Work Text:
The locker room at the station is empty except for the low hum of the fluorescent lights. Eddie’s boots hit the floor with a dull thud as he strides over to his locker. He knows today is going to be long day. Because it's Buck's day off.
The thought grates at him like sandpaper, a dull ache in his chest that doesn’t seem to go away. He knows he's being dramatic but he’d gotten used to Buck’s chattering presence at his side. The comfort that he feels in his chest when their eyes meet across the station. The way Buck’s smile somehow makes everything feel just a little lighter. But not today. Today, Eddie’s been alone, and it’s a different kind of exhausting.
It starts to sink in more the moment he opens the locker and sees the torn jacket from a previous call. It’s a small thing—just a tear in the fabric from when he’d had to crawl through debris to reach a trapped civilian—but it still grates at his nerves, fiery angry simmering beneath his chest.
“Damn it,” Eddie mutters under his breath, grabbing the jacket and glaring at the frayed edges of the rip. He should’ve had it replaced by now. There should be a spare in the back, but of course, there isn’t. A stupid detail that now feels like the universe piling on top of him. His jaw tightens, eyes narrowing.
Without thinking, he slams the locker door shut, the metal ringing out with an angry clang.
“Easy there, Eddie,” Chimney’s voice calls from behind him, laced with concern but also a touch of wariness. Eddie doesn’t even look at him as he stalks to his gear, practically shaking with irritation.
Hen steps into the room, raising an eyebrow at the scene unfolding. She exchanges a quick look with Chimney, both of them already sensing Eddie’s mood.
“You okay?” Chimney asks, taking a careful step toward him, voice light but cautious.
Eddie grunts, a sound of frustration more than agreement. He’s not in the mood for talking, at all.
“Yeah,” Eddie mutters, focusing on tugging on his gear, trying to keep the heat from bubbling over. He doesn’t want to deal with anyone right now, least of all Chimney and Hen, who can clearly see something’s off. But they don’t say anything else. He silently thanks god.
The alarm rings, loud and jarring, cutting through the tension in the room. Eddie’s body goes on autopilot as he grabs his helmet, snapping it into place. He doesn’t even think as he follows the team out the door, his body still coiled tight with anger.
The call is a mess—a car accident on the freeway, overturned vehicles, multiple injured. It’s chaotic, as always. Eddie’s just trying to get through it, focusing on the task at hand, not letting his emotions interfere. But when Chimney does something Eddie had advised against—something that could’ve compromised the safety of a victim—his anger flares up again, raw and immediate.
“What the hell, Chim?” Eddie snaps, his voice low but sharp as they’re finishing up. “I told you not to move him that way. It was too dangerous!”
“I did what I thought was best in the moment, Eddie. You weren’t in the same position I was—”Chimney, who’s normally calm and collected, looks back at Eddie, irritation flashing in his eyes.
“I don’t care!” Eddie cuts him off, his voice rising now. “That’s exactly what’s wrong. You didn't follow the procedure, and people could get hurt. This is important, Chimney, not just some game!”
Hen steps between them, hands raised, but her voice sharp, "Eddie, calm down—”
“Back off” Eddie spits out, spinning away. His frustration is spilling over, too much to contain. He feels like he’s suffocating, like he can’t keep everything in anymore.
“What he did was incredibly stupid—”
Bobby appears, his presence a grounding force. “Eddie, that’s enough,” he says, firm but calm.
“We’re all on the same team here. Let’s talk about it when we’re back at the station. Okay?”
Eddie looks at Bobby, then at Chimney, then at Hen. His breath jagged, palms in tight painful fists, he wants to throw things around.
Buck flashes in his mind—a fleeting thought, like a lighthouse on a stormy sea. His boyfriend’s face, warm and steady, his touch calming in a way Eddie can’t explain.
But then, with a frustrated growl, Eddie slams his fist into the nearest metal surface, the sound echoing through the space like the explosion of his own emotions.
***
Now, as Eddie drives home, the anger of everything still presses down on him. The night air is cool, but it doesn’t help. He feels hot all over. His knuckles grip the wheel, the muscles in his forearms taut. His thoughts are a storm—Buck, the call, Chimney’s mistake, his own anger, all tangled together in a way he can’t seem to separate. He exhales a long breath, but it doesn't help.
The car hums beneath him as he speeds through the dimming streets, the air around him an oppressive blanket.
He pulls into the driveway of his house, tires screeching against the pavement. The car stops with a soft jerk, but Eddie doesn’t move immediately. He stares through the windshield, the flashing red of the brake lights offering no comfort. He tries (and fails) to calm down.
With a sigh, he steps out of the car and heads up to his door, the first thing he hears is humming, obviously coming from the kitchen. The source being his boyfriend. Irritation blares in his chest as he forcefully tugs his jacket off and slams it onto the couch.
Buck sounds carefree. The icy rage that’s been simmering just beneath the surface, coiling in his veins with every turn of the wheel, solidifies further. It’s like a switch flips inside him, the warmth of Buck’s voice only fueling the cold burn of anger in Eddie’s chest.
The tension tightens in his throat, making it harder to breathe, as if the world is conspiring against him in this moment. Everything he’s been holding in—every frustration from the shift, every bitter thought, every little thing that’s chipped away at him all day—rises up, sharp and heavy.
He walks over to the kitchen, the humming gets louder, as he peers inside he's graced with the view of Buck at the counter, his back turned, fulling focused on the task at hand—making dinner. His hands move with a swift elegance that he's developed over time. Eddie wants to ruin it. He strides over to his unaware boyfriend, places his hands firmly on Buck's hips, yanks him backwards.
"What—Eddie? what the hell?" Buck complains as his hands slip off the bowl and onto the counter for balance. Eddie buries his face in Buck's neck inhaling his scent.
“Remember that I love you, okay?” he whispers his lips grazing against Buck's ear as his hands roam the large expanse of Buck's chest, covered by the apron. He presses his hips into Buck's ass, shoving him into the kitchen counter earning a yelp.
“Because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t." Buck shivers. Eddie wastes no time at all, his hands that were previously gripping Buck's hips move upwards to the front, he grips the fabric of Buck's shirt, and in one swift, brutal motion, he pulls.
The material tears with a sharp, jagged sound, the buttons flying off in every direction, bouncing off the floor and scattering across the room. It splits clean down the middle.
"Fuck—I liked that-" Buck starts, but Eddie is gripping his hair from the back and jerking his head to the side, easily connecting their lips in a brutal, filthy kiss. He invades Buck's mouth with his tongue swallowing all of his protests, turning them into moans. As if on autopilot Buck is moving his ass backwards pushing it into Eddie's hips, feeling Eddie's thick hard cock grind against him.
Eddie disconnects their lips, hand manoeuvring Buck's mouth to rest slightly at an angle to Eddie's and he spits into it. Buck obediently, enthusiastically takes whats given to him. His lips swollen, pink and so wet. Before he can even register it, Eddie is tugging Buck's sweatpants down with just one hand.
The sight is obscene. Buck completely naked save for the apron that Eddie refused to remove, pressed into the counter, his dick standing painfully red against his abdomen. Eddie fully clothed, looking like this was barely affecting him.
"Eddie—Whats-"
"Shut. up." Eddie says, tightening his grip on Buck's curls, moving his head so that they're looking into each-others eyes, "Did I say you could talk?"
Buck shakes his head, eyes wide rimming with tears as he's so unbelievably turned on that it's painful. Eddie smiles.
"Good boy" Buck preens at the praise, "You going to take what I give you?" Eddie leans back, his tone casual but laced with a smug confidence, as if everything he says is the final word on the matter.
"Yes-yes" Buck breathes out just as Eddie drops to him to his knees with a quick, deliberate motion, the sound of the lithe fabric of the apron brushing against the ground sharp in the quiet air.
Buck is looking up at him, lashes fluttering prettily, lips glistening with spit as he takes his cock in his fist.
Blue eyes meet opal and he holds his gaze, staring as he spits into his hand. Eddie doesn't even need to tell him what to do, he already knows. He wraps his hand around the base of his cock, fingers trailing seductively up his length. Buck wraps his lips around the head of his cock first, suckling lightly until Eddie’s hand is in his hair, pushing him down further on his length. Buck goes willingly. He relaxes his tongue, his jaw, and takes him until there’s nothing left to fit.
His throat closes around his dick relentlessly, tight muscles constricting around it. It has Eddie letting out a string of curses as he tips his head back.
He moans around his cock and sends vibrations through his entire body.
“fuck,” Eddie rasps, “fuck you’re amazing, sweetheart"
Buck preens at the praise and pulls his head back until nothing but the tip is in his mouth. He licks the weeping slit fluttering his lashes at Eddie.
Buck palms the backs of his thighs and urges him to thrust his hips forward, silently begging for his throat to be fucked. He whines, and Eddie loses it.
“If you wanted it so bad,” he growls, “All you had to do was ask.”
He slams his hips forward and ruthlessly shoves his cock down his throat. Buck gurgles, taken by surprise, but he’s quick to recover and relax his jaw. He breathes hard through his nose; Eddie is huge and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t having a hard time breathing.
He finds a way to manage by pacing his breaths, inhaling when Eddie pulls out and exhaling when he pushes in. They find a steady, lewd pace that way.
But then Eddie gets impatient, and suddenly the hand in his hair is no longer for guidance, it’s to shove his head down onto his cock without remorse. His fingers tighten their grip around white strands and he fucks his hips forward while forcing Buck down on his cock. He yanks Buck down with such force that his eyes roll to the back of his head. And then suddenly Buck is being pulled upwards to stand.
Eddie's hands slide down from Buck's hair to his chest then his stomach and finally reach his ass, now free, they move with purpose, spreading each of his cheeks with practiced finesse. He grips Buck's hips, fingers digging into flesh, hard enough to bruise. He presses one, then two kisses to Buck's hips, expertly bypassing Buck's leaking cock, he settles over the inside of his thigh and bites. Buck hisses.
"Marks" Buck starts pathetically his voice still cracked from his mouth being fucked, barely loud enough for Eddie to hear, "Someone could see-" The hands on his thighs tighten as Eddie lowers his teeth onto Buck's thigh again, the look in his eyes turning dark.
"And exactly who—would see you here, but me?" Eddie asks, the calm in his voice downright menacing. He doesn't allow Buck to reply, instead he's jerking the larger man to the side, turning him around in a flash. As if Buck weighs nothing.
"Spit" Eddie commands, guiding his hand to Buck's face, but instead of letting Buck comply, he shoves two fingers into Buck's mouth, the younger man has no choice but to suck.
"Look at you," Eddie praises, "I don't even have to tell you what to do" Buck shudders. He wants-needs to touch Eddie, so he brings his own hand to the back of Eddie's neck, the curve of his arm displaying his large biceps in a delicious way, he is a sight to behold.
"Kiss me, kiss me" He begs immediately once Eddie has rid his mouth of fingers, slamming their lips together, while Eddie's fingers have reached his hole, he digs inside without any warning, Buck whimpers into the kiss, with just spit as lube, the initial burn is harsh. But he's still loose from last night, so it's not that bad.
Not wanting Eddie to do all the work Buck pushes his ass backwards, his hand- the one thats not in Eddie's hair, pressed firmly on the counter for support. His dick wedged between the cold counter and his stomach. Each thrust sends a jolt of pain, pleasure and simple electricity through his entire body, making his cock leak.
"Yeah—yeah, thats it, fuck yourself on my fingers" Eddie’s hand settles at the base of Buck’s neck, his fingers firm but not crushing. The pressure is light, just enough to send a quiet, unmistakable message—control, dominance.
It’s a subtle assertion, the weight of his touch like an anchor, grounding Buck in the moment. He can feel the warmth of Eddie’s palm. It’s not enough to hurt, not enough to restrict, but it’s unmistakable.
Buck tenses for a second as Eddie's fingers find his prostate, the sensation a jolt through his nerves, before he relaxes into it. Pushing back like a good boy. Eddie’s presence is calm and steady behind him, the pressure almost comforting in its familiarity, as if to say, I’m here. You’re safe.
"You look cock drunk" Eddie remarks, his tone edging on mean, "You haven't even had my cock yet"
"Then fuck me" Buck spits out, in an instant the hand on his neck tightens, Eddie sneers, "I'll fuck you, when I want to"
At once, Eddie's fingers have left Buck's hole and the hand on Buck's neck is being used to shove Buck's entire torso onto the counter. His face hitting the cold marble with a jerk. Both of Buck's hands now have a vice grip on the edges, holding on for dear life.
"Do you even deserve my cock?" Eddie says, smirking against Buck's face as he brings his entire weight onto Buck's back so that they're flushes against each other. He uses one hand to undo his belt and lower his trousers, his fully clothed body a stark contrast to Buck's naked form. He places his other hand on the nape of Buck's neck.
"I do—I-I deserve it, Eddie, I've been good" Buck begs desperately, alarmed at the thought of being left like this.
"Hmm- maybe I should just-" Eddie slides his dick, hovering over the cleft of Buck's cheeks, "Get myself off like this"
"No! No—please, please Eddie give me your dick, please" Eddie chuckles, he moves slightly, evidently walking away.
"No!" Buck yanks him back in place extending his arm back, Eddie has the audacity to chuckle again.
"I was just going to get lube" Eddie explains, Buck huffs as he grinds his ass backwards against Eddie's hard cock.
"You said—" Buck starts breathlessly, "You said you'd fuck me like you don't love me"
"Yeah? Is that what you want, slut?"
"Yes—fuck me" The notion of getting lube completely abandoned, Eddie lines himself up and slams into Buck truly as if he hates him. The sheer force of his thrust has Buck thinking—the counter is going to break, give way beneath Buck's hands and they'll fall to the ground—the kitchen counter, lined with cement.
Eddie pushs in and out, each motion rough and fast, anger fueling every thrust.
There's no hesitation, no softness-just a relentless force as he drives in deeper, then pulls back with equal aggression. The rhythm is jagged, erratic, as frustration builds with each harsh movement. A litany of "Eddie" "Harder" "Faster" echoes against the kitchen walls, the only other sounds being Buck slammed against the counter with each brutal thrust and both of their jagged breathing.
He slams in again, the motion urgent, desperate, as if he's trying to release all that tension, that rage, onto and into Buck.
"Take it, take it like—like you were made for it" Eddie grits out between thrusts.
"Please—s-so good, baby, keep going, don't stop" Buck begs desperately. He feels a wave of surrender, his body heavy yet light, as if he's floating.
Each touch, each movement, consumes him in a haze of pleasure and disorientation. There’s no resistance, only the intoxicating pull of being completely taken. Every push, every pull, wraps him deeper into the feeling, his senses dulling, then sharpening with each new wave of pleasure.
He's lost in it—used, yet completely in tune with it, as if he craves the surrender, the abandon. It’s as though the more he's controlled, the more he loses himself to it, and the more he craves it.
"I'm—" Buck whimpers out, "I'm close, I'm so-"
"Yeah?" Eddie breathes out as he brings his hand to Buck's neglected cock and squeezes, the moan Buck lets out in response is downright sinful.
Buck’s legs burn with a fiery ache, his body drenched in sweat, muscles screaming with fatigue, but he keeps pushing backwards. Trying to desperately find release as Eddie pumps his dick while ruthlessly abusing his hole.
The finish line is close, but so is the edge of exhaustion, Buck's body fees like on the verge of collapse. Still, there’s a high—an electrifying rush of endorphins flooding buck’s system, lifting Buck beyond the pain-pleasure.
As he reaches his climax, Buck’s body is trembling, the physical strain threatening to send Buck into a spasm, because Eddie is fucking him through his orgasm, he can’t help but smile, feeling a strange relief in the chaos. It’s a sweet, euphoric madness—the world blurs around Buck, and all that matters is the sheer joy of knowing Eddie is still inside him.
"Keep going, come inside me—inside please" Buck requests as his head hangs low, eyes half-closed, the overwhelming fatigue starting to sink in. "Use—use me"
"Fuck" Eddie flatters for a second before lowering down and capturing Buck's lips in another bruising kiss, he bites down onto Buck's lower one. The overstimulation from Eddie still thrusting inside him leave a slight tremble in Buck’s arms as they rest on the counter, the strain from the workout still coursing through every fiber. A wave of dizziness hits, but Buck just closes his eyes for a moment, relishing the cool surface beneath him, as his body moves with Eddie's will feeling both completely spent and oddly euphoric, the endorphins still buzzing.
"Letting me use you" He says between thrusts as his rhythm falters, becoming frantic, as the pressure builds. "Like my own cum dumpster"
"Yes yes—gimme your cum" Buck whines at the comment, barely any strength left in him as each thrust grows more erratic, faster, almost uncontrollable, as if his body can't keep up with the rush of sensation. The intensity surges, his pace quickening, until everything blurs into a single, overwhelming wave. And Eddie comes inside his boyfriend. Fatigue takes over as he slumps onto Buck, licking his sweaty nape, pressing kisses onto Buck's shoulder.
Buck stirs, blinking as the first light of morning pours through the blinds, casting long golden slats across the room. His body aches, every muscle protesting as he shifts. The sunlight, warm and soft, settles like a blanket over him, but it’s not near enough to ease the soreness from yesterday’s activities. His limbs feel heavy, a dull, persistent throb pulsing in his ass and legs, reminders of everything he’s been put through. Purple and pink bite marks littered across his neck and chest.
His mind is still thick with sleep, but there are flashes—disjointed, like fragments of a dream. Eddie’s face, close and gentle, his hands warm as they guided Buck to the bed. The feel of a towel, Eddie’s careful touch as he wiped him down, his own body too tired to do it himself. There was water, cool and refreshing, pressed to his lips. Eddie’s lips, a soft kiss to his forehead, tender and familiar. A whisper of an "I love you"
Buck tries to piece it all together, but the memories slip away, like sand through his fingers. What he does remember is Eddie—his steady presence, his quiet voice, and the way they both decided there was no strength left for a shower. Just the need to be close. Eddie had crawled in beside him, no words necessary, just the comfort of being near each other as they drifted off into a peaceful, exhausted sleep.
Buck’s eyes close again, the sunlight on his skin a little too bright, a little too warm. But in that moment, he feels it—the quiet reassurance that he’s not alone. Eddie’s still there, in the space beside him, and that thought settles him, even as his body protests with each slow movement. The soreness is sharp, and he knows—without thinking—that he wouldn’t trade this for anything.