low in his belly.
Buck yanked his hand free, his frustration mounting. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, and he lunged forward, this time aiming a punch at Eddie’s jaw. It connected, not as solidly as he wanted, but enough to send Eddie’s head snapping back, a flash of something dark in his eyes.
Eddie grunted, rubbing his jaw with the back of his hand, a drop of blood smearing across his lips. But his smile never faded. If anything, it grew sharper, more focused. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them again, and Buck barely had time to brace himself before Eddie swung.
The punch landed on Buck’s cheek, hard enough to make him stagger, his vision blurring for a second. Pain exploded in his face, but he grinned through it, a wild, reckless grin. The burn of it—the sting of Eddie’s punch, the taste of his own blood on his tongue—was exactly what he needed.
And then they were on each other, a flurry of limbs and grunts and sharp breaths. Their punches were wild, more instinct than technique, each one more desperate than the last. Buck’s knuckles connected with Eddie’s ribs, and he felt the impact reverberate up his arm. Eddie swung again, his fist catching Buck’s side, and Buck let out a sharp exhale, his body folding slightly from the pain.
But it wasn’t just pain that was coursing through him now. There was something—hot and electric, crackling through his veins. His skin was on fire, every nerve alive with sensation, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest, fast and hard.
Somehow, amidst the chaos, their bodies collided, and Buck found himself pinned against the wall, Eddie’s arm pressed against his throat. They were both breathing hard, their faces inches apart, and Buck could feel Eddie’s breath on his skin, warm and ragged.
Eddie’s eyes were dark, his pupils blown wide, and Buck could see the same wild heat reflected back at him.
“Are we done?” Buck muttered, his voice rough with exhaustion.
Eddie’s gaze flickered down to Buck’s lips, and Buck saw his throat bob as he swallowed. “You tell me,” Eddie replied, his voice low, almost a whisper. “It seems like you’re still a little… wound up.”
Buck swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He hadn’t meant for this to happen, hadn’t realized just how tightly coiled he’d been until now. But Eddie was so close, and his presence was overwhelming, his hand resting on his shoulder, firm but not rough, his thumb brushing against Buck’s collarbone with a slow, deliberate motion suffocating in a way that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to escape or lean into.
He wanted to push Eddie away, to tell him to back off, but he also wanted—God, he didn’t know what he wanted. His body, though, seemed to have made up its mind for him, leaning into Eddie’s touch, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
He knew he was crossing a line he couldn’t uncross— knew this was a bad idea— but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He surged forward, closing the gap between them, his mouth crashing against Eddie’s.
The kiss was messy, desperate—teeth and tongues and a clash of heat and want as they both fought for control, their anger still simmering beneath the surface. Buck's breath hitched, and he closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the feeling. Eddie's lips were soft, warm, firm, tasting faintly of salt and something unique, something he couldn't quite name but found himself craving more of.
He tasted the metallic tang of blood where their lips had split from the fight as Eddie’s tongue slipped against his, tentative at first but growing bolder, exploring, teasing. A low groan rumbled from his throat, vibrating against Eddie's mouth, making him shiver in response—a thrill that shot like a live wire.
Eddie’s hands were everywhere, gripping the back of Buck’s neck, sliding into his hair, pulling him closer, deeper, as if he couldn’t get enough. The pressure of Eddie’s lips was relentless, his kiss demanding and all-consuming. Buck could feel the heat of Eddie's breath mingling with his own, hot and fast; their breathing syncopated with the frantic rhythm of their mouths moving together.
There was a desperate hunger in the way they were kissing, a raw need; as if all the frustration and tension that had been simmering between them had finally reached a boiling point, and the only way to let it out was through this—through the fierce, bruising press of their lips, the frantic exploration of tongues, and the rough, possessive grip of Eddie’s hands on his skin.
Buck pressed closer, his hands sliding up Eddie's sides, feeling the hard muscles beneath his fingers and the slick heat of Eddie’s sweat-damp skin. He couldn’t get enough of the way Eddie felt under his touch, the solidity of his body, the way he moved with confidence.
Eddie responded with his fingers, pressing into the bruises forming from their earlier fight, and Buck hissed against his lips, the sharp flare of pain mixing with the pleasure in a way that made his whole body throb.
His own hands were tangled in Eddie's messed up hair, tugging him closer, harder; fingers holding the damp strands still wet from his earlier shower. The dampness was cool against the sweat that coated his palms, and he could feel the droplets running down his own fingers, making everything slippery and more frantic.
He felt the scrape of Eddie’s teeth against his lower lip, the sting of it sending a shock of pain and pleasure through him that made his knees go weak. He gasped into Eddie’s mouth, his fingers digging into Eddie’s shoulders, holding on for dear life.
Eddie pulled back slightly, just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against Buck’s, their noses brushing, their breath mingling in the small space between them. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with raw vulnerability.
Buck’s hands fisted in Eddie’s shirt, pulling him closer, and Eddie pressed harder against him, his thigh sliding between Buck’s legs, pressing up against him in a way that made Buck gasp against his lips.
Eddie’s hands were on him, rough and urgent, sliding up under Buck’s shirt, fingers digging into the muscles of his back. Buck groaned, his body arching into the touch, his hands roaming over Eddie’s shoulders, his fingers finding the warm, damp skin at the nape of his neck.
Eddie’s tongue slid against his own, hot and demanding. Then he pressed forward, forcing him back a step, then another, until his back hit the lockers with a dull thud.
His lips were swollen and red and Buck couldn’t help but think how good it looked on him.
“Stop fighting me,” he muttered with a rough breath, the words more a plea than a command. “Just… kiss me.”
Eddie’s eyes darkened, his gaze intense and unwavering, and for a moment, Buck thought he might argue, might push back. But then Eddie’s hands slid down to Buck’s hips, his grip firm but gentler than before, his fingers brushing against Buck’s skin in a way that sent a shiver down his spine.
And then he felt those soft lips on him again, slower this time, more deliberate, his mouth moving against Buck’s almost tender. He couldn’t resist any of it, his body relaxing into Eddie’s. His fingers loosened their grip in Eddie’s hair, sliding down to cup his jaw instead, feeling the stubble under his palms, rough and scratchy, grounding him to this moment, to Eddie.
Eddie’s tongue, soft and teasing, made his knees weak, a low, desperate moan escaping him without control. Eddie’s hands moved differently over his body, roaming over his back, his sides, his chest, as if he were memorizing every inch of him, every curve and bruise.
Buck let himself get lost in it, in the feel of Eddie’s mouth on his, the way Eddie’s tongue seemed to know exactly how to make him shiver, to make his breath hitch in his throat.
Eddie’s lips left Buck’s, and for a moment, Buck thought it might be over—this feverish moment of wild kisses and bruised skin. But then Eddie's hand slid down, hesitating for a split second at Buck's waistband, and Buck’s breath hitched in anticipation. There was a pause, Eddie’s fingers hovering over Buck's belt buckle, trembling slightly, and Buck couldn’t help the smirk that crept across his lips.
"Are you gonna stand there and stare, or are you actually gonna do something about it?" Buck taunted, his voice a mix of cocky bravado.
Eddie’s eyes flicked up to meet his, his fingers moving with purpose now, unbuckling Buck’s belt with a sharp tug, then moving to the button of his jeans. Buck could feel the roughness of Eddie's knuckles brushing against his skin, calluses scraping against his abdomen.
Eddie’s fingers curled around his length with an awkwardness that was almost endearing. He was tentative at first, exploring, his grip too loose, his strokes too slow, like he was figuring it out as he went. Buck could tell that Eddie was inexperienced, his movements careful, unsure, but there was something incredibly hot about that—about the idea of Eddie learning this, learning him.
Buck knew what it was like to be with someone who knew exactly what they were doing, who moved with confidence and purpose, who had been around the block enough times to have a routine. But this? This was different.
Buck let out a low, teasing chuckle, leaning back against the lockers, his eyes half-lidded as he watched Eddie’s face, watched the concentration etched into his features, the way his brow furrowed slightly, his lips parted in a soft, focused frown. “You know, if you need some pointers, I’m always happy to—”
“Shut it up, Buck,” Eddie muttered, his voice a mix of irritation, something that made Buck's stomach tighten. Eddie’s hands were moving faster now, a bit more confident, more determined, trying to prove a point, to make Buck shut up in the most effective way possible.
Buck bit back a moan, his hips bucking up into Eddie’s touch despite himself. Eddie’s hand was hot around him, the friction almost too much and not enough at the same time, and Buck found himself wanting more, needing more. He could feel his own breath coming in shallow gasps, his body responding to Eddie’s fumbling touch with a need that surprised him. “Come on, Eddie,” Buck goaded, his voice breathless, desperation creeping in.
Eddie’s jaw clenched, his thumb swiping over the head of Buck’s cock, which made him earn a groan that escaped from his lips, his head falling back against the cool metal of the lockers. His eyes squeezed shut as Eddie continued, his movements growing more confident, more assured.
Buck could feel himself teetering on the edge, his body trembling with the effort to hold back, to draw this out just a little longer. But Eddie was relentless now, the rhythm fast and messy, the pressure just right, and Buck couldn’t help it. He let out a ragged moan, his hips jerking forward as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak, his legs starting to tremble.
“Please, Eddie,” Buck gasped out, the word slipping from his lips before he could stop it. “Please, I—”
He didn’t even know what he was begging for. His own desperation sent a shock of heat through him, his body shuddering as he finally tipped over the edge. He came hard, release spilling over Eddie’s hand, his knees buckling as the world blurred around him. He sank to the floor, his legs unable to hold him up any longer.
Eddie’s hand left him, and Buck barely had time to register the loss before he realized he was on his knees, staring up at Eddie with a look that was half-dazed, half-hungry. If he was already down here, he might as well make the most of it. He reached up, his hands tugging at Eddie’s waistband, fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans with fingers that were still trembling.
Eddie’s eyes widened, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “Buck, you don’t have to—”
Buck cut him off, his voice low, a teasing lilt to it. “Oh, but I want to,” he murmured as he finally managed to get Eddie’s jeans undone, sliding them down his hips along with his briefs, exposing him. Buck didn’t waste any time, leaning forward to take Eddie into his mouth, his lips wrapping around the head of Eddie’s cock with a practiced ease that made Eddie’s breath hitch.
As he freed Eddie’s length, Buck felt a strange sense of calm settle over him, a focus that he hadn’t felt since they’d first touched. There was something grounding about giving orals, something that steadied him in a way that nothing else did. It wasn’t just about the pleasure he could give someone, though that was certainly part of it. It was about being in control of this moment, about knowing that he could take someone apart piece by piece with just his mouth and his hands.
It was about being useful, about being good at something, about earning those sweet, intoxicating praises that he craved more than he would ever admit.
Buck had always hungered for validation, for someone to tell him he was enough, that he was doing something right. And here, on his knees, with Eddie’s heavy breathing filling the small space, Buck felt like he was in control of that validation, like he could coax it out of Eddie one moan, one gasp at a time.
He started with a gentle kiss at the tip, a soft, almost reverent press of lips that made Eddie exhale sharply, his hips shifting forward slightly. It looked like Eddie wanted to hide his reaction, yet that was enough to make his heart swell with pride; a small smile tugging at his lips. He followed the kiss with a series of kitten licks, his tongue darting out to taste the sensitive head, to savor the unique flavor of skin, that was entirely Eddie.
Everyone had their own taste, their own unique essence, and Buck had always found it fascinating. The way his cock felt heavy on Buck’s tongue, the way he pulsed against the roof of his mouth— it was different. Better. Addictive.
He could hear the soft gasp that escaped Eddie’s lips, and it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted to hear Eddie moan, to feel him shudder and shake, to make him fall apart the way Buck just had.
Buck took Eddie deeper into his mouth, letting the warmth and weight of him fill the space. His lips slided down the length, his tongue swirling and flicking against the underside. He worked slowly, methodically, savoring every inch, every ridge and vein.
“God, Buck… you’re amazing… so good with that mouth…” Eddie’s voice was a breathy mix of awe and need, the words spilling out like they were torn from him. The praise was a drug making him feel lightheaded, dizzy.
He felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, and he quickly blamed it on the lack of oxygen, on the way Eddie’s cock was filling his mouth, pressing against the back of his throat.
It had to be the lack of oxygen, right? No way Eddie’s words were getting under his skin, starting to sound like something Buck had been craving for far too long—like approval, like validation, like love.
Buck swallowed around Eddie’s length, taking him even deeper, his throat relaxing as he worked to keep his breathing steady. But it was hard, so hard, when every word out of Eddie’s mouth was something he had tried to ignore for so long.
“Fuck… so perfect… taking me so well…” Eddie’s voice was lower now, almost a purr, and Buck could feel himself start to tremble, his hands gripping Eddie’s hips tighter as he tried to keep control, tried to stay focused on the task at hand. But it was slipping, unraveling, just like Eddie was, and Buck didn’t know how to stop it.
He pulled back slightly, gasping for air, and felt the slickness at the corners of his mouth—was it saliva or pre-come? He wasn’t sure, didn’t care. He just wanted more, wanted to drown in this moment, in the praise and the pleasure and the way Eddie was looking at him like he was the only thing that mattered in the world.
Hollowing his cheeks, Buck sucked harder, and was rewarded with a low, broken moan from above him. He was trying to draw out the experience for as long as he could, his tongue swirling and flicking, exploring every inch with a reverence that felt almost spiritual.
Swallowing him down with a hunger that surprised even him, his hands gripped Eddie’s hips to hold him steady as he bobbed his head, setting a slow, steady rhythm. Eddie’s cock was heavy on his tongue; the taste of him salty and slightly bitter, a familiar flavour that Buck craved. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking harder, and was rewarded with a low, broken moan from above him, the sound sending a thrill straight through him.
Buck could feel Eddie’s thighs trembling under his hands, his muscles tensing and relaxing with each movement of Buck’s mouth. He slid one hand down to cup Eddie’s balls, rolling them gently between his fingers, and Eddie let out a choked sound, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. Buck smiled around Eddie’s cock, his own arousal stirring again at the sounds he was pulling from Eddie, the way he was making him lose control.
He started to move faster, taking Eddie deeper with each stroke, his throat relaxing to accommodate him, his tongue pressing against the underside of Eddie’s length, feeling every ridge and vein. Eddie’s hands were in his hair now, tugging. He hummed around Eddie’s cock, the vibration making Eddie’s breath hitch, his grip tightening even more.
“Buck, I—fuck, I’m gonna—” Eddie’s voice was hoarse, breathless, his words broken by gasps and moans, and Buck could tell he was close. He doubled down, taking Eddie as deep as he could, swallowing around him, the muscles of his throat tightening and relaxing in a rhythm that he knew from experience would drive anyone wild.
Eddie let out a deep, guttural moan, his body going rigid, and Buck felt the first hot pulse of Eddie’s release hit the back of his throat. He swallowed it down, not stopping, not slowing, wanting to wring every last drop of pleasure, to leave the man above him shaking and spent. Eddie’s hips jerked forward, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps, his hands still tangled in Buck’s hair, holding him in place as he rode out his orgasm.
When it was over, Eddie slumped back against the lockers, his legs barely holding him up, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Buck pulled back slowly, releasing Eddie with a soft, wet pop, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked up at Eddie with a satisfied grin.
Eddie stared down at him, his expression a mix of awe and something else, something Buck couldn’t quite place. He reached down, pulling Buck to his feet with a gentle tug, his hands lingering on Buck’s arms as he steadied him.
“Where the hell did you learn to do that?” Eddie asked, his voice rough, still breathless, and Buck just chuckled.
“Just had a lot of practice during college,” Buck shrugged against Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie just laughed.
Buck trudged up the stairs to Abby’s apartment, each step feeling heavier than the last, his mind a chaotic swirl of confusion and regret as he couldn’t shake the gnawing sense of shame that clung to him.
He had promised himself—promised that he wouldn’t fall back into the same old destructive patterns. And yet, here he was, caught begging, giving everything he had, and for who? For Eddie Diaz, of all people.
Eddie, who was perfect in every way Buck resented.
The apartment was dark and silent, and Buck found himself lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with exhaustion, yet sleep seemed to elude him, his mind replaying every moment with relentless precision that only made his discomfort grow.
What was worse was that, despite the emotional and physical turmoil, the next day had dawned with all its usual demands.
After the charged, chaotic night, the world seemed to reset itself with an almost eerie precision. The station was abuzz with the usual frenetic energy: sirens blaring, radios crackling, and the steady stream of emergencies that demanded their attention.
Buck watched Eddie work with a growing sense of disillusionment.
Eddie was, as always, the epitome of professionalism during work hours. He had a knack for diving headfirst into the chaos, his actions precise, his demeanor calm. The firehouse thrived on the unspoken camaraderie of the team, and Buck found himself increasingly isolated by Eddie’s facade. They worked together seamlessly, covering each other’s backs, handling the demands of their job with practiced ease, but that was it.
As the day wore on, Buck found himself increasingly irritated by the routine, by the way Eddie was still the center of attention, the one everyone looked up to and admired, while Buck was relegated to the background, just another cog in the machine.
The shift ended, and as they walked out of the station, Buck hoped for some acknowledgment. Eddie offered nothing, slipping into his usual façade of cordial professionalism. He smiled, offered a casual farewell, and went home as if nothing had happened, leaving Buck standing in the stark contrast of the firehouse’s fading light.
He didn’t know what he had expected—maybe a simple apology, a clichéd line about not being interested, anything that might have explained the sudden silence. But there was nothing. Just the same Eddie, the same routine. It was a reminder of why he had sworn off one-night stands.
Yet, despite his apparent indifference, Eddie had this way of pulling Buck in, of making him yearn for more, even when Buck knew he shouldn’t. Eddie’s presence lingered in his mind, just like a candy, so sweet; a bittersweet addiction he couldn’t shake. It was a cruel irony—Eddie had turned out to be the very thing Buck had tried to avoid, and now he found himself trapped in a cycle.
Except, Eddie Diaz was a bastard with a penchant for breaking his rules when it suited him.
When Eddie wanted something, he went after it with a single-minded intensity that left Buck breathless and wanting more. Eddie had this way of making Buck beg, making him crave the things he promised he had left behind.
Even now, in the quiet of Abby’s apartment, Buck’s thoughts drifted back to Eddie’s touch, to the way he had made him feel. He remembered the sweet, rough promise Eddie had made, the way he had been such a sweet candy in the moment, giving him a kind of pleasure that was both intoxicating and maddening.
It burned his ego, the way he was willing to go to extremes just to have a taste of what Eddie offered. The same man who seemed so indifferent during the day, who returned to his life like nothing had changed, was the same man who had left Buck aching, wanting; the memory both a torment and a temptation, a cycle he couldn’t easily break.
Buck’s thoughts were still a tangled mess as he walked out of the fire station the next night, his footsteps echoing down the empty street. He was so lost in his own head that he barely noticed Eddie’s old truck pulling up beside him until the engine’s rumble cut through his reverie. Eddie leaned out the window, a smirk on his face that sent a shiver down Buck’s spine. The sight of Eddie, with his dark eyes glinting in the streetlight and his tousled hair just begging to be touched, made Buck’s stomach tighten with a familiar, frustrating mix of desire and anger.
“Hey,” Eddie called out, his tone casual but with an edge that made Buck’s pulse quicken. “Get in.”
Buck hesitated for a moment, the lingering discomfort from nights before warning his curiosity and his own simmering desire. Yet with a resigned sigh, he climbed into the passenger seat, the old leather creaking beneath him.
Buck, barely fitting into the cramped space of the truck’s cab, with his long legs and broad shoulders, found himself wedged in against Eddie’s side. The interior smelled of aged leather and a faint trace of musk, a scent that was now intermingling with the heat of their bodies. Eddie’s hand roamed over Buck’s thigh, his touch insistent and eager, sending jolts of electricity through Buck’s already heightened senses.
Eddie had been indifferent, almost dismissive, for days on end—his demeanor cool and detached as if he was completely unaffected by what had happened between them. But now, when he wanted, he became a force of nature, determined and relentless. Buck knew that the pull of Eddie’s desire was as intoxicating as it was impossible to resist.
He knew he should say something—anything—to put some distance between them. Eddie had been a complete dick to him, and not just in the literal sense, though there was certainly that. He had every right to complain, to demand some kind of explanation for the way Eddie had shut him out after what had happened between them. Yet, the words were tangling up in his throat, his thoughts running on a fast loop, colliding with each other before he could untangle them into something coherent.
“I mean, you know, you can't just—” Buck started, his voice a little too high-pitched, a little too desperate. He shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts. “You can’t just go from ignoring me like—like I’m nothing, to... to this.” He gestured vaguely between them, the tight space of the truck amplifying his frustration. “I’m not—God, Eddie, I’m not just here whenever you decide you want something.”
Eddie didn’t say anything at first, just looked at him with that intense, unreadable expression that always made Buck feel like his insides were turning to liquid. Buck’s words were coming out in a rush now, his thoughts tumbling over one another in their haste to be spoken. “I mean, what even is this? Do you think you can just—just sugarcoat everything and I’ll forget how you’ve been acting like a total asshole? Because, yeah, you have, and I deserve better than—”
“Buck,” Eddie interrupted, his voice low and steady, a stark contrast to Buck’s spiraling speech. The way he said Buck’s name was like a calming force, cutting through the noise in his head. Eddie’s hand slid higher up Buck’s thigh, his thumb brushing over the seam of Buck’s jeans, so close to where Buck was already starting to harden again despite his best efforts not to.
He could hear the hunger in Eddie’s voice, the desperation that mirrored his own. Eddie was good at this—at turning Buck’s resolve to mush, at making him forget why he was upset in the first place. It was addictive, the way Eddie could pull him in with just a look, just a touch, and Buck knew he was in deep trouble because he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“You’re a fucking bastard,” Buck muttered, more to himself than to Eddie, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned into the touch, the warmth of Eddie’s hand grounding him, steadying him in a way that nothing else could.
“Maybe,” Eddie admitted, his lips curving into a faint smile as he pressed a little closer, leaning in, his mouth brushing against Buck’s ear, his breath hot and ragged. “I want you, Buck.” and that was what it took for Buck to cave completely.
“Goddamn it,” Buck whispered, but the fight was already gone from his voice, replaced with a need that was just as urgent as Eddie’s. He knew he should push Eddie away, demand answers, demand something that made sense. His mind spinning as he tried to hold on to his frustration, tried to cling to the anger that had been simmering in him for days; but Eddie’s hands were already moving, tugging at Buck’s jeans, rough and insistent, pulling at his clothes with a kind of desperate impatience. Eddie’s fingers found their way to his zipper, yanking it down with a swift motion that made Buck’s breath hitch.
Buck’s breath was coming in short, shallow gasps now, his hips jerking forward into Eddie’s touch, his whole body trembling with the need for release. But just when he was on the brink, just when he was about to tumble over the edge, Eddie pulled back, his hand slipping away, leaving Buck panting and desperate.
“Eddie,” Buck groaned, his voice raw and broken, his frustration bubbling up again. “You can’t just—fuck, you don’t get to tease me like this.”
But Eddie was relentless, his touch light and teasing as he leaned in, his lips brushing against Buck’s ear. “You have to ask nicely,” Eddie whispered, his voice like silk, and Buck could feel the burn of frustration mixing with need, the two sensations intertwining until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
“Please,” Buck finally managed, the word slipping out before he could stop it, and he hated how weak he sounded, how much he needed this, needed Eddie. “Please, Eddie.”
Eddie's hand tightened with an unwavering grip and an unbearable heat, yet it was everything. His felt his pulse pounding in his throat, every beat echoing through in his ears as Eddie's fingers explored up his chest, brushing over his nipples with just enough pressure to make him gasp. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as rough, calloused fingers, circled and teased, driving him to the edge of his own sanity.
Then he felt his hands exploring the curve of his back, muscles tensing under his fingertips as he pressed harder, groping, kneading his ass, never quite gentle, never quite rough. The fabric of the car seat was starting to stick to his skin, the smell of leather mingling with the heady scent of Eddie's cologne.
His lips found Buck's again, the taste of them almost too sweet. Buck leaned into it, desperate for more, but Eddie didn't give him the satisfaction of control. There was no real softness, no reprieve—just the overwhelming pressure of Eddie's tongue, that had Buck's head spinning.
Every touch, every kiss, every breath was stolen, making his yearning to beg, to plead for Eddie to give him more, to take him further, but the words stuck in his throat, unable to form under the weight of Eddie's unyielding control. And still, Eddie said nothing—no praise, no reassurance, just the silence that echoed louder than any sound.
Eddie's hand finally drifted lower, down the length of Buck's body, his touch slower, more deliberate now. Buck shuddered as those fingers, now brushed over his stomach, skimming the edge of his waistband before slipping beneath, finding the hard length of him. The first touch was light, almost too light, and Buck bucked his hips, needing more, needing anything— yet, Eddie gave him nothing; moving with a languid pace, just enough to keep Buck on the edge, just enough to drive him out of his mind.
The air in the car was thick. Buck's ragged breathing being the only sound breaking the silence. It was too much and not enough all at once, and still, Eddie didn't let up, didn't relent, keeping Buck right where he wanted him-on the brink of hell.
Eddie's free hand drifted back up, tracing the line of Buck's chest again, his fingers brushing over one nipple, then the other, before traveling up to his neck, his thumb pressing around his throat. Even as Buck trembled under Eddie's touch, even as his body begged for release, Eddie gave him nothing else. No words, no praise, just the relentless, controlled caresses that kept Buck teetering on the edge, his mind and body completely at Eddie's mercy.
And then Eddie's hand tightened again, a final, deliberate stroke that had Buck's entire body locking up, a choked cry escaping his lips as he finally—finally—found the release he'd been desperate for. The world around him blurred, his vision going white as the pleasure hit him, overwhelming and all-consuming.
When it was over, Buck was left gasping, spent, his body tingling from head to toe, mind hazy and dazed. But Eddie didn't move, didn't say a word, his presence a solid, unyielding force beside him. The silence was deafening, the only sound in the car now the ragged breaths Buck struggled to catch.
Eddie's hand was still on him, firm and steady, but there was no comfort in the touch, no gentleness in the aftermath. Buck realised then that he hadn't been given anything more than exactly what Eddie wanted him to have. And even in his exhaustion, in the lingering tremors of pleasure, Buck couldn't help the intensity of what he felt; tears welling up in his eyes, a mixture of pleasure and frustration that he couldn’t control.
He had felt the high for a fleeting second, that blinding white rush of release, but then it all came crashing down—harder, faster than he was ready for. His body went limp, spent, but inside, something twisted. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, and he blinked them back, hoping they wouldn't spill, hoping Eddie wouldn't notice.
They hadn't talked about color warnings, hadn't discussed limits or boundaries at all. Maybe they should have, but Buck had thought he could handle it. He always thought he could handle it. Yet now, as he lay there in the stillness of the car, Eddie's hands still firm against his skin, it all started to unravel. Words failed him, lodged deep in his throat where they stayed, stubborn and unreachable. His body was here, but his mind was slipping—falling away into places he didn't want to go, but couldn't stop himself from sinking into.
Eddie’s touch stopped, and he looked at Buck with a mixture of concern and confusion. “Buck, hey,” he said softly.
Buck couldn’t answer, his sobs coming in ragged gasps. He felt the weight of Eddie’s concern, but it was overshadowed by the suffocating sense of worthlessness that was enveloping him. “I’m sorry,” he managed to choke out between sobs, his voice barely audible.
His breath hitched again, but this time it wasn't from pleasure—a hollow ache spreading in his chest, expanding, tightening, as his thoughts spiralled out of control. He felt like he was dropping, sinking deeper into his thoughts. This wasn't okay.
This wasn't grounding. This was something darker, something that made him feel unworthy, used, like a tool that had served its purpose and could now be discarded.
Eddie hadn't said anything. Hadn't even praised him. Why? Buck's mind latched onto that silence, warping it, twisting it into something far worse than it probably was.
Buck couldn’t talk, his sobs coming in ragged gasps. He felt the weight of Eddie’s concern, but it was overshadowed by the suffocating sense of worthlessness that was enveloping him. “I’m sorry,” was all he managed to choke out between sobs, his voice barely audible.
His thoughts began to scatter, racing in every direction, but they all seemed to circle back to one undeniable conclusion:
Deep down, he knew, he didn't matter.
His brain was betraying him, replaying every time he'd ever been left behind. Maddie. She'd left him as soon as he turned eighteen, didn't she?
She'd gone and started her own life, leaving him to fend for himself, leaving him alone.
And Abby, she left as well. The second things got real, the second he thought he could finally hold onto something good, she was gone.
People always left.
So why wouldn't Eddie? Why should Eddie stay when it was so clear that he didn't want to? If he had, he would've said something, acted differently maybe.
He would've reassured Buck, touched him in a way that told him this was more than just a physical release. But there was nothing—just the weight of Eddie's hand on his skin. Buck felt the fear build in his chest, a cold, gnawing dread that told him Eddie was already slipping away, already planning his exit. He was about to be left alone again, alone with his own self.
The sob came out before he could stop it, sharp and ugly, tearing through the silence.
Eddie's hands stilled. Buck squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the flood of thoughts that rushed at him, all those voices
—his parents' voices-telling him he wasn't enough. Never enough. You'll never be enough.
He'd failed them too, hadn't he?
Just like he'd failed everyone else. And here he was, failing again, even now, when all Eddie had asked of him was to behave and accept whatever he was willing to give.
He had tried to be good, to give Eddie what he wanted, yet it, no, he wasn't good enough.
Another sob shook his frame, his chest heaving as the tears he'd tried so hard to hold back began to fall freely. He felt like he was unraveling, like the very seams that held him together were fraying, tearing apart under the weight of it all. His body was nothing now, no longer hot, no longer feeling pleasure—just a vessel for all the pain that was pouring out of him.
Eddie must have noticed. Of course, he did.
His hands were gone now, pulled back as if Buck's breakdown had startled him, as if he didn't know what to do with someone falling apart in front of him like this. Buck's world faltered, everything coming to a crashing halt as the sobs took over, as the fear wrapped itself tighter and tighter around him, making it impossible to breathe.
He was startled when he felt those same fingers, wrapping around his body with such care; making him feel like cradled, sheltered from the storm raging inside him.
Buck’s chest still heaved with shallow breaths, his mind a scattered mess, but Eddie’s fingers were now grounding him with circular, slow movements, gently pulling him back from the edge. He focused on that same hand that was now stroking gently his back, up and down, slow and soothing, while the other wiped the tear streaked mess on his cheek with a tenderness that made Buck's heart ache.
For a brief moment, Buck let out a small, choked chuckle. It was ridiculous, really—how Eddie was taking care of him now, so methodical, so precise, just like he did on the job when he cared for his patients. Buck had seen Eddie work with his steady hands, his calm voice. Yet something about him in this moment was different.
Eddie didn’t caress his patients, didn’t hold them as if they were the most fragile thing in the world.
Buck was a mess—his wrinkled shirt sticking to his skin, stained with the remnants of come, his face wet with fresh tears that kept coming, pouring down like a relentless mid—August rain. He hated it. Hated how small and broken he felt.
Eddie didn’t seem to care. He wasn’t recoiling or pulling away. Instead, Eddie was staying right there with him, his voice low and steady as he began to guide Buck’s breathing.
“One deep breath in, Buck. Hold it for me… now let it out.” Eddie’s voice was soft yet firm, and Buck tried to follow, even though his breaths were still shaky, uneven. “Good, just like that. Let’s do it again. In… hold… and release.”
Eddie repeated the instructions like a mantra, over and over, and with each deep breath, Buck felt the chaos in his mind slowly start to quiet. His chest no longer felt like it was about to cave in. The storm inside him was still there, but it was calming, the waves of panic less sharp. Buck’s breaths were becoming more even, his racing thoughts softening under the weight of Eddie’s voice, which was somehow managing to press down the darker parts of his mind.
He let out another quiet laugh, one that caught in his throat, more of a breath than a sound. It was ridiculous, really. How Eddie could make him feel like a baby in his hands, helpless and raw.
But somehow, it worked. His breathing slowed, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away as Eddie continued his steady, patient care. He almost felt safe. Almost.
Then Eddie shifted, the squeak of the leather seat underneath them breaking through the fragile quiet. Buck froze for a second, a sudden spike of fear shooting through him. Is this it, the moment he’s going to push him away?
Eddie didn’t leave. Instead, he came closer. Buck could feel Eddie’s breath against his ear, warm and gentle as he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion.
“I’m so sorry, Buck. Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to—didn’t mean for it to be like this.” Eddie’s voice was rough with guilt, raw sincerity laced in every word. Buck turned his head just slightly, and when he caught sight of Eddie’s eyes, it was like seeing his own reflection in a mirror.
Eddie’s eyes were glossy, translucent, as if he was just one breath away from breaking down himself. The vulnerability there hit Buck like a wave, making his chest tighten for an entirely different reason.
Before Buck could say anything, Eddie leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his tear-streaked cheek, the warmth of his lips lingering there, gentle and apologetic. It wasn’t rushed or hurried, just a simple act of care, of grounding. And for the first time since the panic had set in, Buck felt a small, shaky sense of peace begin to bloom in his chest.
Eddie wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t pulling away. He was right there, as solid as ever, and Buck realised that maybe—just maybe—Eddie was going to stay.