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rated e | 444 words | no cw | tags: older steddie, established relationship, fluff and smut, laughter during sex
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He’s had years to memorize Steve’s body, to know every curve and mole, to recognize the gasps and the whimpers as pain or pleasure. Years to figure out what he likes and what he doesn’t. Years to know that they work well together in every way, even the ways he never thought.
Like now, like this. They’re probably too old for this, but Steve’s always been flexible and willing.
Even at nearly 50 years old, he’s got one leg on Eddie’s shoulder, pushed almost to his own body. Eddie’s knees creak as he fucks into him hard, but Steve just closes his eyes and smiles. He loves this.
“You love this,” Eddie says, only slightly breathlessly. He’s been going to the gym a few times a week with Jeff, just to keep his body moving and muscles working. And so he can keep fucking Steve for as long as their bodies will allow. “Always have.”
“What? Getting fucked?” Steve grins up at him, wrinkles at his eyes crinkling. “You know I do.”
“Showing off. Trying to be better at this than me,” Eddie squeezes his hip as he slows for a moment. Not because he needs to, but because he wants this to last longer and it won’t if he keeps going like this. “Like you haven’t proven both of those things already.”
“Lot of talking for someone who’s supposed to be making me come.”
Eddie laughs. Steve reaches up into his recently buzzed hair.
“I miss it a little.”
Eddie keeps a slow rhythm, leaning down more when Steve doesn’t seem uncomfortable with the position.
“Me too. But it’s kinda nice not having so much of it,” Eddie reaches up to hold Steve’s hand against his head. He closes his eyes. “Change is good sometimes.”
“Now you sound like a fortune cookie,” Steve giggles. Even after so many years together, Eddie revels in making him laugh. Especially during sex. “But you look handsome like this. Might need to marry you all over again.”
“Yeah?” Eddie kisses him. He can’t help it. He really landed the hottest guy around, got to keep him around for all this time, got to marry him. Gets to fuck him, get fucked by him, do whatever he wants with him. “I could arrange that, sweetheart.”
“Might be ridiculous. We just did it a few years ago,” Steve curls his fingers and groans when Eddie hits his prostate. “I’ll do it if you want to.”
“I’d marry you every day,” Eddie ends his sentence on a moan. “You close enough?”
“Yeah, c’mon, love.”
Years may pass, but Eddie never stops learning and loving Steve. In every way he can.
Rated T, implied established Steddie. This will be jossed in a few days but I had to get it out of my head. Title from Echo and the Bunnymen's "The Killing Moon".
--
Gun in a pocket holster. Lockpick set takes care of the wrought-iron gate. Steve treads carefully through the graveyard, cool breeze on his face. He might even feel a little badass, if not for the tote bag full of cleaning products slung over one shoulder.
There’s no sound other than the stirring wind through the fallen leaves. Owls might have called out once upon a time, but no more. The migratory patterns have changed since the initial blasts. Dustin and Robin explained it at length but Steve appreciated Mike’s breakdown: even the birds understand they should stay the fuck away from Hawkins.
He knows the way by heart at this point. It’s too spooky this late at night to visit any other graves. He's pressed his hand to his grandfather’s headstone a couple of times as he passed; avoided looking at Billy’s. Barb and Benny Hammond are in another section. Steve heard Bob Newby’s ashes were scattered somewhere else.
Up ahead, next to the grave he’s here for, a lone figure stands. Steve starts, biting hard on his lip so as not to yelp. His friends would be livid to know he’s doing this alone, but he still takes precautions. In addition to the gun, headphones are looped around his neck. The Walkman is queued up, Echo and the Bunnymen laying in wait. But through his panic, Steve can assess what he sees. Not Vecna, nor Eddie Munson, as he was. The version Steve still has bad dreams about; reaching for, and failing.
Steve approaches slowly, noting the figure exhaling cigarette smoke straight up into the sky. Short blond hair beneath a watch cap, simple black overcoat. No rings on his fingers. No visible indicators of Eddie, before.
“Evening,” Eddie says without turning around. Steve comes up along his side and tosses the tote bag on the ground.
Steve steals the cigarette, wordless, and takes a long drag. He holds it until he thinks he can feel the nicotine reach his toes, then hands it back over. Eddie snorts quietly, taps Steve’s ash onto the damp ground.
“So it’s been you,” Eddie says, gesturing at his headstone. It’s desecrated again, like Hopper said. BURN IN HELL in dripping red paint.
Steve can’t bring himself to acknowledge it. “They know you’re here?”
“Nah. They’re used to my bullshit. I sneak out now and then, go on walkabout.” Eddie says this last part in a truly terrible Australian accent. “I tell them I stick to the woods, on the rare occasions that they catch me.”
Steve smiles. “My favorite criminal.”
Eddie turns and looks at him. No matter how much government-mandated camouflage he’s trussed up in, his eyes are the same. Steve doesn’t know how anyone could look at them and not feel pinned to the spot, not recognize Eddie and all he is. But then, he’s probably biased.
“What about you? Breaking and entering. Illegal possession of a firearm, I assume.” Eddie takes another drag and shrugs with one shoulder. “Impressive.”
“Yeah, they’re sure gonna throw the book at me for voluntary cleaning,” Steve spits back. He kneels down to get out his supplies. “You shouldn’t do this to yourself.”
Eddie doesn’t say anything for a few moments, watching as Steve digs through the bag. Acetone, bleach, bottle of water, scrub brush. Rubber gloves. Rags. Then he squats down close and gestures to his own name, chiseled into stone.
“It’s not often you get to muse on your own mortality while you’re still alive,” he says gently. “Not like this.”
The weight of these nights, the gun against his hip, all of it, start to climb up Steve’s stomach toward his throat. “It doesn’t bother you? Dustin still comes here once a week, man. He shouldn’t have to see this shit. Neither should you. I don’t get how –”
“They’re just going to do it again, baby.” Eddie says. “You fix it, they break it, again and again. I don’t see how that’s not worse. Maybe you should stop doing this to yourself.”
Steve pauses. He doesn’t know, he thinks, how to stop. Stop fixing. Stop trying to make the world a little less ugly. For Dustin, for Eddie. For himself.
“So we leave it?”
“I’ll be honest, Steve. I don’t really see it. I know it breaks Henderson’s heart, and that, in turn, is an arrow into mine. We’ll be able to tell him, soon. I’m working on it, I promise. Full disclosure, if they don’t give me the go ahead by the end of this week I’m going to ask you to help me make contact anyway. Enough with this shit.”
Eddie tips back to sit down, legs crisscrossed, and Steve does the same.
“I look at that,” Eddie says, “and I see what could have been. No matter how much things suck right now, I’m here.”
“Yeah,” Steve says. He wishes the birds would come back. He wishes some beautiful, forlorn call could cut through the terrible stillness. Through this long wait.
He leans into Eddie, into this chance they’ve been given. Into the promise of a possible future, hopefully sooner rather than later.
“You are,” Steve says. He focuses again on Eddie’s dark eyes, on what cannot be hidden, and presses their lips together – warm, and chapped, and alive.
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson
Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Carol Perkins
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, Situationships, Toxic Relationship, Name-Calling, Dom/sub, Power Dynamics, Collage, Evolving Tags, Internalized Homophobia, Homophobia, Neurodiversity, Steve Harrington is on the spectrum probably, Anxiety Attacks, Drug Use, Recreational Drug Use, Alcohol, Just college student shit, Being meanies to each other for no reason, controlling parents
Summary:
Steve was determined to remain unbothered by the fact that a random guy could not remember him by his face alone. It really didn’t matter. Steve was being vain again, wasn’t he? It was absolutely ridiculous to assume that anyone would remember him simply by glancing at him in a campus hallway.
As much as Steve hates hearing his new friends talk shit about Tommy and Carol, he understands it. They were bullied. They made a lot of people’s lives miserable so, he accepts it.
It’s a bit harder to accept when the younger kids do it because they didn’t even know Tommy or Carol, but he grins and bears it for exactly one reason.
There is a not-zero chance that Dustin would try to orchestrate a reconciliation if he thought it’d make Steve happy and…
Steve did - for a while, at least - successfully keep Robin away from the Hagans by suggesting she take her lunch break every time he saw one of Tommy’s brothers in the parking lot.
He thought he was being subtle.
Robin apparently thought he was sending her away so he could indulge in his new-found bisexuality and flirt with boys without an audience.
Steve knows that’s what she thought because she poked her head out of the back one day and asked, “Did you actually get a date or are you just as bad at flirting with guys as you are at flirting with girls?”
This is followed by Steve being horrified and disgusted, and Tommy’s brother, Theo, laughing his ass off in the comedy section because - “Ew! And you could’ve made sure he was actually gone first! And Ew!!!”
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Steve Harrington has been working out, like a lot.
He’s hairy and muscular and sweaty all over.
How is he being described in such a manner?
Well, Eddie Munson is watching him of course.
Today’s workout is leg day, specifically thighs.
Eddie wants nothing more than to stick his head in between them and live there forever.
Maybe Steve knows this already, and that’s why he plays it up.
No shirt. The shortest shorts he owns. Plus a workout routine designed perfectly for an audience of one.
Now, Eddie also notices that there’s a watermelon off to the side. He has a moment to ponder whether that’s their lunch, when he watches Steve, slowly putting the watermelon in between his thighs, and squeezing until it’s smashed.
Talk about a cartoon eyes popping out of their sockets kind of moment.
All the while Steve is sporting the biggest smirk imaginable.
Eddie, recovering fast, without missing a beat, volunteers to be next.
If Steve spends a couple more hours of his workout with Eddie between his thighs, so be it.
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Steve sees Eddie out in public and partially recognizes him, no idea he's famous but in one of those I've definitely seen your face before but he can't get his concussion riddled brain to place where
Eddie meanwhile is bracing himself for either an over eager fan or based on how angry Steve's confused face is for him to start shouting about 'satan worship'
Imagine Eddie's surprise when Steve does finally approach him he simply asks 'do you know Dustin?'
Eddie was prepared to say, "No," and make a hasty exit before he was recognized.
But then Eddie does a double take.
This guy is HOT— in a very Big Brown Eyes and Big Dumb Face kind of way. Dressed like he could be opening for Eddie's band on tour- smudged eyeliner giving Bambi 2: Bambi's Revenge. He still looked a little lost and angry with the scrunched eyebrows and the searching gaze, clearly trying to place where he knew Eddie from.
Eddie can't really be faulted for what happened next, his brain short circuited when the guy looked down at his mouth waiting for an answer like he was about to try and read his lips. The hotel lobby they were standing in was fairly busy for after 12 in the morning, it was kind of loud, so Eddie couldn't be sure if the guy was just hard of hearing, but his stare was intense.
"Dustin? Yeah, I love that guy, you know Dustin?"
And Eddie didn't regret a word, because the smile that lit up this guy's face was fucking breathtaking- like Eddie literally choked on his own spit as the guy slapped his shoulder heartily and let out a relieved sort of chuckle to go along with the toothpaste commercial sparkle blinding Eddie.
"Oh, good, I'm glad I'm not the only one turning up a little late to the party! I'm Steve."
"I'm-" Eddie didn't get the chance to decide whether to go with his real name or make one up, Steve grabbed his elbow and started pulling Eddie through the lobby toward a hallway that led past the business center and toward the banquet halls and conference rooms.
Eddie only knew that because he had snuck down here to get away from his bands' room party to have a smoke (and a slight pity party as he had felt like he'd flubbed a few of the songs tonight) and the door marked 'staff only' at the end of this hallway led out to a tiny private courtyard that was blocked in on all sides by the hotel- so his likelihood of being found by a stray fan was pretty slim.
"Sorry, we'll have to walk and talk if we wanna make it before Dustin is done for, you were saying?" Steve had a nice strong grip on Eddie's arm, his hand slipping from his elbow, down Eddie's tattooed forearm and to his wrist, before deeming Eddie's pace acceptable and letting go.
Eddie followed Steve, head empty, no thoughts, as he considered how big this guy's hands were and where else Eddie would like to see them sliding along his skin. Steve started to ramble about how Dustin was such a great guy but he could be a little terror when things didn't go down according to his plan, and Steve didn't want to have to hear his bitching. Dustin was bound to already be hyped up from the concert tonight, he shouldn't have to sit through a lecture about being punctual to a "rockstar hotel after-party themed birthday party" -wouldn't be very 'metal' of him.
That one shocked a belly laugh out of Eddie, and Steve turned to him with a grin that scrunched his eyes and made him look very pleased with himself.
"The arrogance of this kid, am I right?" Steve bumped shoulders with Eddie, giving a conspiratorial wink, causing Eddie to wobble a little too far from Steve, his feet mindlessly falling in line beside this gorgeous boy who he willingly let drag him away to some unknown destination. Steve reached to grab Eddie's arm to reel him back in and steady him, and Eddie reflexively grabbed his hand and let him.
"It's the tone." Eddie nodded along sagely, hoping to keep this cutie talking to distract him from the fact Eddie didn't plan on letting his hand go anytime soon. It seemed to work just fine as Steve smiled at him and continued his rant/gushing about this kid turning 21 and he 'deserved to have the best night of his life' after the last few years of his hard work and dedication paying off with his early graduation from college looming at the end of the month as well. Steve looked somehow exasperated and proud at the same time.
Eddie fell in love.
"Oh, hey, I didn't catch your name did I?" Steve finally asked as he turned to face Eddie head on again, walking backwards into the door to their left and hitting the bar across it to open it as he pulled Eddie along. Steve glanced down at Eddie's mouth again, biting his own lips as if he really needed to concentrate this time so he didn't miss whatever words formed on the tip of Eddie's tongue.
"Sweetheart, you can call me yours if you keep holding onto me like that." Eddie winked, causing Steve to flush pink in the cheeks and look down to where he had gripped Eddie's hand, fingers interlocking seamlessly, as if he only just realized he was holding on so tight.
"I'm Eddie." Eddie gripped Steve's hand tighter and brought their hands up so he could kiss his knuckles. He didn't break eye contact, so the slight gasp that fell from Steve's lips drew his attention down to the pink lips that had just popped open in a perfect little circle.
They both stopped and stared at each other, neither willing to break the eye contact first as they felt something simmering and sparking between the two of them, building heat.
"STEVE! You're late! Who's your friE—OH MY GOD THAT'S EDDIE MUNSON! STEVE! HOW THE HELL DO YOU KNOW EDDIE MUNSON, YOU ACTED LIKE YOU'D NEVER HEARD OF HIM WHEN YOU TOLD ME YOU COULDN'T COME TO THE CONCERT WITH US TONIGHT!"
"You must be Dustin. Happy Birthday!" Eddie turned on the Charm™ in the face of the birthday boy- clearly a little drunk (if the red face and the inability to regulate his volume was anything to go by) and clearly a big fan.
"No wait-" Steve looked from Dustin, to Eddie shaking Dustin's hand (without loosening his grip on Steve's other hand for even a second), to Eddie's face, back to Dustin's face (which looked like it might need a hard reboot), to the group starting to gather behind Dustin at the commotion he'd caused at their entrance, then down to Eddie's hand in his.
"Oh, oops, sorry- I knew there was a link between you and Dustin..."
Steve: He was in the hotel lobby dressed like a Rockstar, Robin. How was I supposed to know he was a real one and not just a dork larping as one for Dustin's party?!
Robin: You literally pulled a Rockstar while larping as a Rockstar for Dustin's party.
Steve: I don't know how I'm even gonna tell our kids about this one day.
Robin: *facepalms*
Eddie: *still holding Steve's hand* Don't worry about it Sweetheart, we can save it for the grandkids.
Steve: I'm ready to leave now.
Eddie: Your penthouse suite awaits, My Liege. *Bows and kisses Steve's knuckles again*
Robin: False alarm he is a dork larping as a Rockstar.
written for @steddiesongfics in July 2026 ("Pour Some Sugar On Me" by Def Leppard); also brought to you by @steddiebingo round 4 prompt, "wet dreams"
rating: E | wc: 1,589 | ao3
other tags: camping, accidental voyeurism, mutual pining, masturbation
Steve sighs, lying back on an air mattress that makes sleeping on the ground bearable. Eddie is in his lap, kissing his neck like he’s about to start chewing, and he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but underneath him. He hums and smooths his hands down Eddie’s sides, then grasps his shirt in his fists.
“Mm. You’re so sweet,” Eddie purrs without pulling away. “Gonna eat you up.”
His teeth scrape Steve’s skin while his hips shift. Steve meets the movement, rutting against him just once to chase the friction. He’s getting painfully hard, but there’s a tent in Eddie’s boxers that tells him he’s not alone.
“Yeah, I’ll swallow, too,” Eddie says, answering a cheeky question before it can fully form in Steve’s mind. “Milk you dry. My favorite treat.”
Steve whimpers.
Eddie doesn’t open his eyes at the sound next to him. In fact, he squeezes them shut, determined to convince himself he didn’t hear shit. He’s tired, it’s past three in the morning, and he just wants to sleep off the six s’mores he housed a few hours ago.
Still, didn’t Steve sit with him the other night, after he had a nightmare and couldn’t get back to sleep? With an exasperated huff, he turns over in his borrowed sleeping bag and rises to his elbows.
“Stevie—”
He’s cut off by another sleepy whine, but it’s not the distressed noise he thought it was.
Oh. Oh, god.
Eddie can’t help it. His eyes immediately rake down Steve’s sleeping form. It’s a chilly fall night, but that hadn’t stopped him from giving Eddie the sleeping bag when they turned in. “I’m hot-natured,” he’d said as he offered it, opting instead for a threadbare blanket from the trunk of his car. Now, with his legs tangled in that blanket and his fingers clutching it, it’s bunched up between his thighs, rubbing against his crotch while…he…
Holy fuck.
Steve gasps, and his hips thrust slightly, but he’s clearly still asleep.
“As much as I wanna let you keep humping my leg,” Eddie murmurs against Steve’s sternum, “I’d really like that cock in my mouth now, sugar.”
“Fuck,” Steve gasps, and it’s no more than a second before Eddie’s lips are sinking down his shaft. No clothes or blankets can get in his way; he’s too eager to get those soft, wet lips on him. It’s impossible for Steve to hold back, and he shoves his cock all the way to the back of Eddie’s throat without a second thought.
Eddie doesn’t gag, nor does he pull back. He maintains eye contact while he flutters his tongue all over. Tightening his lips around the base, he drags nails like claws down Steve’s thighs.
“Fuck,” he repeats, breathless.
Eddie flops back on his pillow, at a loss for what to do. He doesn’t want to wake Steve up; that would be embarrassing for the both of them. Plus, who would he think he is, interrupting what is clearly a very good dream? The other solution is to go outside for a little while, but though he wouldn’t ever admit it to anyone else, he’s a little scared to leave the tent at the fucking witching hour.
Steve, still unconscious and oblivious to Eddie’s dilemma, is getting really worked up. He was twitching and whimpering before, but now quiet moans rumble in his chest, and his movements—sluggish though they are—seem a little more deliberate. The occasional murmured curse falls from his lips, along with vaguely intelligible words of encouragement for whoever he’s dreaming about.
It’s right around the time he slurs something about a “pretty mouth” that Eddie notices how rock-hard he is, himself.
Well, shit.
Going outside is definitely out of the question, now. It’s not like he’s gonna go jerk off behind a tree, and if anybody else were to wake up and find him sitting out there with a raging boner, he’d never hear the end of it.
It occurs to him that he really only has one option. And, well…Steve doesn’t have to know about it.
It’s not like he hasn’t thought of Steve while he touched himself before. He’s never done it while lying next to the guy, nor while he’s being tortured by the sound of him sleep-fucking his blanket, but what difference does that make, really? It’ll be quick, certainly, considering the way Steve’s voice is egging him on. And when he’s done, he’ll be sleepy enough to tune it out.
“Goddammit,” he mutters under his breath, and he wriggles his arm farther into the sleeping bag, slipping his hand past his waistband and taking hold of his cock.
He hisses and tightens his grip, then he starts stroking hard and fast, zero to sixty in a nanosecond. He jerks himself quick enough to outrun most of the guilt of it, instead letting himself imagine Steve’s hands in his hair, Steve’s cock heavy on his tongue, Steve’s thighs trembling under his touch. He’s so lost in the fantasy that, at first, he’s convinced the next thing he hears is also in his imagination.
But no. He hears it again. The sleepy voice is no more than a whisper, but it’s clear.
“Eds…s’good…Eddie…”
Steve is dreaming about him.
His climax is unexpected, but only in the sense that he hadn’t known such an effective trigger was possible. He’s not surprised it’s what sets him off, but he’s surprised to hear Steve say his name like that.
By the time he’s recovered from the shock, his cum is cooling to a sticky mess. Steve is still asleep, still humping the wad of blanket between his legs, but he looks like he’s gonna blow any second. Eddie takes the few moments he has left before that happens to drag his bandana out of the nearby pocket of his jeans and shove it into his underwear, cleaning up just enough to not wake up with his dick stuck to them. Then he turns over on his side, shuts his eyes, and tries to make his breathing as deep and even as possible.
When Steve comes down Eddie’s throat, he doesn’t expect to feel so disconnected from the sensation. Oh, it’s pleasurable enough—his whole body shakes with it, hips stilling as he thrusts them forward to the hilt. But instead of wet heat, he feels something…rough. Like terrycloth, or the pilled fleece inside a well-worn pair of sweatpants.
Wait.
He opens his eyes, and though he sees Eddie, he’s not gazing up at him through his lashes, pinning him with a look of unbridled lust. Instead, he’s lying next to him with his back turned.
What Steve feels, in addition to the wet fabric cooling against his crotch, is all the blood flowing from his softening cock right to the surface of his skin. He must be blushing hard enough to heat up the whole tent. Maybe Eddie’ll start dreaming he’s on a tropical island.
Eddie, for his part, must be deep asleep. Steve has heard the way he can snore, but right now his back rises and falls with slow, even breaths.
He does his best not to jostle him or make too much noise as he unzips the tent flap and slips out into the darkness, knowing there’s a near-identical pair of pants in his car that he can change into.
The next time Eddie wakes, he can see sunlight through the thin vinyl walls of the tent. He blinks a few times, then stretches his arms over his head with a groan. “Jesus, what time is it?” he mumbles. He can feel Steve’s presence next to him, awake.
“Almost ten.” Steve yawns. “You sleep good?” He’s blessedly not rubbing one out while conscious.
Still, Eddie needs to confirm what he thinks he heard before. He rolls over so he can see Steve’s face when he replies, “Yep. You?”
“Mhm.”
“Any…interesting dreams?”
“Sure.”
“Was I in any of ’em?”
Steve stares at him. For half a second, his eyes are wide as saucers, then he narrows them. “Why do you ask?”
“Mm. No reason,” Eddie chirps. That reaction is all the confirmation he needs.
“What about you? Any more nightmares?”
“Me? Nah. I didn’t dream at all, really.” He rolls just a little more into Steve’s space and grins. “You chased all my nightmares away, big boy. Looks like I should sleep with you more often.”
He captures Steve’s gaze, but he doesn’t say anything else. It’s an opportunity for Steve to back away from him, to move out of his space and decline the offer so that they can both treat it as a joke.
Steve doesn’t back away.
After a while, Eddie smiles wider. He still doesn’t speak, but he doesn’t need to; even when he pulls his eyes away from Steve’s face, he knows he’s smiling back.
Eddie unzips the sleeping bag and starts to crawl out of it, but he stops when Steve lets out a sudden, startled guffaw.
“What?” he demands.
“Um,” is all Steve says in reply, but he also points toward Eddie’s waist.
Eddie looks down and sees the corner of his bandana poking out of his pants, with the rest of it still wadded up and glued to the front of his underwear. When he meets his gaze again, Steve’s got one eyebrow raised in playful suspicion.
Rolling his eyes, Eddie says, “Well, what did you expect me to do while I was giving you an imaginary blowjob or whatever?”
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