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Buck comes into the kitchen fresh off a run, his gray t-shirt soaked with sweat at the neckline, under his armpits, the fabric sticking to the small of his back. Eddie is sat at the table going through the mail and he watches as Buck crosses the room, his long legs in short shorts, the tattoos on his thighs and shins shifting. He gets to the sink, not even bothering to find a glass, ducking his head to stick his mouth under the faucet and the brim of his snapback bumps awkwardly against it. He halfway straightens, swiveling the cap round on his head and bends back down to take a drink.
He looks like a teenage boy, some jock back from practice, gripping the edge of the sink, water dripping down his chin as his mouth works under the stream, his throat bobbing, unaware of Eddie staring. His thirst suitably quenched, Buck stands, turning as he smears the back of a hand over his mouth, droplets splattering on his chest, and Eddie is struck dumb by the sight of him.
'What?' Buck says and his smile is boyish, handsome but playful, and Eddie cuts his eyes away.
'Use a glass. You're setting a bad example to our son.'
'Chris isn't here,' says Buck.
'Not the point,' Eddie is staring very hard at the letter in his hand. It's an electric bill and it needs paying, he should pay it.
'What is the point, Eddie?'
Buck is closer now, his voice sing-song as he nudges Eddie's thigh with his knee and Eddie looks up at him, his bulk, the stretch of his t-shirt over his pecs, the smell of him, hot like sunshine and sweat. God. Eddie can't get over it sometimes, how much he wants Buck, in so many different ways, and now he gets to have him, in ways it didn't even occur to him to want.
'You look like a dumb jock dressed like that,' he says.
Buck's smile is so wide, delighted, 'and you like that do you?'
Eddie shrugs.
'Well, I was a dumb jock in high school,' Buck continues, 'I was on the football team and everything.'
'You hate team sports,' says Eddie and his hand has found its way to Buck's thigh, scratching through the coarse hair, inching under the hem of his shorts.
'I just wanted to be included,' says Buck, swaying on the spot, their legs overlapping.
Eddie runs his nails across the delicate skin of Buck's inner thigh just to watch his eyelids flutter closed, the hitch in his voice when he speaks.
'Don’t you want to know what we got up to in the locker room?' Buck breathes.
'What?'
Eddie knows if there were any story to tell here he would have heard it already but he wants to know what Buck is going to say, if he'll make something up to turn Eddie on.
'Nothing,' Buck admits, 'but we could have! And in hindsight I was definitely looking. You never did any of that?'
He knows Eddie didn't. It wouldn't even have occurred to him to sneak a glance, let alone follow through, 'no. I wasn't on the baseball team long enough. And ballroom was a little different.'
'Huh,' Buck's face is considering, looking at Eddie in a way that makes heat creep up his neck, tinging his ears and cheeks, then his expression clears and he grins, squeezing Eddie's knee between his legs, 'you wanna suck me off?'
Buck's cock is half hard, thick in his shorts, and Eddie lets go of his thigh to palm at him, feeling the insistent heat against his hand. They're home alone with an entire empty afternoon ahead of them and Buck's always horny after he works out, heart rate elevated, endorphins pumping, easy and enthusiastic for Eddie to play with.
'Yeah, you want to ask me nicely?'
'Please suck me off, Eddie,' Buck simpers, teasing, and Eddie would leave him hanging for that but desire is fizzing under his skin from all this talk and he wants urgently to get his hands on Buck, to touch him and to taste him.
He leaves off feeling Buck up to pull his henley off over his head before leaning forward to press his face against Buck's groin, the deeper, earthier smell of him concentrated here even through the fabric, both hands spanning the sturdy muscle of his thighs. Buck tips forward, pushing his cock, harder now, against Eddie's cheek and Eddie shifts, mouthing at the length of him, to the head of Buck's dick, his tongue wet, sucking sharp on the material until it's soaking.
'Fuck,' Buck hisses out, threading a hand through Eddie's hair, nails rasping over his scalp, bright sensation skating down his spine.
Eddie shoves at Buck's top, pushing it up to his armpits and Buck tilts his head down to catch the hem under his chin, baring his belly and pecs to Eddie's wandering hands. He squeezes Buck's tits, thumb rolling over his nipples, gripping the meat of him, soft and firm at once and sets his lips against Buck's belly, breathing in the ripe, sweaty scent of him, tasting salt under his tongue. He bites, digging his teeth in until Buck moans, high and breathy above him.
'Eddie, please,' he says and he's not teasing anymore.
'I've got you,' Eddie kisses him, over the reddened marks of his teeth pressed hard into Buck's skin, and pulls at the waistband of his shorts and briefs, pushing them down only far enough to tuck under his balls.
Buck's dick is ruddy, dripping already, and Eddie licks base to tip with the broad flat of his tongue, suckling at the slit where the taste of Buck is strongest. He's so wet, leaking precome all over Eddie's tongue, more of it every time he swallows and it's addictive, this proof of Buck's arousal.
Eddie grips Buck by the hips and bobs his head, breathing through his nose to take Buck deeper, inch by inch, hollowing his cheeks and working his tongue along the underside. Buck is big, more than a mouthful, and it's always thrilling, when he hits the back of Eddie's throat, that moment when they're both surrendered. Eddie pulls back to take a breath, his throat thick with it, Buck's dick bumping over his hard palate.
'Look at you,' he says and his voice is raspy, evidence of what he's been doing.
'Yeah?' Buck says, face flushed and chest heaving, watching Eddie with such unabashed adoration.
'Yeah,' Eddie agrees, kissing Buck's hip and wrapping a hand around the base of his dick.
He spits, a thick glob of saliva right to the head, spreading it over the length of him, stroking him slowly and Buck grabs at Eddie's shoulders with both hands, fingers digging in, steadying himself.
'You do that I'll come all over your face,' he says.
Eddie twitches an eyebrow at him and doesn't stop the movement of his hand, 'maybe I want you to come all over my face.'
'I'm serious, Eddie,' Buck says and it's strained, right on the edge.
'So am I.'
He fits his mouth around the crown of Buck's cock, jerking him with long pulls of his hand, his curled fist bumping against his chin each time. Buck's fingers press sharp into his shoulders and he's rocking on the balls of his feet, trying to fit more of himself into Eddie's mouth but Eddie has him held firm. He swirls his tongue around the head, the taste sudden and intense and he knows Buck is about to come.
Buck clutches at him, panting, 'I'm gonna—fuck—. I'm gonna come—.'
Eddie sits back, mouth open, looking up at Buck's pink face, his pale lashes fluttering, dilated pupils shading his eyes to black, bottom lip clamped so hard between his teeth it's gone white. He's shaking, tension held, and then he makes a choked, gulping noise and comes. Eddie closes his eyes just before the first streak of it hits his face, hot and branding. He strokes Buck faster, pulling it out of him, ropes of it over his cheeks, in his mouth, dripping onto his chest and Buck swearing and twitching over him.
'Shit, Eddie. Fucking—yeah.'
Eventually Buck goes still, slumping forward, practically climbing into Eddie's lap and Eddie yanks him down, the chair beneath them creaking under their combined weight. Buck is clumsy, licking his own come from Eddie's face, kissing him for the first time today, sharing the taste, as he tries to get Eddie's flies open. Eddie helps, batting Buck away to get himself out, so hard he's aching with it and Buck spits into his hand, takes hold of him at last.
It won't take much, Buck's broad palm sweeping over Eddie's cock, a twist of the wrist, thumb at the head as he jerks Eddie off, his tongue tucked between his teeth in concentration. He's still wearing that stupid fucking hat, twisted backwards, his face even sweatier than when he came in from his run. His dick is still out, wet with spit and come and half hard against his thigh and Eddie wants to bear him down on to the kitchen floor, rut against him until he comes again but it's too late for that, Eddie's orgasm rising tense from the pit of his stomach, pleasure shocking through all his limbs as Buck touches him.
'Buck,' he breathes, clutching at him, one hand tightening on his thigh, the other gripping the back of his neck, pulling him in for another biting kiss.
'Show me, show me,' says Buck, breath humid and spit smearing wet against Eddie's cheek.
Eddie gives into it, the inevitability, hips fucking up into Buck's fist as he comes, gasping into Buck's collarbones, the sweaty crook of his neck, and Buck doesn't stop moving. Eddie's come is hot and wet between them, easing the slide of Buck's hand even as Eddie tips into shivery oversensitivity.
'Buck, Buck, enough,' Eddie pants and Buck stills, letting him go.
Buck wipes his hand on his t-shirt, it'll all go into the laundry, they'll shower, maybe together, before they go back to bed for a second round and ducks his head to give Eddie a proper kiss, a sweet, slow press of lips.
'So, jocks, huh?' he says when they break apart.
'Not really,' says Eddie, his thumb sweeping over Buck's cheek, 'just you.'
*
They're in the backyard. Buck is doing his usual yoga routine stretching out his limbs into downward dog, cow, cat, any number of other animals that have him bending and curving on the grass. Eddie is focusing on bicep curls. He pulled a muscle in his thigh on a call the other day so he's resting his leg, and his current set up has nothing whatsoever to do with positioning himself so he can see Buck better.
'Hey, Buck,' he calls across the garden once Buck has uncurled from child pose, sitting on his yoga mat with both legs splayed out in front of him, face tipped back into the sunshine, his hair burnished to copper, 'can you come help me stretch out my hamstring?'
Buck's eyes flicker open as he looks over, beaming, picking himself up from the ground, 'sure.'
He lopes across the yard towards the weight bench and Eddie swivels so he can lie down, his thighs spread, and Buck between them.
'How has it been?' says Buck, his hands on Eddie's leg, squeezing the tight muscle of his thigh with professional detachment.
'Fine,' says Eddie, an old reflex, before he concedes, 'sore.'
Buck bends Eddie's leg at the hip, pushing his knee towards his chest, and the movement twinges in his hamstring, a sharper pain overtop of the dull ache, but having Buck close is worth it, his body pressed to Eddie's and his hands soothing over Eddie's skin. He straightens Eddie's leg, hitching it up on to his shoulder and it presses them even more firmly together, definitely not so clinical now as Buck leans his weight into Eddie, forcing the stretch.
'How's that?' Buck says when Eddie hisses through his teeth, only partly in pain.
Buck is flushed, from the yoga and the sunshine, cheeks rosy, shiny with sweat in the hollow of his throat, his curls unruly. He's wearing an old sweatshirt today, the sleeves cut off and the hem cropped, perhaps slightly too enthusiastically, the trail of hair under his navel, the cut of his hips and the bottom of his ribcage all visible above the waistband of his shorts. He's hard and Eddie's heading that way too. He tilts his hips forward, letting Buck feel it.
'Oh,' Buck smiles and then he gets this calculating look on his face, the one usually reserved for when he's about to do something infuriating with a clipboard.
‘Hey, man,’ he says, the cadence of his voice shifting and his fingers tightening on Eddie’s thigh, ‘d-do you want me to help you out with that?’
It takes a beat for it to land and then Eddie is grinning, holding in the laughter bubbling up in his chest; Buck above him, looking so sweetly earnest, rolls his eyes.
‘You would do that?’ Eddie manages, ‘dude.’
Buck clears his throat, ‘sure, all the guys—some of us’ll give each other a hand. It doesn’t make you gay.’
‘Right,’ Eddie nods and Buck drops his hand another inch, fingers brushing against where Eddie’s cock is trapped in his compression shorts and it doesn’t feel so much like a joke anymore.
He started it is the thing, in the kitchen the other day, admitting how much he liked Buck leaning into that aesthetic, the posturing and the confidence and underneath that the sincere need to be included, part of the team. At any cost if this is the game they're playing.
'Go on then,' he says and he cuts his eyes away, looks back, an attempt at feigned nonchalance. It's probably not that convincing, it shines out of him at this point, the way he feels about Buck.
Buck plays along, though, his eyes wide, 'out here?'
It's not so hot under the shadow of the porch and out of the direct sunlight. There's a slight breeze lifting the hairs on Eddie's arms, drying the sweat on his collarbones, his top lip, but every place he and Buck are touching is scorching. He pushes his hips up into Buck's hand, the sensation dulled through the fabric of his shorts but heightened by the scenario they've constructed.
'No one's looking,' he says, finds the thread, 'practice finished hours ago.'
Buck bites his lip but he does slide his hand fully up the leg of Eddie's shorts, the wide span of his palm pressed over Eddie's cock, feeling out the shape of him with tentative pressure. His movement is constricted like this and he doesn't try to get Eddie out, that would be too much effort, would snap them out of this mood, and it adds to the cagey atmosphere, the anticipation of potential discovery. Instead he works his fingers over the head of Eddie's cock where he's already leaking, the tight material creating the barest hint of friction and each time Buck rubs at him it jolts through his hips, an almost tender grittiness to the feeling.
'That's it, like that,' he says and his hands find Buck's hips, resting lightly, almost incidentally, accidental.
Buck is leaning awkwardly over him, one knee up on the weight bench, he free hand braced by Eddie's head and he has just enough leverage to grind his hips down against Eddie's thigh as he jerks him off. Eddie raises his leg, plants his foot to give Buck something sturdier to rut against, matching Buck's rhythm, and Buck moans. It's a trapped, stifled sound but Eddie still shushes him.
'Shh. We'll get caught,' he hisses and Buck moans again, hanging his head.
Eddie reaches, tilting Buck's chin up, taking in the hazy pleasure on his face, two fingers pressed to his bottom lip until Buck opens his mouth, the soft flex of his tongue and too much spit as he sucks on them.
'Come on, man, faster,' Eddie whispers.
Buck chokes on his mouthful, tears in his eyes, a kind of blurry desperation, saliva spilling down his chin and over Eddie's hand, running down his wrist, both of them breathing hard. It's as if nothing exists but the two of them, not the garden, or the house behind them, not their neighborhood or LA beyond it and everything is rushing, coalescing on this point, all of their movement concentrated to the rapid jerking of Buck's hand over Eddie's cock and the frantic grinding of his hips against Eddie's thigh.
'Are you close?' says Buck and it's as if he's spoken it into existance.
Eddie feels it happen like a static shock, the clench of his abs as the tension reaches it's peak and then the sudden unbearable release, taking him almost by surprise as he comes, cock twitching under Buck's hand, his shorts soaked with it in the tight space between them. Buck groans and loses his rhythm, a staccato jolt against the jut of Eddie's hip as he follows Eddie over, collapsing into him, both of them loose with exhaustion.
'Jesus,' says Buck, shifting so Eddie isn't taking all his weight, 'we're doing that again.'
'Yeah,' Eddie agrees, 'can we do it next time on something that isn't hell on my back.'
Buck rolls his eyes, standing, the sweaty, wrecked mess of him the best thing Eddie's ever seen. He offers Eddie a hand to his feet, 'okay, well, that isn't very in character.'
Eddie lets Buck pull him to standing, cracking his back and wincing when he puts his weight on his injured leg, but Buck is there, holding him up, 'I'll work on it.'
*
The shower is running when Eddie steps into the bathroom. It smells overpoweringly of axe body spray and the air is steamy. Buck hasn't turned the shower on all the way, the water pressure not nearly as strong as it could be, and when Eddie puts his hand under the spray it's only lukewarm. Which, yeah, that tracks with the locker rooms and shared showers Eddie's experienced in his lifetime.
He strips and climbs into the bath, angling the shower head so they might both have a chance at getting wet, reaching for their body wash, lathering up. It's silly, the anticipation already bubbling low in his belly, his dick half hard, hanging thick between his legs but Eddie doesn't touch himself yet, soaping his chest, running his hands over his nipples, digging his fingers into the muscles of his shoulders, working out the knots, waiting. It's not long before the bathroom door opens behind him. Eddie doesn't look round, his eyes on the tiles in front of him, ears attuned to the sound of Buck pulling off his clothes before he steps into the bath beside him.
Buck coughs, 'sorry, man,' and Eddie wordlessly hands him the body wash, keeping his eyes downcast, not looking at Buck's body as he squeezes some out onto his palm.
He doesn't stay above the waist like Eddie did, hand immediately drifting over his belly and to his cock and Eddie watches out of the corner of his eye as Buck strokes himself. There's the pretense of furtiveness, his body angled away from Eddie and he keeps letting go of his cock to scrub his stomach and chest, head tipped back and eyes closed like touching himself is a reflex, something involuntary that he can't help, even with an audience.
'It would be easier to do this at the station,' grouses Eddie the second time Buck elbows him in the ribs. The shower stalls are bigger and it has that institutional aesthetic reminiscent of high school locker rooms, although infinitely cleaner.
'It would not,' says Buck, primly, a far cry from Buck 1.0 who used to steal engines for hookups, 'what if we get caught!'
Eddie shrugs, 'coach would go easy on us I bet,' he looks at Buck sidelong, decides it's worth it, '—if we let him watch.'
Buck sputters under the spray of the water, turning to Eddie with wide, incredulous eyes, 'who's the coach in this scenario—Bobby?!'
'Sure, why not,' Eddie laughs, he has eyes, Bobby is handsome, and although their relationship has evolved he's betting that buried somewhere in Buck's psyche is some latent attraction to the man who taught him how to be better with firm authority and a gentle hand.
'No—he's not—it would be like—,' Buck stutters like Eddie's taken his brain offline.
He nudges Buck with his shoulder, 'like letting your dad watch? I know you don't have a problem with that.'
'That's different,' says Buck his cheeks flushed and not just from the steamy air.
It's only slipped out a couple times, right at the peak, Buck writhing on Eddie's cock, begging Eddie to fuck him harder, deeper, daddy, fill me up.
'Sure, you keep telling yourself that,' says Eddie, laughing, but that isn't what they're supposed to be doing here so he squares his shoulders, faces the wall again and tugs at his cock with renewed focus. It feels good and he groans, low and echoing, head tilted back, letting himself sink into it; the performance, knowing Buck is sneaking glances, the implications of getting caught, the thrill of getting away with something.
'Shit,' Buck says, hushed but emphatic, hand back on his dick as he angles his body towards Eddie, a question.
Eddie answers, turning into him and it's a competition now, who can last the longest, draw it out. Eddie sets his forearm against the slippery tile of the shower, stroking himself slow and even and Buck is trying to match him but he keeps speeding up, his breath harsh even over the sound of the water rushing all around them.
'You gonna come already, dude?' says Eddie, tries to put that particular brand of mocking challenge in it that he remembers from high school.
'No,' says Buck indignantly but Eddie knows all Buck's tells; he has way more of a hair trigger but he can recover faster, come more than once, and he's always eager, impatient with it and likely to get overwhelmed.
'You sure?' Eddie teases.
'I'm sure,' says Buck, resolute, moving slower, running his thumb over the head as Eddie watches.
Their elbows keep jostling, knees bumping, swaying towards each other and shifting back they're standing so close. The water has long gone cold but Eddie has barely noticed, focused only on Buck, the corners and edges of him he's allowed to look at here. Their eyes keep catching, stolen glances quickly averted but forever pulling back to each other. Buck's hips jolt forward, involuntarily, and the tip of his dick glances against Eddie's, the brief pleasure of it so shocking. Eddie's had Buck's dick in his mouth, he's fucked him and been fucked by him but this is different, a line crossed, and Buck looks at him sharply. Eddie holds his gaze.
'D'you want?' he says like he's admitting a secret.
He wanted Buck for such a long time, before he realized he could have him, and he's giving Buck this in the same way Buck is giving it to him, turning themselves on by holding back, resisting, to make the having all the sweeter.
Buck nods and it's almost imperceptible, 'yeah.'
Eddie crowds closer, further out of the water, Buck cornered against the tiles, pushing their cocks together, the slip of water over skin making the friction strange, little shocks of pleasure zipping up his spine. Buck moans loud into his ear, the sound reverberating, and Eddie closes his hand around them both, forehead to forehead as he jerks them off. They've been teasing and working themselves up for so long it won't take much, just the feel of wet skin on skin.
Buck's tips his head back, eyes closed and lashes spiked. A bead of water traces a path to his bottom lip and Eddie leans in to lick it off, his hand moving faster, tighter.
'I'm close,' he says and he can't decide where to look, between their bodies, the picture it makes, bellies heaving, dicks hard against each other, or at Buck's face, transported with pleasure.
'Me too, me too,' Buck gasps, hands on Eddie's flank, holding on.
It’s Eddie who comes first, spilling over his fist and Buck's stomach, bright and blazing. There’s a ringing in his ears louder than the shower behind him and Buck is still hard against him, squirming with desperation and Eddie moves, his hand only on Buck now, long strokes, palm over the head of his cock until he's coming too, shuddering with it.
They stay there panting against each other as awareness creeps back in. Goosebumps skate over Buck's arms and he shivers. Their eyes meet and they're grinning, laughing at the absurdity, cold and wet and naked but sated, content. Buck leans over and turns off the water.
They get out of the bath and Eddie indulges himself, now the game is over, watching unashamedly as Buck scrubs himself dry, running a towel through his own hair, his eyes on Buck's chest and the droplets of water still clinging there; if Buck doesn't catch them Eddie will lick them off him in their bedroom later. Buck bends to towel at his legs before deciding he's dry enough, gathering up his damp towel and their discarded clothes, shoving them into the hamper, turning to leave the room and Eddie can't resist, Buck already halfway out the door, as he twists his towel, a snap of the wrist to flick it against Buck's ass cheek, a stinging swipe that leaves a mark, red over Buck's pale skin.
Buck yelps, turning on him, color high on his cheeks, 'Eddie!'
He doesn't have a towel to retaliate and Eddie is grinning, already winding up to do it again as soon as Buck lets his guard down, turns even slightly.
'Just trying to keep it authentic,' he says.
Buck opens and closes his mouth a few times and then he's grinning too, backing into the hallway, 'not if you can't catch me.'
Eddie abandons his towel but he does give chase, careening naked through their house after Buck, catching up with him in the bedroom where he's caught between the bed and the wardrobe, his hands spread out in front of him, placating. Eddie tilts his head, considering. He feints, goes the opposite direction, bent low to catch Buck around his midriff and tumble him on to the bed.
'Eddie, Eddie,' Buck goes down laughing both of them grappling at each other.
Buck's skin is dry by now but Eddie gets his mouth on him anyway, lapping over his belly, between his tits. He's hard again and Eddie touches his cock, just for the gasp it draws out of him, the tremor that rolls through him, this easy intimacy in the bright sunlight coming in through the windows of their home.
*
Eddie is waiting for Buck in their bedroom wearing nothing but a jock strap with a whistle around his neck and he honestly isn't sure narratively how they got here. They haven't discussed the detail and it doesn't really matter, ideas panted out in the heat of the moment leading them to this; if it turns him on and if it turns Buck on, Eddie is always game.
He doesn't have to wait long before Buck is coming into the room. He's shirtless, wearing his snapback, swiveled backwards again, and the tiniest pair of shorts Eddie has ever seen, taking Eddie in with wide eyes. When his gaze reaches Eddie's jock strap he breaks out into a grin that splits his face ear to ear.
'Eddie. Fucking hell. Show me your ass,' he says, breathless already.
'Is this part of the bit?' Eddie says but he does turn around because, yeah, his ass looks fucking great.
'It's not a bit, it's role play,' says Buck and Eddie knows he's rolling his eyes.
'Okay, and is this part of it?'
'No. This is me appreciating your ass,' says Buck and he's closer, Eddie can feel the warmth of him radiating, although he isn't touching.
Eddie laughs, turning his head, 'well, my ass appreciates the appreciation.'
He watches Buck roll his eyes this time, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of Eddie's mouth, 'okay, let's go.'
Eddie moves to face Buck, skating his eyes over his broad shoulders, the swell of his pecs and the curve of his stomach. He's waxed his chest and his belly, which he used to do a lot but hasn't bothered with in a while, his skin all pink and smooth. Youthful. He squares up to Eddie, standing in front of him with a restless, cocky kind of energy and Eddie never met Buck 1.0 but he figures it must have gone something like this. He considers using this power Buck has handed him for evil, put Buck in his place or order him to drop and give me twenty just to watch the muscles in his back flex. Instead he kisses Buck again and says, 'on your knees.'
Buck goes to the floor and Eddie sits down on their bed with his legs spread. They were on a more even footing before but now it's all muddled and the talk in the shower the other day definitely got Buck going so Eddie will do his best to give him what he wants from this.
'You know you're my star player,' he says, searching for the words, 'and that means more responsibilities.'
'Like what?' says Buck, eagerly, 'looking after the kit? Coming up with new plays?'
It's incongruous, with Buck already on his knees, but the naïvety is compelling, playing at wide-eyed inexperience.
'No,' Eddie moves a hand from his thigh to palm at his cock, trapped under the thick fabric of his jock strap, 'I mean helping me out after practice.'
Buck visibly swallows, his eyes on Eddie's groin before they flick back up to meet Eddie's gaze with an uncertain confidence, 'oh. Yeah, I-I can do that.'
Eddie lets go of himself and nods, giving Buck permission to reach for him, lifting his hips so Buck can pull his jock strap down and off. His cock springs up, hard against his belly where he's leaning back on his hands and it feels like a bit of a waste to be naked so soon but Buck's intake of breath is audible and gratifying.
'Okay?' Eddie asks and he's not sure how in character he is right now.
Buck looks up at him, mouth hanging open, 'it's just—it's just so big, coach. I don't know if it'll fit.'
Eddie snorts. He pretends to be unaffected but he likes it when Buck goes on about how huge he is. His cock isn't that much bigger than Buck's, just like Buck isn't that much taller than him, but sometimes those few inches make all the difference when you need them. Buck has been sucking his dick for four years at this point, though, he can definitely handle it and Eddie leans forward, catching Buck's jaw with his hand, running his thumb over the swell of Buck's bottom lip.
'You can do it, sport. I believe in you.'
'Fuck. Yeah. Anything for you, coach,' Buck says with unparalleled solemnity which he slightly undermines by hinging forward to swallow Eddie down, almost to the hilt.
'Jesus,' says Eddie, his hand landing on Buck's head, the incongruity of the rough fabric of his cap under Eddie's palm, 'that's it, kid, you're a natural.'
Buck moans around him and the vibration pulses through his pelvis and up his spine. Eddie wasn't lying, Buck is very good at this, swallowing around Eddie's cock, bobbing his head and taking him deep. Eddie lets himself enjoy it for a beat but he's already worked up and getting close too fast. He knows it'll be a while before he can go again if he comes now and he's about to tell Buck to stop when the solution occurs to him, the perfect escalation. He grabs at the whistle round his neck, slots it between his teeth and blows, two sharp trills that make Buck startle, sitting back with a frown even as laughter shakes out of him.
'Eddie!' he says, indignantly, 'take it seriously!'
Eddie shrugs, 'you gave me the whistle, bud, you thought I wasn't gonna use it?'
Buck doesn't answer, narrowing his eyes and launching himself forward to tackle Eddie backwards to the mattress grappling at him. Buck is heavy, strong, but he isn't really trying and Eddie catches his forearms easily, holding him tight. He hooks his ankles around Buck's calves, folding at the waist to flip them over, Buck on his back, pinned, hat knocked off and Buck goes instantly still, all his limbs softened against the sheets.
'Eddie,' he says, winding the cord of Eddie's whistle around his finger to reel him in for a slow, tonguing kiss, 'will you fuck me?'
'Yeah. Like—?'
'Any way you want,' says Buck and isn’t that a gift.
Eddie kisses his sternum, once, and sits back so Buck can move, 'turn over. On your stomach for me.'
Buck goes, rolling on to his belly, the arch of his back into his strong shoulders, the dimples at the base of his spine and Eddie kisses him there too, hooking his hands in the waistband of Buck's shorts to pull them down and off. He isn't wearing any underwear and when Eddie spreads his cheeks he can see Buck has waxed here too, smooth and pink, just for him. He kisses Buck again, just above his hole, licks lower and wetter over his rim and Buck's arms give out, shoulders dropping to the mattress.
Eddie leans in, lets a mouthful of spit slip out over Buck's hole, catches it with his tongue, pointed to shove inside. He kisses at him, open mouthed, swirls his tongue deeper, until they're both soaked, saliva dripping down his chin, over Buck's taint to his balls, hanging heavy between his legs. Mouth still on him Eddie reaches between, groping at Buck's cock, and the touch makes his hole flutter, clenching around Eddie's tongue.
'Eddie,' Buck gasps and Eddie sits back, pushing his thumb against Buck's rim, watching it open for him, slicked wet.
They've basically completely abandoned the premise now but Eddie still has the whistle around his neck, swinging and brushing against Buck's back as he reaches over him to grab the lube. He knows how Buck feels about authority, how he chafed against it for so long, but he also knows how he feels about responsibility, direction, instruction. They've never codified it so explicitly before but it comes out in other ways, in bed and out of it.
'I don't trust just any player with this,' Eddie says, low, right at Buck's ear, slick fingers pushing inside, working in and out, and Buck yields to it so beautifully, 'but I know you can be a good boy for me on and off the field.'
'Yeah, I can be good,' Buck nods, 'I'll be—so good. Please, coach.'
He's gasping, his hands flexing against the sheets, his hips moving in a restless, twitching rhythm and Eddie takes pity on him, pulling his fingers out, lining up his cock, the fat head of it lodged against Buck's hole.
'You want it?' he asks, inching forward, feeling the give, the impossible pressure as if Buck's body is trying to suck him in. He feels lightheaded, ablaze with it, and it's always like this with Buck, every time.
'I want it,' Buck begs, 'give it to me.'
Eddie does. He pushes inside in one long stroke, the cradle of his hips bumping against Buck's ass, knocking him forward and Buck goes pliant, a full body surrender. There's no resistance, not from either of them, Buck so open as Eddie fills him up, again and again.
They're racing to the finish line fast, the endless resounding noise of their bodies meeting so loud, Buck's fucked out grunts and Eddie panting opened mouthed into the skin between his shoulder blades. Buck levers his hips up, barely able to push up against the hold Eddie has on him but the change in angle makes Eddie slip even deeper.
Eddie loses himself to it, sweaty chest against Buck's back, his hips moving wildly and Buck takes what Eddie gives him, deep, full thrusts, hitting his prostate, shoving his dick against the sheets beneath him.
'I'm gonna—Eddie. Can I—?' Buck pants, shaking with it, voice ragged with want.
'Yes, show me,' says Eddie and he can't really see it but he can feel it as Buck's whole body goes vise-like on his cock, shuddering and humping forward against the mattress, trapped under Eddie's weight as he comes.
It tips Eddie over, pulsing hot and deep, making Buck moan again, still clenching around him. He rides it out buried deep, giving Buck all of it, not stopping until it hurts.
He slips out, rolling on to his back and Buck follows him, plasters them together, his face buried in the sweaty dip of Eddie's neck. Eddie reaches, two fingers slipped between Buck's ass cheeks, to feel the wet, used give of his hole. Buck sucks in a breath and tilts his hips back, allowing it. Against the wall of his chest Eddie's heart beats so thunderously the whistle is vibrating. He pulls it off over his head, lost already in the messy sheets, and they're just Buck and Eddie again.
'You should've grown back the mustache for this,' Buck muses, his thumb tracing the curve of Eddie's top lip.
Eddie leans over, catching Buck's mouth in a kiss, letting him him feel the scrape of his stubble, the soothing balm of his tongue, 'next time.'