steddie smutty september

Eddie can’t make sense of the decline in Steve’s popularity. Just last year, he probably couldn’t have gone three feet without some girl hanging on him, or one of his teammates stopping him for a high five. Now, though, he grabs a beer from the fridge uninterrupted and easily moves through the crowd, like people are afraid to touch him in case his fall from grace is somehow contagious. It just makes it easier for Eddie to take a bottle for himself and trail Steve through the den and into the backyard.

The evening air is still crisp enough that most people are staying inside. It’s just the two of them on the patio: Eddie, cozy in his own leather jacket, and Steve, shivering slightly as the chill hits him. He could warm him up, Eddie thinks, could take Steve around the side of Tommy’s house and push him against the bricks and bite his neck until the skin is hot with blood pooling just under the surface–

“You good, Munson?” Steve’s voice startles him from his thoughts.

Eddie blinks. He hadn’t realized he was stopped in the middle of Tommy’s porch, staring off into the trees. Something about being caught embarrasses him, like the universe is taunting him by having Steve pay attention now of all times. “What do you care?” he grumbles, taking another swig from his beer.

He feels a little bad, seeing how Steve’s face goes flat. “I thought maybe you were progressing from ‘normal weird’ to full-blown ‘having an episode weird’. Sorry for giving a shit.”

“C’mon, you don’t need to put on this knight-in-fucking-armor shtick. Nobody’s gonna fuck you just because you pretend to be nice to the freak,” Eddie scoffs.

“Not even the freak himself?” Steve smiles, just a little mean, and steps closer into Eddie’s personal bubble.

Tilting his chin in the vague direction of Steve’s neck, he says, “Seems like you’re doing fine without me.” It comes out a little more bitter than he intends and the accidental show of vulnerability makes him wince.

Steve just laughs in his face. “Are you seriously jealous?”

“No.” His cheeks must be bright red by now, from both anger and mortification. It was a mistake to come here, an even bigger mistake to be alone with Steve. Eddie sits his beer bottle on the patio table and storms off towards the wooded edge of Tommy’s yard.

“Whoa, Munson, wait a second.”

Behind him, Eddie hears the clink of Steve’s own beer and his footsteps hurrying to catch up with him. He scowls, even though Steve can’t see his face. “I don’t know how to make myself any clearer. How do you translate ‘fuck off’ into jock?”

“Eddie, seriously, you can’t just wander off into the woods.” Steve sounds more anxious now that Eddie has crossed the treeline.

“Why the hell not?”

“Dude!” Steve grabs for Eddie’s wrist, and that’s the last straw.

Eddie whirls around and crowds Steve against the nearest tree. It’s surprisingly easy to manhandle him when he doesn’t see it coming, and he definitely doesn’t expect Eddie to shove him backwards and dig his thumb into the bruise on his neck. Steve manages to bite back his moan, but Eddie still notices the way his eyes flutter.

“I don’t like playing games,” Eddie growls.

Steve looks him dead in the eye, daring him to react as he drawls, “That’s not what I hear about your little Nerd Patrol.”

Eddie has never punched anyone in the face before, but the temptation roars up inside him like a tidal wave. “Fine. I guess I just don’t like playing games with you.” He takes the pressure off Steve’s hickey but shifts his hand to settle across his throat instead, relishing the soft noise Steve can’t hide this time. “Look at you. You’ve got someone else’s teeth marks on you and it’s still not enough. Slut,” he hisses.

“It’s not all about you, you know. I wasn’t trying to make you jealous.” He’s not even being properly choked but Steve is still breathless when he speaks. “You just can’t stop playing pretend.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Did you think we were boyfriends?” Steve laughs. “Did you think I was pining away for your magic cock and you were the only one who could satisfy me?”

Eddie squeezes tighter, uses his grip to slam Steve’s shoulders back against the tree. “Shut up!”

“I can play along. Just say the word.” Steve lets his eyes go half-lidded, his lips go slack. It’s a look Eddie has seen on him almost once a week for the past three months, usually when he’s right on the edge of his orgasm and begging for more. His voice is high and airy when he mockingly says, “Please, baby, make love to me.”

Eddie can’t take it anymore. He lunges in to kiss Steve.

Their mouths collide in a clash of teeth so violent that Eddie thinks his lip might be bleeding. Steve’s fingers tangle in his hair and yank him impossibly closer, slotting their legs together so there’s no chilly spring air between them, just their shared body heat.

“Slow down, nobody can see us from the house,” Steve murmurs. The next kiss is softer, like he really does want to make this something more romantic than usual, but no less hungry. His hands slip down to settle against Eddie’s cheeks, thumbs sweeping against the cold skin.

He can’t deny it any longer, not with Steve touching him like something fragile even as he grows hard against his hip. Eddie wants this. He’s just not sure he can let himself have it. “Steve,” he sighs.

“Just let me. Please.” It’s hard to make out the finer details of Steve’s face in the darkness, but Eddie sees the extra shine in his eyes. Maybe Steve needs this just as much as he does.

Eddie kisses him again. It’s the kind of lazy making out that Eddie hasn’t had much opportunity to experience in a town like Hawkins. Even with Steve, they usually keep things quick and skip over the kissing part, so Eddie relishes the fading taste of beer on Steve’s tongue. He’s so caught up in the simple pleasure that he doesn’t realize he’s been slowly grinding against Steve’s hip, pressing his own thigh up into Steve’s crotch, until Steve moans, long and low, right against his mouth.

“Wish you could fuck me right here,” Steve gasps.

That hadn’t even occurred to Eddie until now, and he suddenly wants it so badly it makes him lightheaded. He drops his head to Steve’s shoulder and groans. “Shit, your mouth,” he despairs. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Steve laughs softly, just enough that Eddie can feel the vibrations of it through his chest. “You can have my mouth instead if you really want.” He shifts his weight like he’s about to sink to his knees on the damp undergrowth between the trees, but Eddie catches him by the elbows.

“Nuh-uh. Want you up here. Lip height, please,” he babbles. God, who knew kissing Steve Harrington would be so addicting?

Eddie jumps when Steve’s cold fingers slip under the hem of his shirt, feeling blindly for the fly of his pants. “How about this?” Steve asks, though the involuntary jolt of Eddie’s hips is probably answer enough.

“Fine. Good, even.” Eddie turns his head to mouth at the prominent moles along the hinge of Steve’s jaw, right next to the giant hickey that started this mess. He lets his teeth scrape a little, wonders if Steve would let him mark him up now. It makes his cock throb.

Steve makes quick work of the button and zipper on his jeans, hurries to pull Eddie out of his boxers. The cool air only stings for a second before Steve takes him in hand. His palm is huge enough to comfortably cover most of Eddie’s length, with fingers long enough to easily wrap around him and start stroking at a leisurely pace. It’s too dry, but something about the way Steve is looking at him with those dark eyes, like he wants to keep Eddie to himself out in the woods forever, makes it feel amazing.

Eddie braces himself with one hand against the tree beside Steve’s head while the other hand settles heavily on Steve’s waist, encouraging him to keep grinding against Eddie’s hip while he jerks him off. Steve looks gorgeous like this, hair mussed and cheeks pink, huffing out little moans right by Eddie’s ear. Eddie feels compelled to tell him as much, muttering things like, “So fucking pretty, such a good boy for me,” pressing the words into Steve’s skin with his teeth.

“Yeah, you wanna show everyone I’m yours? Give me–” His breath hitches when Eddie arches into him, increasing the pressure on his cock. “Give me an even bigger hickey? You can. C’mon, I want it.”

And really, with Steve squirming against him and squeezing the head of his cock on every upstroke, there’s no way Eddie is going to deny him. He latches onto Steve’s neck, just below the moles, and sets to work sucking a massive bruise into the sensitive skin. The noise Steve makes is so loud Eddie thinks they can probably hear it from the house.

Steve’s hand falters on Eddie’s cock and his hips stutter against Eddie’s leg. Eddie wishes he could see the expression on his face when his orgasm hits, slackjawed and agonized as the pleasure overwhelms him, but he can’t make himself pull away from Steve long enough to look. Instead, he licks over the salty skin, trails wet kisses up his jaw, and captures his lips with his own to swallow down Steve’s whimpers as he keeps grinding himself into overstimulation.

“You, too, Eddie, please,” he groans once he regains control of his faculties. He doesn’t pull away from Eddie’s lazy kisses, just tightens his grip on Eddie’s cock and speeds up the motion of his wrist. It doesn’t take long for Eddie to follow him over the edge, spilling over Steve’s hand and the bottom of his polo shirt as he bites Steve’s lip to stay quiet. It’s just the two of them, but Eddie doesn’t trust himself not to say something he can’t take back now that they’re playacting at romance.

Apparently Steve has a similar thought. After a moment of breathing heavily into each other’s mouths, he chuckles to himself. “I thought you’d be the type to say ‘I love you’ after.” It’s teasing, but it doesn’t have the same bite as their earlier conversation.

“I can if you want,” Eddie offers. He nuzzles against Steve’s neck, savoring the way Steve shudders a little when he puts pressure on the new bruise. Steve doesn’t say anything one way or another, so Eddie leans up to whisper deliberately in his ear, “I love you.”

“Eddie.” He sounds so sad, or maybe wistful? “You don’t have to do this anymore.” When Eddie pulls back to catch his gaze, his eyes are watering again.

“What if I want to?” Eddie challenges.

“You shouldn’t.”

Eddie rubs a thumb along his lower lash line, wiping away the wetness. “Shouldn’t do it, or shouldn’t want to? Big difference.”

Steve leans into his touch and sighs so heavily that it seems to shake his whole body. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m…” He scoffs. “Basically just shit on Billy Hargrove’s boot, at this point. I don’t wanna cause more problems for you.”

“Baby.” He’s not sure if he imagines the ghost of a smile that sparks on Steve. “I’m a self-proclaimed freak. I’ve already flunked senior year once and I’m on track to do it again. The only problem you’re causing me is the fact that I can’t stop thinking about you, and we’re already there.”

“Oh.” Steve bites his lip. “I thought you kinda hated me.”

Eddie laughs. “Please, you saw how jealous I was of that hickey.”

“Oh,” he says again, sounding even smaller.

That worries Eddie. Steve Harrington is not usually small. He’s quick to reassure, “I don’t want to push if you’re not into it, but I’m–”

“I really like you,” Steve blurts. “I know I barely know you outside of, you know–”

Eddie quirks an eyebrow. “Fucking my brains out?”

“Yeah, that.” Steve looks shy at the mention, never mind that his hand and shirt are still covered in Eddie’s come. “But I think I want to get to know you better.”

“Great, that makes two of us.” Eddie jerks his head in the direction of Tommy’s house. “Maybe I could give you a ride home and we can work on that?”

Steve’s smile is small but warm. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Oh my god,” she gasps, “just like that.”

And, well, overhearing a conversation is one thing; listening to two strangers having sex is another. Steve isn’t a prude by any means but he can feel his cheeks heating up in the dark as his blood pumps faster.

“Yeah, you like that, baby?” her partner growls.

Over the years he and Eddie have been together, Steve has learned that he’s an auditory guy. He’s always loved the sounds of hooking up, all wet kisses and heavy breathing and slapping skin. Eddie is usually eager to contribute by loudly broadcasting his pleasure and talking dirty until Steve goes cross-eyed.

But right now Eddie is still snoring in Steve’s ear, so Steve just lies in the dark next to his boyfriend, listening to the people next door fucking until he’s hard and aching in his boxers. Each whine and quiet swear he hears makes it more difficult to stay still, but there’s no way Steve can take care of his little problem without waking Eddie.

That is, until a loud thump comes from the other side of the wall, followed by a shriek of delight from the woman. The thumping continues, setting a slow but steady pace, and it quickly becomes clear that this lady is getting fucked so hard that the headboard is banging against the wall with every powerful thrust. Steve has to bite his lip to stifle a moan.

The noise— and the way their own bed seems to jolt along with their neighbors’— is enough to rouse Eddie.

“What the hell?” he grumbles, sleepily nuzzling his cheek against Steve’s chest. “Are they rearranging the furniture or something?”

Steve doesn’t get a chance to respond before the woman wails, “Yeah, fuck me harder!”

Eddie snorts. “Guess that answers that.”

“Yeah, they’ve been going at it for a while.”

He knows he hasn’t achieved the nonchalance he was hoping for when Eddie inches closer, scooting until his thigh meets the tent in Steve’s underwear. “Yeah? And how long have you been eavesdropping?” Eddie asks lowly.

It’s not shame but anticipation that makes Steve’s voice waver. “Also a while?” The pressure of Eddie’s leg against his cock is heavenly after having denied himself for so long. It makes it hard to think.

“You weren’t even touching yourself, were you?” Eddie teases. With the arm still draped over Steve’s waist, he scratches lightly across the waistband of his boxers, just enough to make Steve’s hips buck with a grunt.

“Didn’t wanna wake you up,” Steve rasps, arching up to meet Eddie as he starts to grind against him.

“Nah, you just wanted to listen, you perv.” The name-calling is affectionate, punctuated by Eddie stretching up to plant a wet kiss on Steve’s jaw. “Go on, pay attention to them and I’ll take care of the rest.”

It’s easy, then, to tune back in to the ruckus coming from the other side of the wall— the steady thump of the headboard, the pleas and praise the woman keeps whimpering, the low grunts of effort from the man fucking her. Steve doesn’t imagine being in either of their places, just listens while Eddie licks up the column of his throat and lets Steve thrust against his leg.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me come!” the woman warns— promises, really. Her breath is hitching in little gasps, like she can barely remember to inhale when she feels so good.

“C’mon, honey, lemme feel you,” the man encourages.

Steve’s brain can’t help but fill in the noises that are too quiet for him to hear through the drywall. If she’s half as aroused as she sounds, this lady’s pussy must be wet enough to squelch every time it gets filled. Maybe the two of them are kissing, too, lips smacking and spit clicking as they cling to each other. Maybe they’re whispering sweet nothings meant only for each other…

“Oh, fuck!” The woman’s moan is almost agonized, especially when the knocking of the headboard speeds up, drawing out her orgasm to the point of oversensitivity. “Inside me, please—”

The man roars his release in response, loud in the sudden absence of the thuds against the wall.

“Almost there?” Eddie murmurs to him. “Wanna let ‘em know you enjoyed the show?” His thumb is teasing Steve’s slit through his worn cotton boxers, spreading his precome around the head of his cock.

“No, Ed,” Steve pants, “just you.” Now that it’s only Eddie’s voice in his ears, Eddie’s body pressed against his, Eddie coaxing him toward his peak, the people next door are forgotten.

He feels Eddie’s smile against his neck. “Good boy. Now come for me.”

Steve didn’t realize how close he’d been, caught up as he was in the neighbors’ tryst, so his orgasm catches him off guard. He’s ironically quiet when he comes. If anyone else was listening, they’d only hear his sharp intake of breath, maybe his grunt of warning to Eddie when he spends a little too long massaging his sensitive cock.

Eddie helps him strip off his soiled boxers, wiping up any stray come before tossing them off the edge of the bed. They collapse back into each other’s arms. Now that the neighbors are done, only the sound of their own breathing is audible in the dark room.

“You better let me sleep in after this,” Eddie grumbles softly. His heart isn’t in it, though; Steve can tell.

“Sure, baby,” he agrees, too sleepy to argue that they have another full day of driving ahead of them. Maybe they’ll stop for another night along the way.

Eddie stops resisting, but he’s laughing nervously now, writhing on the sheets, while Steve tugs his foot higher, searching for a zipper on his boot. 

“Wait,” Eddie chokes, then laughs again. “You can’t—”

“Watch me,” Steve snaps back, all bitchy because he’s about had it with Eddie’s attitude, and he deserves a stern talking to. Then, finding no zipper on his boot, he starts unlacing it with one hand, the fingers of his other hand still clamped tight around the ankle.

“Jesus, Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters and starts struggling again until Steve has no other option but to climb onto the bed and sit sideways to get a better grip. He tugs Eddie’s leg under his armpit to hold on tight before attacking those laces again. 

“You’re insane, Harrington!”

“And you’re a fucking brat!” Steve spits back. “Could’ve done this yourself and saved both of us the trouble.”

Steve finally gets the laces loose enough to bully off the first shoe, throws it to the ground like the offending piece of footwear it is. Something about that gets Eddie all panicked. He pulls the leg from Steve’s grasp, scrambles up higher on the headboard, and holds out both hands in defense. He’s laughing again, but it’s all high and frantic, like Steve is about to attack him with tickles. 

Which… maybe he should. Tickle Eddie until he can’t breathe anymore. Until all that brattiness is tickled out of him. 

“Next shoe.” Steve crawls forward on his knees and grabs Eddie's leg, which he has pulled up against his front body.

“Steve, you maniac,” Eddie cackles, head falling back into his neck, like all of this is too much for him, but in a way that is highly amusing and highly panic-inducing at the same time. 

Steve tugs hard enough on his ankle that Eddie slides away from the headboard and falls back onto his pillow with a surprised grunt. 

The laces of the second boot are even more stubborn, tied with a double-knot that Steve struggles to loosen with his short nails. It doesn’t help that Eddie starts struggling for real this time, keeps writhing and pulling his leg away, starts thumping a fist against Steve’s back, all while laughing so much that he sounds like he’s seconds away from an asthma attack. When he has the time again, Steve really wants to lecture him about smoking. 

“Hold still!” Steve snaps, frustrated. Eddie does the opposite and starts kicking his leg. Years of wrestling with his friends have given Steve some ideas on how to pin somebody down, so his body acts almost on instinct when he swings his leg over both of Eddie’s, then sinks down on him, clamping Eddie’s legs together with both of his. 

“Holy–” Eddie gasps, kicks his captured legs even harder. “Holy shit, Steve, wait–”

Steve ignores Eddie’s pitiful attempts at tugging on the back of Steve’s shirt and pins Eddie’s shin down into the sheets with one hand, settling harder against Eddie’s upper thighs and lap. Something about that calms Eddie. Although 'calm' may not be the right word. 

Stills him. 

Steve doesn’t care what has gotten Eddie to finally stop resisting, he’s too busy trying to figure out how to get that freaking knot open. 

“Do you ever take off your shoes? Who would wear something that takes hours to untie?”

There’s no answer from behind him, so Steve settles in closer to focus on the upside-down boot, sinks his body down against Eddie’s, knobbly knees poking into Steve’s chest. Only there’s—

“Steve,” Eddie gasps, and then they’re both frozen. Because, because, because…

Eddie is hard. 

And Steve can feel him because he’s fucking pressed the whole entirety of his ass against where Eddie’s filling out and twitching—

That’s it, that’s all the thoughts he has left before his brain shortcuts. 

“Oh, god, oh fuck, I’m sorry,” Eddie groans, but even though he sounds mortified, his hands are pulling on the back of Steve’s shirt like he wants to drag him closer. 

“It’s–” Fine, Steve doesn’t manage to say. He’s not sure if it is fine. He should probably get up. Make some kind of awkward joke about the situation, or even better, pretend this never happened. 

But he’s also a man on a mission, and the shoe is still on Eddie’s foot. 

So, instead of doing any of the sensible things, he attacks the knot with renewed vigor, manages to get it open eventually, and continues on with loosening the laces. 

Eddie is making a sound behind him that Steve interprets as confusion and acute arousal. A sound that makes Steve nearly moan in return. 

There’s something about this, some part of him that he’s never wanted to analyze too closely before. Not the part about him not minding feeling a hard dick pressed against his butt, he’s got that figured out years ago, but the part about it being Eddie Munson’s hard dick. 

Because, for all his annoying habits and bratty behavior, Eddie is also really fucking hot. In that anarchic fuck-conformity kind of way that Steve has never thought he would be into, but apparently, based on his body’s reaction to this whole situation here, and the blood that is flowing fast and hard into his own dick, he very much is. 

If he’s completely honest with himself, and there’s not really any reason not to be, this is not the first time he's thought that Eddie is attractive. For a metalhead. He’s got these huge fuck-me eyes and dimples when he smiles, after all. If only he weren’t such a little shithead all the time.

And so, instead of going by his first instinct to scurry away and pretend this never happened, he settles in and pushes his hips down. Eddie’s hands clamp down on him, ringed fingers pressed next to his hipbones through his jeans so hard Steve thinks they might leave an imprint. 

“Steve,” he growls, sounds close to losing it. “What. The. Fuck.”

Steve pulls off Eddie’s boot instead of providing an answer and throws it over the edge of the bed with the first one. The thump is final and deafening. 

Not having any excuse for the position he’s in any longer, Steve hesitates. Wonders if he took this too far, if Eddie’s not just freaking out because Steve made him hard, but because he never wanted to get hard under these circumstances—under Steve. 

Eddie’s hands disappear from Steve’s hips, and Steve gets the compulsive urge to look at Eddie. He lifts himself up enough to be able to turn around, hovers over Eddie’s lap this time, knees digging deep into the mattress beside Eddie’s hips. 

But Eddie isn’t looking at him. Eddie is hiding his face below both of his arms, only the flushed lower half of his face on display. 

“Eddie?” 

Eddie shakes his head, keeps his arms where they are.

“You want—” Steve considers how to ask his many questions, his stomach churning nervously at the idea that Eddie might reject him. “Should I get off?”

That finally gets Eddie to lift his arms long enough that Steve can catch a glimpse of the rest of his face. Those wide, frightened eyes, the cute blush in his cheeks. Then he’s hiding again. As if he just had to convince himself that it’s really Steve on top of him, really Steve asking that question. He shakes his head again, and Steve lowers himself onto his lap. 

“Steve,” Eddie whines, actually full-on whines. “Is this punishment? Because if it is, you should know—”

“It’s whatever you want this to be,” Steve interrupts him. “What do you want this to be?”

Eddie swallows heavily, and Steve tracks the movement with his eyes, still wanting to dig his teeth into Eddie, but for different reasons now. 

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?”

“You’re dreaming of me often?”

“Fuck, you’ve got no idea, Steve.”

Steve’s chest sparkles. 

But then Eddie continues, “I know you hate me—”

“I don’t hate you,” Steve cuts in. “You’re a bratty little shit, but I guess that’s part of your charm.”

“Only because it’s so easy to rile you up,” Eddie groans. “You’ve got no idea how cute you look with your hands on your hips and that exasperated look—” Eddie cuts himself off and takes a startled breath. “Oh, fuck, never mind. Ignore me. I’m clearly losing my mind.”

But for Steve, this is as good as any confession he’s going to get out of Eddie. 

“Hey,” he says, all stern and fake-annoyed. “You shouldn’t sleep in your jewelry. Take your rings off.”

Eddie hesitates, and Steve holds himself very still. If Eddie wants to end this here, then Steve will leave him be. Never speak of this again. They can pretend to be reluctant friends for the rest of the weekend, going back to being nothing but casual acquaintances in Hawkins. Steve only hopes that Eddie will continue to pick up a new movie from Family Video, just as he has before. Bickering with him is kind of the whole highlight of Steve’s week.

Yeah, maybe he should get that in writing. I, Eddie Munson, will visit Family Video every Thursday night for as long as I shall live. 

Not that Steve’s planning to work there for the rest of his life. He’s actually been taking night classes for a while, working on changing his career to something in a more social sector eventually. But it’s about the principle of things. About wanting Eddie to be part of his life, no matter how infuriating he is. For the lack of a better thought-out metaphor (because Steve’s never been good at poetry and shit), Eddie’s like the hot sauce on the otherwise incredibly bland meal that has become his life ever since everybody’s moved out of Hawkins. 

So, Steve can’t fuck this up. He needs Eddie to want this as much as him.

“Eddie?”

Finally, after what feels like a freaking eternity, Eddie offers one of his hands to Steve. 

“You want me to do it for you?” Steve asks, catches his hand in his.

Eddie nods, bites down on his lower lip. Steve sinks down on Eddie’s lap until he can feel Eddie press against him again, even through both layers of jeans. The movement also seems to punch all the air out of Eddie’s lungs, his eyes growing even bigger before he hides them under his other arm again. Like he still can’t believe this is happening. Needs to hide how much he wants this to happen.

Steve twists the smallest, least offending ring around Eddie’s ring finger, a simple silver band. It comes off easily enough, but Steve still takes his time, thinks there’s something about it, a reverse of something he would want to do to Eddie years from now on, then his brain whites out like a TV during a thunderstorm.  

Only static. 

“Eddie,” Steve whispers, doesn’t know what he wants to say, only knows that the pressure behind his ribcage is demanding he does say something while he tugs down the second ring from the middle finger. Eddie moves his arm enough that one eye peeks out from beneath it, so many questions written in that one cautious glance. 

“Is that really it? You annoy me because you like how I look when I get pissed off?”

Steve curls his fist around the recently freed rings and tugs on Eddie’s arm with his other hand, pulling it down until he can slide off one of the more obscene rings. The one with the skulls first. Eddie switches arms and hides again, chews on his lower lip. 

“You’re not gonna give me an answer, Munson?” Steve asks, tugs a little rougher on the next ring when it gets stuck around the knuckle. 

Eddie sighs, presses his arm tighter against his eyes. “I’m not always good at…” He hums. “Engaging. I don’t mean to say half the shit I say when I see you. It’s just like I said, easier to rile you up than to have a normal conversation.”

“And… you want to have normal conversations with me?”

“Well, maybe not normal conversations.”

“So abnormal conversations?”

“No, fuck, just conversations, okay? I want to talk to you.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Well, I’m trying, aren’t I? Nobody watches the same stupid movies as much as I do, right? You must see that in your little computer, see how many times I’ve rented out The Thing in the last year alone because I already watched everything else you’ve got in the horror section.”

Steve’s entire body starts humming at that. But it’s not enough; he needs more concrete proof.

“So, you rent out The Thing because you want to talk to me. And you want to talk to me because…”

“Because.”

“Because?”

Eddie flaps his arm to the bed hard enough that the mattress bounces. “Because I’m really into you, Steve, and apparently that makes me incapable of talking to you without putting my foot in my mouth. So, I try again and again, hoping for a better outcome, alright?”

Steve’s just about to pull off the last ring when the confession hits him square on the head, and his brain loses all ability to think again. He sits there with the weight of all of Eddie’s silver rings in his palms, the weight of his words on his chest. Gapes. Until Eddie cringes away and hides his face beneath his arms again. 

“Dear universe,” he mutters, “if you could just drop a meteor on me right the fuck now…”

“That would kill me, too,” Steve says stupidly. 

Eddie sets his jaw in return, turns even redder in the face under the flickering light of the TV and the shallow glimmer of the lamp from Steve’s bedside table. 

“And then I would have to hunt you down in the afterlife. Demand you just have one normal conversation with me without trying to piss me off, even if it takes us all of eternity to get there.”

“Steve.”

Steve wants to say ‘Eddie’ and bitch back at him for being such an idiot, but he can sense the distress in Eddie, and it’s not the cute kind. 

So, Steve does the one thing he can do better than talking. Because he’s also not the best at conversations, but there’s one language that he speaks almost fluently. And so he leans forward, one hand digging deep into the pillow below Eddie’s head, the other carefully releasing the collection of warm metal from his hand until they spill onto the bedside table.

He can feel Eddie’s warm and misty breath against the little triangle between his collarbones as he makes sure the rings don’t roll off the table, and feels him twitch at the sound of metal on wood. When Steve is satisfied that all of Eddie’s rings are safe, he leans back, brackets Eddie’s head with both of his palms. 

Despite all the anxious energy he’s emitting and the tension in his body, Eddie’s also still hard against Steve. Which Steve decides to take as a compliment. He doesn’t ask Eddie to look at him, doesn’t pry the arms away from his forehead. Instead, he turns his head enough that he can get closer to Eddie’s mouth, close enough that their lips brush. Feels Eddie take a shaky breath. 

Steve’s forehead is uncomfortably squashed against Eddie’s forearm, but it gets the message across when Steve pushes in that last inch and lingers there. Perhaps the most awkward kiss of his life. Perhaps the best. Eddie’s shaking below him, shaking, like he’s a loose threat unraveling on a roughly knit sweater (and ha! Steve can do metaphors after all if he gets inspired). 

And then Eddie kisses back. Hesitantly at first, and honestly, there’s not much room to do anything else in this position, but there’s finally some pressure against Steve’s lips, and the simple act of reciprocation is more than just a flutter in his chest. It’s a big fucking bang.

It makes him greedy. Greedier than the situation might warrant, and he flicks his tongue out, just once, just to taste Eddie’s lips, before getting annoyed by the arm in his way and shoving against it. He wants to deepen the kiss, wants to see Eddie’s expression afterwards, doesn’t want to play this weird version of peek-a-boo any longer. 

So, he drags the arm up and away, squishes it between the crown of Eddie’s head and the headboard before weaving his fingers through Eddie’s. Eddie’s hand is cold, and the sensation of those long, ringless fingers against his own is enough distraction that Steve needs to dislodge their kiss.

Eddie has lifted his other arm away on his own volition, hand hovering next to Steve’s face like he wants to pull him in again, and Steve can finally look at him, see the surprise in his eyes, the yearning. 

And, God, Steve’s never been able to resist a good pining about his person. Perhaps that makes him arrogant or narcistic (or whatever that word is that Robin uses when Steve’s taking too much time fixing his hair in the mirror), but yes, he wants to be wanted. So, freaking what? Sue him. 

It helps, of course, that being wanted by one Eddie Munson seems as implausible as it is flattering. Who would’ve thought that he could turn a metalhead’s head? That anti-establishment Munson is into jocks and polo shirts, after all? The thought almost makes Steve snicker. 

He doesn’t laugh because Eddie still looks fucking spooked underneath all that want, looks seconds away from either punching Steve in the face or bolting. Steve squeezes his fingers tighter around Eddie’s, touches nose against nose, hoping it can convey what he doesn’t know how to put into words. 

“If this is a practical joke on my behalf, I need you to stop right the fuck now, Harrington.” The words come out all rough and threatening, but the aggression in them belies a simple truth: Eddie’s freaking out. 

“What kind of stupid joke would that be?” Steve asks with a frown, can’t help but wonder if Eddie’s been on the receiving end of such cruelty before. 

“So, not a joke,” Eddie muses, nods to himself. “Then you’re curious? Wanna see what all the fuss about gay sex is about?”

“Are we doing that tonight?” Steve asks, knowing his face is lighting up like a Christmas tree. “Gay sex?”

Eddie thumps his head back with a groan, the pillow below him too soft for what was probably intended for dramatic effect. “Steve, can you just spell the fuck out what’s actually going on right now? Ever since you’ve climbed on my bed with me, I think I’ve been losing half my brain cells. I don’t get what is happening, I don’t understand—”

“I like that you like me.”

And well, that’s perhaps not what he wanted to get across, and based on Eddie’s frown, it’s not conceived the way it was meant, either. 

“I like that you like me, because, well, I suppose anybody would if the person they’ve been crushing on for years, finally decided to stop being a dick about it.”

Eddie barks a laugh as if he’s never heard anything more ridiculous in his life. “You’ve been crushing on me? For years?”

“Well.” Steve shrugs. “I don’t think I knew that’s what it was, but— I would check the clock. Every Thursday after three pm, every five minutes. Hell, that’s a lie. Probably every thirty seconds. Maybe more. I would check the clock to see how long I’d have to wait for you to show up.”

Eddie’s still looking incredulous, but Steve doesn’t let that deter him. 

“And I told myself it’s because I was bracing myself. Because I knew you would say something that would agitate me. And I was preparing myself, mentally, to beat you this time. To come up with something to say in return, even if I knew I could never be as witty or clever as you. But I wanted to– to make you laugh.”

Eddie shakes his head and says, “Harrington,” in a voice that sounds all disappointed and confused, so Steve doubles down.

“So, yes, I thought I was counting down the minutes because I was already dreading the moment you stepped through the door, but the few Thursdays you didn’t come, well, it doesn’t make any sense, does it? If I hated seeing you so much, why did I get that sinking feeling in my stomach when you didn’t show up? Why was I grumpy for days afterwards, to the point that Robin didn’t want to talk to me on the phone anymore? Why did I get so anxious you might not turn up the week after either?”

That finally gets Eddie to soften, those brown eyes large enough they overtake almost his entire face while they blink up at Steve. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen eyes as fascinating in his life. Says so, rubs his thumb along Eddie’s hand where their fingers are still tangled above his head. 

“Did I spell that out well enough? I know I’m not the best at explaining concepts, but— Do you need something else as proof?”

“I don’t need proof, Steve,” Eddie says quietly, sounds disappointed again, but this time in himself. “Just— Come here.” He lifts his chin, and that’s all the invitation that Steve needs to kiss him again. 

Steve knows how to kiss. Wishes college applications had taken that into account instead of all the other useless skills like math or writing essays. He knows that a kiss should start slow, build tension, tease what’s to come. Steve’s never kissed a man sober, though. All his previous attempts have taken place at that club Robin drags him to whenever he visits her. Under strobe lights, in the crush of other bodies, with too much vodka in his system. Not much anticipation to be built under those circumstances.

So, perhaps Steve doesn’t know how to kiss a man when it means something. And that’s why he’s stuck between two competing impulses: to take it slow, to brush back Eddie’s hair behind his ear and not give him more tongue than he’s ready for, or to do the exact opposite and just take everything he wants from him until they’re both scrubbed raw from stubble burn and can barely breathe anymore. 

Luckily, Eddie doesn’t seem to have any of such concerns, because he leans into the confusingly light pressure of their lips with a groan, tilts his head and opens his lips until Steve follows his guidance and oh, fuck the first lick of Eddie’s warm, smooth tongue into his mouth lights up every cell in Steve’s body, fingers tightening around Eddie’s. 

Eddie still tastes like those chips, which should be disgusting, but somehow isn’t because that’s just Eddie never making things easy for Steve. There are many things that should repel Steve on paper, based on who he was and who some people still think he is. Eddie’s taste in music, those tattoos, that frizzy hair, all the nerdy nonsense that spills from his lips, the constant smoking. 

Things that should repel him, like a magnet with the opposite pole. Or the same? Whatever, Steve doesn’t want to think about science class. What he means to think about, while sliding his tongue deep against Eddie’s, is that all his preferences have been turned on their head, and everything that used to feel like the opposite of him is now attracting him somehow.

Like the acidic taste of salt on Eddie’s tongue, the feeling of his callouses where he rubs his fingers into the back of Steve’s hand, the rough tug on Steve’s hair (which Steve’s very particular about being touched in general) when Eddie wants him to change the angle.

And, yes, alright, maybe there is a middle ground in kissing, because even though they’re kissing each other deep enough, he can feel Eddie’s stubble against his own, there’s also a languidness about it, their tongues sliding together slowly, the rub of it almost… gentle. 

There’s something else to be said about this way of kissing, so close and hot that really gets to Steve, that has his knees buckle, that sparks along his spine like electric shocks. 

Somehow, distantly, like he's not even in the same room, he hears the little sounds he makes beneath the muted chatter of their TV. Unthinking rumbles and desperate drags of air through his nose that Eddie echoes with his own gruff hums and heavy breathing, and yeah, that’s just… yeah. 

And when Steve stretches out, so that he can fit his body along Eddie’s, that’s very close to fuck yeah. They’re the same height, so their chests are in perfect alignment, hips against hips, their cocks pressed alongside each other through their jeans. Steve’s never been harder in his life, straining against his zipper in a way that hurts, wonders if this is the hardest he can get Eddie to be, too. 

Eddie’s legs fall open around him, letting Steve settle between them. The wet meeting of their mouths grows louder in his ears, is almost as deafening now as his own heartbeat, and he feels himself melt into the sensation, melt into Eddie, as if all his bones have liquified.  

“Yeah,” Eddie gasps the first time they separate for a desperate drag of air into lungs, echoing Steve’s thoughts. “Fuck, Steve, yeah. Just like that.”

And then they’re kissing again, Eddie tugging his hand out of Steve’s grasp to cradle his head in both of his palms, the skin against Steve’s overheated cheeks cool and soothing. Steve’s mouth feels slick, his lips are throbbing, his tongue so deep in Eddie’s mouth that he remembers that stupid warning Tommy had given him years ago, before he kissed Claudia Dunster for the first time.

Never use too much tongue. They hate that. Instant turnoff.

Steve knows how to tease, and maybe one day he can use those skills on Eddie, but tonight he wants this, wants too much tongue and too much Eddie, wants him so deep and whole and differently than he’s ever wanted anybody before. Nothing turnoff about this, Steve thinks manically, sinks against Eddie with a heavy, unhurried roll of his hips, the kind of movement he normally reserves for being balls-deep into someone. 

The reaction he gets is instant. Eddie’s fingers dig hard into his skull, a pained noise escaping him and rumbling against Steve’s tongue and mouth, one of his legs curling around one of Steve’s, Eddie’s heel tugging around his shin, keeping him close, pressing himself closer. 

Steve settles into a flow, circling his hips against Eddie’s, much less pressure than on the first roll, but continuous, mimicking what he’d love to do to Eddie after pushing inside him the first time. Something about that must really get Eddie going because next thing Steve knows, both of his hands land on Steve’s ass, palming him through his jeans, fingers digging deep. 

Steve probably shouldn’t be surprised that Eddie catches his rhythm instantly, considering he’s a musician. He guides Steve against him harder, but at the same pace, massaging his fingers deep into his flesh until it’s Steve who has to break the kiss to gasp for air. 

Nobody has ever grabbed Steve there with such bruising force, like they’re going crazy with how much they want him. Even those few make-out attempts at the club have mostly stayed above Steve’s waist (and never lasted more than a few minutes). Not that he ever wanted any of these men to touch him like this or take him home, because—

Oh. 

“Oh?” Eddie asks, pupils all blown up, his hands slipping a bit lower, squeezing Steve’s ass hard through his jeans. Steve’s hips stutter as realization floods him. 

I think I wanted you much more and for much longer than I even realized, he thinks, but doesn’t say. He’s been told too many times to count that he’s clingy, doesn’t want to overwhelm Eddie with his urge to make romantic declarations.  

“Oh, fuck, Eddie,” he says instead and collapses against him, head tucked into his shoulder until he can smell Eddie’s body wash, the hint of nicotine still clinging to his clothes. 

“Yeah?” Eddie breathes, drags Steve forward and back against him to his own rhythm now until it’s bordering on too much, the chafing from their jeans surely something they’ll regret tomorrow. “You like that, baby?”

Steve nods because all words have flown from his head at the pet name. He lets Eddie manhandle him into a heavy grind, pleasure surging through him until he feels blind and mute with it, until he’s concerned for one frantic moment that he might spill in his pants like a teenager. 

And then Eddie shifts his right hand and slips it even lower, his middle finger pushing between his cheeks and digging deep into Steve through his pants right where—

Steve lets out a garbled sound as the pressure registers in his mind, his hips bucking hard against Eddie’s, teeth sinking into Eddie’s shoulder through his Black Sabbath shirt. 

“Yeah?” Eddie asks again, eager.

“Yeah,” Steve gasps muffled against the fabric, because that’s the only word still in his head. Everything Eddie does to him is a yeah. Even those things, he’s never done before. The places he’s never been touched in. 

“Have you ever—” Eddie pants, doesn’t finish the question, but Steve can still hear it and shakes his head. “Would you want to? Not tonight, obviously, but… one day?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies, and takes it upon himself to thrust against Eddie again. “Anything, Ed, anything you want.”

Eddie laughs, sounds delirious. A moment later, he’s pushing Steve’s hips up with one hand, the other finding the button of his jeans and flicking it open with expert precision. Steve wakes from his daze when his zipper is being pulled down and scrambles into a one-armed plank to do the same with Eddie’s jeans with his free hand, unbuttons him as quickly as he can, then drags the zipper down. They pull on each other's pants and kick them down their legs until eventually they land on a heap on the floor together with Eddie’s shoes. 

Steve barely has time to register how their underwear is almost a representation of themselves—Eddie in black boxers with little skulls printed on them and Steve in his navy briefs—before they move to slot together again as they have before: Mouth against panting mouth, chest against heaving chest, their cocks pressed against each other, Eddie’s legs framing Steve’s hips. 

Without the chafing pressure of jeans and zippers and buttons, the grind of skin, thin hairs, and cotton is almost soft in comparison, the shapes of their cocks much more pronounced. This way, Steve can also feel the wet spot on Eddie’s boxers soaking into his briefs, and Steve doesn’t know why, but that might just be the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him—knowing that Eddie wants him this much, knowing that he did that to Eddie with nothing more than a little dry-humping. 

Any arrogance is lost the moment Eddie’s hand returns to Steve’s ass, sliding low before cupping him through his briefs the way Steve has done to girls before, fingers curled tight against his taint. Steve groans into the kiss, sensations sparking all along his spine, the pressure in his groin bordering on too intense for him to endure. 

He pulls away, stares at Eddie with wide eyes, and sees the edge of a teasing smirk on his face. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing to Steve. Keeping his eyes trained on Steve’s, Eddie tilts his head a little to the side, his smile growing, the fingers sliding higher, higher until he’s pressing against Steve’s rim again, presses one of them deeper, just a teasing first dip inside through his underwear, enough for Steve’s eyes to close and brows to furrow, for a loud moan to vibrate in the space between them.

“Oh, baby,” Eddie croons, voice thick with arousal. “You’d take me so well, wouldn’t you?”

Steve’s arms give in, and he lands face-first in the pillow beside Eddie’s head. He tilts his head to the side until he’s buried it into Eddie’s hair, breathing heavily against his ear, knowing that Eddie will hear even the smallest reaction to his touch this way. 

Steve’s never thought about being fucked before; all his fantasies about a faceless, but lean and pale man with a teasing smirk (yes, the truth is not lost on him now), had been about being the one doing the fucking. But he can’t deny the allure of being the one on the receiving end, of how unbelievably horny the pressure of Eddie’s fingers makes him, horny enough he’s thrusting forward against Eddie’s cock and back against his finger as if on autopilot, any rhythm or attempt at deliberation lost. 

Steve wants. Wants to feel, wants to give up, give in, wants to be Steve without expectations, Steve without borders. He’s not sure he’s ever allowed himself the total loss of control, and isn’t that ironic? That the man who can get Steve’s blood boiling with a few words can also make him feel so… safe?

Eddie’s fingers are rubbing against him harder now, the second palm coming down to Steve’s ass again as well, cupping him, thumb digging into Steve’s flexing muscle, calming his frantic thrusts, and guiding him into something more intentional. Steve moans, feels crazy with how turned on he is. He wants to rub against Eddie like a cat, crawl into his skin, bury himself deep, so deep that Eddie will never get him out again. 

Steve settles for burying deeper into Eddie’s hair, lips pressed against the shell of his ear as he presses out through clenched teeth and burning lungs, “Would you let me fuck you, too?” 

“Oh, fuck, yeah, of course, Stevie,” Eddie groans, the hand on his ass gripping hard enough that Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he found purple imprints there tomorrow morning. “But only after I’ve shown you how to make it really good.” 

He presses his finger deeper against Steve again, the tip of it dipping inside. Precum spurts from Steve’s cock in return, his wet spot much more pronounced now than Eddie’s. 

“God, I want that,” Steve slurs. “Show me now?”

“We can’t,” Eddie bemoans, sounding just as regretful as Steve feels. “Not without lube and condoms.”

Steve groans, hating himself a little for not thinking to pack either. 

“But I could tell you in theory, tell you what I’d do to you,” Eddie adds, sounding just as breathless as Steve feels. His hand on Steve’s ass is rocking him forward against his cock and backwards against his fingers in rapid little bursts that have stars explode behind Steve’s eyelids. 

He nods frantically. “Tell me.”

“Jesus, Steve,” Eddie moans, nuzzling against Steve’s temple. “Okay, baby, let me–” He doesn't finish the sentence but digs in a finger until he's pressing inside Steve again, curls it just so until Steve wants to claw on his own skin before the pleasure comes bursting out of him. 

“First, I’d have to open you up, get you all wet and ready for me. I would take my time with you, make you writhe on my fingers, find that spot inside you that will make you go wild, wait until you’d start begging me for more.”

“Fuck,” Steve hisses in response. He’s close now, feels the pressure in his lower back, like an ache behind his teeth, balls drawing tighter where they rub against Eddie’s.

“I’d put you on your knees, arms above your head, front pressed to the mattress. Fuck, Steve, you’d look so good all stretched out before me, all bronze skin and scars and moles, so fucking pretty for me when I finally push inside of you.”

“Eddie, Jesus,” Steve whines against his ear, toes curling, “I can’t– I’m so close.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, sounds gone, too. “Yeah, fuck, c’mon.”

Eddie stops talking, rocks Steve harder against him, thrusts the pads of his fingers against Steve’s rim, pushing inside again and again as deep as he can go through Steve's briefs. They’re both panting and trading moans back and forth, and Steve’s glad the TV is still on, hopes it’s enough to drown them out. Eddie meets Steve’s rolling hips with his own, throws his head back into the pillow, and groans, long and guttural. 

“I’m going to— Ed, I’m—”

“Fuck, Steve, me too. So close. You’re so fucking hot, baby. So good. I can’t believe I’m allowed to have you like this.”

And that’s it, that’s all Steve can take. Steve yanks the collar of Eddie’s shirt out of the way and latches his mouth on the skin of his shoulder, the taste of salt and soap exploding on his tongue just as his brain whites out. The pleasure wrecks through him like he’s being hit by a truck, sharp and blinding, spills out of him in long ropes, and near unending muffled moans, makes a wet mess of his briefs and Eddie's shoulder where he's got his mouth pressed, teeth sinking into skin. 

Steve's still riding the tail end of that insane orgasm when he comes back to his body and realizes that Eddie's gripping both of his thighs right below his ass, dragging Steve forward while rutting against him so hard and quick the bed starts squeaking. 

Pushing himself up on his elbow, Steve watches Eddie in those last throes of passion, his head tipped back, nose scrunched up, panting mouth open and shaped like an ‘O’ as if he still can’t believe this is happening. And damn if that doesn’t make Steve swoon a little.

Steve tilts his hips down with a hiss, ignoring the sting of his oversensitive cock for the sake of watching Eddie’s face scrunch up in pleasure, then leans up higher and catches his gaping mouth with his, swallows that last punched out grunt from Eddie’s lips, licks inside his mouth, and feels the vibration of his moans when his thighs come up to curl around Steve’s lower back and even more wetness spills between them. 

They keep kissing afterwards, ignoring the chatter of the true crime show for the most part, their hands tangled in each other's hair and sliding underneath the shirts they’re still wearing, until the narrator's voice booms, “In the end, it was his shoes that gave him away.”

Steve collapses against Eddie in a giggle fit, ignoring Eddie’s peeved protests. 

They’re only two hours away from Dustin’s campus now, driving along a country road. Steve’s got one hand curled around Eddie’s thigh, rubbing his thumb into Eddie’s jeans.

Eddie’s elbow is resting on the edge of the rolled-down window, sleeves pulled up, bat tattoos on display, silver rings glimmering in the low sunlight. He’s put his hair into a messy bun after the shower they took together last night. A few errant strands and tiny ringlets have escaped his hair tie, whipping across his face. 

It’s hard not to glance at Eddie when he looks like that. Happy and wild and beautiful. It’s why Steve looks over again now, only to find one of his boots propped up against the glove box.

“Eddie! Take your fucking shoe down!”

Eddie grins. That impish grin that Steve knows so well, it really shouldn’t make his stomach swoop the way it does. Again. 

“Eddie,” Steve warns, pressing his thumb deeper into his thigh. “Don’t make me do it for you.”

“Yeah?” Eddie laughs. “Big bad Stevie is gonna come over here and push my foot down?”

Steve looks between Eddie and the road, thinks he’s going to have a stroke. Or a boner. It’s a coin toss at this point. 

Making sure there are no cars behind him, Steve swerves the car onto the shoulder and hits the brakes. 

As soon as the car has stopped, Steve leans over, curls both of his palms in the collar of Eddie’s shirt, and drags him over the middle console until his foot falls from the glove box. 

Eddie is still grinning, but his eyes are wide in shock before Steve leans in and kisses the last bit of brattiness out of him. 

Three weeks ago, while stoned out of his mind, he was jerking off and ran out of lube. Annoyed, he decided to order it online so he could get the bigger bottle and while on the site he got extremely distracted by the fantasy section. So many different types of toys, he was overwhelmed and confused on how to use them.

Three hours later, he was deep in the well of pornhub videos watching silicone knots disappear into holes, and giant horse dicks somehow squeeze inside places they definitely shouldn’t. Recommended video after recommended video, he couldn’t stop watching; his boxers were soaked, his dick throbbed, and he couldn’t stop picturing fucking his girlfriend with every single one.

After jerking off like crazy, he switched back to the toy site and rolled a d20 to figure out which one to buy. He should have sent it to his place, but he didn’t know how discrete the discrete packaging really was so he typed in Stevie’s address without a second thought. Eddie still hasn’t told her exactly what’s in the box just that it’s going to be fun for both of them. Now that it's nearly here, he can't seem to think about anything else but stuffing Stevie full.

It’s been a long morning.

He's tried to distract himself with d&d, then TV, then a nap. Now he's cleaning his room in a desperate attempt to avoid jerking off so he doesn't wear himself out. It's only partially working. There’s only so much he can do to take his mind off the special ice cubes waiting patiently for their little vessel. Well according to the product page it’s not exactly little.

One hand reorganizes his dresser, while the other dips past the waist band of his sweats, rubbing along his dick. He clenches his thighs as he does so, hoping to give himself some more stimulation.

It's taking all his concentration not to give in and rub one out that he almost misses his phone ring. With a yelp, he dives over the bed and snags it, sliding the answer button to open up the video call.

“Hey, Eds.” Stevie smiles when she comes into view. Her pretty brown hair is fluffed up and gorgeous, make up perfect, and eyes twinkling.

“Hey, beautiful.” Eddie replies trying to seem cool and collected. His flushed cheeks and blown pupils aren't doing him any favors; based on her smile, Stevie knows exactly what he's been doing.

“The box came.” There's a mischievous smile on her lips. She turns the camera to the open box, the toy nestled in it's soft packaging with a pump wrapped around it. Holy shit.

“Come over.” Is all she says before the screen goes black.

Eddie snags his keys off his bedside table, sprints down the hall, and pulls the frozen tray out of the freezer, tosses it into a nearby grocery bag, slips on his shoes, and hops in the van.

Driving way above the speed limit, Eddie thanks his lucky stars that he doesn't see a single cop on the way. He parks crooked on the driveway and barely remembers to turn the van off and pocket the keys before he's sprinting to the front door.

He doesn't even have to knock before Stevie's yanking the door open and smashing their lips together. Her hands twist into his hair as she pulls him the rest of the way inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Hello to you too.” He chuckles as his hands wind around her waist. Pulling her flush against him, he groans when she nips him lightly.

“What were you thinking when you bought this thing, Eds?” Stevie laughs when they finally come up for air. There's no way he can justify this, so he just shrugs.

“I watched Alien and then Shape of Water back to back while high as shit, then jerked off, had to buy lube, and one thing led to another.” Trailing off, he pulls the ice tray out of the bag in his hand with a smirk. Stevie takes the ice and stares at them for a moment before taking a huge breath.

“My room. I already laid down a few towels.” Stevie takes Eddie's hand and leads him up the stairs as quickly as she can.

Once at the top, Eddie snags Stevie around the waist and tosses her over his shoulder, carrying her down the hall. She shrieks happily as Eddie smacks her cute ass as it wiggles back and forth.

Tossing Stevie on the bed, Eddie crawls over her, kissing along her neck. His hands slide under her shirt and cup her tits, groaning when the flesh spills out of his hands. He rubs the pads of his thumbs along her nipples, sucking a bruise into her neck.

Stevie pushes on his shoulder, forcing him onto his heels, whips her shirt across the room, and goes to push down her shorts. Eddie quickly follows suit and soon they're both bare.

“Full disclosure baby. I forgot to bring my strap.” Eddie smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. With a laugh, Stevie reaches into her bedside drawer, tossing her own harness onto the bed. “Thank you darling.” Eddie tips an imaginary hat.

It takes him a bit longer than usual to slip into the straps and attach the new toy, the tube with the pump at the end dangles a little funny and he has to figure out how to tuck it in. Cold water drips onto the bed as Eddie pushes the little egg shaped ice cubes into the shaft of the toy; he slips a few silicone eggs in, then he’s ready. When he looks back up, he’s treated to the site of Stevie with two fingers buried inside her cunt, moving them back and forth lazily.

“I was going to do that.” Eddie pouts playfully as he crawls closer, setting his hands on either side of Stevie’s hips. A bit of cold water drips from the tip of the cock onto Stevie’s stomach making her hiss.

“We have a time limit with those bad boys.” She wraps her hand around the shaft, whimpering softly when she feels the bumps of the eggs. He knows he has to move quickly, but he can't resist pushing three fingers inside her pussy, groaning at the feeling.

“God baby you're soaked.” He moans, curling his fingers against Stevie's g-spot, grinning wide when she cries out. Pulling away his hand, Eddie lines up with Stevie's entrance. He watches her pretty pussy clench around nothing a few times before giving her what she needs.

“Oh shit that's so cold.” Stevie whines as the shaft slowly enters her. Shuddering against the feeling, Stevie tries to shimmy away; but, Eddie yanks her back down.

“I know baby, I know. You gotta warm it up for me okay?” Eddie whispers, pulling out a little then thrusting back in. It's a little difficult given the soft nature of the thing, but he makes it work. Keeping his pace slow and steady, he reaches down to rub Stevie's clit with freezing hands.

“Oh, shit.” Stevie gasps, bucking up into Eddie hand.

“You like that baby?” Eddie grins. When she nods, he reaches over to the ice tray and grabs one of the spare egg cubes. His eyes never leave her face as he lowers it to her clit, rubbing little circles on the nub.

Stevie’s cry of shock quickly turns to a moan of pleasure as the heat radiating off her pussy melts the ice. Cold water runs down her slit, meeting the base of the toy.

Eddie can't take anymore. He thrusts his hips forward until he's buried as far as he can go, then grabs the little squeeze ball.

“I'm gonna breed your sweet cunt, baby girl. Make you round with my clutch until they hatch.” Eddie groans pumping the little ball as he pulls out slowly. The eggs slip out of the toy and stay inside Stevie's pussy, keeping her full and pressing on her inner walls.

“Holy shit. It's so cold, it feels so good.” Stevie whines, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. The ice eggs are a little easier to get inside since they've partially melted, but the silicone eggs struggle through.

Eddie grabs the shaft and milks the eggs up until one after the other pop inside his little incubator. When he pulls out, Stevie’s stuffed full; a mix of lube, her pre, and cold water, leaks out of her pussy and runs down her ass. He presses on the top of her cunt, groaning when he feels the eggs inside.

“Does that feel good, baby?” Eddie murmurs, eyes wide and dark with lust. Stevie only nods, gasping from the pleasure/pain of the cold and the pressure. “You like being bred by this alien freak, don't you?” Without waiting for her answer, he crawls between her legs so he's eye level with her pussy.

Spreading her open, he moans low in his throat when her hole clenches. Unable to resist, he licks a broad stroke over her pussy, groaning at the cool skin against his lips. Stevie cries out and winds her hand into his hair holding him in place.

“You want to cum and then lay my eggs, baby?” Eddie asks. He licks up the mix of fluids leaking from inside her stuffed cunt. The ribbed silicone egg rubs against his tongue when he slips it in Stevie's hole, swirling around the egg and pushing the toy into her g-spot.

“Oh, fuck.” Stevie gasps, thrusting into his face. With a grin, he sucks her clit into his mouth, rolling the little nub between his teeth. He flicks his tongue against it, then using his finger, he pushes the eggs deeper inside Stevie's pussy.

“Cum for me, mama.” Eddie growls thrusting his finger in time with the flicks of his tongue.

Stevie’s legs shake and her back bows off the bed as she clenches hard around the eggs. Eddie can feel her body wanting to push them out, but he holds them in.

“They're not ready yet, sweetheart. You gotta keep them in a little bit longer.” He whispers. Once Stevie settles back down, Eddie stands and removes the harness.

Getting back on the bed, he kneels between Stevie's legs and spreads them wide. He has a perfect view of her entrance so he sits back on his heels, spreading his own legs a bit. He reaches down and strokes over his cunt, moaning at how wet he is. Dipping two fingers inside, he thrusts hard from the start.

“You're so wet baby. I can hear it from here.” Stevie groans and attempts to move forward. Eddie holds her still as he curls his fingers, crying out as he hits his g-spot. He rubs along the spot, getting closer and closer to the edge.

“I want to watch you lay them.” Eddie gasps, adding another finger.

Stevie wraps a hand around each knee, lifting her legs higher. His eyes never leave her pussy as she clenches down. Her hole stretches to accommodate the girth then the egg pops out.

“Oh fuck.” Eddie whines. With his free hand, he takes his dick between two fingers, stroking quickly.

“Another one's coming.” Stevie moans, pushing a second egg out. This one pops out a little easier and shoots down the bed a bit. Eddie's so close, the sounds of his wet cunt are so loud in the quiet room.

“There's one more baby. Push it out for me.” He says breathlessly. It's the biggest one, Eddie needs to see it.

Stevie bares down again, the bottom of the egg is barely visible. It doesn't come out as easily as the others; she relaxes her muscles for a moment and the egg gets sucked back in. They both gasp in pleasure.

Stevie takes a deep breath before baring down again, the egg finally pushing out of her. It's slow going at first, she whines at the stretch. Eddie's panting as he moves his hands faster.

“This is the hottest thing I've ever seen.” He whines. “I'm so close.”

The last silicone egg finally slips out with a distinct popping sound. Stevie’s pussy pulses as she relaxes, then Stevie does the unthinkable.

She picks up the eggs and pushes them all back inside. Eddie's eyes roll into the back of his head as cums hard enough to see stars.

“Fuck, fuck.” He cries as he rides it out, thrusting his fingers faster to prolong the feeling.

When he can't take anymore, he pulls his hands off himself and flops down on top Stevie. The motion causes one of the eggs to slip back out and he groans.

“That was fun.” Stevie whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Eddie turns to give her a proper kiss and grins.

“You liked being my incubator then?” Eddie murmurs. Stevie smacks him lightly in the shoulder for his wording but laughs.

“Do they sell bigger ones?” Stevie asks with a sly smile.

With a burst of energy, Eddie dives for his phone and opens up his browser.

“Let's find out!” He exclaims.

permanent tag list(open):

Well…not his Alpha. Not yet, even though Eddie said he’s willing to take that step as soon as Steve is ready—something he needs to prove to himself wouldn’t be a selfish act, trapping Eddie into a life he’d hate. Maybe he can abdicate, and they can live a simple life together in town.

But they’ll never get that chance if he’s married off to the first girl whose parents agreed to the arrangement. Eddie also offered to join him at breakfast with the king and queen, if only for moral support, but Steve had told him to stay put. Having Eddie hear them snipe at Steve about being “unreasonable” would be a recipe for disaster.

They returned from their trip to the prospective in-laws’ manor house overnight, some time between Eddie scenting Steve all over and the two of them falling asleep in each others’ arms. It was akin to torture, leaving Eddie in bed before taking the time to sink into the beginnings of an actual den together, but he’d promised himself to make the confrontation quick. After a kiss for luck, Eddie had told him, “Go get ’em, tiger,” and he’d marched all the way down to the foyer, only to stop outside the dining room and start pacing as he’d realized he had no idea what to say.

All the pacing has made him late, and that’s not a great start. So he resolves to just speak from the heart, takes a deep breath, and closes the distance between himself and the double doors, where he stops again at the sound of his father’s voice echoing in the cavernous room.

“…rather not wait, either. You know how excited he is to move forward with his royal duties.”

“He’ll be delighted, I’m sure,” Steve’s mother agrees. “He’s always been so eager to start a family. He can get started right away.”

“Lord knows it’ll be a relief to me, too!”

Listening to their insincere laughter, Steve leans closer to the door. He notices it’s slightly ajar, explaining how he can hear them so clearly through the heavy wood. He tilts his head so that his ear is closer to the gap.

Once the laughter dies down, the king goes on, “To think—in a year or two, we’ll have a new generation of Harringtons.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“Knowing our boy, it’ll be sooner,” the queen says.

“Oh, don’t say that,” the king chides.

“I don’t mean anything untoward, Richard!” she protests. “I’m only saying they could get started as soon as tomorrow night.”

“You won’t find me tempting fate with talk like that, anyway,” the king says. “Not until he’s got that ring on his finger.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’ll only have to wait another day, then.”

Steve’s blood turns to ice in his veins. “Tomorrow night”? “Only another day”? Does that mean—?

“When are the guests set to arrive?”

There’s a short pause, then the king answers thoughtfully, “Mid-afternoon, if I recall. That way Steve will have the opportunity to get to know the bride over dinner. That reminds me: make sure his nice suit is laid out for him to greet the wedding party tonight.”

“What do I look like, his valet?” the queen scoffs, but Steve is hardly listening anymore. In fact, the king’s response is lost entirely as he stumbles away from the door.

He stares at the gap like it personally wronged him. Then he turns on his heel and sprints back down the corridor, up the stairs, and all the way to his chambers, where he charges through the door like he’s being chased.

“Steve! How did…?” Eddie trails off, the smile fading from his face as he sits up straighter in bed. “Steve?”

Steve swallows. He knows he must look manic, but he can’t be bothered to hide it. He can barely pull together the wherewithal to mutter, “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? I don’t understand, what’s—?”

“The wedding.” He swallows again. It’s useless; his throat is still bone-dry as he croaks out, “The wedding is tomorrow.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows. Cautiously, he says, “Our wedding?”

All Steve can do is look at him.

“Steve. Please tell me you’re talking about us. Because if you’re telling me you’re supposed to be getting married to someone else tomorrow, then…”

He feels his lip trembling, senses his own scent going sour with distress. Still, pitiful eye contact is all he can muster.

“Shit,” Eddie mumbles, shooting to his feet. He’s with Steve in a fraction of a second, holding him close and cocooning him in heady vanilla. Steve breathes it in like he’s surfacing from a lake while Eddie murmurs, “Shh. It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

“We were…supposed to have…a few months,” Steve manages between hiccuping breaths. With his face pressed against the side of Eddie’s neck, he sobs even harder than he did the day he learned of the engagement. “A few months…to convince them…”

Then it all comes crashing down on him: to convince them of what? To convince the king to let his only heir, the key to his dynasty, leave royalty behind altogether? That had never been in the cards. If Steve tried something like that, it would be a one-way ticket to getting locked in a tower like some kind of tragic damsel in a fairytale. Not only would Eddie be banished from the castle grounds—or worse—but Steve would never get to walk in the garden again. He would never be trusted to slip away to his special place among the juniper and ivy. And without the two of them tending it, the garden itself would grow into something unruly that, while undoubtedly still beautiful, would catch the queen’s negative attention, prompting her to have it all mown down in favor of something tacky and artificial.

“Steve,” Eddie coos, “there’s still time.”

“Time for what?” Steve sobs. “Time to run away? Disappear? Because that’s the only thing I can think of. And I hate to say it, but I’m not exactly prepared to live on the road or in the wilderness or something.”

“I think you’re underestimating yourself,” Eddie says. “But that’s not what I was going to suggest, anyway. Well—not entirely.”

His words at least confuse Steve enough to distract him from his tears. “What?”

“We could run away. Just…temporarily.”

“What good would that do? The wedding can wait for me to get back.”

“Not if you’re already married.”

Steve narrows his eyes.

Eddie kisses him, quick and rough, then continues to cradle his face in his hands as he says, “We could elope.”

“Eddie—”

“I mean it! I have a buddy who works at the chapel in town. He can make it official.”

Steve sighs. “That’s all well and good, but they’ll just have it annulled, and then they’ll banish you.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to be bonded before they do.”

He studies Eddie’s face for his usual humor, but comes up short. “Eddie, that’s…that’s really sweet of you, but…”

“But what?”

“What you’re suggesting, I mean…forever? Really? You’re willing to put up with me and all this royal bullshit forever?”

“Why not?” Infuriatingly—endearingly—Eddie actually shrugs and wrinkles his nose along with his easy smile. There must still be some doubt in Steve’s expression, because he turns serious in an instant, the tenderness of his fingers on Steve’s cheek doing far more to convey his devotion than words ever could.

“You hate the idea of royalty,” Steve protests, though his voice quavers, uncertain.

“But I love you.” Eddie’s hand rakes through the hair at Steve’s temple, then circles back down to cradle his jaw. “Darling, I would do anything for you. You’re all I need.”

Again, Steve carefully takes in every inch of Eddie’s face, but he struggles to find any trace of insincerity. “You really mean that, don’t you?” he whispers.

“I do,” Eddie replies. He smiles. “I really, really do.”

Steve takes a deep breath and says, “Then I promise you this: if you spend the rest of your life with me, we’ll be the last kings Hawkins ever knows.”

The ceremony was simple. Eddie found his friend at the tavern next door to the chapel, and the bemused patrons were their witnesses. Steve’s instinct had been to make the affair as private as possible, but Eddie had pointed out that the more people in town got to share the moment with them, the harder it’ll be for the king and queen if they react badly. Because Eddie has long been a presence at the tavern, and because Steve is as well-liked as a somewhat reclusive prince can be, everyone there seemed happy enough to attend their wedding—especially so when Steve, overcome with the heady feeling of being told to kiss his husband, bought another round for everyone.

It seems the news traveled faster than they could, too.

As they approach the castle gates on Steve’s horse, Sir Hopper himself comes striding up the drive with purpose and greets them as, “Your Highness, and…Your Highness.” Several emotions do battle across his brow, though his uncertainty and mild annoyance are no match for the strength of his convictions, and Steve is fairly certain his amusement at the king’s plans going to hell are going to come away victorious.

“Why are you on duty? Shouldn’t you be on your honeymoon?” Eddie asks.

Hopper ignores the question, looks directly at Steve, and says, “Her Majesty’s been looking for you, I hear.”

“What for?” Steve says innocently. He quirks a daring eyebrow and feels Eddie muffling his laughter at the nape of his neck.

“Your fiancée and her family are set to arrive soon.”

“Fiancée?” Steve furrows his brow and puts on a dramatic frown. “But I’m already married.” With Eddie still giggling into his collar, he lets go of the reins and holds his hand up. The sun glints on the golden band Eddie slipped onto his finger a couple hours ago.

Hopper smirks. “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into,” he remarks.

“Any tips on married life?” Steve jokes in return.

“I think that’s a little above my pay grade, kid. I’m just here to tell you your mother’s in a tizzy.”

“You’re not going to march me to the throne room, are you?”

“And ruin your big day? Joyce wouldn’t ever let me hear the end of it.”

Steve smiles. That’s why he likes Hopper—he’s always been the only one of the royal guard to treat him like a normal guy, and to treat his parents’ orders as optional. Really, it’s the same reason Steve fell for Eddie, and why he had such a rapport with Wayne before he retired and passed down the groundskeeper job.

It’s subdued, but Hopper smiles back. After a moment, he sighs, pretending to be put-upon. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got some royal nuisance to round up. Have either of you come across this guy called ‘Steed’?”

“Never heard of him,” Steve quips. “Weird to be named after a horse, though.”

“That’s what I thought, too. You know, when the queen interrupted my honeymoon to have me to look for him.” He sighs again, though he can’t seem to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching upward. “Well, then. You gentlemen keep an eye out, and let me know if you see him.” With that, Hopper gives a casual salute and marches off in the direction of his quarters, just outside the castle grounds. Over his shoulder, he calls, “And congratulations.”

The whole way to the stables, Steve and Eddie both shake with barely-contained laughter, doing their best not to spook the horse or draw attention to themselves.

On the threshold of his chambers, the full weight of what they’re doing hits Steve. Not in a bad or even an overwhelming way, but in the sense that he’s about to get everything he dreamed of. For once, he refuses to look at it critically, analyzing all the implications; he simply lets the warmth of his new reality radiate through his chest.

Eddie Munson, forever his Eddie.

He whirls to look at him. “I love you,” he says, unable to hold it in.

Smiling, Eddie replies, “I love you.”

Steve crowds into his space, reaches past him to latch the door. He also uses the moment as a shameless excuse to drink in Eddie’s scent, bright and sweet. He closes his eyes and whispers, “Show me.”

He senses Eddie shifting into a squat. It’s the only warning that he’s about to be literally swept off his feet. Eddie chuckles at the surprised yelp that escapes him, and as he carries Steve to bed (Our bed, Steve reminds himself), he says, “I intend to show you just how much you mean to me, sweetheart.”

“Tell me, too?”

“You mean the world.” He gently lays Steve across the sheets and crawls in after him. With his face hovering inches away, he adds, “I would rearrange the stars for you.”

“You already have.” Their lips meet, and as Eddie kisses him—more slow and deliberate than he ever has—he smiles at the truth of it. If not for Eddie, he would be dreading a loveless, cordial marriage at sunrise. He would be biding his time until he can finally take over the kingdom, hoping it might finally make him happy.

He doesn’t have to wait. Not anymore. He’s happy now, fortune be damned. The stars were no match for his Alpha.

Steve also can’t imagine the happiness of ruling over Hawkins would ever hold a candle to the joy flooding him now, the sparks of it that fly wherever Eddie touches him. It’s grounding; wonderful. The very essence of comfort.

“How else should I show you, then?” Eddie asks. His lips sweep over Steve’s cheek to caress the edge of his jaw.

“Make me yours.” Steve swallows to keep from drooling at the feeling of Eddie’s teeth on his skin. “I want you to mark me, so everyone can see.”

Eddie already knows that much, but he must like hearing it again, because he groans into the crook of Steve’s neck, and his hand flexes on Steve’s waist. He’s so close to the right spot; in fact, he nudges it with his nose and inhales deeply. “Mm. You smell so perfect.”

“What do I smell like?” Steve can’t help asking, even here in his marriage bed. Then again, maybe it’s the perfect time to ask. He’s always been curious how his scent comes across to other people, and his husband seems like the right person to describe it.

“Like jasmine and honeysuckle,” Eddie murmurs, and he takes another deep breath. It comes back out on a contented sigh. “Like a summer evening.” He kisses the spot where it’s most concentrated and smooths his hand down over Steve’s hip.

“It’ll be stronger if I’m naked,” Steve giggles.

“Hm. Good point.”

“You’ll need to return the favor, of course.”

“Of course,” Eddie echoes, lifting his head and wrinkling his nose in playful disbelief. “You think I would deny you that? You think I would be so cruel?”

“No, but it’s polite to ask.”

He exhales a laugh, and they make quick work of their clothes. They hadn’t bothered with anything too formal for the wedding itself, knowing they wouldn’t want to deal with so many buttons and buckles afterward, and they’d hardly cared what they would look like anyway. Steve silently thanks his past self for that decision as he settles against a fully nude Eddie in a matter of seconds, breathing his uninhibited vanilla-almond scent.

Skin to skin, with heat passing directly between them, the anticipation builds exponentially. Before long, Steve’s hands rub every inch of Eddie that they can reach. His cock stirs, he aches to be filled, and he can even feel his pulse in his toes. “Eddie, I need you.”

“How?” The breathlessness of it gives away how far gone Eddie is, too.

“On my back,” he murmurs. “I want to see your face.”

“As you wish,” Eddie replies, and he rolls them both over to hover over Steve, holding himself aloft on shaking arms.

Steve uses the new leverage it affords him to spread his legs and bracket Eddie’s hips with his knees. The sudden abundance of his scent on the air has a beautiful effect on Eddie, whose eyes widen as his nostrils flare.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

“That’s the idea,” Steve quips.

The result is a grin and a gentle glare. “I think I’ll be making love to you from now on, Highness,” Eddie counters.

“I hope that doesn’t mean you’ll be gentle all the time. Highness.”

“Opposite, really. I won’t hold back.”

“Please don’t.” He knows Steve’s limits better than anybody, perhaps even Steve.

“Just because you’re precious to me doesn’t mean I won’t give you just what you need.”

“Then do it. Give me what I need.”

Eddie sighs another laugh and leans down for another kiss. It’s sweet and chaste, just like the one that surprised Steve in the garden last week, and he realizes what Eddie had been trying to tell him back then, consciously or not: “I love you, darling. I always did.”

One of the hands that have been all over Steve’s chest disappears, and a moment later he’s being stretched open, the head of Eddie’s cock sliding past his entrance, leading the way for the rest of him. Steve wouldn’t be sure where to separate his whine and Eddie’s low hum if he wanted to—though of course, he doesn’t. They’re too perfect in harmony with each other.

“Eddie,” Steve breathes when he stills, buried to the hilt. He reaches up to brush away the hair that’s falling across Eddie’s face, tucking it behind his ear. “I think you were made for me.”

“I…god, there’s something about being inside you while I can look in your eyes,” Eddie replies.

“You know what might make it better?”

“Mm?”

Steve cups his hand at the back of Eddie’s neck and pulls him closer. He cranes his neck to put his lips right by Eddie’s ear. “Give me your knot,” he reminds him in a husky whisper.

“Fuck. Steve.”

“Get yourself all ready to blow and then stay put. I want it so bad.”

“I know, baby, I know.”

“Then move for me, Eds.”

Eddie rocks his hips, and they both gasp.

“Like that. Holy shit, yes, like that,” Steve babbles.

He moves again, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming home again. It’s deeper than Eddie’s gone since the first time, when they’d both been a little delirious—Steve from his heat, Eddie from the effect it had on his instincts. How he’s managed to give the illusion of being so wild and rough without daring to go all the way again, Steve will never be able to understand. Nor will he ever be able to go back, knowing what it’s like to have Eddie all the way inside him without a thick hormonal fog making the memory hazy.

Steve intends to remember this with perfect clarity. He plants a special corner in his mind’s garden, each flower calling to mind a specific sensation. Vanilla orchids pop up all around as he’s surrounded by Eddie’s scent. Woody honeysuckle vines cling to every surface the same way his own scent clings to Eddie’s skin. Phlox the same pale pink of Eddie’s flushed cheeks carpets the ground—a bed as safe and welcoming as Eddie’s arms. And at the center of it all, there’s a peach tree in full bloom, sure to yield fruit just as sweet as the feeling of being joined with Eddie this way.

“Steve,” Eddie sighs. His rhythm, steady thus far, stutters as his knot catches on Steve’s rim, and suddenly there’s only so far he can move. Even with Steve wetter than he’s ever been outside of a heat, it would take some serious force to pull them apart now.

“I feel it,” Steve gasps. “Keep going. Make me yours, Eddie.” As if to drive the point home, he wraps his legs around Eddie, pressing his heel against the small of his back.

Once again nosing at Steve’s neck, Eddie hums and murmurs, “Forever.” There’s not a hint of trepidation in it. Only pure amazement and adoration.

“Forever,” Steve echoes. “Yours forever.”

Eddie mouths at his skin, then experimentally scrapes at it with his teeth.

Alpha fangs against that most sensitive spot send a jolt of pleasure down Steve’s spine and flood his whole body with white-hot want. Suddenly, it feels like his skin is on fire, and he whimpers and writhes eagerly. “Eddie…please, mark me. Please, please…”

His hands scrabble at Eddie’s sides, desperate to hold on to him but too frantic to keep still. And then Eddie is sinking his teeth into Steve’s tender flesh, and he barely breaks the skin before Steve feels the wonderful snap that has his body arching into Eddie’s and jerking against him. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over him, only growing more intense the longer Eddie’s mouth stays latched onto him.

Eddie whines just as Steve’s orgasm is finally waning. Thorns of arousal still prickle at him, though, and he begs, “Please, Eddie.”

It seems to be just what he needs, because Eddie shudders, his moans muffled against Steve’s skin, and Steve feels what he’s longed for all these months. Eddie’s cock twitches so violently that he doesn’t even need to keep thrusting. He comes to a halt with his hips pressed close, his cock as deep as it’ll go, filling Steve with more cum than Steve was aware he could produce. At least, it feels that way; maybe that’s just the knot talking.

Regardless, it tips him right over the edge again. He cries out and clutches Eddie’s shoulders to keep from floating away as he’s overtaken by another, more powerful onslaught. His muscles seize up beyond his control, so tight it’s almost painful, but he doesn’t care. Eddie is still coming, still pumping more cum into him, and a second orgasm was inevitable. Plus, it’s not only more pleasure for himself, but it’s also bound to leave him a quivering mess that Eddie will be all too glad to soothe to sleep.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes as soon as he can make himself pull his teeth away. He’s coming down now, but they’re still held together, and he licks at the new mark, soothing the sting. “My precious omega.”

“Thank you,” Steve whispers. “Thank you, thank you…”

“No, thank you, sweetheart.” He chuckles. “They say bonding is more intense than regular sex, but…wow.”

“Wow,” Steve agrees with a breathless giggle.

“So…”

He quirks an eyebrow as Eddie lifts his head to make eye contact. “So?”

Eddie grins wide. “What should we name our first?”

Steve laughs and slaps his shoulder halfheartedly. “You can’t even pull out yet, and you wanna talk baby names?”

“I was thinking something floral, or at least garden-y. What about Juniper? Could call them Junie for short.”

He smiles up at his Alpha. After a beat of contented silence, he remarks, “You’re such a romantic, you know that?”

“’Course I do. And I know you love me for it.” Eddie smiles back, wrinkling his nose. He moves his hand to the mark he left and smooths his thumb over it.

“I do,” Steve says.

“The question is…what will the king and queen think of their new son-in-law?”

“I don’t think they’ll be able to do anything but accept you as you are.” He swallows. “Besides, I think if they haven’t tried to bust the door down, they might be more okay with it than I realized.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Is that a possibility? Them trying to barge in on us like this?”

“Sure. But…I think we’re safe. There’s no way they haven’t gotten word by now. They’re probably busy doing damage control, and I have a feeling tomorrow might be tense, but that’ll probably be the worst of it.”

“Really? They won’t try to do something heinous to pull us apart?”

Steve shakes his head. “They’re not evil, just stupid and shallow. They won’t want to cause a scene. And if we go down to breakfast together, dressed up like a nice royal couple—”

Eddie interrupts him with a disgusted groan, but he’s still got a fond smile on his lips.

“If we show up acting like being together is the most natural thing in the world,” Steve goes on, grinning back, “then they might even think you got their blessing to begin with.”

Clearly surprised in his amusement, Eddie asks, “The plan is to make them feel like they’ve gone insane or something? Pretend I’ve been courting you all this time?”

“Haven’t you?” Steve can practically feel the mischievous sparkle in the gaze he fixes on Eddie.

Under it, Eddie blushes. “Well, I guess so. If you consider fucking around and refusing to admit how hard I was pining for you ‘courting.’”

“I do.”

He narrows his eyes, and his tone is one of faux-suspicion when he remarks, “You keep saying those words today, huh? Do they mean something?”

“I know, I know,” he sighed. “I want to be chivalrous about this, of course I do. It’s just… when I proposed I was deluded enough to believe I was in love with her. And she and Jonathan simply will not or cannot hide their feelings for each other. She’s already gifted him a locket with a cameo and her hair! Miss Perkins is tittering that I’m a cuckolded husband and I’m not yet wed. The rest of society will follow suit.”

“I could be your lavender mistress?” offered Robin, helpfully. “Feel free to use Nancy’s fortune to whisk me to Paris or off on the Grand Tour whenever you wish. Some folks believe you and I are up to something wonderfully scandalous anyhow. They’ll never guess we’re not, so what does it signify? Ow!”

“Sorry!” Steve cringed, realizing it was he who’d committed the first faux pas with his feet. He slid his hand from Robin’s waist and led her from the floor. “Let’s drink ourselves silly on that port-wine punch and get the hell out of here.”

He’d scarce raised the liquor to his lips when a strange hum swept through the company. Silence reared up save the jaunty scratchings of the string quartet. Several illustrious matrons rose from their card tables and sashayed away, crowing for their carriages.

A gentleman had entered the ballroom.

Or, mayhap, not a gentleman.

The newcomer’s outfit was onyx-black, his gleaming hessians and skintight pantaloons topped with a battered and decidedly ungentlemanly tricorn hat. Even from a distance, Steve drank in this man’s blithe amusement at the befuddlement of polite society.

A wicked smirk spread across incongruously handsome features and did strange things to Steve’s knees.

“Who’s that?” he asked Robin.

“That,” she replied, gleefully, “is the new Lord Munson, recently taken up residence at his country seat.”

“Oh. Oh!”

Steve didn’t need to be reminded of the many and sordid rumours. Gossipers claimed that the young Lord Edward had arranged the slaughter of no less than fifteen members of his close family—all to get his grubby paws on the title, Munson-de-la-Poer Castle, and ten thousand pounds a year.

“How anybody could arrange for them all to expire of consumption is quite beyond me,” scoffed Robin. “Honestly, Lord M is outrageously fun.”

A strange shiver passed down Steve’s spine, and he fortified himself with another swig of the wine. “You are acquainted with him?”

“Young Squire Henderson introduced me. Lord M—he’s delighted to be called Eddie—hosts some wonderfully exciting card games, and you know how I adore my tarot. Would you like me to introduce you?”

“Uh… erm… yes?”

Across the crowded ballroom, Steve’s eyes met Lord M’s. An obsidian darkness seemed to pierce to Steve’s very soul. Indeed, Lord M made Steve feel like he knew what he looked like without his breeches on.

Munson winked, pivoted on his shockingly high heels, and strolled back out into the night.

Steve cut across the ballroom, ruffling many a well-trimmed bonnet. All he knew was that Munson was the most fascinating creature he had ever laid eyes on. He could not even wait for Robin to politely introduce them.

He must know him better.

He dashed out of the Assembly Rooms and fairly tripped down the steps and onto the cobbled street.

“Lord Munson?” he ventured, voice reedy and small and swallowed instantly by the inky blackness of the night. On thinking he heard a footfall, he dashed after. He became almost instantly lost in a crumbling medieval part of Hawkins where few oil lamps burned to penetrate the gloom.

“Lord M… mmmmph!”

Someone seized Steve from behind. A fleeting heartbeat later—terror-struck and convinced he was about to be robbed then garrotted for his pains—he was thrown against a wall. A blade glinted at his throat. Steve gasped, tipped his chin up like a lamb readying himself for slaughter.

“You following me, Harrington?” asked Munson, his face washed golden in the lambent light.

Steve squeaked, “No?”

“Poor little rich boys are terrible liars.” Oh, if only he knew the truth of Steve’s poverty. Although, at this instant, the roof of Hawkins Hall was the least of his woes. Lord Munson rammed a knee between Steve’s legs, parting them, and Steve swore that blade poised over his quivering lifeblood had slitted the top layer of skin. “You gonna answer me truthfully?”

“Um… yes.”

“That’s more like it.”

Eddie jammed that knee higher, and Steve squeaked again. He was as thrilled as he was terrified, intoxicated by the furnace-like heat of the body crushing into his. Worse, Munson surely now felt how the contents of Steve’s breeches were… if not immodestly hard, not exactly flaccid.

Eddie grinded himself against Steve’s pelvis. Christ have mercy, was that a great wooden truncheon in the place of his loins? An iron rod?

The most delicious grin yet split Eddie’s handsome features. “You like this, don’t ya, big boy?”

Steve betrayed himself, betrayed everything, with the merest teeny nod.

...

That first night in that reeking sewer of an alley, Lord M forced Steve to his knees and crammed his imperious manhood in Steve’s mouth.

Steve hadn’t a notion what he was doing, save an irresistible urge to obey, to please. He’d kneaded and pawed Munson’s balls, savoured that great rod with his tongue within the limited bounds afforded to it, gobbling up salt, sweat, something uniquely potently him. Soon, all he could do was take. Lord M rutted his mouth, good and hard, balls slamming his lips and cheeks, shaking him so ferociously his brains seemed to rattle with it. He gasped the putrid air through his nose, saw stars spin overhead. Too soon, he was choking on the scorching gush of seed.

Munson dragged his rod free, then smoothed Steve’s sticky hair till he stopped gagging and breathed deeper again—deep enough to whimper with shame and sheer confusion.

“Ah, dirt becomes you, my sweet one.” Lord M stooped to take Steve’s face in his hands, with a tenderness that unhinged Steve, the hot press of tears nigh choking him anew. Munson chafed his be-gloved thumbs along the curve of Steve’s cheekbones: “I would just as soon see this pretty face framed with ringlets, and dress you in the finest Parisien silks and crinolines, as if you were my wife.”

It was all too confusing, too much.

“I’d rather rot in a dungeon,” Steve murmured, flinching from Eddie’s touch.

“That can be arranged, pretty one.”

Steve blinked hard, lest the swirl of his emotions pitch him into a swoon. Thereafter, he craved Lord M’s rough treatment like the opium-eater craved their pipe, yearning through every waking hour and every lust-drenched dream.

Next, they’d trysted at a ruined shack in the forest, and Steve was putty in Munson’s hands. Lord M hog-tied him, gagged him, and then slavered his vulnerable rear with pig-fat.

“Need to prepare you for your special night, my little piggy,” Munson had mocked, and then he’d stuffed Steve with his fingers, knuckle-deep then deeper, till clunky silver rings grazed Steve’s virgin opening. Steve whined into the coarse cloth gag, sucking and chewing, because he needed so much more.

“What a greedy little hole you have.” Eddie twisted inside him, sharp and brutal, before dashing free. “Not big enough for me. I want to hurt you, but not like that, not today.”

I want to hurt you.

Shivers rushed up and down Steve’s spine. They were, tho’ he loathed himself for it, delicious.

Eddie worked Steve wide with something hard, cold and unyielding—the hilt of an old dagger, which he oft kept hooked at his waist with his dualling pistol. Indeed, many whispered he robbed fine folk for sport with such weapons, slit their throats for thrills.  

Steve didn’t care what Munson was anymore, other than that which he already knew.

Munson was the devil.

Steve worshipped this devil.

And here Steve languished, letting the devil violate him with this base tool, tweaking and stirring at Steve’s helplessly clenching insides. To pile on the indignities, Munson left the dagger protruding from its obscene sheath, while he stroked himself to crisis and spattered his seed across his quivering prey.

The next day, Steve walked with a highly modish cane, lest he betray his limp. Despite aches that set him wincing, he, like Miss Wheeler at the ball that fateful night, danced in a palace in the clouds.  The pressure of providing for his family, of keeping up the sagging roof, had somehow vanished into the ether.

In that temper, he received Miss Wheeler’s note. She and Byers had decided to elope.

Steve dispatched a missive of his own to Lord M, who duly abducted him with violence on the morning of his nuptials.

Now, in the cellars of Munson-de-la-Poer Castle, Lord M loomed over him, candlelight glinting off well-buffed boots and that wicked, wicked smile. Steve straightened his sagging spine, which proved an effort.

“You are weak,” said Munson, and it was true. Steve could not recollect the last time he’d eaten; his jangling nerves had destroyed his appetite for food. Eddie crouched down, pinched Steve’s drooping chin and held a silver flask to his lips. “Drink, my darling.”

Steve sipped—the finest Bordeaux claret, tho’ watered down for better digestion, he’d wager. When Munson gripped his hair, tipping his face up, Steve did his best to sup more.

“Are you enjoying your dungeon?”

Steve knew not what to say. Yes, he had hankered for this—Robin would blame it on his feasting upon too many gothic romance novels. Unfortunately, he was wracked with such aches and shivering so badly, he was no longer excited by it.  On the contrary, he feared he may catch a chill, sicken and die.

“Would you like me to tether your chains to that rusty meat hook on the ceiling, and whip you soundly so you may dance for me on your wedding night?”

A befuddled whine escaped Steve’s now thoroughly clogged throat. He wanted to be in this man’s power, more than anything. His body’s reactions to being used and abused by Munson were ungodly in the most thrilling sense, and yet… and yet…

Oh, sweet Jesus, Harrington, what have you got yourself into?

Before his addled mind could regroup and articulate, he found himself enfolded in strong arms, huddled tight against a solid chest.

“I jest with you, my pretty pet,” said Eddie. “Now, I have treated you to your dungeon. It is your turn to treat me.”

Time now passed in a sumptuous blur. Eddie helped him up that winding stair and into the castle. He bathed him in a copper tub filled with warm soapy water and scented with rose petals. The servants hovered discreetly in the shadows to tend to their every whim.

“How do you stop them gossiping?” Steve said, betwixt sucking his Lord’s fingers clean of the candied fruit he was being hand fed.

“I pay them extremely well. I gift them and their families a fat hog and a barrel of the finest malmsey wine each quarter. Most pertinently, I tell them they can speak freely of everything they see. The truth cannot rival the lies that are told about me.”

The next few minutes proved Steve’s favourite yet. Eddie helped him out of the tub, bare and dripping, steadying him with a firm hand clasped on the shallow swell of Steve’s hip. Eddie dabbed him dry with the softest linen, then slavered him with arnica lotion, lavishing gentle attention to his every bruise and welt.

“I see you are half-mast for me already,” murmured Eddie. He kneeled before Steve, his breaths scorching Steve’s loins far hotter than the fire they stood before. “Be patient, pet.”

Eddie jumped up and departed, without as much as a ‘by your leave.’

“Wha..?”

Steve had barely hooked his arms around his heaving ribs, before a servant arrived to help him into velvet breeches and a coral-pink coat, and to groom his hair back to sculpted and perfumed perfection. To be honest, Steve had not wanted to be dressed. He’d have rather remained all wriggling, naked and blushing pink for his master to have his wicked way with him.

Nevertheless, he remained biddable, thankful even. He was shown to a great hall, with a lofty hammerbeam roof.

Tentatively, he stepped into the cavernous space, which glowed with the lights of many dozen candles. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen glided from the shadows at the far end, their face framed with jet-black curls and crowned with a peacock plume.

“Lord M?” gasped Steve, as minstrels in the gallery struck up a blood-stirring Bohemian dance.

“Before you get ideas above your station, you must be sure of one thing.” Eddie strode near and offered Steve their hand, which dripped with enormous rubies and black diamonds. “Whether I choose to be master or mistress, I always lead.”

“I thought you wished me to wear the ringlets.” Steve pouted, teasing, attention drifting down Eddie’s billowing emerald-green gown.

“You will be whatever I wish you to be, at whatever time I choose.” Plump rouged lips sealed over Steve’s, a ravishing, claiming kiss, that left only one truth in Steve’s mind:

You are not the devil. You are an angel. My terrible, wonderful, immaculate angel.

Eddie twirled Steve across the creaking floorboards, till Steve was swooning with happiness and exhaustion, his feet growing sore. His mistress pointed out that the time had now come for him to yield up his maidenhead, and they led him up the tallest turret of the castle. Eddie folded him over the battlements, beneath a vast and starry night.

It was like a dream, while a touch on the chilly side.

After a rustling of crinolines, and not a little blaspheming, Eddie ripped Steve’s breeches down and worked him open, swiftly and a little roughly. Soon, Steve braced himself beneath the heat and weight of Lord M’s body. He gaped out across the silent, sleeping downlands, and knew he’d never been so hungry, so aroused in all his days. He felt the lick of night air, then the drag of that heavy dick as they lined themselves up.

That great bulbous cockhead popped through Steve’s well-greased ring and slowly split him apart. Steve wailed and gasped then wailed his head off.

Eddie did not take him gently. They fucked and fucked and ruthlessly fucked, and Steve bitched and cursed to the high heavens, provoking Lord M into riding him harder. He cursed for real, when Munson seized the hand with which he was trying to frisk himself. Eddie twisted it cruelly into the small of Steve’s back and used it as leverage to swive him rougher still.

Such was Munson’s power, Steve half-feared he’d be launched straight over the battlements and tumble to his death. Eddie pistoned away like some new-fangled industrial machine, and it was all too much, too overwhelming. The fear, the thoroughness of the claiming, this soldering of their bodies and their souls utterly undid Steve. He needed to be consumed, to be subsumed into this Goddess-like beast, and he was leaking shamefully, his free fist beating and his toes curling. Eddie finished inside him at long last, with several brutal, bowel-plundering thrusts, and a scream of, “My pet, my only darling!”

Somehow, the scant friction of the ancient wall had Steve juddering to crisis in nigh perfect harmony. Before his keening wail had died, however, Eddie collapsed, boneless, on top of him, blanketing Steve’s quivering form with their own.

“Was it worth it?” whispered Eddie, while Steve battled to catch his breath.  “Worth it, knowing that everything you once stood for must crumble to dust? That you’re mine forever, my darling, my slave? That you may do nothing without my permission, ever again? That I may punish you if you disobey? And, if it pleases me, cause you the most exquisite pain even when you do?”

Only one misgiving scampered across Steve’s addled mind. “May I still see Miss Buckley, my Lord?”

Eddie snorted amusedly. “If this dump still had a full moat and a working drawbridge, I doubt I could keep that indomitable wench out.”

“Thank you,” whispered Steve, stupidly grateful.

“I am glad you have learned to beg so nicely. For that, you may sleep in my bed with me.”

Eddie rose to reattach those voluminous petticoats. Steve crumpled to his knees, brow to the crenelated wall, heart swelling with gratitude and affection.

He did not mind his dungeon, if that’s what his lord chose, but he prayed he may escape a while. He groaned yearningly at the prospect of Lord M scooping him into those strong arms, carrying him over the threshold of a cosy bedchamber with a soft feather bed, satin pillows and…

“I will take you to my bedchamber tomorrow, me thinks,” said Eddie. “After I have had time to install the prerequisite chains and ropes. My blacksmith is working on them, and you will need a collar, of course.”

A short while later, Eddie deposited Steve back in a dungeon—albeit a relatively cosy one with a straw cot and a hearth that radiated a fierce heat given its meagre scale. He threw a coarse wool blanket over Steve, smacked his cool and clammy brow with a brief kiss and retreated toward the spiral staircase. “I will feed you before dawn, pet. Not that you’ll know if it’s night or day in here. Later, I might garnish you with those pretty ringlets.”

He snuffed out his candle and left Steve huddled in the darkness, with a small smile twisting on his fraying lips.

That was not exactly how he’d expected his wedding night to be.

No, indeed, Harrington, you dared not expect it. What has come to pass, unworthy though you are, is the wedding night of your most wild and wondrous dreams.

His feet planted on the glass separating them, head tipped back so all Eddie could see was his lusciously covered chest.

And his hand slowly stripping his cock.

Found you, baby.

-

Sweat clung to Steve’s lip and hairline. The water was warm and the room was humid. And he was unbelievably turned on.

Knowing Eddie would see him like this, on display for him, performing for him, Steve’s gut clenched. He reached a hand down to squeeze himself, wanting to last. Needing Eddie with him, in him, when he came. It was their anniversary after all.

They’d joked about doing this, that first time Eddie showed him his place and told him how couples would use the pool without regard for Eddie seeing them…or maybe because Eddie might see them. Though the exhibitionists did taper off once Steve moved in. Especially, since Steve had no problem whatsoever making sly, bitchy comments to said neighbors when they ran into each other in the building’s restaurant, all said with a smile, of course.

Steve reached over, digging around in the bag for the lube. He added a few drops to his hand, reaching back in the water, pressing a flat palm against his cock, trapping it against his belly.

Eddie, where was Eddie? Steve’s chest heaved, hips humping upward, using his own hand to find relief. His head tipped back, mouth open sucking in air. He was getting too close. He just needed-

“Look at you, baby.”

Eddie’s voice sliced through the pulses of arousal fogging his head. Steve found Eddie through blurry eyes, stalking along the lap pool down toward him, focused and predatory – naked, hard, sleep wild curls hanging around his shoulders, Steve’s mouth watered.

“Such a pretty show you put on. And all for me? How did I get so fucking lucky.”

“Eddie,” Steve panted out, breaths coming out quick, hips still shifting up and back, lost in the movement of the water.

“Baby,” Eddie tsked, “you couldn’t even wait for me to find you. Got all worked up on your own, don’t even need me.”

Steve let out a cry, reaching out toward Eddie. “Nooo, I do. I need you. Please, Eddie.”

Eddie crouched, swishing a hand through the water, droplets cooling Steve’s heated skin. “Well, then. How can I deny you when you look so pretty and fucked out.”

With a smile, Eddie slipped into the water. Steve smiled back, lifting his chin as Eddie pushed through the water to press a soft kiss to his lips. Steve hummed as Eddie cupped his hips, pushing him hard against the wall, the water splashing out around them, bringing their bodies flush to each other.

Eddie lined their cocks up between their bodies, moving his hips rough and uncoordinated. He tipped his lips against Steve’s ear, “This all you wanted, baby? Better than your hand, at least?”

Steve shook his head, rubbing their noses together, and twined his arms around Eddie’s neck. He pecked Eddie on the lips and looked up through his eyelashes. “Want you to fuck me, Eddie. Please? Want you to make me yours for everyone to see.”

Eddie’s besotted smile turned sharp. Steve shivered, his belly tightened and his hole pulsed with need.

Eddie slid a hand into his hair, fisting hard against his scalp, tipping his head back. With teeth against Steve’s throat, he growled, “Honey, the entire building knows you’re mine.”

He licked up Steve’s neck, sucking and nipping along the corded muscle. Steve whimpered, angling to give him more room, more skin to mark. It wasn’t enough though. No, he needed Eddie in him and he was tired of asking nicely.

Steve tightened his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and pressed his back to the wall, letting the water lift him up, letting him easily wrap his legs around Eddie’s waist. He reached down to line Eddie up with his hole-

“Tsk, baby, you’re so impatient. Couldn’t even let me take my time with you after making me track you down in the middle of the night.”

Steve’s eyes fluttered, tears pooling along his lashes. “Eddie, please.”

Eddie ran a thumb under his eye, catching a stray tear, shushing him gently. “Okay, baby. You’ve been so good for me, setting up this little surprise, being so polite. I’ve got you.”

Eddie pressed a soft kiss against his lips, hooked his fingers under Steve’s ass and thrust up in one hard swift motion.

Steve gasped as the tears broke free, digging blunt nails into Eddie’s bare shoulder. He was still open from earlier and he’d added more lube when he’d gotten in the pool, but fuuuck.

“Brace yourself,” Eddie commanded, firm hands holding Steve’s hips flush to his pelvis, he stepped away from the wall. Steve fell back, laying bent arms on the ledge, fingers curled hard around the lip of the pool. His head fell back, hair brushing the floor with each of Eddie’s hard thrusts, Steve letting him – begging him to – use him.

Steve couldn’t catch his breath, hiccuping out cries and pleas. He was nearly horizontal across the water with no leverage to push back or slow Eddie, using all his strength to just stay on the ledge. But Eddie had him – fingers digging into the meat of his thighs, thrusting hard and rhythmic, making waves of water splash out all around them, darkening the concrete.

“Touch yourself, Stevie. Come on my cock.”

“Ah! I don’t- I can’t- Ed-” Steve wanted to tell him he’d fall if he let go of the ledge, but his head was getting fuzzy and words were getting hard. Tears fell into his hair.

Eddie stepped forward, hooking Steve’s ankles behind his back. “Come on, baby, up you go.” He pulled Steve off the wall, hugging him to his chest. Steve pressed his face into Eddie’s hair, hooking an arm around his neck, he slid a hand down between their bodies to wrap around his cock.

Eddie bounced him on his cock, the water’s buoyancy helping him keep a quick pace. Steve cried out, sinking teeth into the meat of Eddie’s shoulder. He stroked his cock, one, two, three times before he was tensing up, shuddering in Eddie’s arms. The cock within him suddenly felt too big, still thrusting up into his tight hole.

Steve draped himself over Eddie, loosely holding himself up, letting Eddie use his body. Eddie kissed along his shoulders, his arm, breaths panting hard into his skin. With one last hard thrust, he came deep within him, squeezing Steve to him in a desperate hug.

-

Eddie’s breathing slowly evened as he stood in the pool holding a limp Steve in his arms.

“Baby? You awake?” He brushed Steve’s hair back from his tear stained face.

“Mmmm,” Steve hummed with his eyes closed, but smiling and rubbing his cheek along Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie chuckled, dropping a hard kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Just realizing now that post sex check out’s a lot easier when we’re already in our bed. I see you brought a bag, though. Okay, let me just prop you against the wall here.”

Eddie pulled the bag closer and dug through it, finding a couple towels and their silk robes. That’ll work.

It took some bodily maneuvering and then bringing Steve further back to reality, but they finally made their way back down to their apartment. Steve tried to fall into bed, already nearly asleep, but Eddie pulled them into the shower for a rise off. He patted them dry and then let Steve crawl into bed, Eddie right behind him.

They curled together, asleep in seconds, content, sated, and secure in the knowledge that this anniversary was only the first of the rest of their lives.

When Steve is seventeen, he has a perfect life mapped out for him by his loving parents. He’s on his way to Brown (or was it Columbia? Not that it matters). He’ll major in economics with a minor in business. Then he’ll go work at his dad’s insurance firm and make a seven figure salary and own homes with spiral staircases and fancy ice-makers.

He gets drunk at his graduation party. Tries cocaine for the first time with other teenagers that know they’ll never face anything worse than stern words and a slap on the wrist. Tommy is there. Tommy’s always been there. Tommy was there for his swim meets. Tommy was there for his birthdays. Tommy was there when Steve had his first heartbreak and Tommy will be there for the next one.

Steve’s seen Tommy every day, since kindergarten actually, when Tommy offered to play firetrucks with him. But today, Steve finally realizes… Tommy is hot.He’s resplendent under the tacky disco lights. Steve can’t stop looking at the strong lines of his neck, at the way his freckles stretch along with his grin, at the way his eyes sparkle. He can’t stop feeling the warmth of Tommy’s hands—on his shoulders, around his waist, on his back, inching lower and lower.

Because when Steve is seventeen, and he thinks about his future, he feels nothing but empty dread. He lets his father drag him to reunions with his fraternity brothers and listens to them talk about nothing but work, and how they should trade favors back and forth. He listens to his father going on and on about property value and all he’s done for Steve and how much he’s spent until it feels like there’s a vice wrapped around his lungs, slowly squeezing the air out.

But when Steve is seventeen, and he’s with Tommy Hagan, whether they’re goofing off or studying or trying to pick up girls or just generally being stupid fucking teenagers, Steve can breathe. And maybe that’s why, when Steve is seventeen, and he’s drunk and high at his graduation party, and he’s watching the disco lights dance across Tommy’s beautiful face, Steve leans in. Tommy does too.

And for one night, there’s nothing but sweetness and anticipation.

The next morning, Steve’s father yanks him out of bed. He shoves a grainy photo of Tommy and Steve to his face and demands an explanation. When Steve gives one, he’s dumped outside with nothing but the clothes on his back and the key to his Beemer. Steve calls Tommy only to find that Tommy changed his number.

So when Steve is seventeen, when his future is shattered in the span of a few hours, he has no one to turn to except Claudia Henderson—his old nanny. She takes one look at his teary eyes and pulls him into her house. Doesn’t take no for an answer as she gets him clothes and supplies and makes a bed for him in the basement. Dustin kneels beside Steve as he cries on the floor and promises they were always brothers, and they will always be brothers.

Steve turns nineteen as a Henderson in all the ways that matter. He has no future and no money. He takes whatever minimum wage jobs he can get under the table. He runs a silly ghost hunting channel with Eddie, Dustin and Robin. He spends all his free time driving Dustin and the kids around or goofing off with his friends.

He can’t think of anyone else he’d rather be.

----

“Good morning,” Mrs. Harrington states over the phone.

Steve didn’t recognize the number. He recognizes the voice though. Even after two years of no contact, Mrs. Harrington’s voice fills him with dread.

“How did you get this number?”

“Of course I have your number, Steve.” Mrs. Harrington chuckles. “It’s been too long.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Steve can feel Eddie start to stir beside him. He cups his boyfriend’s ass. Squeezes. Two years of no contact. It’s just like her to pretend it was all his fault.

“Well, I’m sure you’re busy,” Mrs. Harrington eventually says after either a few second or hours of awkward silence. “So I’ll make it quick. Tommy’s getting married!”

“Tommy… Tommy Hagan?”

“Yes. Lovely girl he met at college. His folks just relocated to Puerto Rico for the sun, so we’re letting them host the ceremony and reception at the old summer home. You remember? By the lake? It had gorgeous woods.”

“Congratulations to the happy couple,” Steve says robotically. Tommy. Married. He couldn’t even have graduated college yet. How? Why?

“I’ll send Carl over to pick you up at three pm sharp. You’ll need a good tux for the wedding.”

“I… the wedding?”

“Of course! You’re his best friend, and you’re the son of the hosts. You can’t miss the wedding.” Mrs. Harrington laughs, as if Steve is being the unreasonable one. “The best part is, Tommy’s new brother-in-law—name’s Chad by the way—runs a management company specializing in influencers. He’s been dying to pull in some real estate content, and he’s very interested in talking to you about the…” She hesitates. “That real estate show you do. Don Ghosties?”

“Don Qui Ghoste,” Steve stammers out. “And it’s not a real estate show. It’s a—”

“Oh, it’s all a matter of framing. Now. Don’t be late!”

“I can’t just—”

“Steve, you’re not missing your best friend’s wedding. Especially when it comes with such a great opportunity,” Mrs. Harrington says sharply.Steve knows he should slam the phone down. Tell this woman to fuck off. He clutches the phone instead and tightens his grip on Eddie’s butt so hard Eddie squeaks, suddenly wide awake.

He should say something. Instead, the silence lingers.

“Sweetie,” Mrs. Harrington finally says. “I know we’ve had some rough times, but your performance has been admirable during the time you were away. You deserve this break. Besides, if you come to the wedding, we could talk about arranging a good time for you to pick up some of the stuff you left at our place.”

“My… stuff?”

“Yes darling. We’ve been keeping it safe for you. Your documents, and memorabilia. All the things you forgot to take. It’d be a shame if they got lost now wouldn’t it?”

Steve is struck speechless. She hangs up after a satisfied chuckle. Steve falls back into Eddie’s arms.

“Who the fuck was that?” Eddie asks, voice deep and scratchy with sleep. Normally, that voice would get Steve revving up from zero to sixty in seconds, ravenous for his boyfriend’s mouth and tongue and ass, sleep stank or morning breath be damned. But right now, he just wants to be out of his body. He feels plastic. Small. Broken. Eddie sits up behind him to pull him in close. “Stevie. I asked you a question,” Eddie says gently.

“Mrs. Harrington,” Steve says eventually.

Eddie tightens his grip. Steve leans into it. Relishes the tight pressure. “Who the fuck does that bitch think she is? Does she want to apologize? Because Robin and I are going to make sure she fucking grovels. We’ll show up with fucking weapons and—”

“She’s not apologizing,” Steve says. He snorts at the ludicrous image of the Harringtons apologizing for anything. “You remember Tommy?”

“That asshole.”

“Yeah, he’s getting married.”

Eddie makes a quizzical squeak but otherwise lets Steve continue. Eddie’s good at this—at waiting for Steve to get his words in order.

“And she… she called because she’s hosting, and she wants me to be there and pretend everything is ok. She’s sending the family driver over this afternoon so she can put me in a tux.”

“So what you’re saying is we’re spending all day somewhere else today.”

“No, what I’m saying is… I’m going to be gone this afternoon and I guess, whenever that stupid wedding is happening.”

“What?!” Eddie squawks and pulls away. Steve hangs his head in shame. He knows Eddie would never do this, nor Robin. But he’s not half as brave as they are.

“They have my passport. My birth certificate. My… fucking everything,” Steve mumbles out. “I can’t even prove I graduated high school, and I might finally have a chance to get it all back. I’ll be able to get actual jobs then. Have health insurance.”

“This sucks,” Eddie says vehemently as he yanks Steve back into his embrace. “You need me for any of it, you need me to come with, just call and I’ll drop everything and be right at your side OK?”

Steve nods as he buries his face into Eddie’s chest then breathes in deep. Eddie lets them settle back into silence.

------

Not a single day went by when Jenny Harrington didn’t think about her son. From the moment he was born, he was the first thing she thought of and the last thing she dreamed of. Was he hitting his milestones? How were his grades? What could she do to help? Was he prepared for his future? She didn’t have the time to physically be with him—she had her own cosmetics empire, and Dick constantly needed help with his dinky insurance shop. But Steve grew up with the best nannies and tutors money could buy—not that it did much good.

Jenny hates when Dick is right. He gets so unbelievably smug. But in this case, he was right. She’d wanted to settle with rehab and a stern talking to when Steve got so messed up on cocaine he… anyway, she had wanted to send him to rehab. Dick was adamant Steve had to hit rock bottom. And she’s got to admit—Dick was right. Steve bounced back from rock bottom quite beautifully.

Dick is still a little miffed that Steve is setting himself up to go into new media—he’d wanted something more solid like finance. But Jenny’s seen how much influencers like Steve can make. They serve an important role in the ecosystem. Besides, the new economy of social media stardom would probably be kinder to those living Steve’s lifestyle. He’d gotten so far without her help. With her help, he was going to be unstoppable. Maybe even a movie star (Jenny knows not to get her hopes up too far, but Steve tested so well with the Millenials – both women and men).

Jenny admires the way Steve charms the whole room, easily upstaging the groom (though that’s not a high bar really—Tommy’s acting like he’s at a funeral, not his own wedding). She wishes Steve hadn’t brought his friend Eddie. He’s… alright. She’d tried and failed to coax him into a matching Armani tux with Steve, and he looked bedraggled and out of place, especially next to Steve. The best she was able to do was some Chanel blazers and Hermes pants. She tries not to wince at the tattered shirt he’s wearing. At least he has the good sense to realize he’s not wanted in photos.

Too soon, Steve comes to find her and Dick at their table by the pool.

“We’re heading out,” Steve says, face haggard. “But I wanted to arrange a time to pick up my stuff.”

“Are you sure sweetheart?” Jenny prods. “If Eddie’s busy, we can get him—”

“No, no, we’re both going,” Steve cuts in.

It stings. Steve would never have cut her off like this before the incident. Dick’s brow furrows and Jenny shoots out a hand to still him. They know what a heartbreaking decision it was to kick Steve out, how much it pained them to see him struggle. Steve doesn’t. And he’s going to have to be gently coaxed back into the fold.

“Alright, if you insist darling,” Jenny capitulates. “Amy’s already started looking for an apartment for you in LA. You can split your time between Chicago and LA for now, but if you’re going to do that, I recommend you keep your things with us until you’re situated.”

“What?!”

“Steve, don’t screech at your mother,” Dick growls.

“What the fuck do you mean, an apartment in LA?” Eddie snarls, stepping forward. Jenny calmly meets his gaze. Steve gets in between them before she has to call security.

“Steve, did you not talk to Chad at all?” Jenny says. “You could probably muddle along in Chicago for a year or so, but the real new media action is in LA. That’s where he’s based. Of course you’re moving! We’re handling all the logistics for you.”

Eddie glares. “We’re not interested,” he snaps.

“I don’t see Steve saying no,” Dick scoffs. “Sit down Steve. Eddie, you’re excused.”

Jenny resists the urge to clap a hand over Dick’s mouth. She would have had Steve with gentle words and logic. Now Steve is glaring at the both of them. He steps back into Eddie’s space. Their hands tangle.

In public.

“Steve. I said sit down,” Dick barks.

“No.”

“What do you mean no? You’re not just leaving before you even talk to Chad. And you’re definitely not letting this…” Dick waves his hand at Eddie, “…dictate how you live your life!”

“My boyfriend,” Steve spits.

“Right boyfriend, roommate, friend, whatever. You could do better Steve,” Dick scoffs. “Someone less controlling. Someone who understands—”

Steve starts laughing hysterically. Backs up as he gently pushes Eddie behind him, as if Eddie needs to be protected from them. “We’re done here,” Steve says. He turns around. Walks away. Jenny thoughtfully sips her whiskey and puts a hand down on Dick’s thigh to prevent him from following. Steve isn’t stupid. He’ll see sense.

She’ll make sure.

“I have a confession to make,” Eddie says when the cursed lake house is a few miles behind them.

“What did you take?” Steve asks, forcing himself to smirk. He knows Eddie’s trying to make him feel better. He’ll probably show off something stupid expensive he stole from the grounds, and Steve will have to pretend that the Harringtons would even notice.

“Oh shit. You’re right! I should have taken something,” Eddie says, thumping his forehead. He looks up and at Steve with a bright, beautiful smile. “No, it’s something else.”

“What?”

“You? With your DNA donors? Hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Honestly, I’m shocked I didn’t just push you into that stupid large pool to have my way with you.”

“Me sweating buckets and forgetting how to talk? That was hot?”

“That’s not how I remember it big boy.” Eddie licks his lips. “What I remember is you saving me from landing in county jail for chucking the Harringtons into the pool.”

Eddie clears his throat. “We’re done here,” he growls deep, apparently replaying what Steve had sounded like (and Steve knows he doesn’t sound half that good). “Fuck I almost creamed my pants when I heard you say that.”

“You’re not mad?” Steve asks, voice small. He clutches the steering wheel. He can see Eddie’s admiring grin fade to a confused frown out of the side of his eyes. “I should have known they weren’t going to keep their promise. I should have known this was some fucking… ploy to make me work for them. I wasted so much of your time.”

Eddie puts a hand on his thigh. Rubs gentle, comforting circles. “I’m pretty sure we can pawn these clothes for a few hundred bucks. That’s not a bad hourly rate.”

“If you say so.”

“Steve.” Eddie swallows. “There is another, critical thing we got out of this ordeal.”

Eddie barrels on before Steve can respond. “My love. We have been presented with a window. An opportunity. Your spawners are occupied with their dark deeds within their Summer realms. If we strike now, we’ll be able to rescue your beloveds with nary a bloodshed. Do you see? Do you see the brilliance of this plan? We’ll gain entry into the castle while its owners make merry elsewhere. We’ll creep into the heart of their lair and tear out the scrolls of your life. They won’t even notice, and by the time they do, it’ll be too late. The scrolls would have empowered you beyond—”

“Eddie, Eddie, pause.”

Eddie pauses. Steve runs a shaking hand through his hair. “Are you seriously proposing that we break in and steal my shit back?”

“Yes. We’ll sneak in. Get your documents. Split.”

“I don’t even know where they are?”

“I bet you have a good idea though.”

“If we get caught, they’ll ruin you.”

“Let them try,” Eddie says, nostrils flaring.

“I’m not going to let you—”

“Stevie, you’ll have to cuff me somewhere if you want to stop me. And the longer you protest, the more likely it is that I’ll get caught.” Eddie tightens his grip on Steve’s thigh—on the perfect edge of pain. “I told you my old man was a thief. That all my quality time with him was him teaching me how to break into places. Let me use that for you now. Let it have meant something.”

Steve has no words. He has to take a hand off the wheel to wipe away the wetness around his eyes. He nods, and Eddie beams so bright Steve can barely stand to drive. They abruptly change direction and head towards Steve’s childhood “home”.

----

Eddie has long fingers and strong, steady hands.

It’s odd, how affected he is. It’s not like Steve isn’t intimately familiar with every inch of Eddie’s hands.Steve’s had them snaked around his neck, up his ass, on his molars, pressing down on his tongue. Steve’s watched them flying over Eddie’s guitar. Felt them pulling his hair, wiping the tears and sweat and grime from his face, and generally doting on him over their year or so together. But this is the first time Steve is observing one of Eddie’s hands being still. Eddie’s right hand braces against the door, veins bulging. His left wiggles a hook inserted deep into the keyhole of the Harrington’s expensive lock. Eddie has his ear pressed up close to the lock. His lower lip keeps twitching down to form something that’s half-way between a snarl and a smile. Steve watches Eddie’s lower teeth flash in and out of view as Eddie’s mouth flexes, as his right hand braces, as his left hand skillfully moves the hook into the lock, deeper, and deeper…

Steve realizes in horror that he’s been leaning over Eddie to watch him work with his mouth wide open. He watches a line of drool drip down down down, powerless to stop it as it lands on the back of Eddie’s neck. Eddie doesn’t even flinch. Maybe he didn’t notice.

Finally, the lock opens with a satisfying click. Eddie leans back and grins. He reaches back to wipe Steve’s spit off his neck.

“You enjoyed the show big boy?” Eddie asks, sucking the drool into his mouth.

Steve can feel his face flaming. “Sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“Your mouth is still open by the way,” Eddie points out, shooting up into his space with his Cheshire cat grin. “If I knew you’d react like this, I would have brought out the good old lockpick kit a long while ago.”

“Stop making fun of me,” Steve whines, covering his face. Eddie laughs meanly and ushers him into the house. It’s not the time and place. It’s not the time and place. But his stupid dick won’t get the message that this is real life. They’re not role-playing. They’re really breaking in. But Steve can feel his head starting to go pleasantly fuzzy as if they’re about to play out a scene. Steve flexes his thighs and tries to get a grip. Fortunately, Eddie doesn’t seem to notice the utter crisis Steve is going through. He walks out ahead and whistles low.

“Jesus H Christ,” Eddie mumbles. “You’ve had a hell of a downgrade.”

“What?”

“I mean, look at all this,” Eddie gestures with a weak laugh. “You could fit our whole apartment just in the foyer.”

Steve looks around the big empty house, flabbergasted. Sure, it’s a big hallway and a grand spiral staircase, but it’s also empty. Unlovable. Cold. Eddie shrinks more and more as they pad their way through the thick carpet down to Dick Harrington’s office. Steve is pretty sure that’s where all his documents would be. Eddie follows him into the unused, mahogany office. It smells like a showroom. The empty desk gleams. Steve beelines for the filing cabinet while Eddie keeps watch. The heavy shag carpet clings to his shoes.

“It only looks this nice because no one lives here,” Steve says, as he rifles through a bunch of boring bullshit. There’s his diploma at least. Maybe the birth certificate would be in the other cabinet?

“Didn’t you grow up here?” Eddie asks.

“Kind of.” Steve finds his birth certificate and passport with a whoop and sets them down on Dick Harrington’s spotless desk. When he turns around, he sees Eddie standing with his arms held tight to his chest, curling in on himself like he wants to touch as little of the room as possible, like he might contaminate something.

“Eds. What’s going on?”

“I just…” Eddie huffs out a weak laugh. “I knew you grew up rich, but I didn’t know how much? And now you’re saying youkind of grew up here. So you had another house? Is that one this nice?”

“I mean, there’s the lake house we were at, and a penthouse in New York and something in Chicago that I’ve never seen. I guess they were all like this place?”

“And they were offering it all back,” Eddie observes.

“I guess.”

“And I said no without even consulting you.”

“Eds.”

“God I’m the worst,” Eddie whines as he sinks down onto the plush carpet.

Steve joins Eddie on the floor. Cups his hand around that jaw. Pulls his face up so their eyes can meet. Eddie looks at him cautiously—his round dark eyes are opened even wider than usual. “Eddie.” Steve grips Eddie hard—shakes him a little for emphasis. “I don’t want any of this.”

“I lived in this house with Mom, back when she was my nanny, until I was old enough to ship off to boarding school. And after that, I only came ‘home’,” Steve lets go of Eddie to make air quotes with his hands, “in the summers, when I mostly hung out with Mom and Dustin. The Harringtons showed up for maybe a week, and spent the whole time either ignoring me or telling me to shut up. Then when I turned fifteen, they fired Mom and left me alone for months. I’d rather live with you and Robin in a fucking tent than ever come back here.”

Eddie’s mouth tightens. Steve squeaks when Eddie suddenly yanks him into his chest. Steve closes his eyes and listens to the mingled sounds of their heartbeats. Relaxes as the frantic hammering calms down to the normal, familiar, steady thumps.

Suddenly, Eddie’s heart picks back up. “Wait. Steve. Shit. How is this house so clean then?”

“Because no one lives here?”

“No. Steve. If no one truly lived here, there would be dust all over the place. Why is this place so clean?”

“I guess they have regular cleaners?”

“And would a couple of assholes like the Harringtons trust their cleaning staff?”

“No. They’d install cameras.” Steve closes his eyes and thumps his head on Eddie’s chest. Fuck.

“So they would have seen us.”

Steve grits his teeth. He’s not going to let any harm come to Eddie. “It’s… it’s alright,” Steve says. “I’ll fucking grovel. They can send me to LA and we’ll do the whole song and dance. As long as they promise not to touch you. I can—”

Eddie shakes his head furiously. “No.”

“Eddie. We’re already too late.”

“No. I’m not letting them have you again. Not after what you told me.”

“Ed—”

Eddie silences him with a look and a finger to his lips. Steve watches Eddie chew his lips. Thinking. Thinking. Until…

“What if we give them a show?” Eddie says with a grin.

“What?”

Eddie stands. Starts to strut in an orbit around Steve, gesturing wildly. “We’ve already been caught. They already have the footage. They’re probably twiddling their posh little fingers, giddy that they have blackmail material.”

“Ok?”

“But what’s the one thing rich fucks like the Harringtons would hate more than death?”

“Paying taxes?”

Eddie stops. Considers. “Ok, probably. But another—they would hate to be embarrassed.”

Eddie swoops back into Steve’s space. Leans in until his face is inches away. “Steve. We have to fuck, for both our freedoms.”

“What?”

“Think about it. If we fuck nasty enough in this picture perfect architecture magazine-worthy stupid-ass McMansion, they wouldn’t even call the cops. It’d be too embarrassing.”

“Are you hearing yourself?”

“My love. My darling. My vanimelda. Would the Harringtons really call the cops when they know it’s going to leak that their only son had to break into his own house to get his birth certificate back?” Eddie sucks Steve’s earlobe into his mouth. “Then fucked about it on their bed?”

Maybe it’s the hot tongue playing with the sensitive parts of his ear. Maybe it’s the feeling of Eddie’s rings pressing into his ribs. Maybe it’s the pinch of Eddie’s hands pulling at the roots of his hair. But the idea is sounding more and more convincing as Steve considers it.

“Ok, you know what? Let’s do it. Let’s give those fuckers a show.”

----

They pull out all the stops. Operation: fuck or die (for what would capitulating to the Harringtons be, if not the death of their souls?) is in full swing. They decided to make a game of it, to add a little jock whimsy if you will, to make the stakes feel less dire and un-sexy. A decision Eddie is cursing himself for now.

They have three rules.

Rule one – Eddie can’t come until he manages to pick the bike lock that’s keeping his right hand tied to the Harrington’s ornate bed.

Rule two – Steve can’t come until he manages to spit out the ball gag they made out of the fuck off huge ice spheres the Harrington’s stupid fancy ice maker spit out (Eddie has no idea why anyone would want to pay extra to make big balls of ice, but it does make for a hell of a gag).

Rule three – whoever comes first loses.

The ice gag is huge. Steve’s poor lips are stretched out wide around it. Red. Wet. Beautiful. Eddie thought for sure that Steve was planning to lose on purpose, so he could be ‘punished’ later. This bike lock looked like a joke. Eddie would normally be able to pick himself out in less than a minute.

Normally.

But this is the first time they’ve introduced some type of competition to their scene and Steve does not fuck around when there’s a game to be won. It’s all Eddie can do to remember that there’s a lock, let alone try to pick it. It was hard enough trying to keep his orgasm at bay when Steve was opening him up. Eddie had to keep closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Steve—wild-eyed, beautiful, red-faced with icy water dripping down the lines of his square jaw into his now-glossy chest hair. But Eddie also couldn’t stand the idea of missing the sight of Steve Henderson straddling him with a huge gag in his mouth as he carefully prepped Eddie for his cock.

Basically, Eddie wasted way too much time alternating between avoiding looking at Steve and ogling him.

Then, once Eddie was sufficiently prepped, Steve pulled out all the stops. Steve is holding him up by the hips, angling him so Steve can hit Eddie’s prostate both thrusting in and out. Steve’s warm hand, dripping with lube, is clenched around Eddie’s cock, stroking so gently, lovingly. Eddie’s close. Dangerously close. And he hasn’t even touched the stupid lock.

No. He can’t go down like this. Eddie clenches tight around Steve’s ass and wrangles himself up to latch onto Steve’s nipples. He swirls his tongue the way Steve likes. Nibbles slightly. He can feel his abs screaming at him. His arm strains due to the odd angle. Steve freezes, chest heaving. It’s working.

The way Steve stills reminds Eddie of earlier, when he was picking away at the Harrington’s fancy-looking lock. The hot gaze, the way Steve couldn’t even close his mouth, the way he was crowding into Eddie’s space without realizing, how dazed he’d looked after, how adorably he’d giggled when Eddie teased him.

And Eddie, he’s a certified little shit.

“Steve,” he says, pitching his voice just a little lower. “Stevie. Love.” Eddie wraps his leg around Steve. Slowly runs his foot along the sweat-slicked skin on the back of Steve’s knees where he’s sensitive. “I’m going to grip that bike lock now. See my hand?”

“Mmmm,” Steve grunts through the gag.

“Yeah, let me grip that lock real tight.” Eddie moves a foot to the inside of Steve’s thigh. It’s trembling. Good. “Give me my hook baby.”

Steve hesitates.

“Stevie. My vanimelda. Don’t you want to see me put that hook inside? Push it deep?” Eddie says as he pushes his foot deep into Steve’s leg. Steve whimpers then bends down to grab Eddie’s hook for him. The movement sends Steve’s nipple hovering right over his mouth, so Eddie surges up to give it a little nip and suck. Steve squeals and drops the hook right into Eddie’s waiting hands.

“You gotta be real quiet now my love. You’re being so good,” Eddie croons. “See this? I’m gonna let this hook get in real deep.” Eddie flexes his foot to shove it between Steve’s ass crack. His ankles are cracking. His abs are straining. But who cares? When Steve is looking at him like that, with his mouth forced wide open with that stupid big chunk of ice, held in place by nothing but the power of Eddie’s voice and the allure of his hands? The room goes silent except for the click click sound of Eddie jiggling his hook in the lock. Click. Click. Click. And he’s free.

Steve closes his eyes and moans, low. The ice is clear, and Eddie can see Steve working his tongue hard against the ice, trying to melt it faster. Steve’s dick throbs in his ass. Eddie clenches again.

Steve doesn’t put up a fight when Eddie grips his hair with both hands to pull his face down until Eddie can kiss him around the ice ball. Steve’s lips are somehow burning. The ice is ridiculously cold. Steve’s back is slick with sweat. Steve’s taint is soft and firm. Steve’s hair bounces. Soft.

“Perfect,” Eddie whispers without meaning to. Steve groans and twitches.

“All of you. So hot. A work of art,” Eddie murmurs along the line of Steve’s lobe where he likes it licked. Steve starts rutting frantically, like he can’t help himself. Eddie clenches hard enough to squeeze out a squeak.

“You’re so lovable. So precious. How dare they abandon you. How dare they trick you.” What had started out as a lover’s murmur he couldn’t keep inside is spewing out of him as a bellow. Eddie hopes the Harringtons’ camera picks up sound. He wants them to hear this, not just see. How well Steve fucks him. How happy they make each other. How little the Harringtons matter. How they had their chance, and lost it. “They’re never getting you back.” Eddie scratches down Steve’s spine. Relishes the way the other man shudders. “Mine.”

And Eddie means it. His.

The gag melts faster under the combined heat of their mouths. Steve spits the gag out so they can finally connect their lips together. Steve’s not someone to love with words. He shows his adoration with hot tongue, cold lips, and hands that know just how to squeeze, just where to stroke. Eddie feels his own release coming as Steve stiffens the way he does just before he comes. It’s impossible to tell who lost. Not that it matters.

The second part of his birthday present was a trip to Eddie’s favorite gay bar in Chicago - which means that Steve has been spending the better part of the night watching his boyfriend whirl around the dance floor, clad in a skin-tight pair of jeans sporting so many tears and rips he may as well have gone naked, and a cropped band shirt. Like, really really cropped. Steve can see his nipples every time he raises his arms. Which has been a lot. It’s almost enough to distract him from the goddamn chain whipping around Eddie’s slender hips.

“Stevie,” he bellows over the beat of the next song picking up, chain bouncing against his leg as he saunters over to him. The guy who’s been swaying closer and closer to him for the past few minutes closes a loose hand around his wrist, mouth hovering close to Eddie’s ear as he says something inaudible, and the mean, possessive little creature at the back of Steve’s brain stirs awake with a hiss. It settles back down when Eddie shakes his head at the guy and pulls back his arm, but it stays alert, hackles raised. 

The song switches and Eddie pauses to sweep his sweaty curls from his face, exposing the long, pale line of his throat. His eyes search and find Steve at the bar, and those pretty lips curl into a coy smile. He knows exactly what he’s doing, the little shit.

Eddie hops up on the bar stool next to Steve’s and snatches his beer from his hand, taking a long, greedy gulp. His lips glisten wetly as he sets it down. 

Steve makes a show of checking his watch. 

“Hello, fair stranger. Any chance of you granting me a dance? Today’s my birthday, y’know?”

“For another twelve minutes, yeah. And the fair stranger needs a break.” 

Eddie pouts, sliding off the stool. It lands him conveniently between Steve’s spread legs.

“Fine, suit yourself. I'll just go back and have some actual-” 

Steve's hand moves before his brain can catch up. One second, Eddie is laughing in his face, skipping backwards and out of reach - the next, Steve's fingers close around the chain and pull. Eddie’s eyes and mouth go large as he stumbles forward and trips over his own feet. 

He ends up half sprawled in Steve’s lap, hands bracketed over his thighs for support. Steve has thrown out a hand to steady him, and it's resting against Eddie’s chest, right over his frantically beating heart. His other hand is still holding the chain. 

“Why, Stevie …” Eddie’s surprised face morphs into a sly smile. “Is there any chance your gift was a little less altruistic than you'd have me think?” 

“Shut up,” Steve grumbles. The chain links are smooth and cool against his skin. Through the fabric of Eddie’s shirt, his nails scrape over the hard nub of a nipple. “Not my damn fault you look like that. Everyone on that dance floor wants a piece of you.” 

Eddie grins.

“Oh, I know. You better keep me on a tight lea- …”

He gasps and stutters to a stop. For a second, Steve believes it's from pain, because his hand, not quite against his conscious doing, has started rolling Eddie’s nipple between two fingers. He's already sucking in a breath to apologize when he sees the glint in Eddie’s eyes. 

“What?” 

Eddie’s smile goes so wide his ears move with it. 

“You think the sex shop next to the motel is still open?” 

“Probably,” Steve shrugs, doing his damn best to sound nonchalant about it. “Why?” 

Eddie tangles their hands together and pulls him to his feet. 

“Because I just had a brilliant idea. C'mon, big boy, you're buying me an extra birthday present.” 

*

“Okay,” Steve whispers, hooking the first carabiner in place. He's lost the nonchalance a good while ago, and they both know it, so he doesn't bother disguising the gravelly rasp that his voice has dropped to. “I feel like I know the answer, but I'm gonna ask, anyhow. Color?”

Because Eddie has actually started bouncing on the balls of his feet, and the movement has tugged on the chain that’s still loosely grasped in Steve’s hand. Or, to be more specific, the nipple clamp that the chain is attached to. 

“Green,” comes the reply, so enthusiastically it makes Steve think they'll need to introduce an extra color, specifically for this occasion. “So very green, you have no- aaah, shit.”

“Alright, calm down,” Steve chuckles. Eddie scowls but goes still, allowing him to fix the other end of the chain to the second clamp. As it clicks into place, Steve can’t resist the temptation of giving the freshly trapped nipple a light flick. He is rewarded with a startled groan and another flinch that almost sends Eddie’s hard cock slapping against his stomach. 

“Fuuuck,” he breathes as Steve steps back to admire his handiwork. “Best birthday ever.”

Eddie is a sight to behold, stark naked in the middle of their tiny motel room, hands tied behind his back with Steve’s belt, his own bandana wrapped over his eyes as a makeshift blindfold. The silver chains are striking against his pale skin, shimmering and shining in the soft light of the bedside lamps, the one with the skulls almost reaching his belly button. It must be heavy. Painful, probably. Before he knows what he’s doing, Steve has reached out and is running the tip of a finger over the cool metal. 

Steve can’t help but agree. Shit, he feels like it’s his own birthday.

Eddie whimpers and stumbles a small step in his direction, and Steve’s dick throbs. Fuck, if that tiny touch is enough to warrant that reaction … 

He wraps his hand around all three strands of the chain, giving a loose, experimental tug. Eddie follows like a dream, and the jealous thing at the back of Steve’s mind rumbles in pleasure. That’s right, he thinks, claiming Eddie’s lips for a hungry kiss, all while leading him over to the rickety armchair beside the bed. Let the others stare all they want. At the end of the day, he’s the one who gets to have Eddie like this, bound and needy and completely under his control, and enjoying every second of it. 

He settles in the chair, taking a few long moments to enjoy the sight above him before he uses the chain to guide Eddie down onto his cock. He’s large, and even though they’ve done this several times, Eddie always needs a while to take him all the way. He waits until he’s fully seated in his lap, then pulls the chain taut, forcing him to settle down and get adjusted, even though he can feel the impatient twitch in his hips.

Eddie whines and strains for another kiss, but Steve doesn’t bridge the gap. He gives the chain another brief, warning pull, and Eddie quietens down. His breath comes in ragged little puffs against Steve’s lips. Steve reaches out his free hand to swirl a finger around one of the nipple clamps, and Eddie sobs, shivering with the effort of holding still. 

“Eager for it, huh?” he murmurs against Eddie’s lips. “You’ve been planning this all night, haven’t you? Dressing in that skimpy shirt, moving around that place like a little slut, riling everyone up? All to make me snap and remind you who you belong to.”

“Tell me then,” Steve whispers. 

“You,” Eddie moans. God, he sounds positively wrecked. They’ll need to do this more often. “I belong to you. I’m sorry, Steve, please. Please let me move, I need-” 

Steve wipes the tears that have escaped from the blindfold away with the pad of his thumb.

“What you need to do,” he says, “is prove to me how very sorry you are. Go ahead, show me.”

Luckily for him, it doesn’t take long. Steve has been half hard since they left for the club earlier, so it’s only a few minutes before he feels his climax building. When it crashes over him, he tangles his fingers into the chains again, pulling Eddie in and sinking his teeth into the perfect, pale skin of his shoulder. Eddie sobs in pain and pleasure as he fills him up, and before Steve is completely done, he’s cumming himself - long, white ropes coating both of their bellies and Steve’s fingers and the shiny metal of the chain. 

The second he releases the chain, Eddie starts moving. It takes him a small while to find his rhythm, clumsy and disoriented as he is with the blindfold on and his hands still tied behind his back, but he is nothing if not adaptable. Before long, he’s bouncing on Steve’s cock - legs trembling with the effort of lifting himself up, sweat beading on his neck and chest, chains jingling every time he falls back down. His cock bounces between them, flushed bright red and pretty, like the color blooming on Eddie’s cheekbones, and Steve can see from the way he bites his lip that he’s struggling to hold it together. To keep himself from coming before Steve does.

They take their sweet time coming down, swapping lazy kisses and little moans and whispered profanities all the while. When Steve finally reaches out to remove the clamps, Eddie hisses a pained laugh. 

“Pleased with your birthday presents, then?” Steve asks, carelessly dropping the clamps and chain to the floor to examine Eddie’s nipples instead. They’re lightly swollen, even pinker and prettier than usually, now that the blood is rushing back into them. 

“So fucking plea-” Eddie starts to say, but it turns into a moan halfway through when Steve ducks his head to run his tongue over one of the sensitive nubs. “Oh, my God!” 

“Steve is fine,” Steve says. He doesn’t need to remove the blindfold to know Eddie is rolling his eyes, but he does it anyhow. “Now confess. How much of this did you plan in advance?” 

“Nothing,” Eddie claims. Steve licks his nipple again. This time he adds his teeth, just a bit. “Okay, okay, Jesus Christ. I may have been hoping for something like this when I picked the outfit, but the bit with the chain was unplanned for. I had no idea you’d lose your mind over it like that.” 

Steve hums, making quick work of untying Eddie’s wrists before maneuvering them both out of the chair and right into the bed. Eddie collapses into his arms like a dead weight, limp and exhausted.

“Neither had I, but that’s what I love about you. You always make me find out new things about myself.” 

Eddie kisses his collarbone and grins. He looks completely and utterly wrecked - hair sweaty and disheveled, lips pink and swollen from biting down on them, the fresh bite mark on his shoulder blooming against his skin like a pretty flower.

“Good to know. Can’t wait to show you my Christmas wish list.” 

More Smutty September

Everyone they love came over today to celebrate them, to watch as they exchanged vows, to cry and laugh and dance in Steve’s backyard. The yard is still a mess, and the kitchen and living room is even worse off, but neither of them care. Everyone’s coming back tomorrow to help them clean because that’s what family does.

Eddie’s hands reach out to touch, something he’s been trying so hard not to do while Steve relaxes for the first time all day. He insisted on setting everything up himself, with very little help from anyone, and his back started to hurt during the reception. He needs this, but Eddie needs him.

Steve smirks, but doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t stop floating in place while Eddie’s fingers wrap around his wrist and tug him closer as gently as he can.

“You heading inside?” Steve asks, breaking the silence surrounding them. It’s late, probably closer to morning now than not. They both should probably go inside and get some sleep, especially if people will be back before lunch to help them clean up.

“No, just wanted to be closer,” Eddie says, smiling down at the man he gets to love forever.

He never saw this coming, never thought he’d have anyone forever, let alone someone like Steve. Someone who loves so deeply that it’s in everything they do, someone who would give everything to see Eddie happy and safe, someone who made it easy to think about settling down somewhere. He can’t imagine what his life would be without him.

Steve’s eyes open, his gaze immediately settling on Eddie’s.

“Who knew you’d be so sappy,” Steve teases, but it’s light, quiet.

“On our wedding night? You had to know I’d be a bottle of maple syrup, baby.”

Steve laughs, fills them both with light for a moment. He eventually falls quiet, lets Eddie lean down to kiss him gently, lips moving lazily against each other. They’ve barely touched today despite it being their day. Steve was so busy with setting up, and then the party was keeping them so busy with their guests.

They’re alone now, taking what they both need, in no rush to stop.

Steve moves slowly, stands and then wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck, pulling him close until they’re flush together. Eddie moans as their chests collide, his hands finding Steve’s hips easily.

“I want you.” Steve breathes against his mouth, barely stops kissing him to speak.

A switch is flipped and everything turns from soft moonlight to intense sunshine, their cocks rubbing together through their underwear. Moans and whimpers fill the air as they strip off what little clothing they had on, lips only parting when necessary.

“Did you just throw your underwear out of the pool?” Eddie laughs as he looks behind Steve at the wet underwear leaving a puddle on the pavement.

“Yes and you need to, too. They’ll get stuck in the filter,” Steve laughs with him, kissing his neck. “I don’t wanna buy a new one, do you?”

“I’m assuming they’re not cheap,” Eddie licks water off his neck, can’t wipe a smile from his face even at the thought of breaking an apparently important part of their pool. “Or easy to fix.”

“You’d be right.” Steve groans when Eddie nips at his collarbone, then his shoulder. “I don’t think certain body fluids are good for it either.”

“There are worse things this filter has had to skim through,” Eddie laughs as he finally gets a hand around Steve’s length, pumping slowly, letting the water determine his speed. He could do this for hours, might see if he could get away with it. He doesn’t think either of them are awake enough to actually stay out here for hours, but he’s willing to give it a try. “You want me inside you?”

“Mmm.” Steve’s eyes are closed, head tilted back. His grip is loose on Eddie’s shoulders, holding them both in place. “Yeah.”

It’s not gonna be easy without lube, but they’ve done it in every situation, every position, with and without lube. He can figure this out, too.

Steve helps by lifting his legs, wrapping them around Eddie’s waist. It’s easy to hold him up when he’s weightless in the water. Eddie’s not weak by any means, but his left arm still gets tired after a while. His entire left side does. An annoying reminder of what the Upside Down took from him.

In here, he won’t have to worry about it. Steve must know that.

Steve kisses him, slow and wet, moaning into it as Eddie presses a finger inside him. He’s not in a rush. They’ve got forever.

The air is cool enough to send a chill down Eddie’s spine, but not cool enough for him to start shivering. The small tremor in his hands now is only because of the softness of this moment, the overwhelming love he feels for the man in his arms. He’s still in awe of this, of the way he gets to have him forever, gets to love him until they’re old and gray and wrinkly. Well, Eddie will be wrinkly. Steve moisturizes every night and probably won’t age until he’s 50.

“What’s that smirk about?” Steve kisses the corner of his mouth where it’s pulled up into a small smile.

“Just thinking about me looking like I landed some hot supermodel when I’m 75 and you look 30,” Eddie slips another finger inside him, toothy grin taking over his face when Steve’s breath catches on a laugh. “Thinking about you with gray hair.”

“Can’t wait,” Steve sighs.

“I don’t think you mean that,” Eddie kisses him again, can’t stop doing it. He wants to do it always, probably will find ways to sneak them in public for the rest of their lives. “I think you’re gonna dye your hair the moment one appears.”

“I have gray hair already.”

Eddie freezes. “What. No you don’t. I haven’t seen any.”

“Keep moving.” Steve laughs, bearing down on Eddie’s fingers. Eddie does, though he’s going much shallower, slowed down as he takes in the words Steve said. “I hide them.”

“There’s more than one?!” Eddie freezes again. His eyes dart up to Steve’s hair as if he’ll be able to see in the moonlight. “How many?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t counted,” Steve giggles. “Are you gonna fuck me or do a search for gray hairs on my head?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Eddie slides his fingers back inside him, adding a third. Steve makes a small noise, a huff of breath more than anything, but smiles. “I could do both.”

“You’re so weird.”

“You love me.”

“I do.”

“You picked me.”

“I did.”

“You wanna have my babies.”

Steve snorts. “If it were possible, sure.”

“Science may get there before we’re old. You’re already gray, so hopefully it hurries up.”

“Eddie.”

“Yes, love?”

“Fuck me.”

Eddie loves when he gets a little bossy. He loves giving him what he wants, too.

He replaces his fingers with his cock within seconds, barely making sure he’s lined up before fucking into him. He’s tight, and the friction is definitely gonna be too much soon, but he doesn’t think he’ll last long anyway. He knows for a fact Steve won’t, not with the way he’s got a vice grip on his arms, fingernails digging into his skin to leave crescent shapes between moles.

“Stevie…” Eddie groans when he gets impossibly tighter. “Won’t last like that.”

“Don’t need to last. We’ve got forever.”

Eddie could come right then and there. He won’t, but he could.

“You’re gonna kill me. On our wedding night.”

“I’d never. They always suspect the husband first,” Steve ends on a whimper as Eddie’s dick finds his prostate on every shallow thrust inside him. “We’re husbands.”

Steve’s eyes are wide, like it’s finally setting in that they got married today. In every way that matters to them, they’re bound together forever.

“Yeah, sweetheart. We are.”

Steve’s eyes are watery now, but Eddie doesn’t stop.

He thinks back to the first time they were together like this, to when Steve still wasn’t sure if he was into men or if he just had a crush on Eddie. To when Eddie insisted he should try it out, that he’d do anything to help him figure himself out if it would make him happy. To when Steve cried when Eddie slowly fucked him in his bed, begged him to never stop, told him he thought he could love him if he stuck around.

It wasn’t easy for Eddie at first. Sticking around meant dealing with the bullshit of Hawkins, the aftermath of Hopper and the government insisting he was innocent to people who were hellbent on thinking the worst of him. It meant traveling to Indy twice a week for unbiased physical therapists to help him learn how to use his left side again. It meant being a bit of a burden on Wayne for even longer than he planned to.

But it also meant being loved by Steve, and getting closer with the kids who helped save him, and learning that their family may be codependent, but they were always protective and good.

“Would marry you every day for the rest of our lives if I could,” Eddie gasps as he feels his stomach tighten. “Every night I’ll tell you and everyone how much I love you if that’s what you want.”

Steve shakes his head once before he clenches around Eddie and comes.

He’s shivering, shaking through the intensity that always finds a way between them. It’s too much for Eddie, too tight and too warm and too much.

“I love you,” he says as he comes, trying hard not to lose focus on what’s right in front of him. Steve’s head is thrown back, eyes closed, water droplets glistening in the moonlight. “Love you, love you, love you.”

Steve finally opens his eyes and looks back at Eddie, leans in to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“I love you.” Steve taps his shoulder in warning before he slowly pulls off and away from Eddie, still keeping his arms around his neck, but putting a bit of space between them. “You wanna head inside?”

“Only if we can shower,” Eddie brushes the hair off his forehead and kisses away the water he leaves behind. “Or take a bath.”

“Too tired,” Steve yawns.

It’s like a switch was flipped for him and the adrenaline crash has arrived.

Eddie’s used to this, knows exactly what to do, what he needs.

“C’mon, baby. Let me wash your hair so it doesn’t get too dry,” Eddie kisses the top of his head and starts to lead him out of the pool.

“Wait!” Steve stops him with a hand on his hip, tugging him back so he’s flush against his chest. “Look.”

Steve points up at the sky, to the constellations above them. Eddie doesn’t see it at first, then it’s all he can see.

Shooting stars, a handful of them, all happening at once. He thinks it’s a meteor shower, but he’s never seen one. It’s over within seconds. When he turns, Steve’s already smiling at him.

“Think that show was for us?” He whispers.

“Even the stars know we got married today.”

Normally, Steve would poke him, turn red and laugh, brush off his dramatic words as silly. He doesn’t now, though. He nods, looks back up at the stars. Eddie watches as he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, lets it out, then opens them again.

“You ready to go inside?” He asks.

Eddie nods.

“Did you make a wish?” Steve asks as they make their way inside.

Eddie shakes his head. “Don’t need to.”

“Why not?”