sandbox

eddie flops onto his side in bed, covering rustling as he waits for whatever bullshit steve has in store.

"i'm filming today and my guest cancelled last minute--"

"what," eddie cuts him off, annoyed. "your dommy mommy couldn't make it?"

there's a rather pregnant pause before steve carries on, undeterred.

"anyway, i need someone, you're like the only person i trust to do this. and obviously, you'd be compensated for your time."

tossing the sheets aside, eddie begins the arduous process of waking up. "fine," he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "you remember--"

"your non-negotiables, yep! no filming your face, no impact-play unless previously agreed upon, no tugging on your piercings without permission, and you get final approval over the edit."

"good. so, what am i in for?" he asks, rifling through his dresser for some clothes on his way to the shower.

"thankyouthankyouTHANKYOU," steve says, probably with a shit-eating grin since he got what he wanted, the fucking brat. "and it should be pretty simple, some light choking and frottage, maybe? we'll see where it goes."

"you owe me, big time," eddie reminds him, dick already filling out at the prospect of steve's damn near perfect mouth. nancy reagan wherever you are (burning in hell, he hopes), step aside; a new throat goat has entered the chat!

steve laughs, too bright and cheerful for... one in the afternoon. well, fuck.

"call it an IOU."

"oh, i will," eddie agrees, turning on the shower taps. "now, be a good boy and go get ready for me."