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The first time happens, Eddie isn’t even really aware of it. They’ve been sharing the bed (Buck’s because it didn’t make sense to move Eddie’s in when Buck’s was already there, so Eddie’s is in storage) for about a week. Buck gets out of bed quickly, frantic even, and it’s enough to pull Eddie out of his sleep, a little confused. Buck is grabbing clothes from the dresser when he startles, noticing Eddie is awake.
“What’re you doin’?” Eddie slurs out, voice groggy.
“Nothing. Go back to sleep,” Buck whispers, harsh and terse.
“Mm. Why’re you changing?”
“I’m not. Sleep,” Buck says, a blatant lie before he slips into the bathroom.
For a moment Eddie wonders if Buck pissed the bed, but that wouldn’t make sense. He dozes off again, and only remembers it later the next day. It hits him randomly when he’s lounging on the sofa after work, Buck finishing up dinner. Why would a man suddenly get up in the night to change? Ah. Buck had a wet dream.
Look, it’s kind of funny, right? Eddie isn’t sure the last time he had one of those. He even thinks about teasing Buck about it, but from what he remembers from his half asleep state, Buck had seemed pretty mortified, so he lets it go. No use making fun of the guy for something he can’t control. There’s another feeling, something weird in his gut that he can’t quite put a finger on. Something about the fact that his best friend literally came in his briefs just inches from Eddie… you know what? He’s gonna let that one go too.
The next time it happens is a few days later, though this time, Eddie wakes up before the act is done. That is, he wakes up to the feeling of movement, a shifting beside him, the mattress moving beneath the weight of Buck. Eddie is facing the other way, but he rolls over slowly, careful not to disturb Buck. His first thought is that Buck is having a bad dream, and that he’ll wake him. It’s clear immediately that this is not the case.
Buck has moved enough that the blanket is bunched up beside him, leaving him exposed in just his sweatpants. He’s on his stomach, but Eddie can see his face, the way his mouth is open against the pillow, his cheeks flushed. Eddie’s eyes, adjusted to the darkness of the room, rake over Buck’s body and hone in on the source of the movement that woke him. Buck’s hips are moving, uncoordinated and jerky, rolling into the bed.
Eddie should wake him. Eddie should stop watching. Eddie should roll back over and kick Buck and pretend to be asleep, anything to wake him and stop this. He can’t. He’s paralyzed, his eyes locked on Buck in fascination.
Buck is humping the bed in his sleep, and Eddie can’t make himself stop watching. He’s being a creep. There’s no way around it. It doesn’t matter. He watches Buck, the way his eyes squeeze shut, the way he pants against his pillow, a little drool pooling at the corner of his mouth. He hears his soft gasps, and watches when Buck’s hips pick up speed, frantic and needy, and then when his body spasms and he lets out a quiet keen. Eddie shuts his eyes immediately after. He stays perfectly still when he hears Buck rouse, when he feels the weight on him rise off of the mattress, and when he hears him mutter a soft “fuck,” under his breath.
Minutes go by, and Eddie stays still, focuses on keeping his breathing level, and eventually Buck climbs back into bed, facing away from Eddie, clearly trying to be as far as he possibly can be from him.
Eddie doesn’t fall back asleep for at least an hour.
The next morning is the hardest part. Because Eddie knows. Eddie knows what Buck looks like when he cums, vulnerable and unconscious. He knows the soft sound he makes, and he knows that Buck doesn’t know he knows. It’s a weird sort of power, a forbidden knowledge he shouldn’t have. He’s not sure why it gives him a sense of satisfaction, but it does.
Like clockwork, a few days later, Eddie wakes up again. This time is different. He doesn’t wake up to movement, to a shifting of the mattress. He wakes up to a touch. He wakes up to the feeling of something against his thigh, hard and insistent.
Buck is closer than he’d been when they’d fallen asleep. When Eddie’s eyes crack open, Buck is right there, half off of his own pillow and impeding on Eddie’s space. His arms are tucked up by his chest, but it’s his lower half that’s the issue.
Buck is hard. Buck is hard, pressed to Eddie’s bare thigh, and he’s moving. He’s grinding his hips, and it’s slower than he’d been rutting into the mattress the last time, but it’s undeniable. He’s grinding his hard, clothed cock against Eddie’s thigh, and Eddie doesn’t stop it. He can’t. He should. He should distance himself, roll over, and pretend it’s not happening. He doesn’t to that. Instead, inexplicably, he flexes his thigh, pushes it minusculely forward, giving Buck a firm surface to keep grinding on.
Buck sighs in response, a quiet, sleepy sound. Eddie doesn’t think. He doesn’t let himself. If he thinks, he’ll panic, he’ll move too quickly and he’ll wake Buck, and Buck will be ashamed and embarrassed, and he doesn’t want that, so he doesn’t think, doesn’t move away.
Buck keeps going, letting out soft breathy sounds as he slowly grinds himself against Eddie. It’s not enough, Eddie can tell. The movements are too slow, too sleepy, and he’s on his side so the weight of his body isn’t helping with the pressure like it must’ve when he was on his stomach.
It’s almost pitiful, really. Buck looks desperate, his jaw hanging open, and he’s sweating, flushed. He needs more. What kind of friend would Eddie be not to give it, not to give Buck what he needs? That’s how he rationalizes it. It’s something they do; Buck gives things to Eddie without him even knowing what he needs; help, a listening ear, just his company. Eddie tries to do the same. Sometimes he thinks they know each other better than they know themselves. What is this but a continuation of that dynamic? It won’t hurt. How could it? Buck is already here, already doing this, seeking out the warmth of a body, seeking out release, so desperate and needy for it, he’s unknowingly seeking it out against Eddie’s leg like he’s in heat. What harm could offering a little assistance do? They’re already here. Eddie is just making sure Buck sees it through.
He shifts slowly, angling himself closer, and then, carefully, he moves a hand up to cup Buck’s hip, and he guides him forward. Buck goes willingly, pliable and asleep, and Eddie makes his grip a little firmer, holding Buck close so he can get the friction he needs. Buck stirs a little, and Eddie stills, but then a moment later he’s back to it, grinding with more speed and force than before. The sounds increase, little whines under his breath, and then Eddie can feel a patch of wetness on his thigh where Buck has leaked through his sweatpants. It takes his breath away a little, this physical sign of just how badly Buck needs it. Eddie watches his face, the way his lip twitches, and then, horrifyingly, his eyes open, just a crack.
Eddie doesn’t move, his hand on Buck’s hip, his thigh flexed against Buck’s cock.
“Ed-Eddie,” Buck gasps, his voice cracking. His hips don’t stop grinding though, seemingly acting of their own accord.
“Shh,” Eddie whispers. “It’s a dream. You’re okay,” he says.
Buck nods. “A dream,” he repeats.
“Yeah. You’re okay. S’just a dream. Take what you need, it’s okay,” Eddie encourages.
Buck nods, and then his eyes shut again, and he ruts against Eddie, the movements a little more frantic than before. It doesn’t go on much longer, Eddie’s hand gripping him tight, keeping him pressed close, and then Buck groans, his hips jerking forward, and Eddie can feel as the wetness spreads when Buck cums in his sweatpants, right against Eddie’s thigh.
He doesn’t wake up right away this time, so Eddie watches as his breathing slows down, and when he nuzzles into his pillow and falls back into a deep sleep.
Eddie can’t even pretend, when he jerks himself off in the shower the next morning, that he isn’t envisioning how Buck had looked, so exposed and unashamed, using Eddie’s body to make himself feel good.
Eddie does, however, pretend it never happened, and Buck does the same, the two of them resuming their activities like normal. Maybe once or twice Eddie catches Buck’s stare lingering at work. Maybe once or twice, he thinks Buck blushes when their thighs bump together in the back of the truck, or when Eddie hands him a tool and their fingers brush. He ignores it. He was just helping the guy out. He’d wake him up from a bad dream, so why not help him see out the end of a good one, right?
Things change the next time. It’s another half a week later, like Buck is on some sort of schedule, his body seeking release every few nights. Eddie wonders if it’s always like this, if he’s regularly having to change his underwear in the night. He knew the guy had a high sex drive, but this seems excessive. Eddie didn’t realize grown men were out here, humping their beds and cumming in their sleep on a schedule.
A bit of guilt hits him, that maybe Buck is just used to regular sex. Eddie had thought he’d been focused on relationships, and seemingly he’s been single since the breakup with Tommy, but maybe the roommate situation is impeding Buck’s ability to hook up. If that’s the case, then Eddie feels even more obligated to help out.
This time though, Buck is rutting against the blankets. He’s kicked them off and seemingly bunched them up in his sleep, so there’s a wrinkled bunch he has pressed between his thighs. He’s in flannel pajama bottoms, and he’s rutting into the mess of blanket quickly, already desperate, letting soft little grunts as he does so. Eddie’s already facing him, so he only has to open his eyes to watch. He’s entranced, his eyes wide, feeling hot and dry mouthed as he looks on at Buck’s unabashed display.
Only then, Buck’s eyes snap open, and he’s panting, waking up before he’s done. “Fuck,” he groans out, his hips not quite caught up with the rest of him, rolling forward into the blanket before he realizes and stills. Eddie doesn’t know why he doesn’t shut his eyes. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t pretend to be asleep. Buck’s eyes snap up and lock on to Eddie’s, and he looks terrified.
“Fuck,” he whispers.
Eddie doesn’t speak.
“Sorry, I-” he stops himself. “I just, uh… sorry. Was dreaming I think, uh, I’ll-” he cuts himself off again. “Fuck, please say something,” Buck pleads, his voice shifting from a whisper to a slightly panicked whine.
“You should finish,” Eddie says, surprised with how level it comes out.
“I- What?” Buck asks.
“You looked close. Should finish. Don’t wanna get blue balls or whatever,” Eddie says, like it’s logical, like he’s telling Buck to stretch after a workout so he doesn’t get sore, and not like he’s telling him to keep fucking into his blanket to cum.
“Eddie,” Buck whispers.
“It’s okay. Biology, yeah? Happens to everyone,” Eddie says. It doesn’t really happen to him, but maybe taking away the shame is a way to get Buck to believe him. He doesn’t want Buck to feel bad, really. If there’s an ulterior motive, wanting to see Buck lose himself, to chase his own pleasure and spill into his pants, it’s not Eddie’s focus. He just doesn’t want Buck to be embarrassed, that's all.
“Biology,” Buck repeats, thoughtful.
“Yeah.”
Buck moves, his hand going down to shift the bunched up blanket, pushing it closer, making it more accessible and firmer between his legs.
“There ya go,” Eddie says, encouraging. Like he’s telling Buck to do another rep at the gym.
“You were watching,” Buck says, but it’s observational, not accusatory.
“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “You were putting on a show.”
Buck inhales sharply at that.
Oh. Bad? Should Eddie not have said it? Is he pushing?
“Oh,” Buck says, and then he rolls his hips forward, sighing at the contact. “Like that?”
“Yeah,” Eddie nods against his pillow. “Just like that, bud. That’s good.”
Buck sighs, and then he starts again in earnest, his one hand bunched into the blanket, holding it firmly and giving himself something to thrust against. His eyes stay locked onto Eddie’s, and Eddie doesn’t dare look away from them either. He feels the bed shift, the way Buck’s hips move in short, staccato movements, and then his breath hitches.
“Mm’close,” he breathes out.
“That’s a good boy,” Eddie says. “See it through, c’mon,” he encourages.
Buck nods and keeps going, a soft groan slipping through his lips, needy and liquid.
“Come on, Buck. You’re so close, make yourself feel good. You need it, huh? Need it so bad you chased it in your sleep. That’s it, there you go, there you go,” Eddie says, praising Buck through it when he starts to cum, when his mouth falls open and a pathetic moan comes out, when his body jolts forward and he spills into his pajamas.
He looks so dazed afterward, glassy eyed, slick lipped, beautiful and soft and sweet, so easy to go along with it. He’d put up no resistance, done just what Eddie had directed.
“Shit,” he whispers.
“Go clean up,” Eddie says softly. “You’re okay. Don’t think about it. You needed it, yeah? Biology,” Eddie says, repeating the word from earlier. He doesn’t need Buck spiralling about it. If Buck spirals, Eddie will spiral, and it won’t end at tonight. He’ll spiral about the time he watched and about the time he helped, and it’s too late for that.
“Okay,” Buck nods, and then he slips away to the bathroom. Eddie pretends to be asleep again when he comes back.
“Eddie?” Buck whispers.
Eddie stays silent, eyes closed.
“Thanks,” Buck says, so quiet he can barely hear it.
Buck brings it up the next night, when they’re getting in bed.
“Hey, uh…” He starts.
Eddie climbs into bed, not responding.
Buck just stands at the edge of the bed. “Should we talk about it?”
Eddie looks up at him. “Do you want to?”
Buck chews his lip. “No. But shouldn’t we?”
Eddie shrugs, forcing nonchalance. “Don’t see why we need to.”
Buck nods once. “Okay. Uh… What if…”
“If it happens again?” Eddie finishes.
Buck nods from where he’s standing.
“Then we’ll make sure you get what you need again, hm?”
Buck nods, but worry swirls in his eyes. He’s so easy to read, too easy for his own good.
“Get in bed, Buck,” Eddie says.
Buck does.
It doesn’t happen again that night, but two nights later, Eddie wakes up suddenly, startling awake. “What the-” he starts, disoriented.
Buck is scrambling, climbing out of bed, breathless. “Eddie, shit,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, sorry, shit,” he continues.
“Buck. Hey,” Eddie says, his tone softening. “What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t mean to, I just- shit. I was asleep, and, uh…”
“It’s okay,” he says, and then his eyes trail down to the bed. Oh.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t know why it keeps happening,” he says, his eyes looking at the same spot on the bed. There’s cum, white and sticky, and it’s on the sheets, and it’s also smeared on Eddie’s thigh.
Even in the dark room, Eddie can tell Buck is bright red. “Damn, bud,” Eddie says, his voice amused. “Made a mess, huh?”
Buck nods. “Yeah.”
“You take yourself out of your pj’s?” Eddie asks, curious.
“Uh. Guess so,” he says. “Eddie… It’s on your leg, I-” he lets out a sound then, something close to a hiccup or maybe holding back a sob.
Shit. He’s so embarrassed. He’s so embarrassed, and here’s Eddie being an awful friend, taking pleasure in it, amused and not at all reassuring. “Hey, hey,” Eddie says comforting. “Buck, it’s okay. Do I look upset? What do we do, c’mon. You think this is the worst bodily fluid I’ve had on my leg? Dude, you puked on me in the back of a cab that time we went to the whiskey bar. No biggie, okay? Go clean yourself up, and come back with a wet paper towel. No harm done.”
Buck does sob then, a sad, whimpering, gasping sound, but he nods. “Okay. Shit, Eddie. Thank you. You’re the best. Thank you for… ugh,” he says. “Thanks for not making me feel like shit.”
“Of course. You’re my best friend,” Eddie says.
Buck nods, and then he disappears to the bathroom.
Eddie does something insane, then. Well. Okay. There’s an argument to be made that he’s been acting a little insane for the past few weeks, but this one might take the cake. He glances up, making sure Buck is in the bathroom, and then he takes his index finger and drags it through the smear of cum on his leg. Most of it is on the bed, but… shit. Buck cums a lot, apparently. There’s a puddle of it on the bed, white and shiny in the moonlight that seeps through the window, but there’s still a good smear of it on Eddie’s thigh, slick and Eddie can’t help it, really. He brings his finger to his mouth and tastes it, a tentative lick at first, and then he sucks on his finger, pulling Buck’s cum into his mouth. He swirls it on his tongue, tasting the salty musk, and he swallows just as Buck comes back into the room.
Buck doesn’t make eye contact, and he doesn’t hand Eddie the paper towel. Instead, he keeps his eyes downcast as he wipes up the mess from Eddie’s leg, the paper towel wet and cool as he wipes it up. He goes to the pool on the bed next, soaking it up with the paper towel before he wipes it up. He’s quiet as he disappears again to discard the paper towel, and then he climbs into bed, only looking at Eddie when his head is back on his pillow.
“Can you say something?” Buck says softly.
“Have a good dream?” Eddie asks.
Buck laughs, a little surprised sounding. “Yeah. Thanks for… uh. Being cool about it. Sorry again.”
“No biggie,” Eddie says, smiling. “Let’s get some more sleep, yeah?”
Buck nods, and rolls over. Eddie waits a few seconds, and then, for some insane reason, he slings his arm over Buck’s hip. Buck stills, seemingly holding his breath for a brief moment, and then he exhales and settles in.
They’re quiet the next night they go to sleep. Buck isn’t avoidant at work, if anything, he’s overeager, close to Eddie, attentive, like he doesn’t want to lose him. He brings him coffee the way he likes it, he turns on the game he knows Eddie likes when they get home, he brings him a beer without Eddie asking. Eddie almost feels bad, almost feels like he should tell Buck to chill and that everything is fine, except for the fact that Buck seems so happy to be doing it.
He plants himself on the couch next to Eddie, cracking open his own beer, eyes on the TV despite the fact Eddie knows he doesn’t care about the game. Dinner is made, leftover lasagna Buck made for lunch at the station that he’d packaged up. Chris is at a friend’s house. It sort of feels like a now or never, so Eddie musters up all the bravery he has and chooses now.
“So, uh,” he starts.
He can literally feel Buck tense beside him.
“Relax,” he orders. “This isn’t a bad conversation.”
“Okay.”
“Are you always like this? At home?” He asks, referring to when Buck had lived alone.
Buck lifts his beer to his mouth, and Eddie watches as he wraps his lips around the mouth and swallows a good third of it. “No,” he says, eyes still on the TV.
“No? What do you think it is? Just sharing a bed with someone?” He asks, honestly curious.
“Uh… Maybe that’s part of it.”
“And the other part?” Eddie asks.
“I haven’t really been… uh,” Buck sighs, running a hand over his face. “Clearing the pipes.”
Eddie pauses for a moment. “You haven’t been jerking off?”
Buck groans. “No. Okay? Look, I felt weird about it. This is your house.”
“The lease is technically still in your name, bud. We haven’t added me back to it.”
“Okay. But like… it’s yours. With Chris. I just… I don’t know. We’re together all the time, and-”
“Dude,” Eddie starts. “The shower?” That’s where Eddie’s been ‘clearing his pipes’ as Buck had so eloquently put it.
Buck groans again. “I know. I just… I don’t know. I felt weird about it.”
Eddie laughs at that, taking a swig of his beer. “Okay. So… Let’s talk about this.”
Buck huffs.
“Hey, c’mon. I’m serious. Look, you don’t need to be, but you’re embarrassed, right? Do you wanna keep waking up to a mess, or do you want to figure it out?”
Buck stills at that and finally, finally, turns to face Eddie. “Keep?”
Oh.
Right.
“Oh. I, just. You know. Figured it wasn’t the first time.”
Buck smirks. Shit.
“You figured?”
“Yeah,” Eddie says, swallowing.
“It wasn’t a dream. That time. I woke up and you told me it was a dream.”
Eddie’s blood runs cold. “Buck. Look, okay-”
“It’s fine,” Buck says, cutting him off.
“Buck.”
“Really.”
“Buck,” he continues. “I… I should’ve woken you. Or turned away. I- you- you were asleep. I shouldn’t-”
“Do I look mad?” Buck asks.
“Well… no.”
“Okay.”
“Buck,” Eddie insists. “You were asleep. Fuck.”
“One time you were asleep on the couch, You’d fallen asleep. And you made this face. Your shoulder was aching, I knew it. And I massaged it. I knew you needed it, and you wouldn’t ask for it, so I did.”
Eddie frowns. “That’s not the same thing.”
“You said it. Biology. I needed something, and you helped. Okay? Can we just- look. Okay. Can we just say it’s fine? Because if it’s not fine, if what you did isn’t fine, I’m really gonna flip out about the whole cumming on your leg thing,” Buck says.
“Okay,” Eddie says. It’s different. He knows it is. Buck was asleep and it was his dick, not his shoulder for God’s sake. But Eddie doesn’t want Buck to spiral, doesn’t want him to be embarrassed, so he agrees. “Okay.”
“Cool. As you were,” Buck says with a dumb flourish of his hand, encouraging Eddie to continue.
“Right. Well. So. This seems like something that might keep happening,” he says. “So. I was thinking, uh. About a solution. To stop you from feeling embarrassed.”
Buck blushes, raising his eyebrows.
“It’s just… man. You don’t even know how you look when it happens. You’re so fucking…” he trails off.
“So fucking what?” Buck presses.
“You’re desperate, dude. Like… fuck. The way you grind on the bed or on me. Whining. It’s like… It’s like you need it so bad. It’s kind of pathetic.”
Eddie watches as Buck reacts to that, his mouth falling open, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Oh,” he says, breathless.
“Yeah, So. Maybe there’s a way to help. Uh. I don’t think… I mean. Maybe if you got some of that energy out before, you wouldn't be so keyed up in your sleep, right? Clearly you’re pent up.”
Buck nods, his eyes locked onto Eddie.
“Could try to get it all out before bed. Make sure you’re all… satisfied before bed. Drained. So that it doesn’t hit you when you’re asleep,” Eddie says, forcing the words out, and sure, he’s insecure saying them, but there’s also a part of him that knows Buck won’t turn it down.
“Oh. Uh… I mean. Yeah. It makes sense, right?” He says.
“Right,” Eddie agrees, rationalizing it too. It makes sense. That’s all. It can’t be more than that, so that’s all it is. It makes sense. It’s a way to have them sleep through the night, for Buck to be satisfied and for Eddie to get to help.
“Okay,” Buck nods. “Yeah. So. tonight?”
Eddie nods. “Tonight.”
Buck swallows, and Eddie catches the slightest smile on his face as he lifts his beer to his mouth.
They watch the game and they eat dinner and they’ve brushed their teeth and showered by the time it comes up again. Buck is laying in bed, and he’s just in his briefs tonight, forgoing pajamas. Eddie throws on sweats, and climbs into bed.
Buck’s eyes follow him, but he’s quiet, so Eddie speaks first. “Hey. You still down?” He asks. Stupid. Whatever.
“Yeah,” he nods, his voice breathless.
“Cool. Just, uh…” Eddie exhales, and he moves, guiding Buck to the middle of the bed before he straddles his thighs. “Just stay still. Hands at your sides, okay? Let me do the work. Let me take care of you,” he says.
Buck looks up and nods, wide eyed.
“Good boy.”
Buck’s breath hitches at that.
“Yeah. Knew you liked that. You’re gonna be a good boy for me, yeah?” Eddie says, feeling more confident now, on top of Buck, knowing he wants this as much as Eddie does.
“Yeah, Eddie. I’ll be good. Please, just help.”
“I’ll help you,” Eddie says, and he reaches down to pull Buck’s briefs down, tucking them under his cock. Eddie hasn’t seen it like this yet, always seeing it clothed and tucked away. Now it’s right here, hard and exposed and already leaking on Buck’s abdomen. It’s big and pink and Eddie hasn’t done this to someone else, but he’s done it to himself, and how different can it be, really?
“Still,” Eddie reminds him, and then he wraps his hand around the base and watches as Buck reacts instantly to the touch, hissing through his teeth. Eddie strokes up once, his hand sliding over the dry shaft of Buck’s cock, the velvety skin, warm and hard and bobbing against his hand. Eddie swipes his head through the bead of pre-cum blooming at the top and drags his hand down. Buck already looks dazed, lust clouding his features.
Well. Why make him wait? Eddie brings his hand up to his mouth and spits in it before bringing it back down, and then he’s relentless with it. Buck reacts beautifully, his hips jerking up off of the bed when Eddie brings his hand up and down, jerking Buck off quickly. Buck whines and then throws his head back onto the pillow, his neck craned as Eddie goes. He’s quick with it, methodical almost, because he knows something Buck doesn’t.
“Eddie,” Buck gasps.
Eddie doesn’t reply yet, he just moves his hand up and down the length of Buck’s cock, twisting his wrist a bit at the top, each time he gets to Buck’s flushed, wet head. The glide is smooth and Buck feels like he’s aching in Eddie’s hand. It only eggs him on. He keeps up his pace, brutal and relentless, his grip tight, motivated to work the cum out of Buck.
He watches as Buck tenses, the way the fat on his lower belly moves as his abs tense beneath it, and then he whines.
“Please, don’t stop, please, please, Eddie. So close, please,” he begs.
When has Eddie been one to deny him? “That’s it, c’mon, Buck. Cum for me, you got it,” he says, voice low. Buck’s cock jerks in his hand, and then he’s cumming, shooting out white ropes all over his stomach and up his chest. The force of it is strong, pulse after pulse and Eddie works him through it until the flow slows and the last few spurts spill out over Eddie’s hand.
Eddie is testing his luck as he brings his hand up to Buck’s mouth, but Buck has never done anything but go above and beyond Eddie’s expectations of him, so expecting any different now is foolish. Buck’s tongue slips out between his pink lips, and licks the few drops off cum from Eddie’s hand, firm, thorough licks that get every drop off, before he looks up at Eddie.
“Shit. That was… Yeah,” he says.
Eddie doesn’t move, not even when Buck’s hips shift.
“Uh,” Buck laughs awkwardly. “Should probably go clean up,” he says.
“I just,” Eddie starts. “How do we know once is good enough? Buck, you don’t know what you’ve been like. You’re so needy, desperate," he says.
Buck starters up at him, breathless.
“It’s kinda pathetic, man. I just don’t know if once is enough, you know?”
“Oh,” Buck answers softly.
“I feel like, you know, if I drain you, that’s safest. Gotta make sure your balls are empty to know you aren’t gonna be seeking it out in your sleep, right?” He asks.
“Biology,” Buck says.
“Yeah. You’re so smart,” Eddie says, and he doesn’t mean it to be necessarily, but it’s mocking when it comes out.
Eddie doesn’t give him another moment to recover. He’s had a minute, and really, how much more can he need? He’s desperate enough he’s been cumming in his sleep every few nights, Eddie figures he can handle another orgasm after a minute of recovery.
So, his hand goes back to wrap around Buck, slick with residual cum and Buck’s own saliva, and he starts up again. The reaction is instant, Buck’s sensitivity making his body jerk in response, and he’s so much louder this time.
He whines, biting his bottom lip until it’s white, and then he can’t even hold that back, his mouth falling open as he groans, his eyes screwing shut.
“That’s it, Buck. You’re being so good,” Eddie praises as he goes at a relentless pace. “Letting me milk you dry. Gotta make sure you’re satisfied and drained for me, don’t I? Gotta make sure you get what you need so you don’t hump the bed again. Such a needy slut,” Eddie says, spitting the last word out cruelly, with a particularly sharp flick of his wrist.
Buck whimpers in response.
“Yeah, you like that, huh? Such a slut, you couldn’t help it, could you? Couldn’t help humping the bed with that big, needy cock. Got so dumb with it, huh?” Eddie coos, patronizing and feeling high off of it, the power he yields, the way Buck lets him, completely at his mercy as Eddie jerks him off.
“Wonder how many I could get of you if we keep it up, huh? Three? Four? Could go until you’re cumming dry, until you’re crying and begging for it to stop. Think that’s a fit treatment for a slut who needs it so bad he can’t stop rutting on my leg like a fucking dog in heat,” Eddie says, low and cruel.
“Fuck,” Buck gasps. “Eddie, shit, please, please,” he whines. “Say that… fuck. Say that again.”
Eddie laughs, incredulous. “Fuck, did that do it for you? God, you really are pathetic. Fucking dog,” Eddie says, growling out the last word. Buck’s body jerks in response. “Humping the bed like you can’t even control yourself. Jesus, Buck. Fucking sad, really. You’re lucky I’m so good to you. Lucky I take care of you,” he says. “Lucky I let you sleep in the bed, aren’t you? Ought to have you on the floor like the mutt you are.”
Buck cums at that, and it’s beautiful. His back arches off the bed, his mouth opens and the broken keen he lets out is beautiful. There’s less cum this time, after Eddie worked him over already, but the reaction is even better, the way his legs shudder under Eddie, the way his throat bobs and his eyes roll back.
Eddie works every drop from him, and only when Buck is breathing heavily, limp on the bed, does Eddie speak.
“God, you’re perfect. That should do it for tonight, hm?” He asks.
Buck nods dumbly.
“Next time we’ll do three. Can’t take any risks,” he says.
“Oh,” Buck says.
Eddie climbs off of him, but Buck’s hand reaches out to grab his wrist before he can step away.
“You?” Buck asks.
Eddie’s hard. It’d be impossible not to be.
“Mm, not tonight. I’m not a desperate slut, Buck. That’s you. I have self control,” Eddie says, and the look on Buck’s face, flushed and awed, almost feels better than cumming.
Besides, he knows it’s only a matter of time until Buck is begging him for it. He’s patient. And anyway, this is about helping a friend. Eddie cleans them up, and he wraps his arms around Buck before they sleep, and the dozes off thinking about how many times he’ll make Buck cum in a row next time, and how long until Buck is literally begging for Eddie to fill him up. He’s a good friend. He’s a really, really good friend.