One Word Prompt: Play-dough (I know, very creative, right?)
We back! Thank you for the prompt!!
The years have been kind to Eddie in a number of ways. No one has to fight for their lives, his little twerps have grown up into high ranking people in various positions, giving him endless second hand privileges, and he lived less than a mile from Dairy Queen, home of the best non-icecream desert this side of the Mississippi.
Oh, not to mention, he's married to the love of his life, Steve Munson.
And boy, had the years been good on him.
They were both in their 40s, Eddie closer to the big 50 than he was comfortable with. Of course, Steve didn’t look a day over 35, the insufferable bastard. If anything, his jawline had become even more defined over the years, and the little splash of salt and pepper made him look like a sexy professor you wanted to hold you back after class.
He’s got fat now. Him, the same man whose pants were more patches than denim because he hadn’t needed to replace them since he finished puberty. Said pants don’t even make it to his still infuriatingly flat ass because his thighs have also succumbed to the pressures of old age.
He gives up, letting his pants flop uselessly under his bulge.
“Steeeeeeeeve.” The man in question is in the middle of his six step hair routine, a very delicate phase. He counts himself lucky that he gets a hum in response. “My pants don’t fit. My pants, Stevie. The very pants you look off of me yourself when you deflowered me! It’s like trying to shove play-dough through one of those extruders, getting these pants on! That is not the kind of leaking I want to be doing right now.”
“I told you the Mt. Dew and Honeycombs would catch up with you someday. Just be glad it’s not your heart.” Steve doesn’t even look at him, just keeps carefully running his fingers through his locks.
“Steve, this is serious. I have been 130 pounds since I was 19 years old. Who am I, what will I become?” For all the dramatics, he doesn’t actually hate the way he looks right now. He takes a long look, taking in the other things that have changed across the decades.
There are new tattoos, of course, a plethora of them. Some with meaning, just as many without, all of them reminders of a specific moment in his life. He’s more tan than he ever was as a kid, thanks to his husband who cares about him enough to make his whiny ass go for a walk twice a week.
The stubble on his chin is more prominent, the slouch of his shoulders bordering on permanent, the freckles at the crease of his armpit darker.
At least his hair is more of less the same, just minus the bangs.
It’s just…different, is all.
Eddie pouts at himself in the mirror, pulling uselessly at his pants and getting nowhere. He slumps his shoulders and sighs, pauses, sighs again a little louder.
He’s just sucking in for a truly deafening third sigh when hairy arms wrap around his waist. Finally. What’s a guy got to do to get a little loving these days?
Steve scratches Eddie’s belly absently, hair a mess because he’s still in the middle of the process of styling. Steve looks at them both in the mirror, tilting his head and squinting his eyes, thinking seriously about something.
“I like it,” he says, patting the flat of his large hand on the fat of his stomach. Steve is gracious enough to ignore the way his dick obviously kicks at the motion. That’s a conversation for after work.
“Yeah? You don’t think I need a mommy makeover to make sure my dear husband doesn't stray?” He flutters his lashes and pitches his voice, playing the part of a 50s housewife.
Steve sees right through the joke, not rising to the bait. “I like it, you’ve always been skinny as a rail. Maybe your boney hip won’t wake me up at three in the morning anymore.” He pats Eddie’s hip as he says it, hooking his chin over Eddie’s shoulder. Again, not something he can examine right now.
Eddie huffs a laugh, leaning back into Steve, trusting him to hold his weight, even if it’s a little heavier now. “Yeah?”
They share one of those peaceful moments you only get when you’ve been with someone as long as they have. Nothing left to say, but content in each other’s company.
Steve pinches Eddie’s side, breaking the moment and making Eddie swear his name into the grave. Steve laughs, pulling his husband back into shamelessly palm at his thighs. “Besides, I love play-dough. I used to eat it.”
Eddie seriously doesn't have time for this.
