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Eddie had faced down house fires, highway pileups, and a clown-themed children’s birthday party that had ended in a surprisingly aggressive bouncy-castle injury.
None of that prepared him for… this.
This—standing in his own bedroom like a man who had lost a bet with the universe, wearing a pair of lacy red panties he’d purchased in a moment of questionable confidence and then hidden in the back of his sock drawer like contraband.
He stared at himself in the mirror.
The mirror stared back.
Eddie Diaz, decorated firefighter, single father, former Army Medic, currently… in lace.
His first thought was: I am going to die here.
His second thought was: Not the worst way to go.
His third thought was: Okay, no. Focus. This is—this is normal. People do this. Probably. It’s fabric. It’s underwear. Nobody is harmed by underwear.
He shifted his weight, then immediately regretted shifting his weight, because apparently lace had opinions about friction.
His face heated. His ears, too, because his body loved to betray him. It had been doing it his whole life, honestly. He had a full-time job and a teenager and a mortgage, and his nervous system still acted like it was powered by a chihuahua.
Eddie turned sideways, assessing.
The panties were… undeniably red. They were also undeniably lacy. They were cut in a way that made him feel like he should either be on a magazine cover or in witness protection.
He’d bought them because—
Because he’d been curious.
Because he’d been tired of being a guy who lived his entire life in the same narrow lane. The lane where everything was practical and muted and safe. The lane where even his underwear came in packs of twelve like he was stocking up for the apocalypse.
And because, if he was being brutally honest, he’d been thinking about Buck.
Which was not helpful.
Buck had been hovering lately in that specific Buck way—half sunshine, half anxious puppy—like Eddie might vanish if he looked away for too long. Eddie had tried to pretend he didn’t notice. He always tried to pretend he didn’t notice. It was his favorite hobby: ignoring things until they became emergencies.
It was how he’d ended up with a pantry full of expired soup and a heart full of feelings he refused to name.
He exhaled, braced his hands on the bathroom counter, and muttered, “Okay. This is fine.”
He looked up again.
The lace looked back.
He swallowed. “This is… fine.”
He straightened, tugged his singlet down a fraction—like that made any difference—and tried to let himself just… exist. In his own body. In his own home. In something chosen purely because he liked it.
He took a step, then another, letting the unfamiliar feel settle.
And the thing was—damn it—the thing was, it didn’t feel wrong.
It felt… kind of good.
Not just physically. Emotionally. Like he’d given himself permission to be soft in a way he never was. Like he’d peeled off one more layer of armor without anyone asking.
He stared at himself again.
“You’re ridiculous,” he told his reflection, but the edge in his voice was gentler than he expected.
He wasn’t done being embarrassed, though. Embarrassment was his baseline setting. But the panic had eased into something else: a quiet, cautious curiosity.
He took a breath.
Then another.
Then he heard it.
The unmistakable sound of his front door unlocking.
Eddie’s brain didn’t process it at first. It slid right off his mind, like nope, not relevant. Because the list of people who could unlock his door was short.
Christopher had a key, but Christopher was at school.
Eddie had a key, because… obviously.
And Buck—
Eddie went cold.
Time did that stupid movie thing where it slowed down just long enough for him to understand, with perfect clarity, that he was about to experience the kind of humiliation that gets preserved in amber for eternity.
His body reacted before his thoughts could catch up. He moved like a man escaping a crime scene.
He launched himself toward the bedroom door—
Too late.
“Eddie!” Buck’s voice rang out from the entryway, bright and casual and completely unaware that he was about to become the villain in a personal horror film. “You home? I—uh— I brought—”
Silence.
A beat.
Then Buck’s footsteps stopped abruptly, like he’d hit an invisible wall.
Eddie froze mid-step.
Because he was still in the hallway.
Because he was still wearing the panties.
Because he was standing there like a deer in lace.
His mouth opened.
No words came out.
Buck’s voice, when it arrived again, was… different. Softer. Cautious. Like he was trying not to startle Eddie.
“Eddie,” Buck said.
Eddie’s soul attempted to leave his body.
He managed to croak, “What are you doing here?”
Buck’s answer was immediate, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You didn’t text me back.”
Eddie blinked.
His brain latched onto that, because it was safer than acknowledging the lace situation.
“I—” Eddie started, then realized his voice was doing that thing where it tried to sound normal and instead came out two octaves higher, like he was auditioning for a cartoon. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I was… busy.”
Buck’s gaze flicked down.
Eddie knew it. He felt it like heat.
Buck’s eyes widened a fraction. Not in shock. Not in disgust.
In… appreciation.
Oh no.
Oh no, no, no.
Eddie’s face went incandescent.
He reacted on instinct: defensive sarcasm. “Don’t.”
Buck lifted his hands immediately, palms up, like Eddie had him at gunpoint. “Okay,” Buck said quickly. “Okay. I’m not— I’m not doing anything.”
Eddie stared at him.
Buck stared back.
Neither of them moved.
Buck’s cheeks were pink. His eyes were bright. His mouth was slightly open like his body had forgotten how to breathe.
Eddie’s brain, supplied: He’s looking at you like you’re—
Like you’re sexy.
Eddie swallowed hard. “You used your key.”
Buck’s gaze snapped up to Eddie’s face, like he’d been caught. He looked guilty, then immediately earnest. “I knocked,” he said. “I did. Twice. And you didn’t answer, and I thought maybe you were asleep or— or hurt, or—”
He took a small step forward, then stopped himself like he didn’t want to push.
His eyes flicked down again.
Eddie’s chest tightened, because there it was again: that raw, unmistakable interest.
Not laughter. Not judgment.
Want.
Eddie’s mouth went dry.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
In Eddie’s head, in every nightmare scenario he’d played out in the last ten seconds, Buck was supposed to immediately turn into a gentleman and avert his eyes and make it weird in a different way—like a sympathetic nurse.
But Buck wasn’t averting his eyes.
Buck was trying—and failing—to keep his gaze respectful while his entire body betrayed him.
Eddie knew Buck’s tells. He’d watched them for years. The way his throat bobbed when he swallowed. The way his shoulders went stiff when he was trying not to do something impulsive. The way his hands flexed at his sides like he wanted to reach for something.
Like he wanted to reach for Eddie.
Eddie’s voice came out quieter. “Buck.”
Buck’s eyes lifted again—wide, blue, and painfully honest. “Yeah?”
Eddie didn’t know what he meant to say.
Get out. That would’ve been reasonable.
Please don’t look at me like that. That would’ve been safer.
Why do you have a key? That would’ve been a lie, because he’d given Buck a key, because he trusted him, because Buck was… Buck.
Instead, Eddie heard himself ask, “Are you… okay?”
Buck blinked, like he hadn’t expected concern in the middle of Eddie’s emotional freefall.
Then Buck’s mouth curved slightly, like he couldn’t help it. Like Eddie being Eddie was the most endearing thing on earth.
“I’m fine,” Buck said, voice rougher than before. “I just— I didn’t know you’d be… um.”
Eddie’s humiliation surged back. He tried to cover it with a glare. “Don’t say it.”
Buck pressed his lips together, visibly fighting a smile. “I wasn’t gonna say anything.”
Eddie didn’t believe him for a second.
Buck looked down again.
Eddie’s entire body tensed.
Buck’s gaze lingered—just for a heartbeat—then snapped away like he remembered himself.
When he looked back up, his expression was careful. Gentle. A little frantic. Like he was trying to do everything right.
“I’m sorry,” Buck said. “I should’ve called first. I should’ve— I should go. I can go.”
He didn’t move.
Eddie noticed that too.
Buck was offering an out… but he was waiting.
Waiting for Eddie to decide.
Eddie’s heart hammered so hard he could feel it in his throat.
This was the part where Eddie’s brain usually pulled the emergency brake. The part where he retreated into himself, locked the door, pretended nothing happened, and carried the shame like a backpack for the next decade.
But Buck was standing there like he’d walked into something sacred, not something shameful.
Like Eddie wasn’t ridiculous.
Like Eddie was… beautiful.
Eddie’s hands curled into fists at his sides. He forced himself to breathe.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Eddie whispered, because it came out before he could stop it.
Buck’s eyes widened. “Like what?”
Eddie let out a humorless laugh. “Like you’re about to… pounce.”
Buck’s cheeks went a deeper pink.
He should deny it. He should laugh it off. He should pretend he was innocent.
Buck didn’t.
Buck swallowed. His voice dropped. “I’m trying really hard not to.”
Eddie’s breath caught.
There it was. Clear. Unfiltered.
Want.
Eddie stared at him, dizzy with it. He felt exposed in every possible way—not just because of the lace, but because Buck had always looked at him like he mattered. Like he was worth something. Like he could be loved.
Eddie’s throat burned. “You’re not… weirded out?”
Buck’s expression softened instantly, like the question hurt him. “Eddie.”
Eddie flinched at his own vulnerability. He hated it. He craved it.
Buck took a careful step closer. “No,” Buck said, quietly, like it was the simplest truth in the world. “I’m not weirded out.”
His eyes flicked down again, slower this time, deliberate.
Eddie’s skin lit up.
Buck looked back up. “I’m—” Buck exhaled, like he was choosing his words with both hands. “I’m kind of losing my mind, actually.”
Eddie’s pulse stuttered.
His voice came out thin. “You’re… losing your mind.”
Buck huffed a shaky laugh, half embarrassed, half awed. “Yeah. Because you’re standing there and you look—”
Eddie’s stomach flipped. “Don’t.”
Buck stopped, biting his lip, eyes wide and warm. “Okay. But— Eddie, you asked.”
Eddie hadn’t asked. Not exactly.
But he’d wanted to. In the way he’d wanted a lot of things and pretended he didn’t.
Eddie’s mind raced. The lace felt suddenly like a spotlight. He should run.
Instead, he found himself stepping toward Buck.
One step.
Then another.
Buck didn’t move. He just watched, like Eddie was the only thing in the world.
Eddie stopped within arm’s reach.
Buck’s breathing was visible now, chest rising and falling too fast.
Eddie’s voice came out low, rough. “If you laugh—”
Buck’s face shifted, immediate and sincere. “I won’t.”
Eddie searched his eyes for any sign of pity. Any sign of discomfort.
There was none.
Only warmth. Only hunger.
Only Buck.
Eddie’s hands lifted—hesitant, unsure—then landed lightly on Buck’s forearms, as if checking he was real.
Buck’s breath hitched at the touch.
Eddie’s brain, cruel and observant, cataloged every detail: the way Buck’s pupils expanded; the way his mouth parted; the way he leaned in without even realizing.
Eddie whispered, “You really… like it?”
Buck’s voice was barely there. “I really like you.”
Eddie’s chest tightened, sharp and aching.
He tried to scoff, tried to deflect. “That’s not what I—”
Buck shook his head, tiny and fierce. “It is,” he said. “It’s always what you mean.”
Eddie’s throat closed.
For a second, he couldn’t speak.
Then he forced the words out, shaky and honest. “I didn’t plan for you to see.”
Buck’s gaze softened like sunlight. “I know.”
Eddie’s fingers tightened slightly on Buck’s arms. “I wasn’t— I wasn’t doing this for you.”
Buck’s eyes flicked down again, then back up with something dangerously tender. “I know,” he repeated, and his voice went rough. “That’s part of why it’s… so—”
He stopped, swallowing hard.
Eddie’s stomach clenched. “So what?”
Buck’s eyes held his. “So sexy,” Buck admitted, like it was a confession he couldn’t keep inside.
Eddie’s breath left him in a rush.
Heat surged through him, dizzying and immediate, because God—because Eddie had spent so long bracing for disgust that he hadn’t prepared for desire.
He didn’t know how to be the object of it.
Not like this.
Not without armor.
Buck’s hands lifted slowly, like he was asking permission without words.
Eddie watched them hover near his waist, not touching.
Buck’s voice was careful. “Can I?”
Eddie’s mouth went dry. He nodded once, because he wasn’t sure he could speak without his voice cracking.
Buck’s hands settled gently at Eddie’s hips.
Warm. Solid. Reverent.
Eddie shivered.
Buck’s thumbs brushed the hem of Eddie’s singlet like he wanted to lift it, but he didn’t.
He waited.
Eddie swallowed, then placed his hands on Buck’s chest—broad and familiar and impossibly comforting.
“You’re really not gonna make this weird?” Eddie asked, because he needed to hear it again.
Buck’s smile was small and soft and wrecking. “Eddie,” he said, like come on. Like it’s me.
Then, quieter, “We’re already weird. We’re just… being honest about it.”
Eddie’s laugh came out breathless. “I hate you.”
Buck’s eyes brightened. “No you don’t.”
Eddie’s pulse tripped over itself, because Buck was too close. Because Buck was touching him like he was something precious. Because Buck’s gaze kept dipping like he couldn’t help it.
Eddie whispered, “You’re staring.”
Buck’s mouth curved. “You’re… right there.”
Eddie made a noise of disbelief. “That’s your defense?”
Buck’s shoulders lifted in a helpless half-shrug. “It’s not a defense,” he said.
Eddie should tell him to stop.
Instead, he leaned in.
Their foreheads nearly touched.
Buck’s voice dropped, intimate. “If you want me to leave, I will.”
Eddie’s heart slammed against his ribs.
He could do it. He could choose safety. He could send Buck away and pretend this never happened.
But Buck’s hands were on him. Buck’s eyes were on him like Eddie was wanted.
Eddie exhaled shakily. “Don’t go.”
Buck’s breath caught, like those two words were everything.
He didn’t move—still waiting, still careful—until Eddie closed the last inch between them.
The kiss was soft at first. Tentative. Like both of them were testing whether it was real.
Then Buck made a low sound in his throat, and Eddie felt it in his bones.
The kiss deepened, slow and hungry, Buck’s hands tightening at Eddie’s hips like he’d been trying not to do that for years.
Eddie’s brain flickered: Oh.
Oh, he’s really into this.
Eddie pulled back a fraction, breathless, and Buck followed, chasing him like he couldn’t stand the distance.
Eddie whispered against Buck’s mouth, “You’re… okay with me?”
Buck’s answer was immediate—another kiss, firmer this time, like punctuation.
When he spoke, his voice was rough. “Eddie, you're standing in front of me with a tight black singlet and lacy red panties.”
Eddie’s fingers curled in Buck’s shirt. He tugged him closer, because suddenly he didn’t want space. He didn’t want distance. He didn’t want to pretend.
Buck’s hands slipped under Eddie’s singlet, palms warm against his skin, and Eddie shuddered hard enough that Buck paused.
Buck’s eyes lifted. “Too much?”
Eddie shook his head. “No,” he breathed.
Buck’s expression softened into something so tender Eddie almost couldn’t take it.
“Okay,” Buck murmured. “We’ll go slow. Or fast. Or—whatever you want. Just—” He swallowed. “Tell me.”
Eddie’s throat tightened, because no one ever asked him that. Not like that. Not with care.
Eddie pressed his forehead to Buck’s. “I want you to stop looking like you’re holding yourself back,” he whispered.
Buck laughed, breathless. “I am holding myself back.”
Eddie’s pulse spiked. “Why?”
Buck’s eyes searched his. “Because you looked like you wanted to disappear when I walked in,” he said quietly. “And I don’t want you to feel… trapped.”
Eddie’s chest ached.
He swallowed hard, then forced himself to be brave for once.
“I’m not trapped,” Eddie said. “I’m just… mortified.”
Buck’s smile was soft. “Yeah?”
Eddie huffed a shaky laugh. “Yeah.”
Buck’s eyes dipped again, and this time Eddie didn’t flinch.
Buck’s voice went low. “Can I be honest?”
Eddie’s heartbeat thundered. “You’ve been honest.”
Buck’s mouth twitched. “I can be… more honest.”
Eddie’s breath hitched. “Okay.”
Buck’s hands tightened gently at Eddie’s hips, anchoring him.
Buck leaned in, lips brushing Eddie’s cheek, his jaw, slow enough to make Eddie’s whole body spark.
Then Buck murmured, right against Eddie’s skin, “I’ve thought about you in my bed so many times.”
Eddie made a strangled sound—half laugh, half gasp.
Buck lifted his head, eyes bright with wicked warmth. “See? Honesty.”
Eddie stared at him, stunned.
Then Eddie—because apparently he had decided today was the day he died—muttered, “You’re… you’re welcome.”
Buck’s laugh burst out, delighted and shaky, and then he kissed Eddie again like he couldn’t help it.
Eddie kissed back harder, because if Buck was going to want him like this, Eddie was going to let himself have it.
Buck’s hands slid along Eddie’s sides, careful but sure, and Eddie’s skin burned everywhere Buck touched.
Eddie’s brain was still trying to panic, but it kept getting interrupted by Buck’s mouth, Buck’s breath, Buck’s hands.
By the fact that Buck was looking at him like Eddie was something worth devouring.
Eddie pulled back just enough to whisper, “We should—” He didn’t even know what he meant. We should talk. We should stop. We should do this right.
Buck’s eyes were blown wide, voice wrecked. “We should what?”
Eddie swallowed. His hands fisted in Buck’s shirt. “We should go to my room,” he said, and his voice shook like it hurt to say it out loud.
Buck went still for a second, like he couldn’t believe Eddie had offered.
Then Buck nodded once, sharp and reverent. “Okay,” he whispered. “Yeah. Okay.”
Eddie’s chest tightened at the softness in Buck’s voice, the way Buck looked at him like Eddie had handed him something precious.
Eddie tried to keep his tone light because he was terrified of how much this mattered. “And you’re not allowed to make fun of me later.”
Buck’s mouth curved. “Never.”
Eddie narrowed his eyes. “Buck.”
Buck’s smile softened. “Okay,” he promised, and it sounded real. “I won’t.”
Eddie took a breath, then turned—still mortified, still blazing, still wearing lace like a dare—and tugged Buck along by the front of his shirt.
Buck followed instantly, like that was where he’d always belonged.
At Eddie’s bedroom door, Eddie hesitated for half a second, fingers tightening.
Buck’s hand slid into his, warm and steady.
Eddie looked back.
Buck’s expression was open and hungry and gentle all at once.
Eddie’s heart did something traitorous and hopeful.
He opened the bedroom door.
And as Buck stepped in behind him, mouth brushing Eddie’s neck, Eddie thought—wildly, helplessly—
Okay. Maybe this is how you stop being afraid.
The door clicked shut.
Eddie was still trying to decide whether he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him or for Buck to stop looking at him like that when Buck’s fingers brushed the edge of the lace.
Just—barely. Not even touching skin. Just the fabric.
Eddie sucked in a sharp breath before he could stop himself.
Buck noticed.
Buck’s eyes flicked up immediately, bright and intent, like he’d just learned something important. “Oh,” he said quietly.
Eddie hated the way his body betrayed him. Hated the way heat flared everywhere Buck looked. “Don’t,” Eddie warned, but it came out rough, more plea than command.
Buck didn’t move his hand away.
He didn’t move it closer, either.
He hovered there, fingers ghosting the lace at Eddie’s hip, waiting.
“For the record,” Buck said softly, “I’m not doing anything.”
Eddie let out a shaky, disbelieving laugh. “You’re absolutely doing something.”
Buck smiled—slow, wicked, affectionate. “I’m thinking.”
Eddie swallowed. “About…?”
Buck’s fingers finally pressed in just a little, thumb rubbing over the delicate edge of the fabric like he was testing how it felt. Like he was learning it.
“About how unfair it is,” Buck murmured, “that you’re standing here acting like this is no big deal.”
Eddie’s head tipped back an inch despite himself. “I’m not acting like it’s no big deal.”
Buck hummed thoughtfully. “You’re right. You look like you’re about to combust.”
Eddie glared at him, but it had no heat behind it. “You’re enjoying this.”
Buck didn’t even pretend to deny it. “Yeah,” he said. “A little.”
His fingers traced the lace again—slow, reverent. Not tugging. Not pulling. Just playing. Letting the fabric slide under his touch, letting Eddie feel every inch of it.
Eddie’s breath stuttered.
Buck noticed that too.
Buck leaned in closer, not touching anywhere else, just close enough that Eddie could feel the warmth of him. Smell him. Feel the hum of Buck’s attention like electricity under his skin.
“You okay?” Buck asked quietly.
Eddie laughed again, breathless. “I don’t know. Ask me later.”
Buck’s thumb hooked gently under the waistband—not pulling, just there. A question, not a demand.
Eddie’s entire body went tight.
Buck froze instantly. “Hey. Hey,” he said softly. “I won’t— I swear. I just—”
“I know,” Eddie said quickly. He reached out, fingers curling into Buck’s shirt like an anchor. “I know.”
He hesitated, then added, quieter, “You can… keep doing that.”
Buck’s eyes went dark in a way that made Eddie’s knees threaten to give out.
“Yeah?” Buck asked, voice low and careful.
Eddie nodded once.
Buck exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for years.
His fingers moved again, slower this time. More deliberate. Tracing the lace like it was something precious. Something worth savoring.
“You have any idea,” Buck murmured, “how much restraint this is taking?”
Eddie huffed a shaky laugh. “You’re terrible at restraint.”
Buck grinned, but his touch stayed gentle. “I’m being so good right now.”
Eddie closed his eyes.
That was a mistake.
Because Buck leaned in and spoke right against his ear.
“I like that you did this for you,” Buck said softly. “I like that you trusted yourself enough to try.”
Eddie’s throat tightened unexpectedly.
Buck’s hand paused again, thumb resting warm and steady against Eddie’s hip. “And,” Buck added, voice dropping, “I like that you’re letting me see.”
Eddie’s eyes burned. He swallowed hard. His fingers shifted again, just enough to make Eddie gasp—still teasing, still careful, still absolutely intentional.
Buck pulled back slightly so Eddie had to open his eyes.
Buck was watching him. Really watching him.
“How does it feel?” Buck asked, quietly.
Eddie licked his lips. “Like I’m… exposed.”
Buck nodded. “Yeah.”
“And?” Buck prompted gently.
Eddie hesitated, then admitted, “Like I don’t hate it.”
Buck’s smile was soft and devastating. “Good.”
His fingers traced one last slow line along the lace, then—agonizingly—he let go.
Eddie made a small, betrayed noise before he could stop himself.
Buck laughed under his breath.
Eddie shot him a look. “You’re not funny.”
Buck stepped closer, hands sliding up to Eddie’s waist—over the shirt this time, grounding and warm. “I’m very funny,” he said. “You’re just distracted.”
Eddie’s pulse thundered. “By what?”
Buck leaned in, foreheads almost touching. “By the fact that I want you,” Buck said simply. “And you’re letting me.”
Eddie’s breath caught.
Buck brushed a thumb along Eddie’s jaw, tender now instead of teasing. “We don’t have to do anything else,” Buck said quietly. “I just— wanted you to know I see you. All of you.”
Eddie stared at him for a long, charged moment.
Then he leaned in and kissed Buck—slow, hungry, deliberate.
And when Buck’s hands slid back to Eddie’s hips, this time pulling him closer instead of teasing—
Eddie let himself go.