Abyssal Beach

"Mmm," Steve moans, pushing back against Eddie, rubbing his half-hard dick against Eddie's thigh. One of them, if not both, is always on the verge of rock hard at all times.

Eddie got his cock sucked in the car in the driveway, Steve's head bobbing, taking the edge off. A promise for later.

Eddie hopes it's later right now.

Lust. This is lust, Eddie's realized. He thought he knew what that was. The warm buzz of attraction, of desire. He's felt that about lots of people.

This is something else entirely.

It should honestly be studied. 

He slides his palm down Steve's chest until his hand is resting against Steve's hard cock, squeezing, as Steve pants against his mouth. They can't do this now. Not here.

Fuck. They're gonna.

"I need you in me," Eddie whispers against his mouth, and Steve groans.

"We can't right now," Steve says, and Eddie knows that, but he still whines in protest. He wants Steve to fuck him. He wants to fuck Steve. Anything, everything. It's all on the menu at Eddie and Steve's Fucktaurant. 

Okay, if they can't fuck, they can do something else. They can't do nothing. That's not an option. Steve's hard, and it's Eddie's moral obligation to take care of that. 

So, Eddie slides to his knees, bumping into junk in the closet, making a racket. They both freeze, waiting to see if they're gonna get caught, red-handed.

They aren't, and Eddie continues. Carefully unbuttoning Steve's jeans before tugging down the zipper.

"Fuck," Eddie whispers when he gets Steve's dick pulled out. He can't see it. Not really. It's too dark in here, even after his eyes have adjusted, but he can feel it. The heft, the warmth. His mouth waters.

First, he presses a kiss to Steve's bare thigh. Then he slides his mouth along Steve's hard length.

Steve moans, and Eddie taps Steve's hand, pushing it upwards, urging him to keep himself quiet, and before long those sounds are muffled. His fist pressed to his lips, trying to dampen the sound.

He's never gonna get sick of how responsive Steve is to his touch. It's addictive. Knowing what he can do to him, with ease. He can't believe they haven't been doing this for years. They wasted so much time where they could have been fucking and falling in love.

And Eddie is falling in love, even if they haven't put that into words yet. There's nothing else this could be.

The way his head swims, and his stomach flutters when Steve kisses him, tells him this is special. Really goddamn special, and he's gonna do his damnedest to hang onto him forever.

Eddie pulls off, fingers pressing into Steve's hairy thigh, "Give it to me, big boy."

And Steve does. Hand sliding around to the back of Eddie's head, tugging him down, easing his cock deeper and deeper into Eddie's mouth, into his throat, until Eddie's nose is flush with Steve's pubes.

He breathes deep through his nose, and then moans around Steve's cock as he starts thrusting. Eddie deserves a gold medal in cocksucking as much training as Steve's hit him with over the past few months.

Steve Harrington loves to get his dick sucked, and Eddie's always happy to make dreams come true.

"That's good, honey," Steve whispers, and Eddie swells with pride. He wants to be good. He wants to be Steve's honey. He wants, wants, wants.

Eddie rests his arm across Steve's clothed belly, against his soft shirt, hand splayed across Steve's side, getting exactly what he wants.

And he enjoys every minute of it.

When Steve comes, Eddie swallows as Steve slowly drags his cock across Eddie's tongue, pulling out as he starts going soft.

Eddie tucks him back into his underwear, carefully pulling up the elastic. He lets Steve fix his own jeans as Eddie stands, and then reaches for him again.

Steve kisses him, deep and hard, and Eddie feels flush with affection.

And if Steve can taste himself on Eddie's tongue, he doesn't mind. So they kiss, and touch, and get ready to leave this little bubble of privacy.

Still groping Steve, fingers digging into his back, moving down to cupping his ass. Squeezing. Holding him tight, pressing him to Eddie's chest as they kiss.

Eddie can't believe he's gotten this lucky. Life is weird.

They resurface, and nobody at the party is none the wiser.

"Uh, dingus?" Robin says, eyes wide. Staring at Steve.

"What?" Steve asks, wiping at his face, as if Eddie had perhaps been wearing lipstick that is now all over his face. Obviously not. 

And Eddie plays it cool. She don't know shit. They are smooth. Sneaky like ninjas.

He reaches his hand into the bag of chips, and has started to shovel them into his mouth when Robin spins Steve around.

Eddie inhales, and nearly chokes. Death by Doritos.

There are smudges of color-changing partial hand prints all over Steve's back, but the real incriminating evidence is the two palms, and ten fingers around the bottom hem, where Steve had clearly been on the receiving end of some major grab-ass.

Eddie's eyes are wide as Steve twists, trying to see what Robin and Eddie are seeing. 

Robin holds it out for him to see, and rolls her eyes.

"If you wanna sneak around and make us all pretend we don't know you're fucking, maybe don't wear your Hypercolor shirt, Steve."