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Steve loves his friends.
Really, truly, he does. He wouldn’t trade any of them — Robin, Nancy, Eddie, Jonathan — for the world. They’re his life source, the raft keeping him reluctantly afloat as he wades in a sea of yet-to-be-recovered-from trauma. But for some reason, Steve still finds himself yearning to jump off the raft and into bottomless water, to drift into absolute nothingness for eternity. He thinks it would be peaceful, probably, after the initial panic from the water settling into his lungs subsides.
“Steve?”
He looks up at Robin’s soft urging, which snaps him out of his spaced-out trance. He becomes familiar with his environment again: dimly lit room, everyone nestled comfortably on the couch, his couch, some cheesy seventies horror flick playing on the TV. The smell of Robin’s perfume, light and subtle with notes of lavender and cedar, intermingled with the faint fragrance of Irish Spring coming from Eddie, who’s seated on the other side of him.
Right. They’re hanging out. It’s movie night. Steve loves his friends, but sometimes he struggles to remember that they’re even there.
“Air,” is all Steve says as he hoists himself from the couch, though it feels less like a contraction and flex of his muscles and more like a slow tug of invisible strings by some ghost puppeteer, pulling and pulling until taut. On his way outside, he makes sure to grab the repurposed Altoid container and meticulously decorated lighter (thanks, Robin) from the end table.
Steve neglects the various pool-side lounge chairs in favour of the softly dewed grass just beyond the patio, settling into the damp earth before bringing a haphazardly rolled joint to his lips and lighting it. He slowly inhales, savours the burn in his throat, and lays back on the grass with a subsequent exhale, watching as the smoke above him dissipates into starry sky.
He, too, dissipates into the constellations. Amidst his developing haze, Steve tries to recall the different stick figures that were so reminiscent of his youth. When he’d sneak outside late at night, usually after an argument with his father, and just stare at the sky. Steve has never cared to know what the real names of the stars were, never thought they mattered. The sky is personal to him, private. Over the years, he’s charted his own asterisms, named them after people in his life. People he loves, people he doesn’t.
Steve never smoked — at least, not until a few years ago, after his first encounter with that eight-foot-tall monster. He couldn’t sleep for weeks afterward, terrified of a Demogorgon tearing through his wallpaper to dismember him. And it’s not like he had parents to talk to — well, he does, but they’re away more often than they’re home. Steve’s practically lived alone his entire life.
He smoked his first joint at a New Year’s party a few months later. Nancy had absolutely chewed him out about it, wouldn’t stop theorizing about how Steve would likely be hooked on heroin within a few months, which, obviously, never happened. His marijuana use was sparse at first, he’d only really light up whenever his nightmares would keep him up. But as the chaos continued to unfold exponentially, the more Steve partook in his oh-so-dear vice. It slows him down a bit, settles his nerves, pulls him from his post-traumatic spirals and into the present moment. Makes him aware of his breathing, a symptom of the fact that he’s still alive, after all.
Weed alone used to do the trick. But now, when the drug settles his thoughts and he finally regains presence, it fills him with a sense of unshakeable dread. But alas, a dulled knot in his stomach is far better than losing the ability to breathe.
The back door slides open — Steve doesn’t know how long it’s been, but judging by the ever-shortening butt of his joint, he can assume it’s been an appropriate amount of time for Eddie to realize he’d gone for a drag without him.
The aforementioned sits next to Steve on the grass, doesn’t say a word as he helps himself to the tin container and lighter.
“Sorry.” Steve doesn’t know what he’s sorry for, exactly. Just feels like he should say it. Feels appropriate.
“Don’t be,” Eddie murmurs, a little muffled by the filter nestled between his lips as he fumbles with the lighter a bit. Steve gently takes it from him, strikes a flame, watches Eddie lower his head to meet it. He knows Eddie’s more than capable of lighting it himself, he just wanted to do it. “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t smoke through all these in one sitting. Moderation, kiddo.”
Steve snorts as he lays back on the grass, pulls one more drag from the joint before extinguishing it on the wet soil. Eddie lays next to him.
“You okay?” Eddie asks after a moment, takes another drag, holds it as he starts, “You seem… spacey today.” Steve presses his lips together and evaluates entertaining the concern.
“We’ll see,” he sighs. “Just gotta get out of my head, ‘s all.”
The soft rustle of the grass beside Steve tells him that Eddie’s nodding. “Yeah. I get it. Definitely came to the right place.”
Steve finally turns his head to look at Eddie, taking note of the way the moonlight caresses his pale features, the way his stupidly long shag cascades amongst the sprigs and needles of the nuclear lawn. “Why’d you really come out here, Eds?”
“Mm… just missed you.” Eddie turns his head to look at Steve, too. His brown eyes flicker down and up, like he’s analyzing Steve’s expression for more. “Thought you might want something a little more effective.”
He knows what Eddie’s getting at, of course. The two of them had started fooling around a couple months ago — it started with a drunk kiss, progressed to a couple sloppy makeout sessions, fondling, the odd hand job here and there. Casual. Nice. Casual and nice in a way that feels normal and safe. Eddie’s always felt safe to Steve, in a way he could never really put words to.
In a way that neither of them really put words to. They’ve never formally discussed their little arrangement, it all just kind of unfolded organically. Sure, Steve and Eddie had both been wasted the first time they made out, but by the third time their sober lips had locked, usually during a duo movie night, or in hushed bathrooms and closets, they fell into a natural progression — and somewhere along the hill they’d been smoothly driving down, the brakes had given out.
When Eddie takes another drag, Steve leans in and presses his lips to where the joint had been just a second ago, parts them a little so Eddie can funnel smoke into his mouth and inhales. He pulls back with a little grin, blows the smoke off to the side so as to not get it in Eddie’s pretty eyes, which are crinkled by a fond smile.
“You’re getting better at that.” Eddie puts out his joint and returns his attention to Steve. “Wanna head back in?”
Steve nods, lets the imaginary puppeteer pull him back up again until he’s on his slightly unsteady feet. He stops Eddie as he’s about to pull the back door open.
“Do you wanna, uh,” Steve starts, scratching the back of his neck as he becomes uncomfortably aware of the vulnerability within the simple act of declaring something as trivial as a desire, “go upstairs, instead?”
He can tell Eddie’s trying to hold back a grin. “Sure, Stevie. Whatever you want.”
Once they’re inside, Steve makes a pit stop in the kitchen for water while Eddie tells the rest of the group that he’s gonna take Steve to bed because he’s ’had too much,’ which is obviously a lie. Steve isn’t sure if the group has caught onto him and Eddie’s shenanigans, but he can’t really bring himself to care enough to look into it. He plays into the lie, letting Eddie all but drag him up the stairs and to his room.
The door barely has time to close before Steve’s latching onto Eddie, yanking him close with double fistfuls of Eddie’s DIY-ed-to-shit band tee. In response, Eddie slowly backs Steve into the wall, ring-clad fingers resting on Steve’s nape and waist. The coolness of the metal against his hot skin makes Steve shiver in a way that’s all too good.
The kiss is rough, careless: all chapped lips and tongue and teeth. Steve swipes his tongue over Eddie’s canines, the smooth enamel, the sharp point at the bottom. He avoids the urge to press the wet muscle against the edge until it breaks.
Kissing Eddie is a one-of-a-kind experience: it’s a subversion of norms in favour of raw curiosity and need. With Eddie, Steve doesn’t worry about doing anything the ‘correct’ way. They do what feels good, and that’s all that matters.
Eddie pulls back, pulls a disappointed sigh from Steve with him.
“Tell me what you want, angel,” Eddie whispers, tracing a ring-covered knuckle down one of the muscles on the side of Steve’s neck. “How can I get you out of that pretty head of yours?”
“I wanna make you feel really fucking good,” Steve breathes, unable to see the point in holding himself back right now, doesn’t know if he could. “Better than before.”
Eddie quirks a brow. “You’re sure you wanna do more?” He’s always been so good at checking in, considering the rather large experience gap between the two of them. Sure, Steve’s fucked a few women before, but this is an incredibly different ballgame — no pun intended.
Sex with women feels so predictable, formulaic, even. Steve acts how he thinks they want him to, goes through the motions prescribed to him through high school locker room howls. And it worked for him — until it didn’t. Until the initial novelty of unfamiliar sex organs wore off into dulled obligations. Until Steve met Eddie.
He swallows, nods confidently. “Yes. I’m sure. God, I’m so sure. Please.”
“Okay.” Eddie presses a tender kiss to Steve’s lips and gingerly brushes a strand of hair from his temple. “I’ll let you lead, yeah? Least for now. And, for fuck’s sake, don’t feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to, becau—“
“Eddie.”
“Yeah?”
“I want to.”
Eddie relaxes a little at that. His nervousness isn’t a new development by any means, he’s kind of always just been like that. Steve thinks it’s sweet.
He gently takes the hem of Eddie’s shirt between his fingers, slowly pushing it up his tattooed torso. Steve takes his time, watching every small muscle twitch in wake of fingertip grazes, and eventually pulls it over Eddie’s head, careful not to mess his curls too much.
Eddie hums in amusement once Steve switches their positions, and the kissing resumes. Steve kisses him like he’s starving, hasn’t eaten anything in weeks. His tongue knows no boundaries as it greedily invades Eddie’s cola-flavoured mouth.
Steve indulges just a little longer before he begins to trail wet kisses down Eddie’s neck, his inked chest, the trail of hair leading down the lower part of his abdomen which abruptly halts just above the waistband of acid-washed jeans. He kneels down in front of Eddie, looking up at him with the biggest, most pleading eyes he can possibly muster.
Eddie shudders a little, his gaze unwavering. “Yeah. Go ahead.”
Not like he really needed the encouragement, Steve immediately begins unfastening Eddie’s belt, pulling it through the fraying loops with a satisfying hiss before he carefully sets it on the floor. He prides himself on being meticulous, methodic.
“Talk me through it?” Steve asks as he unbuttons Eddie’s jeans, pulling the zipper of his fly down at a rate he knows is torturous.
“‘Course,” Eddie murmurs, running a soothing hand through Steve’s hair. Usually, he’d mind, but not with Eddie. No, Steve would let Eddie absolutely mutilate him if it meant he’d take some sort of pleasure in it. “Whatever you want.”
The soft timbre of Eddie’s voice sends a rush straight to Steve’s cock, but he can’t be bothered with himself right now. He lets Eddie’s jeans drop to his ankles, hooks his fingers under the waistband of the black boxers he’s got on and tugs them down, watching in a hungered awe as Eddie’s dick springs free. And Eddie softly tuts at Steve, caresses the side of his face, tells him how beautiful he is.
Steve looks up at Eddie as he wraps his hand around the base, leans forward to delicately swipe his tongue against the small bead of precum that’s gathered on the tip, and finds himself growing hungrier at the salty-sweet taste of him. He then wraps his lips around Eddie, pushing himself down and letting his cock breach his lips, his mouth, his throat.
Eddie lets out a shuddered sigh, buries a ringed hand in Steve’s hair to hold him steady. “Oh, fuck. That’s so good, Stevie. You’re so fucking good for me.”
Steve hums in response, earning an ensuing twitch of Eddie’s hips. He’s a little shocked at his throat’s capacity, but hey, he definitely won’t complain. He knows Eddie won’t, either. He pulls himself off, gazes up at Eddie, who lets out a needy groan at the change in contact when Steve starts to pump his hand along the length of Eddie’s spit-slicked cock.
“I like how you taste,” Steve breathes, and Eddie smiles at him sweetly, in a way that makes him want to melt into the floor. He opts for wrapping his lips around Eddie again instead, pushing his mouth down, then back up and over again at a steady pace.
“Fuck — yeah, just like that,” Eddie breathes, and Steve can hear a thud as he lets his head fall back. He’s never been much of a moaner — that’s Steve’s job, after all. “Nice and steady. Don’t try to go too fast.”
Steve wouldn’t dream of it. He wants this to last as long as possible. Everything about sucking Eddie off is absolutely exhilarating: the soft coos of encouragement, the comforting warmth of Eddie’s dick twitching inside Steve’s mouth. He could stay down here for hours, could probably get off just from hearing Eddie tell him how good he’s doing in between laboured breaths. How pretty and capable he is. He keeps the pace for a little longer before slowly pulling off again, watching as a shameless string of spit and precum maintains a semblance of connection between his lips and Eddie’s needily twitching cock.
“I want you to use my mouth,” Steve pleads, gazing up at a nearly-wrecked Eddie. “Fuck my face, please.”
Eddie sharply exhales, his eyes glued to Steve’s precum-glossed lips as he strokes the side of Steve’s flushed face again. “Okay. Just… tap my leg twice if you want me to stop, ‘kay?”
Steve nods, and shifts on his knees to get a little more comfortable. The feeling of the hard floor on his joints is the last thing he wants to be thinking about right now.
“Open that pretty mouth and relax your jaw for me,” Eddie instructs, and a tight-chested Steve eagerly complies, letting his tongue lay flat against his bottom lip. Eddie holds himself at the base with one hand, his other gently grabbing a hold of the hair at the back of Steve’s head. Steve maintains his gaze, his lids heavy with want. And Eddie finally pushes in, slow at first, until he bottoms out in Steve’s mouth, coarse hairs tickling his nose.
Eddie lets out a pleased groan, his own jaw hanging open as he gazes down at Steve, all open and willing. He pulls out a bit, then back in, and it’s all so lewdly slow as he sets a rather indulgent pace. “You’re so good for me, angel. Just stay nice and slack like that.”
And Steve does, lets his jaw hang open so Eddie can violate his mouth further. The ache between his legs is impossible to ignore, but he isn’t all too worried about it. Worst case scenario, he cums in his pants. Best case scenario, Eddie takes care of him, like he always does.
Steve loves how Eddie’s gentle guidance never feels condescending. Eddie doesn’t baby Steve, instead he acts like he’s aware of Steve’s capabilities and gives him the room he needs to discover them himself. And Steve never feels judged by Eddie, never feels like Eddie’s expecting something from him.
Eddie eventually quickens his pace, fucking into Steve’s willing mouth with scattered breathy moans. It’s the most he’s ever heard Eddie, which is surprising given that their friends are sitting mere feet below them, oblivious to whatever it is that Steve and Eddie are actually doing.
Steve holds onto Eddie’s thighs to steady himself as the impact begins to increase and, judging by the growing frequency of Eddie’s pleased sounds, he’s growing closer. He loves being useful for Eddie. Loves the slight pain of Eddie’s cock against the back of his throat with each increasingly harsh thrust.
“Shit, I’m close,” Eddie murmurs. “You look so fucking good with my cock in your pretty mouth, Stevie. Would look so much better with my cum spilling out of it.”
Steve thinks that, had he not been so focused on keeping his body as stable yet relaxed as possible, Eddie’s words alone would’ve made him finish completely untouched. He can’t really nod in response, tries to give out a strangled ‘uh-huh.’
Eddie heeds him regardless, holding onto the back of Steve’s head with both hands as he relentlessly fucks his mouth and throat. It doesn’t take long before Eddie pushes his cock all the way in and holds Steve’s head in place. Steve can’t help the muffled moan he lets out at the feeling of hot ribbons of fluid shooting into his throat — it’s new, it’s good, even.
He instinctively tries to swallow around Eddie but ends up gagging, and the discomfort makes Steve’s eyes water. Regardless of his fucked-out state, Eddie is quick to pull out of Steve’s mouth, crouching down next to him and cupping his face.
“Hey, deep breaths, okay?” Eddie soothes while Steve tries to calm his coughing fit, his words staggered as he tries to catch his own breath. “You were so … perfect for me. Did such a good job, Stevie.”
So perfect for Eddie.
His discomfort probably looks a lot worse than it is — how could Steve possibly feel anything less than absolutely elated when Eddie’s gorgeous eyes are gazing at him so intently? Steve allows his eyes to trail as he tries to calm himself, taking note of the way Eddie’s curls caress his collarbones. He looks angelic. Maybe his overly edgy appearance is an intentional deterrent from his shockingly virtuous nature.
The coughing subsides, and Steve offers Eddie a grateful smile, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I really liked that,” he whispers. “Like feeling useful.”
Eddie smiles at him again, kisses his forehead. “Good. Let’s get off the floor though, hey? It’s my turn to be useful.”
Still in a state of elation from the weed and lack of oxygen, Steve laughs and lets Eddie help him up and over to his bed. He’s still fully clothed and fully erect, but he’s sure neither of those predicaments will last long. Eddie climbs into bed next to Steve, and for a moment, they just lay there, facing each other. Eddie’s completely naked, apart from his jewelry: chain-bound dog tags, a shorter chain which clings to Eddie’s neck like a collar, and the large collection of rings caressing his fingers.
“How are you feeling?” Eddie asks, grazing Steve’s cheek with his fingertips.
“Better,” Steve answers honestly. “Thank you.”
“Don’t you dare,” Eddie laughs, and it’s so, so sweet. Steve loves Eddie’s laugh, loves his smile, his voice. “I haven’t had a chance to take care of you yet.” Right. Though not nearly as hard as before, Steve’s still a little uncomfortable.
“Don’t worry about—“
“Tell me what you want me to do, baby,” Eddie softly urges, leaning in and pressing the soft whisper of a kiss against Steve’s lips.
The pet name makes Steve pause to attempt to regain the ability to speak, “More.”
“More, how?” Eddie urges, propping his head up with his elbow while his free hand plays with the collar of Steve’s sweatshirt. He’s always had this bullshit need to make Steve ‘use his words,’ always so adamant about communication and whatnot — and yes, Steve recognizes how hypocritical that is.
“I want you to fuck me,” Steve says after a moment of embarrassed hesitation. The request is so pathetic, so vulnerable. Fully clothed, yet Steve feels naked and bare. Nevertheless, he commits, “I wanna feel you inside me.”
Eddie fully pulls back at that, widened eyes intently scanning Steve’s face. “I need you to be so incredibly sure right now, Steve.”
He knows it’s necessary and though he truly admires it, Steve still dislikes when Eddie gets all serious like this.
“I’m sure,” Steve reassures him. “It’s just sex, right?”
“Well, yeah, for me it is,” Eddie laughs dryly. “But this is new territory for you. I don’t want to pressure you into doing anything you aren’t absolutely comfortable with. It’s… a lot, for a first-timer.”
Steve can’t help but roll his eyes at that. “God, I hate when you get all parental about it.” Steve places both hands on Eddie’s shoulders, holding both a firm grip and purposeful gaze. “I promise, I’m so-incredibly-fucking sure. I trust you. I want you, Eddie. Please.”
Eddie takes a deep breath, looks like he’s contemplating arguing further. He seems to push it down, accepts Steve’s pleas, and gives his lips a peck. “Okay. Let’s get you out of these clothes then, yeah?”
Steve grins triumphantly and sits up a bit to pull his sweatshirt off, but before his hands can even graze the fabric, Eddie lightly swats them away with a soft tut and pulls it off for him.
“Lay on your back, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, and Steve complies, laying his bare back against the soft sheets of his bed, letting the soft pillow caress his warm and heavy head. Eddie hovers over Steve, caging him beneath him as he leans down to kiss him.
Steve wastes no time as he parts his lips in response, tangling his hands in Eddie’s curls to pull him closer. And he absolutely revels in the way he’s completely engulfed by Eddie: his weight on top of Steve, curly fringe tickling Steve’s forehead, the taste of his mouth, the intoxicating smell of green bar-soap and sweat-stained woody cologne that’s so perfectly Eddie. Mirroring his prior actions, Eddie’s lips begin to migrate south, down the stubble of Steve’s chin, his sensitive neck, the hair of his torso. Eddie’s eyes stay closed, like he’s completely lost in the moment, the feeling of Steve’s bodily texture on his lips.
Before he began fooling around with Eddie, Steve didn’t know such tender touches could possibly exist. Somehow, those nylon-calloused fingertips were softer than silk against Steve’s goosebump-pricked skin.
“Don’t be scared to tell me to slow down or stop,” Eddie says as he begins undoing the button of Steve’s Levi’s. “I mean it. Remember the word we picked out?”
Shit. Steve tries to pull his attention from the gorgeous man on top of him to wrack his fogged-up brain, and it comes to him in a marijuana-scented memory: “Kiwi. Yeah.”
Eddie’s lips curl into a grin. “Good boy,” he hums, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s lower belly as he shimmies his jeans and underwear down his legs in one go. Steve’s breath hitches at the feeling of cold air against his painfully erect cock, but it’s soon replaced by the warmth of Eddie’s hand as it wraps around his shaft.
“Ed—“ Steve chokes out, to which Eddie coos and tenderly strokes the side of Steve’s face, as if he were made of fragile porcelain and oh so dear to him.
“I got you,” Eddie whispers, slowly pumping his hand up and down Steve’s length. And poor Steve is so incredibly sensitive right now, his body twitching with every movement of Eddie’s. He kisses Steve’s earlobe, and whispers into his ear: “Ever finger yourself? You ever explore yourself like that, Stevie?”
The question alone draws a shaky moan from Steve’s lips, and he finds himself having to tilt his head back and stare at the ceiling in order to regain coherence. His cheeks are madly hot at the intrusiveness of Eddie’s question, and he finds it hard to admit that yes, of course he’s fucked himself open on his own fingers from time to time, and of course he only ever thinks about Eddie when he does it. “Yeah. Sometimes.”
“Sometimes,” Eddie repeats in amused disbelief, and Steve feels a calloused finger urge his chin down again so their eyes can meet. “You ever imagine it’s me doing it?”
And Steve feels so vulnerable, so embarrassed — but in a way that feels doubly arousing, sends waves of heat throughout his entire body. “Yes,” he admits, but he’d never truly own up to the actual content of his fucked-out daydreams.
Eddie gives Steve a satisfied smile and presses a kiss to his lips before he pulls off of him. He shifts to sit next to Steve with his back against the ornate wooden headboard and pats his lap as though urging a well-bred lapdog to come sit. And Steve, who can’t seem to differentiate himself from a rather expensive Shih Tzu, eagerly climbs into Eddie’s lap, resting his hands on his shoulders.
Steve watches as Eddie takes a moment to ogle up at him, those gentle fingertips grazing Steve’s jawline. “You’re so beautiful, Steve,” he murmurs, and the rawness of his words twist Steve’s stomach into knots. It takes everything in him not to tear up at the earnest compliment, and he kisses Eddie softly in thanks.
Eddie deepens the kiss by tilting his head to the side a little, and Steve can feel his arms moving a little as he pulls the rings from his fingers, a few soft clunks sounding as Eddie reaches over to place them on the glossed wooden nightstand. His hands promptly return to Steve’s sides, sliding from his upper back to his waist, and finally landing on the supple skin of his ass. Eddie grabs at it greedily, which earns a muffled whine from Steve. He loves having Eddie manhandle him, grab him however he likes. If he could, Steve would give his body up completely for Eddie to have his way with. Let him do whatever he wants.
Steve gasps as he feels a little pressure against his hole, his grip tightening on Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie softly hushes him, kisses his cheek.
“You got lube in here?” he asks, to which Steve nods and leans over to pull a small tube from the top drawer of his nightstand. He watches as Eddie coats a couple fingers in a generous amount of gel, and the knot in his stomach only tightens more.
He feels Eddie reach his lube-covered hand around to prod a finger against his ass once more before finally slipping it inside. He’s slow, gentle, caring, his eyes scanning Steve’s face for discomfort. Steve winces a little at the intrusion, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to adjust around the circumference of Eddie’s finger.
Eddie tuts softly. “Stevie, look at me, sweetheart,” he urges, and Steve does, finding a little comfort in his endearing smile. “Don’t lose yourself quite yet.”
Steve nods in understanding, a soft moan falling from his lips as he feels Eddie’s finger start to slowly pull out, then back in, then out again, repeating at a steady pace. It takes every ounce of effort to not fall forward into Eddie’s embrace, but he wants to be good for him. Do exactly as he says. So he maintains eye contact, feeling the most raw and exposed he’s ever been in his entire life as he sits completely unclothed in an equally-naked Eddie’s lap.
Eddie pushes a second finger in, and Steve chokes out a moan at the stretch. But he barely has time to recover before Eddie starts pumping both fingers in and out, making the muscles in Steve’s back tense up. “Breathe,” Eddie gently reminds him, rubbing soft circles into Steve’s hip with his free hand. “You gotta relax a little, ‘kay? It’ll feel even better, I promise.”
Steve does, and of course, Eddie’s right. He focuses on his own breath — in through his nose, out through his mouth in shaky sighs and moans. Eddie continues to finger him open a little while longer before slowly pulling his fingers out, and Steve can’t help the disappointed whine that falls from his lips.
“Are you ready?” Eddie gently asks, grabbing the lube from where he’d haphazardly left it on the mattress moments prior.
“I’m ready,” Steve says with as much confidence as he can muster (which isn’t really any), knowing a simple nod wouldn’t be enough assurance for sweet Eddie. Steve feels Eddie maneuver some lube onto his cock from behind him, before he feels the warmth of the tip against him as Eddie lines himself up with Steve’s entrance, which is enough for Steve’s jaw to fall open.
“Okay, slowly sit down,” Eddie instructs. “Like, super slow. The gravity’ll help. You’re doing so well, sweetheart.”
Steve nods in understanding before slowly lowering his hips. As soon as he feels Eddie’s cock breach the thin ring of muscle, Steve’s eyes squeeze shut, his breaths heavy and staggered as he tries to accommodate to the stretch. Eddie murmurs soft words of patient encouragement, his hands firmly gripping Steve’s hips as he guides him lower and lower, until Steve’s sitting all the way down.
And it’s all so much, he feels so full. It’s a completely foreign feeling to Steve, as the girth of his own fingers is nothing in comparison to Eddie’s cock, which Steve can feel twitching inside him. It’s warm, it’s beautiful, and so fucking hot. And he takes his time, just sits there for a moment while he allows himself to adjust.
“You have no fucking idea,” Eddie starts, his head resting against the headboard with a soft thump, “how hard it is to just sit here right now.”
Steve pants out a laugh at that and gives Eddie’s shoulders a soft squeeze. “I think I’m ready to move now.”
Eddie quirks a brow at that. “So eager, aren’t you?” he hums, giving Steve’s ass a squeeze. “There’s something to be said about your sex drive, Harrington. I’ve heard people talk about how you’re such a little slut. Would probably fuck anyone who offered, hm?”
For some reason, Eddie’s words light something inside Steve that he didn’t know was possible. Hot and irritating, but in a good way. He braces himself as he slowly lifts his hips up, then back down, his jaw falling open at a whole new sensation deep inside of him, one that briefly makes him see white. “What—“
“Ah,” Eddie hums. “Yeah, there’s a, uh, spot in there. Feels good, doesn’t it, Stevie?”
“Fuck,” Steve huffs as he sinks into it a bit, his hands gripping Eddie’s shoulders so hard he worries for a moment about ripping the skin clean off. “Yeah… feels good.”
Steve feels Eddie’s hand lightly grab his chin, and he finally opens his eyes to meet Eddie’s, which are filled with a depth Steve has yet to bear witness to. The sheer intensity makes his stomach drop a little.
“You feel so fucking good, Steve,” Eddie whispers against Steve’s lips, and he shudders when he feels Eddie’s wet tongue poke from his mouth to quickly swipe at them. “You’re taking me so, so well, pretty boy.”
Merely whimpering in response (Jesus fuck, he never does that), Steve lifts his hips up again to start a steady pace up and down Eddie’s cock. The moan that sounds from the man is music to Steve’s ears: breathy, hearty, needy. He can tell from the twitching of Eddie’s hands that he’s putting a good amount of effort into holding himself back — Steve shudders at the idea of what would happen if he stopped doing so.
He feels Eddie grab onto his right hip, while his other hand wraps around Steve’s neglected cock. The added stimulation makes him arch harshly, uselessly grasping at Eddie’s wrist. “Ah! Fuck—Eddie, t-too much—“
“You can take it,” Eddie says and lightly swats at Steve’s hand. “Relax. I’ve got you, baby. I’d never let anything bad happen to you.”
And Steve absolutely relaxes at Eddie’s words. He places his hands on Eddie’s shoulders again and tries his hardest to keep a steady pace, but when Eddie starts stroking him in time with his movements, he can’t help but collapse onto Eddie, holding onto him for dear life. Eddie kisses Steve’s exposed cheek before adjusting their position a bit, both hands now firmly holding Steve’s hips up a few inches.
Steve cries out as soon as Eddie begins thrusting up into him with a practised precision that makes his mind go completely numb. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders in a feeble attempt at stabilizing himself against the force of the thrusts, his head burying itself in the crook of Eddie’s neck.
“Taking me so fucking good,” Eddie grits out between breathy moans, and Steve’s sure he’s gonna wake up tomorrow morning with ten little bruises on his sides from where Eddie’s fingers are harshly dug into his flesh.
It isn’t long before a familiar knot begins to build in Steve’s lower abdomen, and it takes longer than he’d like to murmur, “Eddie… think I’m close…”
“Yeah, baby?” Eddie breathes against Steve’s ear, nipping at his lobe in a way that makes Steve nearly sob. “Me too. You gonna cum for me? Come on, Stevie. Show me how much you love having my cock buried deep in that tight little ass.”
Eddie barely has time to finish his sentence before the pressure in Steve’s belly builds to a climax. In a last-ditch effort to muffle the strangled cry that rips from his throat, he takes a mouthful of the soft skin of Eddie’s shoulder.
“Fuck!” Eddie groans, and his pace only grows more relentless as Steve’s cock releases ribbons of cum between their bodies.
And Steve is oh, so perfectly numb. All he can think about is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. He releases Eddie’s skin from between his teeth as his jaw hangs lax, all semblance of coherence retreating from his brain as Eddie fucks Steve stupid.
It’s all too soon when Eddie thrusts into Steve one last time, burying his cock so deep that Steve briefly worries about internal damage. The concern doesn’t last long, however, as Steve finds himself encapsulated by the feeling of Eddie’s cum shooting inside him. And he absolutely cannot help the lewd moan that falls from his gaping lips at the sensation. “Oh my God—“
Eddie pants beneath Steve, rubbing soft circles on the abused skin of his hips. “Shit,” he breathes. “That was so good, angel. You’re so perfect… so perfect for me…”
Still unable to form a legible sentence, Steve instead opts to press grateful, open-mouthed kisses to the side of Eddie’s neck. When Eddie eventually pulls out of him, Steve finds the sudden emptiness much more uncomfortable than the initial intrusion. Eddie gently guides Steve’s hips back down until he’s laying flush atop him, and Steve just can’t find it in him to care about the sticky mess between them.
They lay in silence for a moment, Eddie’s arms wrapped tightly around Steve’s waist while they calm their breathing down together. Steve finds himself coming back a bit, grounding himself in the feeling of the soft circles Eddie’s tracing on his skin.
“You still there?” Eddie asks lightly.
Steve hums in response. “Still here.”
“How are you feeling?”
And it’s probably the worst question Eddie can ask right now, for it forces Steve to become aware of the nagging sobered thoughts and anxieties vouching for his attention. Mostly, they’re thoughts about Eddie: where they stand, what any of this means. Truthfully, since this whole ordeal began, Steve hasn’t allowed himself the time to ponder the implications of fooling around with Eddie. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Eddie — no, that’s far from the case — Steve’s simply too exhausted to unpack any of that right now.
“Tired,” he murmurs, hoping it’s sufficient enough.
“Makes sense,” Eddie hums, kissing the top of Steve’s head. “Listen, as much as I’d love to stay right here, we’re fucking disgusting right now. Plus, I should let everyone know we didn’t, like, die or something.”
Steve grumbles as Eddie slips out from underneath him, but he doesn’t bother protesting in a way that’s even slightly effective. Knows he’d lose anyway. Besides, as soon as his head hits the pillow, the lights are out.