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“You like that?”
Buck’s voice is low and raspy, his breath hot like a branding iron as it washes over the shell of Eddie’s ear. Almost as hot as the rest of his body where it’s glued to his—chest to his back, thighs to thighs, triceps to biceps, cock deep, deep inside of his ass—not an inch of space in between them.
They’re so close, he’s not even really thrusting anymore—just grinding; it just feels as if they can’t possibly stand to be apart for a single second. Eddie can’t stand it.
It’s only the second time they’re doing it like this—they haven’t even cracked the double digits on how many times they’ve had sex at all—but all of the other times have been face to face, limbs tightly wrapped around each other, breathing into each other’s mouths—the first two or four times with tears escaping their eyes. It’s just all so much. Having this. Finally.
“You like that?” Buck repeats again, somehow grinding even deeper now; Eddie makes a pathetic noise somewhere deep in his throat; it’s all he can manage. It’s just… he feels so full—so… stuck—but it’s not a bad feeling. Not at all. “Yeah, you do,” Buck continues, and Eddie feels another pathetic whine in his throat as Buck’s teeth close around the lobe of his ear—tugging. “Cock buried deep in this, uh…” he trails off to groan. “…in this perfect ass. Fuck, Eddie.”
That’s new, too—the dirty talk. Somewhat, at least. The first handful of times, they had just been so busy—busy feeling, busy telling each other how much they love each other, how happy they are—and that feeling hasn’t gone anywhere, of course it hasn’t—it never will. It’s just… Buck is slowly but surely getting more comfortable experimenting with the things he says, and Eddie… oh, God, with each and every word that leaves his throat, Eddie thinks he takes another year off of his life. One he’ll happily give him.
“Always take it so good, baby,” he moans, and Eddie makes another noise—along with a huffed ‘Uh… uh-huh,’ that he thinks takes all of his strength to somehow get out as he nods, dragging his cheek up and down over the pillow already stained with his own saliva. “God, I… fuck,” Buck curses, squeezing his hands tighter above their heads, all twenty of their fingers tightly locked together. “Come, uh—come up a little, let me fuck you harder,” he grunts, then—and Eddie makes another thick, needy sound in his throat, following Buck’s direction as easy as breathing, getting up onto his knees just a little bit—Buck’s chest remaining pressed against his back even as he starts to thrust just a little bit more in earnest, their bodies thudding, the sound dull, but filthy in the black of their bedroom.
The new angle has another pathetic noise welling up in Eddie’s throat—and he just… lets it. The house is empty. It’s just him and Buck. Who cares? It doesn’t matter. They’re safe. He’s safe.
“This—fuck, Eddie, this ass bouncing against me, you’re so tight, you feel so good, I’m so… fuck, I’m so lucky,” he grunts, lips still brushing the shell of his ear; Eddie makes a noise in return, squeezing his hands. “I’m so fucking lucky, baby.”
“No,” the hoarse groan escapes Eddie’s throat before he can stop it.
If they didn’t know each other as well as they do—Buck would stop; he would freeze, would ask for clarification, would make sure he’s not hurting Eddie. Eddie knows he would—but that’s not what happens. They do know each other—oftentimes even better than they know themselves—and as such, Buck merely grinds deeper, a louder, rough groan of pleasure poured straight into Eddie’s ear.
“No?” he grunts. “Not, uh, not what you’re looking for right now, huh?” he asks, teeth scratching over the shell of his ear as Eddie nods, smearing more of his own saliva over his cheek. “Fuck, baby—just, uh—just getting louder the longer I keep you right here,” he moans, back to grinding now—Eddie’s thighs shaking slightly under their combined weight—but he stays right where he is, the head of his dripping, leaking cock brushing against the mattress like beautiful torture. Until Buck, he didn’t even know he could drip—leak, yes—but not drip. “You love this,” he grunts. “Listen to you—look at you—fuck, baby—melting under it,” he rasps, and Eddie nods—short, desperate jerks of his head. Yes. That. More. “Yeah—fuck—you like this,” he hisses through his teeth as he continues grinding—harder now, but still grinding—as if he’s barely managing to keep himself in check. Eddie knows the feeling. “You love it—cock buried deep in this perfect ass—face down, ass up, whining for it—shit, Eddie.”
The words hit Eddie somewhere deep in his chest—thick, and stubborn the same as a heaving sob; all he thinks he manages is another series of quick nods, and a ‘Mm… mhm.’
“Like you’re…” Buck pants. “Like you’re made for it.”
This is already a lot deeper than they have ever gone with the dirty talk before tonight—but Eddie can’t help it; he needs more—so he nods again. A lot, maybe—he’s not sure.
“Fuck, yeah, baby—shit, Eddie. Whine, uh… whine on that cock for me.”
Is he whining? Probably. There’s a vibration in his throat now that doesn’t seem to stop—that must be it; he can’t stop it—can barely hear it over the sound of his own blood rushing into his ears, and the rumbling sound of Buck’s groans pouring straight into his ear.
“I’m, uh… I’m fucking big, too,” Buck grunts next—and if Eddie were less cock-drunk, perhaps he would make a comment about him being conceited—but he doesn’t. Especially not because, at the current moment, it doesn’t even sound or feel as if that’s what Buck is getting at. The comment isn’t about Buck—it’s about him. “You, uh—don’t even blink. Ass so big, so tight—so, uh—so fucking hungry for cock, huh?”
More nodding—it might even be non-stop at this point, he’s not sure; he just needs more.
“Yeah, you like this—you love this,” Buck pants. “Drooling, and uh—and whining—huge cock deep in your ass, a big, uh—a big, buff man holding you down, making you—“
“—yes,” Eddie interrupts before he’s even had enough time to consciously process any of the words—it’s just… it’s all he can do—to nod, to repeat that word over and over again. “Yes—yeah, yeah.”
“Oh, that’s it,” Buck concludes, triumphant—raspy, breathy, and fucked out—but triumphant, nonetheless.
“Uh-huh,” Eddie nods.
“That’s, uh—that’s two-hundred-and-thirty pounds last time I checked,” he says. “Nine inches,” he bites on the next grind. “You feel that, huh? All man, baby.”
Eddie thinks he makes another noise; something curls deep in his stomach—it’s not an orgasm, not yet—it’s something else. Something familiar, but… whatever it is, he can’t quite place it.
“Might, uh—might have to patch this wall up, you feel that?” Buck asks, next. Eddie is too out of it to figure out what exactly he’s talking about—maybe the drywall is snowing down onto them—it probably is; he doesn’t care right now—can’t care. “This, uh—this place wasn’t made for two…” he trails off on the next grind, Eddie’s breath catching when he feels an open-mouthed, filthy kiss placed to the tender, sweaty skin right behind his ear. “…big…” Another one, just a bit below it, teeth scraping now, just enough to have a shiver run down the length of Eddie’s spine. “…strong…” Another one. “…sweaty men…” Another one. “…fucking each other raw,” he finishes with another bite to his earlobe. Eddie thinks he’s shaking now—all of him, not just his thighs.
“Guess, uh…” Eddie manages—somehow; it’s raspy, and unsteady, but it’s there. “…guess I don’t seem the type,” he grunts—and he’s not even sure what he means, himself—not sure where he’s trying to steer them.
“Guess you don’t,” Buck picks up without a beat, squeezing his hands even tighter; at this rate, they might end up with bruises around their knuckles. They should be so lucky. “But you are,” he pants, then.
Shame.
That’s what that feeling is—that tension behind Eddie’s ribs—it’s shame.
It should feel bad—it should throw off the mood. It should soften Eddie’s dick immediately.
It doesn’t.
“What, uh…” he gasps. “…what am I?” he asks, somehow finding the strength to get his thighs to stop shaking enough that he’s able to push back against the thick, throbbing cock stretching him open. The one he should have let himself sit on seven years ago. The one he’ll worship for the rest of his life. The one attached to the most beautiful man he’s ever met in his entire life—the most beautiful man he’s ever going to meet in his entire life. “Huh?”
“What, uh… what are you?” Buck grunts into his ear, hips growing more desperate now, as Eddie pushes back against him—chasing.
“Mhm,” Eddie nods, squeezing his hands. “Tell me, Buck—tell me.”
Say it, he begs, silently. I think I need to hear it. I don’t know why I need to hear it, but God fucking help me, I do.
“Uh…” Buck sounds, clearly momentarily distracted by the way Eddie clenches around him. “A slut?” he pants, teeth scratching down the side of his neck—it feels more born out of exhaustion and desperation than deliberate teasing, but that doesn’t make it any less hot; Eddie feels another zap of heat make its way down the length of his spine.
“Uh-uh,” he manages with a shake of his head. That’s a good one—but it’s not what he needs right now.
“Whore?” he asks, next, and Eddie shakes his head again. “Uh—fuck, I…” he pants, practically drooling all over Eddie’s ear and neck. “…cumdump?”
“Buck,” Eddie pants, his hips momentarily coming to a stop—because now Buck is just guessing anything and everything to stay away from that one.
Somehow managing to open his eyes, Eddie looks back over his shoulder, giving one of Buck’s hands a squeeze before slipping their fingers apart, instead reaching back to sink a hand into his sweat-soaked curls, their eyes meeting through the moonlit bedroom.
“I’m face down, ass up, begging for…” he tries; he wishes that he could trail off—but if he does, if he can’t even say the word cock, there’s no way Buck is going to fulfill his wish. “…for cock,” he finishes. “What’s that make me, huh?”
“Eddie…” Buck breathes, his face softening, eyes filling with sadness.
“No,” Eddie immediately shakes his head, squeezing his muscles around his cock—along with his hand, his other one massaging soothing patterns into Buck’s scalp. “No, not like that—Buck, I… can’t really give you a psychoanalysis right now, but… ‘s not to make me feel bad about myself,” he explains. “The opposite, I think.”
“Yeah?” Buck breathes, some of the heat slipping back into his gaze, as they both start to shift once again, grinding into each other—as if there’s any possible way for them to get even closer.
You don’t have to say it, Eddie thinks. Not if it makes you uncomfortable. It’s nothing he voices, though—nothing he needs to voice; Buck knows. Buck always knows.
Their eyes remain on each other’s, open mouths trading breaths as Buck starts to grind in earnest once again—those deep, hard slams of his hips that feel all the more intense because he doesn’t actually pull out.
“Buck,” Eddie gasps—only half-aware of the way in which Buck maneuvers them, slipping their linked hands down from the pillow, instead slipping their arms under Eddie’s throat; then he finds Eddie’s other hand in his own hair, braiding those fingers together as well, before wrapping those arms around Eddie’s waist.
Tight.
Stuck.
Safe.
All the while, each and every grind of his hips has the former one feeling pathetic in comparison.
“Oh, shit—Buck, oh, shit,” Eddie can just barely hear himself babble, whining—probably drooling. Something is resting on his temple—he thinks it’s Buck’s forehead, but he’s not sure; all he can focus on is the deep, rough feeling of Buck’s cock practically stabbing his spinal-cord. It’s not only pleasure—there’s a lot of that—but it’s pain, too—it’s not completely comfortable, but that just makes it so much better; it feels like his insides are being churned—but he likes it, it feels like being at the very top of a monstrous rollercoaster, waiting for it to drop. Scary—but safe. Good. So fucking good.
“Shit, you’re so loud,” Buck rasps. “Don’t stop,” he begs, then—as he somehow manages to grind even harder. For a moment, Eddie feels like he might throw up—it’s possible, if he recalls correctly; something about the vagus nerve and abdominal pressure—but right now, he doesn’t care. It would be worth it. “Let ‘em, uh…” Buck pants, mouth open and hot—wet where it rests upon the corner of Eddie’s own, drooling mouth. “…let ‘em hear the fags next door, huh?”
“Yes,” Eddie hisses before Buck has even fully managed to get the last syllable out—he can’t help it; doesn’t want to help it.
“Yeah?” Buck breathes; clearly that first one was a test—a softer version, just to see—and Eddie appreciates it, he loves this man so fucking much, but—
“Yes,” he confirms again. “Yeah, Buck—that’s it—more,” he nods. “Please.”
“God, baby—keep whining just like that. Fuck, I’m—I’m getting close,” Buck groans, Eddie aware of the breathless heaving of his chest where it remains pressed to his back. “I think, uh… I think a real fag would beg—“
“—please,” Eddie hisses through his teeth; he doesn’t even feel like himself anymore—or maybe he’s never felt more like himself in his entire life—he’s not sure. All he knows is that he feels as if he’s on fire, and the shame is right there, in his gut—but it’s so faded, it’s so faint—that’s why he couldn’t interpret it at first. It’s never been this quiet. All Eddie knows is that he’s getting railed by the most beautiful man in the world, with the most beautiful cock, and he’s saying the filthiest things to him—and his shame is… well, he can barely even feel it anymore.
Eddie is… free.
“Please, Buck—I want… I want it.”
“You want what?” Buck rasps, his voice throwing more tense, fingers and arms squeezing Eddie so tight he can barely breathe. Good. More.
“I want—want you to come, Buck, I want…” he gasps. “I need you to come in me, need to feel it, I—“
“—gonna, uh—gonna milk me for every drop?” Buck grunts. “Like a good fag?”
“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. “Yeah, Buck—come on—give it to me.”
Once again, Buck moves so quickly that Eddie doesn’t get a say in it—not that he wants one; the arms around their waists are shifted up to wrap around Eddie’s throat as well—most of the pressure is on his shoulders and collarbones—but with four, strong, buff forearms, his throat takes some of it as well—just enough for him to choke on the words wanting to claw their way up.
“I’m gonna give it to you,” Buck assures him through a grunt, shifting behind him; for a moment, Eddie thinks he’s about to get up more to start thrusting in earnest—but that’s not what happens; instead, Eddie is left to take each and every ounce of his weight. Buck collapses on top of him, and Eddie melts—happily, whining as his sensitive cock ends up trapped under their combined weight. “Eyes rolling to the back of your head,” Buck says through a rough, throaty moan as he tightens his arms—their arms—practically forcing Eddie’s head back, Buck’s hot breath once again washing over his ear as he grinds his cock even deeper and deeper. “So good at this—so good, such a pretty fag, Eddie, I—“
Eddie is fairly sure that Buck keeps talking after that—but he can’t hear him; he’s also fairly sure that there are sounds leaving his own throat—loud ones, echoing around the room, leaving his vocal cords raw and scratchy—but he can’t really hear that, either.
All he knows is that his vision goes black—or maybe it explodes with color, or static—one of them, all of them; he thinks he’s shaking, trembling—writhing.
Eddie has had some intense orgasms in his life, especially over the past couple of weeks—but nothing like this; he feels like he’s passing out, or maybe he’s never been more present in his body in his entire life.
Maybe he’s being possessed, maybe he’s receiving an exorcism—maybe he’s being baptized.
There’s no way for him to know how long it lasts—it feels like he’s floating; like he’s drowning—like he’s breathing for the very first time in his entire life.
And with him—is Buck; always. Of course he is. Buck is right there—holding him tighter, whispering things into his ear he can’t quite make out—and Buck is there, right along with him, his cock twitching inside of him, throbbing, filling him up with a warmth that seems to travel all the way from the base of his spine, tingling at the top of his scalp, and down to his toes.
“Oh, shit,” Eddie gasps when he feels himself slowly start to come back—his brain still carrying a faint sensation of being toyed with like a wad of chewing up—like that one time in high school when he got too high and threw up.
That was bad, though—this isn’t bad; this is the most transcendent experience he’s ever had; limbs loose and heavy—useless as he melts into the bed—just as useless as Buck feels on top of him, crushing him—both of them equally as heavy and limp—soaked in sweat.
“You, uh…” Buck eventually breathes. “You okay?”
“Think I almost passed out,” Eddie confesses—and if he had any chance of using his limbs, any strength left in his body, he would squeeze his hand. “I’m okay, Buck,” he adds, then—because if he doesn’t, he knows that Buck will get all in his head about it. “Better than okay. Didn’t, uh…” he pants. “Man, I… didn’t know it was possible to come that hard.”
“Me, uh…” Breath. “Me neither.”
“So…” Buck says later—a lot later, probably closer to morning than midnight; it took them a long time before they managed to pull themselves up and out of bed for a quick clean-up. Now he’s slipping back into bed—a clean sheet haphazardly thrown over the dirty ones—they’ll do better once they wake up. “…should we talk about it?”
“It sounds like you want us to talk about it,” Eddie says with an arch of his eyebrow, as he reaches over and tucks the covers in on Buck’s side of the bed, enveloping them both before he inches himself closer, resting his temple in the palm of his hand, elbow propped up on the stack of pillows in between them.
Buck gives him a look, and Eddie exhales softly, slipping a leg in between both of his, shifting his calf up and down once—a simple caress.
“I don’t know,” he shrugs, answering the question Buck hasn’t yet voiced. “I don’t know, I’ve never thought about it before—don’t know if I’ll ever want it again, but… in the middle of everything, I just…” he sighs, bringing his free hand up to cup the side of Buck’s face—Buck quick to wrap a warm, comforting hand around his wrist, keeping him there, thumb caressing the back of his hand. “I’ve always been sure of us—but even when we started up, I think I had some things to… work through—probably still do,” he adds with a sharp exhale.
“And that’s—that’s okay, Eddie—I… I’ll help you with anything, you know that, I just… I wanna know if something is you know, if it’s a… punishment, or—“
“—it’s not,” Eddie is quick to reassure him—as he feels a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “It’s not, it wasn’t, that’s the thing, I… I think I‘ve had some… shame, you know—just lingering, but tonight, I just… I couldn’t feel it—not the way I usually do.”
“So it was a test,” Buck concludes, softly—eyes warm with understanding.
“Hm. Maybe. Probably—but…” Eddie hums, leaning in until he can feel Buck’s warm breath washing over his own mouth, their noses brushing. “…think I also just kinda liked it.”
“Oh, yeah?” Buck asks, eyes practically glowing, despite how close they are.
“Mhm,” Eddie nods, dragging their lips together. “You okay with that?”
“Absolutely,” Buck grins, as they laugh into the kiss.