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Steve had never been very good at patience. Firstborn child, born first of the year, first to line up for recess and first to fall in love, every time. So it shouldn’t have been surprising, the way he quickly made room for this new part of himself — for liking Eddie, this tornado of a guy whose strange ways stirred up all manner of feelings that Steve couldn’t begin to name. But he supposed it all seemed rather minor when held up to the laundry list of odd shit that had happened to him in the past two years. Of course he wrestled with it for a moment — being gay wasn’t exactly something he’d planned for himself — but then, neither were rescue missions, or upside down dimensions, or nightmares about things with rows of sharp teeth. Plus, Robin assured him, he could always like both.
Both, he thought. Both is good.
It was just that the actual…logistics of it didn’t quite compute. Steve had gone after people before to varying degrees of success, but the whole idea of going after a guy was…confusing, to say the least. It tied a sour knot in his stomach that had him feeling like a thirteen year old boy all over again, nervous and insecure and hoping desperately that Eddie would just read his mind and put him out of his misery. But Eddie was Eddie, for better or for worse, and things carried on like normal. On the days he was feeling particularly sorry for himself, Steve could half convince himself that there was some sort of karmic justice in all of it. But mostly, he just figured Robin was probably right: boys were stupid.
Surprisingly, it was Argyle who put the tiger on the table, there at the end.
They’d been lounging by Steve’s pool on a hot day in August when it happened. All of the kids were kicking up a fuss in the pool, chasing Jonathan around the perimeter and splashing water over the sides while the rest of them looked on from the deck chairs, perched in various states of repose; Nancy with her book and Robin chittering away with Eddie. If Steve closed his eyes now, he could still picture the way Eddie looked that day, his moon-pale skin stark against the faded navy of his swim trunks, the dusting of dark hair across his chest narrowing down to a wiry trail, and the cheerful pit of his dimples below the comically large frames of Robin’s sunglasses. His hair was up in a scrunchie from Robin’s wrist, too, showing off the lean, scarred slope of his shoulders as he strained to reach for the beer he’d been nursing.
Steve frowned, noticing the pink hue of his skin. “Eddie, dude, you need to reapply.”
”Nah, man, need to get a good burn out of the way before I can tan,” he argued, grinning over at Steve. “Doc finally said I can be outside, gotta make up for lost time.” He was right, Owens had only just given him the okay to show his scars to the sun, but that didn’t mean he had to be stupid about it.
Robin snorted. “That’s so not a thing.”
“Is too,” Eddie said, grinning when he jabbed her thigh with his toes and she let out a disgusted squawk. It was clear that neither of them were going to actually do anything about the very real sunburn starting to creep across Eddie’s skin, couple of yahoos. God, did Steve have to do everything around here?
“For fucks sake,” he grumbled, already reaching for the bottle of sunscreen nearby, motioning pointedly to the spot he opened between his legs when Eddie looked over. Grinning wolfishly, he hauled himself up from his chair and wandered closer, tilting his sunglasses comically so he could look over the rim.
“‘S this the kind of service I should get used to at Casa de Harrington?”
Steve wanted to smile, but he stifled it like he stifled the odd little flip his stomach did, motioning again for Eddie to sit down. Seated backwards in front of him, Steve began smoothing the sunscreen over his warmed skin, muttering “don’t be a baby” when Eddie hissed and flinched dramatically away from the cold sensation. And listen, Steve was only a man, so of course the little bit of touch was doing something for him, but he did his best to keep himself in line.
You’d do this for any of them, he told himself, because it was true. But as he watched his hands glide up and over Eddie’s freckles shoulders, fingers digging automatically into the knots he felt bundled beneath the surface, he also knew that doing this for someone else wouldn’t make his skin feel two sizes too small.
Beside them, Argyle — who had been, until that moment, all but dead to the world and high as a kite — lifted his head and blinked, a slow smile spreading across his face as he watched Steve dutifully scrub sunscreen up into Eddie’s hairline.
“Man,” he said in that loose way of his, “that’s real love right there.”
And of course, he hadn’t meant anything by it, but even as Eddie snorted and made some faux-swooning comment about knights in shining armor and the tragic plight of queers in a small town, Steve couldn’t help but turn the comment over in his head, the shape of it well-known and shiny where he’d touched it before as he stared at the dark ceiling of his bedroom, imagining Eddie next to him, warm and solid and real. He’d imagined a lot of things, there in the quiet of his bedroom, not all of them suitable for the broad light of day.
Steve watched the sunscreen melt on Eddie’s back and thought about the way he’d seen the line of his dick earlier when he’d emerged from the water with his trunks all stuck to his skin, his hair in tangled, dripping waves all around his shoulders. He’d felt like a creep for looking; felt even worse knowing he’d be using the image to rub off in the shower that night. The shallow dimples at the base of his spine held Steve’s thumbs perfectly when he worked his way down, and Steve couldn’t help but wonder if the guys who wrapped their lips around his dick ever touched him here; if they grabbed his ass while he fucked them; if they held his long hair in their fists to steer him closer. If they treated him like he deserved.
Shifting on the lounge chair, Steve swiped over the last stretch of skin and slapped Eddie lightly on the shoulder, excusing himself back to the house under the guise of getting another beer. Inside, he stuck his head inside the freezer and grumbled to himself until his dick finally caught his drift and gave up. He looked over at the sound of the back door sliding open.
“What’s wrong with you?” Robin asked as she shimmied through the crack she’d made, leaving the thing open behind her because she was a menace like that sometimes. She was going to let all the goddamn bugs in.
“Nothing,” he grumbled at her, abandoning the freezer to yank the back door closed. Unphased, she eyed him suspiciously as she filled her glass at the sink.
“Uh huh,” she said flatly. “Get lost looking for a popsicle or something?”
Steve palmed his forehead, still thinking about Eddie and his stupid cow eyes and his stupid freckles and —
“Look, it’s not —“ he started, massaging his temples. He supposed he and Robin were past the point of pleasantries — had been since she puked in his lap that one time they’d given each other the stomach flu. Never mind the Russian torture chamber. Right. He could do this. He could phone a friend for help. “I got a fucking…” He waved his hand loosely, lowering his voice, “hard on, or whatever.”
Immediately, Robin nearly choked on her water, spilling all down the front of herself so that she was left standing there with her hands up, eyes wide.
“Gross, that is so gross,” she declared, face pinching, and Steve rolled his eyes.
“You asked!”
“Sunscreen really do it for ya there, bud?” she sneered, popping her hip against the counter.
“Alright, not loving the judgement here,” Steve chided, crossing his arms even though he knew Robin would clock it for what it was. Ever since she’d taken that AP psych credit senior year, she’d been obsessed with things like body language and nonverbal cues, much to Steve’s chagrin.
“How am I supposed to react?” she argued, and like — he supposed that was fair. He wasn’t exactly graceful when it came to these things.
“Fine, okay, you’re right” he placated, nodding briefly before he raked his hair back with his hands. “But like…you’ve seen him, right?” Robin’s face screwed up. “Right, yeah. Lesbian.”
“What happened to luring him in?” she asked, and Steve sighed, rubbing at a spot on the floor with his toe.
“I mean, I’m trying, but…either I am way shittier at this than I thought, or he’s just not interested.”
“Steve,” Robin scolded, lowering her eyebrows at him disapprovingly. “He’s interested. Trust me.”
“Well, I don’t know what else to do!” Steve said, hands splaying, exasperated. He’d all but laid out the red fucking carpet for Eddie to strut down straight into his arms. But here he was, hiding a boner in his kitchen while Eddie sat half-clothed on his patio not twenty feet away.
“I mean, have you — wait, why am I giving you boy advice?” She shook her head, clearing the thought away before refocusing, her hand held out like what she was about to say might spook him. “Steve, with all the love in my heart, you’re a slut.”
“Okay — rude?” he said, frowning as he crossed his arms again (defensive — fuck, he needed to work on that).
“No, listen,” she went on, pausing to down the rest of her water. “You’re a slut. And it’s awesome, okay? I wish I had half your confidence. I don’t think you need to reinvent the wheel, you know?”
Steve narrowed his eyes at her. “What wheel?”
“The — it doesn’t matter. Point is, Eddie is just a person. And you’re hot, probably. If you’re into chest hair and Aquanet.”
“Farrah Fawcett,” he corrected easily, but she waved him off, plowing on.
“Whatever. What I’m saying is, just go for it. Give him an eyeful. Make it obvious.”
“Obvious,” Steve repeated, chewing the word as he nodded thoughtfully. “I mean yeah, can’t hurt.”
“Can’t hurt,” Robin agreed, striding forward to take him by the shoulders, her blue-eyed gaze locked meaningfully on his face. “You’ve got this, stud. Now, if you don’t mind, I never want to hear about your boners again.”
He had to laugh at that, mostly because he knew as well as she did that something like this would happen again, and she would be hearing about it immediately. It felt good to laugh, and once he’d shaken himself off and gotten his head on straight again, he made a plan.
A plan involving a quiet night in and a very, very small pair of shorts.
Had he known what it would get him, he would have pulled them out earlier, because fuck — Eddie was a goddamn dream, all flushed frowns and apologies and a sex drive that made Steve feel lightheaded. And if that wasn’t enough, he leaked like a fucking faucet, which was maybe the hottest thing Steve had ever seen in his short life. So he could be forgiven for the way he dove in without any preamble, because he wasn’t exactly thinking with his brain anymore. And though he’d never touched another dick before (see: once at summer camp, but that didn’t count), he’d thought to himself: how different could it be?
Except it was different, because Eddie was uncut, and so sensitive, and thick as a beer bottle, making Steve’s jaw ache a little as Eddie fucked helplessly forward and dripped down his throat. And he came a lot. Having only ever managed a palmful himself, he hadn’t thought it possible to coat his fist and tongue the way Eddie did, the strong, steady pulse of it so plentiful that it probably would have puffed up Steve’s cheeks if he took it all in his mouth. Limp as a ragdoll, Eddie came again in the shower, Steve soft with a tender curiosity as he watched his cock surrender more come, glowing from the inside to see the way Eddie’s eyes went glassy, his body boneless and easy against Steve’s under the hot spray, a fucking wet dream in shades of pale, scarred skin.
Fuck but if Steve wasn’t addicted from the start, nursing the high each time Eddie got that shy, needful look on his face that he thought no one clocked, his body always eager for one more kiss, one more touch, one more climax wrung from trembling bones. It was exhilarating, being needed so often. Steve had only ever wanted to do a good job. And with Eddie, caught up as he was in keeping that faded fog over his warm brown eyes, it was easy to forget all the other bullshit. There was no performing, here in the charged air between them, only crushing, sweet pleasure and whatever felt good to get them there.
He was, put simply, himself. And wasn’t that something?
💋💋💋
It had been over a month since that evening on the couch, when the county fair came to town, a small bright spot amidst the deluge of gloom since the world had nearly ended, the town still healing but craving the normalcy of fried food and overpriced beer in plastic cups. Weeds up through the concrete, or whatever it was that Nancy said. It was easy, getting everyone on board for the outing. It was the getting there part that proved difficult, what with how many of them there were.
Eddie’s van was a piece of shit, but it fit them all if they squeezed, though the ride to the fairgrounds was nearly intolerable with the way everyone was sweating all over each other in the late summer heat, Dustin a tiny radiator squished to Steve’s side while Nancy sat pretty in the passenger seat. But with the way Eddie kept sneaking cheeky glances back at him in the rear view, it was almost worth it. Almost.
They hadn’t yet nailed down what this thing between them was, but Steve couldn’t help but feel it had the flavor of forever, Eddie’s nondescript band tee soft against his skin, clean from the laundry and taken casually from his closet that morning when they rose with the sun after a night of giggling and fooling around and kissing with the lights on. In the rear view, Steve watched Eddie’s lips curl around the lyrics to whatever song was screeching over the radio, drowned out by voices and laughter. He watched as Eddie’s gaze snagged on his, and when he smiled, Steve felt it lodge behind his ribs.
He was going to get attached if he wasn’t careful, and —
Eddie laughed at something Nancy said, and Steve’s face cracked into an automatic grin: a reflex to share his joy.
Fuck, he was a goner, wasn’t he?
The place was crawling by the time they parked and piled out of the van, the younger kids darting off nearly instantly with the promise to watch for each other. No one gets left alone: their one rule since Vecna. The rest of them hung back while Argyle and Jon shared a pre-roll, Eddie’s lips wrapped around his own, a reward for driving. The sun was just starting to sink in the sky by the time they wandered past the entrance, Eddie working through a severe case of the giggles as he swerved and staggered next to Robin, never able to walk in a straight line even before the head trauma. He was a wet dream in a blank tank top and cut-off shorts, his tattoos mottled with scars that Steve felt proud to see on display. He’d waited so long to be here in broad daylight with the people who loved him, his new entourage a veritable pack of guard dogs despite his freshly-cleared name. Personally, Steve wanted to blacken every scornful eye that turned toward him, even now; he wanted to scream at every judgemental expression and watch it melt to guilt. But Eddie didn’t need that, and neither did The Party, so Steve hosted arguments in his head and sharpened his gaze to daggers, daring Ronda with the bad dye job to make good on that stank eye.
It was good, seeing Eddie out and about, though it made things complicated vis-à-vis the constant touch they’d grown used to sharing in the privacy of the trailer. Because while it felt as natural as breathing for Steve to reach for him now, awareness only dawning on him when Robin’s eyes caught his and flicked down to where they were joined, the good people of Hawkins still only barely tolerated Eddie as a presence. Steve could only imagine the witch-hunt if it came out he was a gay would-be-serial-killer. Still, as the evening stretched on, Steve found it impossible not to sway into his space just to watch Eddie squirm a little. It felt good, watching Eddie want him. Fucking sue him.
He was attempting to best Nancy’s skills at the shoot-the-clown-with-the-water-gun tent when Eddie finally made good on all the loaded glances he’d been casting Steve all evening, his arm snaking around Steve’s waist as he pressed up against him from behind. He smelled like weed and summer and something indescribable but quintessentially Eddie, the effect of it instant and electrifying and just a little bit dangerous.
“Care for some shooting lessons?” came a low, teasing voice, and Steve watched as the employee manning the booth — a towheaded boy who couldn’t have been much older than the kids — eyed them warrily. Something ugly wrapped itself tightly around Steve’s gut, and he cleared his throat, shifting himself out of Eddie’s hold as he drew a familiar plastic smile to his face, the sound of his laughter like dry, brittle paper. Unnatural and false.
“As if you could out-shoot me, man, c’mon,” he chastised, going for friendly. “You’re just trying to mess me up.” Shame coiled like a snake in the pit of his stomach when he turned just in time to watch Eddie slink away, posture unreadable. Steve pointed another stream at the clown, missed entirely, swore under his breath, and abandoned the gun to go after Eddie. After what felt like an eternity, he located him by another striped tent down the way, his narrow hips canted to one side as he watched Max chuck colored rings onto the necks of milk bottles.
It was easy enough to drag him away, Eddie going easily once he saw who had grabbed his wrist. In the safety of the stretching shade behind another tent, Steve surged in to kiss him, Eddie releasing a squeak of surprise before he melted into the onslaught, his stubbled chin burning a hole into Steve’s own as he crushed their lips together again and again.
“Steve, wh-“ Eddie gasped when finally Steve came up for air, Eddie’s forehead damp against his with summer sweat and wrinkled with confusion.
“You’re driving me fucking crazy right now,” Steve said in a rush, feeling half out of his mind, wishing he could just lay Eddie down in the dirt and work him over like he wanted to.
“Bad crazy?” Eddie asked, eyes apprehensive where they were nearly crossed to look at him, and Steve shook his head, barking out a breathy laugh before he drew Eddie in for another kiss, slower this time. Taking Eddie’s hand in his, he guided it down to the front of his jeans, showing him the growing firmness there, Eddie’s fingers curling instinctively to cradle him.
“What do you think?”
Eddie smiled at that, and Steve felt the relief of it like rainwater, kissing him again just because he could, because they were safe in their hiding spot, the weight of his jaw cradled in Steve’s hands.
“Come over after we drop the kids off?” he asked, and Eddie nodded, his hands warm when they came to rest on Steve’s wrists, keeping himself caught. God, but he was sweet when he wanted to be. The weed probably helped. Steve wished he could swallow him down like syrup; wanted Eddie to live inside where Steve could keep him safe and sated. “Good. Right now, I need you to behave, yeah? Can you do that for me?”
Blinking slowly with hazy red eyes, Eddie hummed, leaning sleepily into the motion of Steve’s thumbs rhythmically rubbing his cheeks. It would have been so easy to slip one past his lips. He’d seen Eddie do it before, cheeks hollowed and tongue undulating as he suckled diligently on whatever digit he was given, lost to pleasure and unthinking after coming a couple times. Steve wet his lips and kissed him instead, unable to keep his tongue to himself. It belonged behind Eddie’s teeth, anyway.
“Gonna start getting mixed messages here, Stevie,” Eddie told him, grinning slow and wide and easy, always so fucking soft when he was good and high.
“Be good for, like, half an hour, and then we’ll go home,” Steve promised, more to himself, letting Eddie sway into an embrace despite the immediate sheen of sweat it brought them both. Hands wandering, Steve couldn’t help but to push his fingertips past the waistband of Eddie’s shorts, groaning pathetically to find nothing underneath. The little shit.
“Jesus Christ,” he lamented, sinking his teeth briefly into Eddie’s sun-warmed shoulder, “gonna fucking ruin you.”
“Promise?” Eddie quipped back, cheeky as all get out. Steve’s exact brand of strange. He smacked Eddie’s ass once, then again after Eddie groaned weakly and went theatrically limp against him, Steve relishing the thought of how loose he might get if he kept going. He’d heard about things like that before. Girls who got all mellow when a guy got a little rough. Might’ve just been locker room talk, as so many things were. Still, the thought was there kicking up a fuss at the back of Steve’s mind. Eddie made him feel crazy like that.
“Be good,” Steve told him, rolling his eyes not a moment later when Eddie pulled back to give him a bleary grin. “Or else,” he added, sealing the half-assed threat with a kiss.
“What if I like ‘or else’?” Eddie goaded, angling for another kiss, but Steve only palmed his face and squirmed away, laughing as he avoided Eddie’s grasping hands.
💋💋💋
There was something poetic and mind-bendingly hot about seeing Eddie stretched out below him on his childhood bed, the two of them going at it like animals, Eddie’s flushed face mashed into the stupid blue checkered bedding, messing up the perfect creases the maid put there on Monday. His mom would be horrified — if she cared at all — but Steve couldn’t help but feel that Eddie belonged here, more than anyone the mattress had held before. More than all the girls and fake friends he’d hosted through the years. Eddie looked right; looked real, clawing at the bedspread as he breathed hot and heavy against the fabric, punching out a tight gasp every time Steve’s hips slammed against his ass. He was gorgeous like this, he was —
“So fucking tight,” Steve groaned, lost in the feeling. “Oh my god, you’re so fucking tight.” Beneath them, Eddie’s cock was drooling in what seemed to be an endless stream, leaving a sticky puddle on the bed so distinct it almost looked like he was pissing himself. Steve was slowly short-circuiting above him, grasping his skinny hips to drag Eddie down on his latex-covered cock, the tight-hot slide of his hole so obscene and easy that he wondered if Eddie could take more; if Steve could slip a few fingers inside and deepen the stretch. He felt lightheaded imagining it, finding, as he thumbed at their joining and sank deep inside, that he was hurtling quickly to the edge of pleasure.
“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come,” he swore, forcing himself to a stop, grinding out a string of obscenities as he willed himself to last, wanting to stretch this out; wanting Eddie stuffed full and floaty for as long as possible — or, as was looking like the case, wanting him at least to be the first to come. Reaching around him, he fumbled for Eddie’s cock, tugging soundly at the dripping length of him while he muttered encouragement, Eddie’s noises pushed nasally and high. “That’s it, baby, come for me. Come on, sweetheart.”
Twitching and stuttering below him, Eddie panted, going deadly silent and then loud again, whatever wail had been building up in his throat muffled unfortunately by the mattress as he buried his face into the bedding and tipped over the edge. It would never stop being a wonder, just how much he came, leaving thick ropes all over the bed and on Steve’s hand, warm and milky and gorgeous. Eddie’s body was near boneless as Steve wrangled him up from the bed, crushing him back against his chest so he could bring that filthy hand to his lips, Eddie’s jaw dropping open with a sultry moan as his tongue lolled out to take the wet fingers Steve offered him.
“Good fucking boy,” Steve praised, grinding where he was still buried deep, tight little circles of his hips that had Eddie groaning low in his throat, his mouth otherwise occupied, checks hollowed beautifully, always so responsive. God, Steve was going to fucking die if he couldn’t have this forever: Eddie had already ruined him for anyone else.
“So good,” he purred, nuzzling into the bend of Eddie’s neck, leaving his fingers for Eddie to suckle on, his wrist held solidly in Eddie’s frantic grip. Steve was quickly coming undone, driven to madness by this boy in his arms, his body fully succumbing to the riptide of this thing between them. And he was babbling now, too, dripping words he’d never thought to use, not in a million years. “Look how fucking good you take my cock, baby, just need to be fucked full, don’t you? Need something in this greedy hole. Gonna give you what you need, sweetheart. Get you all stretched out.”
Around the girth of his fingers, Eddie let out a garbled whimper of a sound, slumping back against Steve’s chest. Carefully, Steve encouraged him back to the bed below, spreading his ass to watch the way his cock nestled deep inside, Eddie’s keening interrupted only by hiccuping breath and the occasional swear, his hole ruddy and puffy, and — and Jesus Christ, sex had never felt like this for Steve. Like biting a peach and letting the juice run down his chin: careless and undone, eyes fluttering from the sweetness, body sticky, nearly sore. Eddie had already come once, but Steve knew he could again. He’d seen him do it, had watched with open awe as he writhed and shook and stoked Steve’s ego until he burned with it, the power placed in his hands like whiskey in his veins. God.
Unburdened by the performance of it, Steve snapped his hips harder, tilting his head back to groan aloud, his balls nearly bruising with the force at which they smacked Eddie’s ass. Fuck, he was so close, nearly breathless as he walked the tightrope toward an orgasm that felt like it might lay him flat. Splaying his hand between Eddie’s shoulder blades, he urged him into a deeper arch, holding him there until he caught a stray sliver of Eddie’s face from behind his mess of sweat-damp curls, the pinch of his brow a little too tight. Panic hit Steve like a cold shock, and he stilled slowly, abruptly aware. Eddie’s breath trembled as he exhaled.
“Woah, hey, you okay?” Steve asked, excavating his face from behind his hair. Eddie nodded, but Steve frowned. “Eddie. C’mon.”
Carefully, he eased himself out, sitting back on his heels as Eddie dropped to his side and scrubbed at his face. A moment passed — what felt like eternity.
“What’s wrong?” Steve asked, scared to death he’d pushed too far. He was always moving too fast. Should’ve learned his lesson by now.
“Just feels…fuck, god, it just feels good,” Eddie said with some difficulty, looking through his fingers at anything but at Steve.
“And that’s a…problem?”
“No, like,” Eddie began before grunting his frustration. “God, it’s so hard to explain. I’m being stupid. Sorry.”
Steve touched his hip, nerves numbed by the mix of fading arousal and present fear. Finally, Eddie looked at him, eyes flickering down to Steve’s hand before he took it in his own.
He bit his lip, brow furrowed. “It’s weird, I just…I don’t know, sometimes when we keep going — like after I’ve…y’know. I get this feeling in the pit of my stomach. Like I’m going to fucking…explode or something. Like I’ll…like it too much? And I don’t want to be weird, y’know? Like, I’m sure the girls you’ve fucked aren’t…like this.” Steve hummed thoughtfully, feeling the burden of fear easing to know they were the same in this way, too. Maybe, actually, they were the right kind of fucked up to fit.
“Well, yeah,” he said gravely, “there was a significant lack of dick with them.”
Groaning, Eddie shoved his face into the bed again, but Steve could see the edge of his smile. He grinned, shaking off his nerves, and freed himself deftly from the condom, crawling on his hands and knees until he could flop down beside Eddie to gaze at him.
“Okay, what are we worried about here?” he asked pointedly. “That you’ll like sex too much? Because that sounds like a nonissue to me. Pretty fucking flattering, actually.”
Eddie resettled to look at him, face still flushed from fucking. God, he was so cute. Not in the way Steve’s girlfriends had been, with their manicured nails and bubblegum lips. No, Eddie was cute in his own special Eddie way, from the deep curve of his Cupid’s bow to the creases beneath his deep brown eyes to the stubble that darkened his upper lip. Steve reached out to pluck a frizzy curl up off his cheek, pulling it under Eddie’s nose like a mustache. Eddie snorted and batted him away.
“I’m serious, man,” he insisted, though he laughed as he said it. “What if I…I don’t know, like — sound weird, or something? Instant boner-killer.”
“Eddie, come on,” Steve admonished, raking the remainder of Eddie’s hair off his neck. “First of all, you clearly have little faith in my boners. Second of all, it’s just me, dude. And — look, I’m sorry if this comes out weird, but like — it’s fucking hot when you get all…moon-eyed and loud, or whatever. It…does something to me. Maybe that makes me a bad person, I don’t know.”
“Such a fucking charmer,” Eddie grumbled, curling further behind the cover of his freckled shoulder. “Always know just what to say, don’t you? Thought prom kings were supposed to be airheads.” Steve smiled again and tucked in closer to kiss his shoulder, nosing into his space to get at his lips, Eddie surrendering to it with a sigh.
“You gonna let me finish fucking you?” Steve breathed against his mouth, feeling the curl of Eddie’s lips against his own.
“I mean, I guess,” he said, feigning disinterest, always ready to meet Steve tit for tat. Steve kissed him again, already so in love he ached with it. With some manhandling and no shortage of giggling, he got Eddie on his back so he could crawl up his chest, sitting down on his collarbones to angle his softening dick down past those plush, pretty lips, Eddie’s pink tongue rolling softly behind his smile.
“There you go,” Steve praised, rocking forward, balls resting against Eddie’s chin. “Get it wet, baby. Get it hard.”
Eddie’s eyes sparkled up at him, mischievous and shiny as Steve leaned forward and found the back of his throat. He sputtered, taking greedy gulps of air when Steve finally let up. Pushing a thumb quickly past his lips, Steve stroked over his tongue, collecting his throat-thickened spit to bring to his own mouth, Eddie laughing deliriously to see him do so.
“Jesus Christ, Steve,” he said, disbelieving, kneading Steve’s ass as he gazed up at him with wide eyes. Fuck, but he was pretty like this, all wet mouth and quick smiles, his hair touseled and fanned over the pillow Steve had slept on his whole life.
Steve grinned, slow and lazy and oh so warm. “Yeah?”
Eddie nodded, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he offered, “Yeah.” He looked down to where Steve’s dick was quickly stiffening, the tip ruddy and ready for attention, and pushed at Steve’s ass, impatient. “Now give me that back.”
Steve laughed, more than ready to give him everything, and thrust in deep.
💋💋💋
Eddie’s hair smelled like a forest, Steve had decided, especially here at the base of his skull where the soft pine of his shampoo met the earth of his skin. Plastered to his back, Steve fucked him slow, luxuriating in being able to touch every precious inch of him: his chest, his hips, and the ridges of scars so like Steve’s own. He traced them lightly with his fingertips, finding a violent kind of intimacy in knowing how it felt for Eddie to be touched like this, Steve’s own scars sort of numb and tight now that they’d healed. He wondered how Eddie had felt, back when those red stretches of skin had been raw and sensitive, Steve’s hands careful as he coated the ones Eddie couldn’t reach in ointment. It had felt a simple thing back then, had felt like the thing to do — like helping Eddie shower, or brushing out his hair — but now, Steve couldn’t help but agonize over all the sweet sounds he could’ve been bringing to Eddie’s lips for months had he only known.
He was hot all over with the idea of making up for lost time, diligently seeking out all those little spots that made Eddie sound like he was having trouble holding back, humming high and reedy in his throat like whatever Steve was doing with his hands was just a little bit too much. And there was a fucked up sort of thrill in that; in knowing that he was the reason Eddie sounded so wrecked; in seeing him like this, beyond words; in making him feel good in the way he deserved.
“That’s it,” Steve purred, enraptured, pressing his lips to a twist of scar tissue on Eddie’s neck. Fingers drifting lower, he took a moment to card through the wiry thatch of curls at the base of Eddie’s cock, damp now from being leaked on for so long. He was bowled over briefly by the vivid image of sticking his face there, getting his cheeks and chin wet while his tongue collected what it could. Knocked out of focus, he didn’t realize he’d slowed his hips until Eddie whined — a high, cracking thing — and jammed his ass backward, trying and mostly failing to fuck himself. God, he was perfect. Steve would love him forever if Eddie let him.
“Sorry, I know,” he murmured, grasping Eddie’s cock in apology, feeling the way it kicked as Eddie choked on a gasp and arched his back, pushing Steve deeper inside. A groan bubbled up from his throat to feel his own want mirrored in the frantic bow of Eddie’s body. He was still new at this — at knowing how to touch another guy in practice rather than in theory — but there was something natural about the way his body took over now, his core squeezing tight to deliver the kind of diligent rhythm Eddie needed to create the sort of sounds Steve had thought only existed in pornos — wet and lewd and punctuated by staccato little whimpers that made Steve’s head thick and sweet. Eddie’s cock was heavy and hot in Steve’s hand, blurting fat beads of precome on every other upstroke, the head purple and shiny when Steve craned his neck to look down the scarred length of Eddie’s body.
His other arm was mostly useless, trapped beneath Eddie’s neck and on its way to numb, but he used it now the way he could, drawing it across Eddie’s shoulders to pin their bodies closer, wishing madly that he could use the force to climb into Eddie’s skin; to wear and share his pleasure. He wanted — god, he wanted.
“Eddie, fuck,” he got out between heaving breaths, his whole body one big cramp waiting to happen, the quickening trickle of heat to his groin driving him delirious. They used to talk about supernovas in science class — explosions right before the end of things — which was what this was, he realized, past the frantic pulse of his hips and Eddie’s uninterrupted mewl. Steve wasn’t going to last long, and, judging by the indecisive flex of Eddie’s hips — first into Steve’s grip and then away with a strangled sound — neither was he.
Gripping firmly, he pumped Eddie’s cock with renewed purpose, the slick sound of it accelerating, wishing he could make this part last forever but locked in a sort of mad pursuit to get Eddie loud. He wanted to hear it, all of it. Wanted to hold Eddie as he fell apart into sound and softness.
“Talk to me, baby,” he urged through gritted teeth, snapping his hips in a rough, pounding pattern.
“St — I can’t, fuck — I —“ he tried, choking on the vowel when Steve slid in deep and canted his hips, searching for that spot they’d once spent the better part of a Sunday playing with, Eddie’s bedding damn near unsalvageable after they were through, his pale body flushed and trembling on the soiled sheets. Even then, Steve had wanted to push him, because being with Eddie had gotten his wires crossed, somehow, so that a little bit of cruelty felt like anything but.
“Let it out, or I’m stopping,” Steve warned, trying to tamp down his desperation and failing miserably, his whole heart jumping up his throat so that sound had to squeeze around it. “Let me hear you. Please, baby — hah — need it. Fuck, I need it.”
He couldn’t be sure if it was what he said or the way his arm curled around Eddie’s throat as he said it, but within a moment, Eddie was sobbing out a sound that made Steve feel like a villain, and twice as evil for the way it hooked straight into his heart and tugged. Suddenly, they’d pushed right past the halfway point and into the final sprint, Eddie’s body a live wire against Steve’s as he chanted obscenities, something like fffffuckfuckfuck mixed with the garbled syllables of Steve’s name. Moved by some sort of demon inside him, Steve crammed a hand over his throat, hearing and feeling the way it forced those sinful sounds higher, the vibration of it all like flash lightning under his skin. And then he was coming, too quickly and with a force that stole his breath, his body seizing like a great fist around the knot of pleasure unspooling between his hips. Somewhere beyond the ringing of Steve’s ears, Eddie was crying loud enough for the fucking neighbors to hear, and the little jolt of pride that brought made Steve’s hips jerk, nestling him even deeper where everything was hot and wet and full. Ears ringing, Steve grunted back into clear-headedness, realizing that he was being kissed, Eddie’s wet mouth moving hungrily across his cheek, mumbling something between a prayer and a plea as he rocked gently into their joining.
Steve palmed his cheek and held him there, kissing what he could of his soft mouth, his other hand once again quickening on Eddie’s slick cock, knowing he had mere moments before his own dick softened and the abating tingle of his orgasm turned sharp. At this angle, with Eddie’s neck crammed to the side, their bodies one mangled line on the mattress, Steve saw the exact moment Eddie hit his peak, watching rapturously as his face crumbled into torturous bliss, his body going stiff and deadly still before the tension gave way and he began to shake, hips rolling into the clamp of Steve’s fist as those warm brown eyes found their way to the back of his head. It should’ve been embarrassing, the way Steve couldn’t help but erupt into fractured groans of sympathy to see him come undone, but maybe they were past all that now. And for once, Steve couldn’t find it in him to care about anything else other than right here, right now, his brain soggy and saturated with the sight of all that come getting all over the clean linens, Eddie warm and loud — still loud, still coming; trembling like a leaf in his arms, the path of his dark eyes like a padlock when they focused in on Steve’s face, clamping down on what Steve ached to have forever.
Gently, he wrung Eddie through the last of it, discarding the condom to the same nowhere pit their clothes had landed so he could drag Eddie close again, tingling from head to toe with something warm. Love, maybe, or something more.
“God — fuck,” Eddie swore, still twitching intermittently in his arms. Steve could hear the click of his throat as he swallowed, their breath a slowing tangle of raspy sound in the otherwise silent house. It was peaceful, in a strange sort of way; in a there’s nothing more to say that my body hasn’t already said kind of way. But there was one thing still hanging on Steve’s tongue, now more insistent than ever. He felt it slip down his throat as he swallowed and pressed his nose to Eddie’s skull, warming him impossibly from the inside.
“Have I told you I love you yet?” he asked, any hesitancy he’d felt crowding his head brushed away when Eddie twisted in his arms to face him, eyes guarded and deep, Steve’s own tender fear mirror back at him. All that love lying in wait. How had Steve not seen?
Eddie’s lips quirked up at the side. “I think I’d remember that.”
“Well, can I?” Steve asked, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it from Eddie. Needing to know that he wouldn’t fall alone. That this time, it would be different.
“Can’t take it back if you do, you know,” Eddie mused quietly, biting back the same kind of smile Steve felt spreading across his own face. “I’m fragile now. You break it, you buy it, hot shot.”
Steve hummed thoughtfully, pushing his expression to one of somber agreement, getting mostly teeth when he abandoned the charade to steal a kiss, Eddie already starting to snicker fondly. One kiss turned into two, and somewhere on their way to the third, the thing between them went syrupy, crawling sticky and sweet through Steve’s bones as he felt Eddie’s mouth soften against his, the hum Eddie sighed his way into buzzing on Steve’s lips. They parted with a slow, wet sound to gaze at one another, Steve’s soiled hand already crawling into the narrow space between their bodies to curl around Eddie’s spent cock. He wasn’t exactly hard anymore, but when Steve swiped over the tacky tip, Eddie sucked in a breath and bit his lip, eyelids fluttering prettily as he fumbled to grab at Steve’s arm. So, Steve knew he was headed in the right direction, and that direction was whatever meant more.
“Again?” he asked, pressing his sticky forehead to Eddie’s so that when Eddie nodded, both their heads moved.
“Yeah,” he breathed, high and tight. “Again.”
Steve grinned, the cat who got the cream, and did his best to show Eddie just how much he meant it when he said, “I love you.”