Steddie Bingo

current state of my bingo card:

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.

Tags: Sex Club, Anonymous Sex, Masks, Aliases, Public Sex, Public Hand Jobs, Public Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Wall Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Sexual Overstimulation, Top Steve Harrington, Bottom Eddie Munson

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Eddie grips the crisp ivory envelope hard enough to leave an indent in the paper. His invitation.

Several weeks earlier, he’d received a strange package. Not in the mail, but left on his front porch. It was small, unassuming, and had no return address. Against his better judgment, Eddie brought it inside and opened it.

The inside of the box was lined in blood red velvet, and there were only two things inside. A golden mask in the shape of a bat, and this envelope. The invitation inside was printed on black card stock, with gold lettering declaring that he was ‘Cordially Invited’.

At first, he’d assumed it was a prank, but no one would spend that much money to pull his leg. Secondly, he assumed it was a mistake, that the sender had meant to give this box to someone else. But, that was his name, emblazoned in gold on the inky paper.

Edward P Munson.

Like he was someone important. Like he mattered.

He’s never been invited anywhere, not to the arcade, not to the mall, and not to any of the probably hundreds of parties thrown by his classmates during his six years of high school.

And now, he’s stepping out of a cab in front of a squat red brick building. A few other people are already milling around the area, all of them wearing masks just like the one perched on Eddie’s nose. Other invitees.

Taking a deep breath, Eddie approaches the man standing in front of the door. He holds out the invitation. The man nods, barely even looking at the paper before he steps aside to let him in.

Eddie’s not sure what he expects as he enters the building, but it definitely isn’t plush red carpet leading down a lavish hallway to a set of open double doors. Beyond those doors is a massive, dimly lit open room with a black tiled floor. Blood red sofas line the edges of the room, framed by matching curtains. It stands in stark contrast to the plain, unassuming appearance of the building from the outside.

And all over the room, there are people in various states of undress, having sex. The air is punctuated by loud cries, moans, and animalistic grunts. Most are couples, but there are quite a few trios as well. And surrounding those are people with their hands down their pants, hips squirming as they chase their own pleasure. Eddie notes some gay couples scattered about as well. No wonder they’re so insistent on anonymity.

Movement to his left catches his eye and he turns to see someone stepping up next to him. A man, his face unrecognizable behind his wolf mask. He smiles at Eddie, grabbing his hand and bringing it up to his lips.

“Good evening,” he says. His voice is low, like he’s telling a secret rather than uttering a greeting. “You seem a bit lost. First time?”

“Uh, yeah. You could say that.” Eddie nods, swallowing past a lump forming in his throat. “I mean, it’d be true.”

The man beside him chuckles. “Just relax and let yourself go. Tonight is all about pleasure. Yours, mine, his, hers. All of us.”

Eddie nods, feeling a bit numb. He never would have dreamed a place like this existed at all, let alone only an hour drive from his house. A part of him still doesn’t quite believe it. Maybe this is just a really bizarre wet dream.

“Maybe I’ll find you again, my lost little lamb.” The man smirks as he turns to walk away.

Eddie decides to try to mingle. If this place is all about sex, maybe he can finally get laid. God knows it’s been a while.

He wanders around the room, waiting for someone to catch his eye, but no one really stands out. Maybe it’s because everyone stands out.

And then, someone is coming up behind him, pressing a drink into his hand. He feels them before he sees them, thanks to the damn mask obscuring his peripheral vision, but then they step around in front of him.

A man wearing a rabbit mask and almost nothing else. His outfit leaves literally nothing to the imagination, only a few leather straps crisscrossing over his chest, around his waist, and wrapped around his thighs. His cock is at half mast, pre-cum already beading on the tip.

“You’re the only one here still dressed,” the man remarks. “No one caught your eye?” His voice is low, but almost familiar. Something in the tone of it. But, surely no one else from Hawkins would be at a place like this, right? They’re all a bunch of holier-than-thou types who villainize him for his taste in games and music.

“Uh, no, not really,” Eddie admits, feeling his cheeks heating up at this man’s attention. “Plus, they all already seem busy.”

“Well, lucky for you, you caught mine. And I’m not busy.” The man leans closer, close enough that Eddie can smell his cologne. Something earthy, with an underlying hint of musk. Also familiar, though his brain refuses to tell him why. The man’s index finger tilts Eddie’s chin up, and it almost feels like he is appraising him, deciding if he’s worth his time and attention.

Then, his fingers slip downward, gripping the front of Eddie’s shirt and carefully popping the buttons open.

His first instinct is to reach up and stop this man from touching him. We’re in public, his mind insists. But the man smiles, and somehow, even though Eddie can’t see his face, it stops him in his tracks. His eyes are focused on how the pink neon lights reflect off his glossy lips.

“Shouldn’t we go someplace else?” Eddie chokes out.

“Why? No one’s going to judge us. They might even get excited. We might get to put on a show for them.”

Eddie nods, feeling numb. He’s never been able to explore his sexuality much at all, let alone in a place filled with people, with all of them potentially watching him.But something about this man—his confidence, his smile—keeps Eddie pinned in place. Keeps him from turning tail and running.

“I don’t even know how… or why I got invited to this place,” he admits, his eyes dropping to watch the man finish unbuttoning his shirt.

“Well, clearly, mine isn’t the only eye you caught. Someone wanted you here. But until they show up to claim what’s rightfully theirs, you and I can have some fun.”

Eddie doesn’t like the implications of those words. He doesn’t belong to anyone, just because they invited him here. Right?

He doesn’t have much time to consider it as the man walks him backward until the backs of his knees hit something. He goes sprawling across a soft velvet couch and the flute glass slips from his fingers, the dark liquid staining the plush pile. Something tells him that’s not the only stain on this sofa, but at least this one is mercifully dry. Or, at least, it was.

“Can I at least ask your name?” he asks, looking up at the man. “I’d kind of like to know who I’m fucking.”

“Romeo.” He leans down and nips at Eddie’s earlobe. “Not my real name, but it works, doesn’t it?”

“Right…” He fights back a wave of disappointment. This man doesn’t know him, doesn’t know if he’s safe to reveal himself to. And sure, right now they might be getting ready to fuck, but there’s a reason why everyone here is wearing masks. “Then, I guess you can call me Julian.”

This draws a laugh from Romeo’s lips. “As long as you don’t fall in love with me. I think we both know how that story ended.” He starts to trail soft kisses along Eddie’s jaw, down the side of his throat, across his collarbones.

“Hm, well, no promises there. I’m the king of poor decision making.” Eddie smirks up at the man.

“Well, I think that’s obvious. You accepted an anonymous invitation to a sex club.” Deft fingers make quick work of Eddie’s fly, and a soft hand slips past the waistband of his pants.

“Mmph.” Eddie bucks his hips, looking for that delicious friction. But Romeo denies him.

“You should learn some patience, Julian.” He pulls his hand away, moving to stand by Eddie’s feet. He slowly removes his shoes and socks, almost reverently, dropping them one at a time onto the floor.

His fingers hook into Eddie’s waistband, easing the fabric over his hips, dragging it slowly down his legs, and dropping his jeans on top of his shoes. Then, he brings his fingers to Eddie’s mouth and shoves them inside without preamble.

A moan escapes his lips before they wrap around those slender digits, his tongue swirling around each one in turn. He wishes he could see Romeo’s eyes. Wishes he could watch them cloud over with lust and darken with desire. His eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks.

The mental image alone is enough to stir something in his groin. He stares up at the dark eye holes in the mask, at the catchlights in Romeo’s eyes, and he wonders what color they are.

Romeo reaches down with his free hand, slowly stroking himself in time with the soft, shallow thrusts of his fingers into Eddie’s mouth. In that moment, Eddie forgets he’s in a sex club. He forgets that they’re surrounded by people. In that moment, they’re the only two people in the entire world, and those twin flames glowing behind the mask are what will light his way to the edge of Paradise.

“How do you want it?” Romeo grunts out, his voice thick. “On your back? On your knees? Against the fucking wall?”

“Yes,” Eddie pleads.

Romeo laughs—a dark, dangerous sound. He pulls his fingers out of Eddie’s mouth and reaches down to probe at his entrance instead. “Pick one. Now.”

A strangled sound claws its way up the back of Eddie’s throat and he arches into the touch, but is again denied. “On my back,” he croaks out. “I want to look at you.”

A predatory smirk creeps across Romeo’s lips. “Is that so? Well, I’m nothing if not a gentleman. Who am I to deny you?”

He advances closer, leaning down to capture Eddie’s lips in a kiss. While he’s distracted by the tongue down his throat, Romeo’s thumb circles his entrance without pushing inside. Eddie squirms and writhes beneath him, wanting somehow more and less all at the same time.

His attention is divided between that and the tongue licking into his mouth, running along his soft palate and sending lightning skittering down his spine. Eddie arches his back to chase that shiver, grinding his cock against Romeo’s bare thigh.

The man chuckles darkly against his lips, stealing a nibble as he pulls away, dropping kisses along the angle of Eddie’s jaw and down the column of his throat. He’s never experienced so much sensation all at once before; usually it’s just him and his hand alone in his bedroom.

After tonight, Eddie has a feeling he won’t want to go back to that way of life. A few kisses in and he’s already addicted.

Then a finger slips inside him and his brain goes static-fuzzy. He gasps, throwing his head back as his spine curves even further.

“So tight,” Romeo purrs, his lips close enough to Eddie’s ear that he can feel the moisture left behind from his hot breaths. “Just relax, Julian. I’ll take good care of you.”

His tongue glides along the shell of Eddie’s ear, followed by teeth sinking into the soft cartilage of his lobe. All the while, his finger never stops moving, twisting and curling inside Eddie, taking him apart slowly.

“Fuck, I—” Eddie warns, “I might not last long.” He can already feel that familiar coil of heat low in his gut. His cheeks burn with shame, but Romeo doesn’t stop. He just continues at the same languid pace, moaning against Eddie’s neck.

“Who said we have to stop at just one climax?” he asks, teeth pinching the flesh of Eddie’s throat. “I can take you apart and put you together as long as I like. And you’ll like it, too.”

Eddie can’t argue with that logic. He’s definitely enjoying himself. And the promise of multiple orgasms is a thrilling prospect. Usually he’s a one-and-done kind of guy, spilling into a tissue before curling up and letting sleep take him.

Romeo slips a second finger in beside the first, scissoring them apart over and over again. “Have you ever done this before?” he asks. “You’re doing beautifully.”

“N-not with another person,” Eddie admits, his face burning even hotter. “But I have some toys at home.”

“Mm, trust me. The real thing is so much better.” He curls his fingers again, pressing lightly against Eddie’s prostate.

Stars dance behind his eyes. He hadn’t even realized they were closed. Now he opens them, and those black hollows in Romeo’s mask are hovering right in front of his face. The neon lights are reflected back at him, hot pink embers boring into his very soul.

“Do you do this a lot?” he asks, not even sure he wants to know the answer.

“Depends on what you mean by ‘a lot’,” Romeo tells him. “I come here about once a month. Most of the time I prefer to watch and to drink. Once in a while I’ll participate, or someone—like you—will catch my eye.”

Eddie isn’t really sure what to say to that, so he just lets out a soft hum. He’s still hanging somewhere on the edge of an orgasm, but it’s more like he’s being slowly lowered into it rather than hurtling toward it.

He can’t decide if he likes this better, or not.

“I can tell you’re getting close. Don’t hold out on me now.” Those fingers give another twist and curl again. Romeo’s free hand wraps around Eddie’s leaking cock. He strokes him almost lazily, but the sensation is enough to finally push him over the edge.

“There you go. Perfect,” Romeo purrs as Eddie’s spine curves and he bucks into the man’s fist, his fingers digging into the plush sofa beneath him. Cum sprays across his stomach, dripping down to coat Romeo’s fingers, and he slowly lifts them to his lips to suck them clean. “Mm, delicious.”

Eddie feels like he’s been hit by a car. His chest heaves as he struggles to take air into his lungs. His legs feel like Jell-O, twitching against Romeo’s thighs.

But the fingers inside him don’t stop moving, still curling and scissoring and stretching him open. It feels good, but almost too good. A kind of burning sensation starts to take over, and he pushes at Romeo’s hand. “N-no, please. Stop.”

And, to Eddie’s surprise, he actually does, slowly pulling his fingers out. He smiles, sitting down next to him on the couch, and running his fingers through his curls.

“I just need a minute,” Eddie assures him.

“Take as long as you need, sweetheart.”

Slowly, Eddie’s heart rate slows and his breathing starts to even out. He can feel the pull of post-coital sleep making his eyelids heavy, but he forces them open again. A part of him isn’t sure if this is even real. If he falls asleep, will Romeo—or whatever his actual name is—still be here when he wakes up? Still be running his cum-soaked fingers through Eddie’s hair and smiling down at him with those plump pink lips that really have no business being that juicy at all?

As a matter of fact, there’s only one man he knows with lips that plush, and it’s—

🎭

Steve watches as the man beneath him drifts closer and closer to sleep. It’d almost be amusing, except for the fact that Steve’s cock is rock hard and leaking pre-cum all over the sofa.

He gives Julian’s shoulder a light push, but the man doesn’t react at all. He really is asleep. Either Steve fucked him good, or he’s just one of those people who falls asleep after sex.

He chooses to believe it’s the former.

He’ll give the guy a few minutes to recover. Why not? He’s cute, at least from the nose down. He gets these adorable little dimples when he smiles. It reminds Steve of— Nope, he’s not going there. Bad idea.

He just hopes whoever invited Julian here doesn’t show up to steal him away before Steve has the chance to go another round with him. He really wants to know what it’s like to sink his dick into the tight heat that had been wrapped around his fingers only moments ago.

He looks him over one more time, then wanders off to get a fresh drink for both of them. When he comes back, Julian is sitting up, his mask half lifted so he can rub sleepily at one of his eyes. Steve hurries over and tugs it back down.

“Hey, what gives?” he complains, glancing up at Steve with a grumpy little pout.

“You need to keep your mask on. It’s very important.” He offers him the drink. “If people know who you are, it could cause trouble for you once you leave here.”

“Right. I forgot.” Julian accepts the drink with a small grateful smile that shows off those cute dimples again. “Uh, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Steve sits down beside him, taking a pull on his drink. “So, you have any idea who might invite you here? You don’t have to name names, I’m just curious. And maybe a little nosy.” He laughs.

“No, not a clue. I really thought it was a prank or something at first.” Julian sips his own drink a lot slower. “But here I am, and no one tried to stop me at the door or anything, so…”

He shrugs, and Steve can see some tension in his shoulders. “Are you having a good time, at least?” he asks.

Julian shuffles a bit, then nods. And maybe it’s a trick of the neon lights, but Steve could swear he can see a faint blush painting Julian’s face beneath the shadow of his mask.

Steve chuckles. “Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek,” he quotes, cupping his face in his hand. “Your face is warm.”

“It’s the drink,” Julian mumbles. “Alcohol makes my face hot.”

“If you say so.” He leans in to press a kiss where his fingers were. “I think it’s cute. But there’s no reason to be shy. No one here knows who you are, except for whoever left you an invitation. After tonight, nothing will change for you.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.” He pulls his knees up to his chest, resting his elbows on them and cupping his drink with both hands. “Outside of here, no one wants me. But, here, maybe that could change.”

“It’s not a one-time invite, you know. You can always come back, whenever you want. This place is open every night. Long as you don’t lose your invitation, you’re free to come and go as you please.”

“Really? If that’s true, I’ll probably come back here again…” Julian clears his throat and takes a swig of his drink before continuing. “Will, uh, will you be here, too?”

“Sometimes, yeah. Like I said, I come around from time to time.” Steve sips his own drink, watching the other man thoughtfully. “You’ll be able to find me. Just look for the gold rabbit.”

“Yeah. Maybe I will. I mean, sometimes.”

“I’m here now, you know.” Steve gestures at his still-hard cock. “Are you… up for round two?”

That smile comes back, soft and almost hesitant, but with a hint of something dangerous underneath. “Hell yeah,” he purrs, climbing into Steve’s lap.

Steve groans as Julian’s weight settles against him. He reaches around, gripping his ass with both hands, spreading his cheeks apart. He rubs his cock along the crack of his ass, hissing at the sensation. He really needs to cum, and soon.

Julian leans against him, arms draped over his shoulders, lips only an inch away from his ear. “Fuck me, big boy,” he growls.

Steve’s eyes go wide. Only one person has ever called him that. He swallows hard around the lump forming in his throat. No way. There’s no way it’s him. It’s impossible.

He has to do something. He can’t just sit here like an idiot, so he lifts Julian up by his ass and sets him beside him on the couch. After a bit of rummaging between the cushions, he finds a condom and tears it open with his teeth. Julian’s cry of protest is cut off as he realizes what Steve is doing.

Once he gets the condom rolled over his length, the man dives forward, wrapping his lips around Steve’s cock. The sensation is immediate and intense, and it takes everything in his power not to come right there and then. He closes his eyes for a few minutes, forcing himself to calm down, but when he opens them again, all he can see is Julian’s head of curly hair, bobbing up and down his shaft, making obscene slurping sounds.

He grabs those curls and pulls, yanking the man off of him, lest he finish before they can even get started. He pats his lap, panting heavily, and Julian nods, clambering back onto his lap once more. Steve grabs his hips, lifting him up and then starting to lower him onto his dick.

Julian’s fingers dig into Steve’s shoulders, teeth gritted as Steve pushes in slowly. He knows the stretch must be incredible—only two of Steve’s fingers probably wasn’t enough to prep him for his cock—but he takes it well.

“Fucking beautiful,” Steve moans, his eyes rolling back as he feel Julian’s ass hit his thighs. “You’re even tighter than I expected.”

“Well, yeah, you’re fucking hung like a horse, dude!” Julian wheezes. “You’re lucky I’m not a virgin.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve nips at his neck, wanting to leave a mark. Just in case. Just to see if his instinct is correct. And oh, God, he wants it to be correct. “Who else has been inside you, Julian?”

“No one. I told you, I use toys.”

“What’s the biggest one you have?” He starts to roll his hips, not pulling out, not lifting Julian up off his lap, just letting him feel his cock throbbing against his insides.

“Ah- Uh… I-I don’t really measure them. I just pick ones I like the look of. The shape and size and everything all together.”

“I see. And what about me? Do you like the… shape?” Thrust. “And size?” Thrust. “Of me?”

Julian grabs Steve’s arms, gritting his teeth together. A low keening whine escapes past them, nearly inaudible.

He can’t have that.

“I asked you a question, brat.” Steve grabs a fistful of his curly hair—so much like Eddie’s, it was really the whole reason he even came over to talk to him—and yanks his head back.

“Ah! Yes. Yes, I love it. I love all of it!” he whimpers. Steve can tell he’s looking at his eyes. He’s been staring at them all night, even if he can’t see much in the dim lighting.

“Good boy.” Steve continues to roll his hips. He knows he won’t last long once he starts moving in earnest.

But it’s hard when there’s a squirming, whiny brat on his lap, wiggling around. “Fuck… faster. Go faster, please.”

“Hmm. Well, since you asked nicely.” Steve stands up, his hands holding Julian’s thighs, bearing his weight as he carries him over to the wall. “Wrap your legs around me.”

Julian whimpers, leaning back against the wall with his knees hooked around Steve’s waist. “God… I didn’t know how much I needed this…”

“I’ve got you,” Steve tells him. “Just let yourself feel.”

He starts to move faster, increasing his pace in increments until he’s watching Julian slide up and down the wall. Watching his head thrash back and forth, eyes squeezed shut behind the holes in his mask.

He loves watching him slowly come apart, forgetting he’s in a crowded public place, his voice rising in volume and pitch until his soft needy whimpers are replaced with sharp cries of pleasure.

This is Steve’s favorite part of sex. Watching his partner come completely unraveled. All because of him. He’s doing that. He’s making Julian feel better than he has in a long time. Maybe ever. He said he’s never been with anyone else before. Just his toys.

“Oh, fuck. St—R-r—Ah!” Julian’s cock jerks violently as he paints Steve’s chest and stomach with his cum.

It’s enough to drag him out of his own head. A few more quick thrusts, and then he buries himself deep, filling the condom as he finally gets the release he’s been craving all night long. It’s strong enough to make his head spin, and he’s glad he opted for the wall, especially since Julian doesn’t seem to mind it when he slumps against him.

His long fingers card through Steve’s hair as they both catch their breath.

“You know,” Julian pants out, “even though I don’t know your name, I’m really glad I met you, ‘Romeo’.”

Steve raises his head up just enough to catch sight of his eyes glinting behind his mask. “I’m glad I met you, too, ‘Julian’.”

🎭

A few days pass, and what happened in Indy starts to feel like a dream. But there is a residual ache in his ass and hickeys scattered all over his body. Eddie doesn’t bother to hide them. In fact, he wears them proudly. He wants the stuck-up assholes in this town to know that he got laid, and he got laid good.

Thankfully, Wayne only asked if he used protection, and when Eddie assured him he had, he dropped it. His friends gave him a hard time about it and begged for details that Eddie refused to give them.

It isn’t until he walks to Family Video, planning to rent a couple of horror movies and have himself a marathon, that he feels exposed for the first time. And that’s because he’d had his head down as he approached the counter, and as he lifts his head to look at the clerk, his eyes land on a familiar pair of gloss-coated lips.

Eddie nearly drops his wallet, and Steve—that’s the name on his name tag, oh shit, no way, it can’t be the same Steve—laughs.

“Everything okay over there, Eddie? Are you sure you should be renting these? You already look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Shut up!” Eddie snaps, his face going red. Fuck, he hadn’t meant to yell. He runs a hand through his hair.

Steve shakes his head as he rings up the tapes, but he’s still smiling. Until his eyes catch on one of Eddie’s hickeys. “No fucking way…”

“What?” Eddie raises his hand self-consciously to cover the bruise. “You think I can’t get laid, Harrington?”

“I didn’t say that,” he murmurs back, missing the bag twice as he tries to shove the tapes in.

“Then why are you staring?”

Steve drops the tapes on the counter in front of Eddie, slapping his receipt down on top of them. “Cause I’m the one who put them there, dumbass.”

Eddie feels the floor drop out from under him, and barely manages to catch himself on the edge of the counter. “What?”

“I said…” Steve’s voice drops, going low enough that no one else could hear him even if there were a bunch of other people in the building. “I’m the one who left those bruises on your skin. You got something to say about it?”

“I… No. You?” Eddie says stupidly.

“Me.” Steve picks up a pen, scribbling something across Eddie’s receipt before tucking it into the bag. He pushes it over toward him with a smile. “Thank you for coming to Family Video. Please be sure to rewind your tapes before you promptly return them. Have a nice day!”

Eddie moves on autopilot, picking up the bag and heading out to his van. Only once he’s safely ensconced within does he pull out the receipt to see what Steve has written there.

This is what he gets for imagining the guy in a wet T-shirt. Sure, now an Iron Maiden logo clings to Eddie’s chest, and his nipple ring is fully visible through the gray fabric as he climbs out of the pool, chuckling about being a total klutz. But instead of enjoying the show, Steve is left standing there, soaked in guilt and embarrassment, wondering whether hosting a poolside cookout was really a good idea.

The fact is, this isn’t the first time Steve’s powers have gone haywire when Eddie was around. It’s just like the situation with the lifeguard; things move when they shouldn’t, usually causing some kind of trouble for Eddie. Items will disappear completely, only to show up in the most obvious place—something that’s caused Eddie to linger at Steve’s house more than once, searching for his keys or his wallet.

And then there are the dreams. Beautiful, vivid dreams that have been haunting Steve for weeks. Dreams of himself and Eddie, always with very little plot or substance. They can be sweet, mundane, or sexy—dancing in some misty forest or making out on a twilit balcony. The unifying feature is that he wakes up from each one levitating a couple feet over the mattress, only to come crashing down when he realizes he’s alone in his bedroom instead of doing something like spooning Eddie in an oceanside bungalow.

He can take the dreams. They’re fine, involuntary floating and all. At least they don’t inconvenience his friend. Or, as in this case, drench him in pool water right as they’re about to eat.

Oblivious to the hand Steve played in it, Eddie approaches him for a solution to his water problem. “You got any clothes I can borrow?”

Steve swallows the lump in his throat and manages, “Uh, yeah. Help yourself, man.” He gestures toward the house, thankful Eddie knows where to find his room. It means he won’t have to show him the way and end up magicking the wet clothes away as soon as they make it inside.

No! Don’t think about that. Steve squeezes his eyes shut, desperate to clear the image from his mind. Don’t think don’t think don’t think—

He lets out a relieved sigh when he hears the back door open and close without anybody shrieking in surprise at any sudden nudity.

“Are you alright?” Robin asks. She hovers nearby, holding a bag of chips and eyeing him suspiciously.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” he lies.

She shakes her head, disbelieving, but lets it rest for the time being. Steve knows he’s in for it later, though.

Over the course of the next hour, he might have been able to put the incident from his mind if it weren’t for the fact that Eddie is wearing his clothes.

No, it’s worse than that. When he’d told Eddie to help himself to his wardrobe, he hadn’t considered the possibility of him returning to the party in the tiniest pair of running shorts he owns. If he didn’t know any better, Steve would think he did it on purpose.

The one blessing is that Eddie’s ass isn’t quite as round as Steve’s, so he doesn’t fill out the shorts the same way—at least, not in the back. But that’s more than made up for by the top he chose: an old cutoff T-shirt, the sleeves and sides butchered long ago for the sake of not overheating on a midsummer run. It was a more logical choice than the shorts, sure; Eddie owns a few cutoffs of his own, though they seem to serve a more aesthetic purpose than a functional one. That doesn’t change the way every summer breeze or wild gesticulation teases Steve with a glimpse of inked skin or the silver flash of that godforsaken nipple ring.

He has to know what he’s doing, right?

Regardless of any conscious choice on Eddie’s part, Steve has found it impossible to focus on anything else. He can feel Robin’s eyes on him in turn, either teasing him about ogling their friend or begging him to do something about it. He can’t tell which it is without acknowledging her, which he patently refuses to do.

As sunset approaches, someone suggests they start up a fire. It may be his house, but Steve lets his guests handle it. The last thing he should be doing right now is messing with an open flame.

He should know by now that his powers aren’t that easy to evade.

Around the fire pit, he sits as far from Eddie as he can, not realizing his mistake until he lifts his head and sees Eddie directly across from him in the circle. He feels his eyes go wide, and he knows he must look like he just saw a ghost, because Eddie’s grin fades, and he cocks his head.

“You okay?” He mouths it silently, so as not to interrupt Dustin and Lucas’s animated argument over whose chosen nerd character would win in a hypothetical fight.

Steve isn’t sure how to answer. He purses his lips and nods slightly, praying it comes across as casual.

Eddie’s grin returns, and he nods back.

With a steadying breath, Steve risks a glance at Robin. Sure enough, her gaze is fixed on him, equal parts knowing and frustrated.

It’s not that simple, Rob, he tells her in his mind. Hypocritical, given his harping on her pining after Vickie—but it’s the truth. There’s no telling what might happen if he worked up the nerve to tell Eddie how he feels, only for him to say they’re better as friends. He has a hard enough time controlling his magic’s emotional responses without outright rejection.

He looks past the fire again. Eddie has joined in the discussion, pointing out the holes in Dustin’s logic. He’s smiling wide and throwing his head back to laugh, putting his neck on display. Steve wishes he could leap across their circle and kiss it. He wants to wrap his arms around him and hold him close, just like in those gravity-defying dreams. The borrowed outfit is one thing, but there’s something extra attractive about Eddie’s laughter.

He’s too hot for his own good, Steve thinks.

Which is a dangerous thought to have while they’re sitting around a fucking campfire.

Suddenly, the flames between them start to shudder and lean unnaturally toward Eddie. At first, he’s too engrossed in the conversation to notice. He doesn’t seem to register what’s happening.

It’s not until Max shouts, “Dude, you’re on fire!” that he even stops talking.

He opens his mouth to shoot a snarky reply her way, but it snaps shut again as his nose twitches—no doubt picking up the subtle shift from wood smoke to burning cotton.

The panic starts a moment later. Eddie’s shirt smolders at the neckline, like someone held a match to it. He slaps at it fruitlessly while everyone scrambles for something to douse it. Dustin and Mike both toss their drinks at him and miss spectacularly. Robin runs off for a bucket, but she and Steve both know the closest one is in the garage.

None of it matters. Before Robin is more than a few steps away, there’s a wild splash as Eddie ends up in the goddamn pool again.

Steve rushes to the edge and looks down just as he did earlier, with eyes wide and cheeks aglow with chagrin. As much as he wants to play the hero for putting out the fire, he didn’t know what he was doing this time any more than he did before. In the same fog of terror as everyone else, he just happened to remember they were standing next to the pool, and his unconscious mind happened to be able to do something about it from several feet away.

His unconscious mind also happened to cause the terror in the first place, but at least it corrected itself.

Everyone falls silent. They stare at Eddie while he spits and coughs, a blue ghost in the glow of the pool lights. Worry rolls off of everyone in suffocating waves.

Finally, Eddie sweeps curtains of wet hair out of his face and quips, “Well, Stevie…you got any more threads I can borrow?”

Steve can’t take it. Eddie is looking up at him in the aftermath of being tossed into the pool by phantom hands again—not to mention being set on fire—and he’s giggling. There’s an easy smile on his face, like this is exactly where he expected to end up tonight.

The whole situation is too absurd for Steve to handle, so he does the only thing he can think to do. Without a word, he walks past his friends, around the edge of the pool, and into the woods behind his house.

The trees are hatefully gorgeous tonight, with fireflies flashing among the branches. Normally, it’s Steve’s favorite thing to witness in the early summer—dark boughs glittering with little yellow pinpricks of light—but right now it feels more like a crowd of rabid paparazzi, there to snap a picture of him at his lowest.

His legs carry him down the familiar path he used to take when he was little, after his dad pissed him off and he would threaten to run away. He isn’t sure how long he’s been walking, but he recognizes his surroundings when he stops and looks around, so he can’t have gone too far.

He leans against the trunk of a sturdy beech and puts his head in his hands. Things have gotten so far out of hand. It only took three months of friendship for Steve to start pining so hard that he can’t go more than a couple hours without causing some kind of ruckus.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters.

“I’ll say,” a familiar voice chirps, and Steve’s lungs stop working.

“What are you doing here?” he demands.

Eddie becomes more visible as he approaches on the path, holding up his hands and raising his eyebrows. “Just looking for you, man. Figured you probably shouldn’t be out in the woods by yourself.”

Steve scoffs. If anything, he’s probably the safest creature out here.

Eddie frowns. He hasn’t changed out of his soaked clothes; they cling to his frame like a second skin.

Steve looks away before his mind can betray him and mumbles, “I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can. Am I not allowed to be worried about you anyway?” Eddie’s attempt at levity is transparent. It also happens to be exactly what Steve loves about him.

“Of course you are,” he snaps, unable to contain his frustration.

“Damn. And here I was thinking I was breaking the rules. What’s this gonna do to my reputation?”

Steve’s jaw twitches. He stares at the forest floor.

It must tip Eddie off to a deeper hurt, one he won’t be able to fix by joking around. Because after a silent moment, his voice is too serious when he asks, “Stevie, you’ve been weird all day. I need you to tell me what’s wrong.”

Through clenched teeth, Steve says, “I can’t.”

“You can’t, or you don’t want to?”

“Oh, I want to. You can believe that.” He still stares at the ground. It’s hardly visible in the dark, but he swears he sees the dry dirt in front of him swirling like a little tornado.

“Then can you at least tell me why you can’t tell me?”

“Because you wouldn’t believe me!” he explodes. At the same time, the ground shakes beneath their feet.

It startles him enough to meet Eddie’s gaze, which he finds just as shocked. Though he’d raised his voice, it hadn’t been near loud enough to cause a tremor like that.

There’s a heavy pause between the outburst and Eddie’s pointed reply: “Try me.”

Steve swallows. “I, uh…okay. It’s gonna sound nuts, so just…promise you’ll let me finish before you say anything.”

“I promise,” Eddie says with a solemn nod.

“Okay,” Steve repeats. He takes a deep breath, then launches into the spiel his mom gave him after the first incident at Hawkins pool. “There’s this…thing in my family. Not the Harringtons, but my mom’s family. Apparently for every generation there’s a kid who ends up with magical powers.” He stops to add, “It’s a lot like how El can move things with her mind and remote travel, but…different.”

“Different how?” Eddie asks, then, remembering his promise, mutters, “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Steve says. “It’s hard to say. I guess it’s more like magic than the shit they were doing at Hawkins Lab.” With a grimace, he goes on, “Whatever. Maybe it’s the same. The point is, I got these powers from my mom, and I can’t control ’em, and that’s why I’m acting weird.”

Eddie lets the words settle for a moment before tilting his head expectantly. “That’s all?”

Steve bites his lip and nods.

“Hm.” Eddie stares at him with narrowed eyes for an uncomfortably long time. Then he purses his lips and declares, “I don’t believe you.”

“I swear it’s true,” Steve protests. “When I was in middle school, my mom told me—”

“No, not that,” Eddie interrupts, impatient. “I mean I don’t believe that’s the whole story.”

Steve feels his face get hot. “Oh.”

“So?” Eddie’s voice is soft, and he takes a step into Steve’s space, not letting him look away. “What’re you leaving out?”

“Nothing,” he fibs.

“So it’s a total coincidence,” Eddie continues, moving even closer, “that you always act the strangest right after something strange happens to me?”

“Maybe.”

“And that those strange things seem to only happen to me?”

Steve blinks as the truth dawns on him. He should’ve known Eddie would figure it out on his own—he’s never been very subtle with his crushes, even when they don’t have him throwing anyone in the pool. And yet…Eddie’s not backing off. He’s not running away.

In a moment of either weakness or faith (he can’t decide which), Steve closes the short distance between them and presses his lips to Eddie’s. He’s so delighted to feel him kissing back that he barely notices his feet leaving the ground. He’s not surprised they do; this is just like one of his dreams.

Eddie lets out a small, startled laugh when he notices they’re in the air. He breaks away from the kiss to glance at the ground, then smiles at Steve. “If you like me that much, you should’ve just said so.”