#eddiemonthafterdark

He keeps shelving the lube from the box in his hands and hears the customer approach after a minute. He's expecting them to either try and get his attention or to retreat to a part of the store where there are no employees - people are sometimes weird about being perceived in a sex shop even if it's by the people who work there.

Instead he hears a voice he hasn't heard in years, a voice attached to a face that still haunts his dreams - his first crush, his longest lasting crush, inopportune as it was considering it was on one of the most popular guys at his school.

He hears Steve fucking Harrington's voice say, "Uh, 'scuse me, just need to grab this," and a hand - one veiny, hairy hand - reaches by him to grab one of the bottles of lube he just placed on the shelf.

Eddie looks over his shoulder and - god, Steve is just as devastating now as he was in high school, his hair tousled and perfect, his pretty face dotted with moles that Eddie wants to map out with his tongue.

Steve smiles and nods at him in acknowledgment and moves along to whatever his next item is, leaving Eddie to spiral in his thoughts as he moves to the cash register to ready himself for whatever items Stevie-boy brings up to the counter.

In his many, many fantasies about him, he never really struck Eddie as someone who bought or used sex toys.

The rumors in high school would have him believe Steve's a god in bed without the assistance of toys anyway. It's been years since they graduated, so maybe he's expanded his horizons or his girlfriend is into them or something.

Or maybe he's delving into kink the way straight boys sometimes do. Walking into a sex shop like they own it, thinking that buying a pair of fuzzy handcuffs and a bullet vibrator makes them the pinnacle of BDSM, a dom who doesn't even know what half the letters in that acronym stand for.

He's going through what Steve could be looking at based on where he sees him in the store on the antiquated security cam feed on the computer. He doesn't seem to be looking at the wall of BDSM for dummies in any case.

He got the lube Eddie was shelving- a water based one. And he's in the anal toys corner of the store.

Well, he'll be damned. Either Steve has a girlfriend who wants to try anal and he's looking for a beginning plug set to help her along or he wants to try anal.

Interesting.

The Steve Harrington of Hawkins High in Bumfuck, Indiana probably wouldn't have been caught dead in a sex shop and here he is, some odd years later, looking at butt plugs and flared vibrating dildos from what Eddie can tell from the grainy video feed.

He almost wants to go over and see if he can help him, learn more about what he's looking for, but hearing what his old crush gets up to in bed might spark a whole new set of fantasies for Eddie to revisit and can't put himself through that.

Especially with this new image of Steve he has in his head - the same lips he's fantasized about kissing a million times before, but on a face that's only gotten better with age. He's lost some of the softness in his face, his jaw strong and still so pretty to look at.

He was magnetic in high school, drawing Eddie's eye every time he walked into a room, his embarrassing crush making him glare at him more than anything, but now? Looking the way he looks now? He's a goddamn force of gravity and Eddie wants to get pulled into his orbit.

He wants to strike up a conversation, wants to talk to him, but he doesn't think he could handle walking up to Steve and learning what he likes in bed, so he just waits for him to get done shopping and watches him walk up to the counter.

Steve sets the items down on the counter and Eddie looks down at them, feeling a flare of heat spread through his body at the items before him.

"Hey, I know you from high school. Munson, right?" Steve asks, pulling Eddie out of his stupor.

"Yeah, uh, hey. Steve. I- Eddie," he says intelligently.

"Right," Steve says, pushing the lube forward trying to prompt Eddie into action.

He grabs the lube and can't seem to help himself when he says, "You know, this dildo isn't really for beginners. Unless you know what you're doing and have a ton of patience and, well- you are buying lube, so that's good-"

"I'm. Not a beginner," Steve says, interrupting Eddie's spiel.

"You- what?" Eddie asks, his brain still a little fried from seeing Steve fuckin' Harrington walk up to the counter with two bottles of lube - he went back for a second - and an anal dildo with a girth that's not dissimilar to Eddie's fucking fist.

"I'm definitely not a beginner. That's kind of a rude assumption, don't you think? Aren't you supposed to be impartial to what customers buy?" Steve asks, the grin on his face betraying the words coming out of his mouth.

"Uh, fuck. Fuck. I'm so sorry. I really shouldn't have said anything," Eddie says, cringing at himself. He normally wouldn't have said anything, but then again, he normally isn't face to face with the guy he's had more fantasies about than he can count.

"It's fine. I mean, you knew me in high school and that guy wouldn't have any clue what to do with this," Steve says, gesturing to the box with the dildo in it on the counter. "Luckily I'm not that guy anymore."

"Yeah, lucky," Eddie says wearily, grabbing the box and scanning it.

He wants to ask, 'So you know what to do with it now?' and then 'would you want to show me?' But both of those things would be wholly inappropriate to ask a customer so he clamps his mouth firmly shut, rolling his lips between his teeth.

The look on Steve's face says he knows what Eddie's thinking even without him saying it - the small smirk on his lips when Eddie looks up after finishing ringing him up is annoyingly attractive.

He tells him his total, running on autopilot and trying so hard not to think about Steve straddling the dildo he's bagging up for him and sinking down on it, eyes rolling back at the stretch. Fuck.

Steve hands him his card and Eddie swipes it and waits for the receipt to print before he hands it back to him along with his receipt.

Eddie's opening his mouth and putting his foot directly in it again when he says, "Good luck with your, uh. Jesus christ - please ignore me. I seem to have forgotten my brain to mouth filter at home today."

Steve laughs and asks, "Do you have a pen?"

"Uh, yeah," Eddie says, fumbling with the pen beside the register before holding it out for Steve. Their fingers brush as Steve takes it from him.

He turns the receipt over and writes something down on the back of it. He slides both the receipt and the pen back across the counter.

He says, "You seem like you might need some lessons in keeping quiet instead of running your mouth. I have a few gags that you might like. If you're interested."

Eddie's mouth drops open and Steve smirks at him. He grabs his bag from the counter and taps his knuckles against the counter.

"See you around, Eddie Munson," he says, walking away. He turns around when he gets to the door and finds Eddie still gawking at him. He waves at him and Eddie, in his stupor, manages to wave back.

Steve pushes the door open and leaves, the bell dinging again.

Eddie wheezes out the breath he was holding. He looks down at the receipt and finds a number scrawled on it.

He scrambles to pull his phone out and enters the number into his contacts.

And then Steve makes good on his words, pulling his finger out of Eddie and no. No, no, no... Eddie doesn't realize he's babbling until Steve's other hand strokes his back soothingly, his deep voice reassuring.

"Hey, it's okay, Eddie. I got you. You gonna let me set the pace? Be a good boy?"

Another sound rips from Eddie's throat, a desperate one, wet and needy. "'Ye-yeah, gonna be good, so good. Please, Steve, need it. Fuck me hard. Please, please, please."

Two fingers, slippery and cold, thrust into him and he moans, the relief palpable. Steve doesn't even wait for Eddie to get used to the intrusion. He just picks up where he left off, pumping his fingers in and out of Eddie at a brutal pace right from the start. Eddie wants to sob at how good it feels, his mind finally starting to empty, making room for Steve and only Steve, just as his insides make room for Steve's thick and veiny cock. His perfect cock that Eddie thinks about more often than he would ever admit out loud.

"This what you want? For me to fuck you like this? Hard and fast, so you can still feel it tomorrow?"

Eddie tries to nod, tries to speak, but his words won't come. Instead, more needy sounds roll off his tongue, sounds so desperate that he can’t swallow them, no matter how hard he tries. His hips push back against the onslaught of Steve's fingers, urging him on, wordlessly begging him for more, always more. It's not about feeling it tomorrow, it's about—

When Eddie feels a third finger pressing against his hole, he snaps at Steve, forgetting his promise to be good. "I don't need another finger, I want you to fuck me. Stop playing around and give me your cock. I thought that's what we're here for."

"Don't wanna hurt you, Eddie, lemme just—"

"I don't care. I need you to fucking fuck me already, okay? Hurt me. Ruin me, goddamn it, but stop acting like we're making love or some shit."

Eddie can feel Steve freezing up behind him and a part of him feels bad for the way he is behaving. It's not that either of them has to wine and dine the other, theirs is not that kind of relationship. But they’re still friends.

Friends who like to fuck each other's brains out, but friends nonetheless.

Still, they usually take their time. Heavy make out sessions, mouths and hands on each other's bodies. Eddie fingering Steve for so long that he was coming dry by the time Eddie finally fucks him, his hole so loose and sloppy with lube that Eddie's cock sinks in like a knife in warm butter. When it's quick and desperate, it’s usually trading messy hand- or blow jobs, both of them too impatient for any kind of foreplay. Just quick and dirty hookups in the video store break room or in the shower before they have to start their day.

But today, Eddie needs it hard and fast. Today, Eddie needs Steve to fuck every thought out of his head until all he can think about is the ache in his body from being used, from being owned, from being ruined. He needs it to hurt.

Today, Eddie needs to forget.

Because if he can't get out of his head, he doesn't know what he's going to do. There is a monster inside of him, with his father's face, his sneering voice, and his spiteful words. This monster has sharp teeth and even sharper claws that will hurt anything that gets in its way.

It used to hurt Eddie the most. But also Wayne. And Gareth and Jeff and Freak. It might hurt Dustin now. Or Steve.

Eddie doesn't want that, doesn't want to hurt anyone, so he needs... something. Something to forget the fucking letter.

The fucking letter from that fucking asshole who calls himself his father, when the only person who ever deserved that name was Wayne. Asking Eddie for money of all things. He hasn't heard from him since he took Eddie with him when he robbed that liquor store and left Eddie behind when the police came. They caught up with him less than an hour later.

It was the worst and the best day of Eddie's life because while he found out that his father didn't give a shit about him, he also has been living with Wayne ever since.

And now this asshole has the nerve to ask him and Wayne for money.

Eddie wants to scream. He wants to hit something.

He is afraid of hitting someone.

So he can't get high. Can't get wasted. Can't lose control.

That's why he's here, with Steve, hoping that Steve will take the control from him. Just for a little while.

Just until he settles back into his skin.

"I don't think we should be doing this. Something is clearly wrong." Steve sounds worried, his voice soft and his hand firm on Eddie's hip, as if to keep Eddie from just taking what he wants.

Then Steve moves again, slowly withdrawing his fingers, and Eddie panics. Before his brain can provide any input, he lets go of the headboard and his left hand wraps around Steve's wrist before he can fully withdraw his fingers.

It's the first time he's seen Steve's face since Steve pushed him onto the bed, face down and ass up, and the expression Eddie finds there makes something inside of him clench painfully. Steve looks pale, his eyebrows are drawn together in a deep frown and his lips are thin, confusion and displeasure in every line of his beautiful face.

Eddie screwed up. Again. Just like his old man, using someone who cares about him for his own gain and hurting him in the process.

"Steve—" He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to make it right. Goosebumps break out all over his body, but he feels too hot, his skin stretched thin. There is lead in his stomach, in his veins, making everything heavy and shit, he feels tears prickle in his eyes.

Steve must notice some of the turmoil inside him, his eyes widening at what he sees in Eddie's face. He grabs Eddie's hand where it's wrapped around his wrist to keep him still as he pulls his fingers completely out of Eddie's body and Eddie hangs his head in defeat.

This is it.

Now Steve will ask him to get dressed and leave, telling him that this is not what he signed up for, that it's too much.

That Eddie is too much.

"Can you turn around for me?"

Eddie's head jerks up at Steve's words. He must have heard him wrong. But when he looks back into Steve's face, all he sees are searching hazel eyes, still warm in his solemn face. "What?"

"Turn around? I'll fuck you like you want, but I want to look at you."

Eddie's cock has gone almost all the way back to soft since their exchange, but Steve's words, their implication, are enough to bring it back to half-mast in no time. He clumsily gets up on his knees and turns around so that he's on his back with his legs spread on either side of Steve.

Steve looks down at him with a hungry look as Eddie spreads them even wider, exposing himself completely, a silent surrender.

That's when it hits him.

They have never fucked like this before. To be fair, they only really fucked a handful of times, mostly from behind.

And one memorable time, Steve had fucked him against a wall.

He still thinks about that one when he's home alone with his hard dick in his fist, whimpering every time he remembers how it felt to be held up by straining arms. How it felt to have his thighs pressed tightly against Steve's waist, his arms wrapped around his broad shoulders as Steve pounded into him.

But they had never fucked missionary before.

Steve crawls forward on his knees, his eyes never leaving Eddie's face as Eddie watches his heavy cock swing between his legs, waiting for it to touch him. When it does, dragging along his inner thigh, Eddie feels the pre-cum smear across his skin, matting the fine hair.

He's jolted out of his fixation by Steve's hand on his chin, turning his head back up. "My eyes are up here, Munson."

Eddie grins, for the first time almost forgetting why he was so upset in the first place. "Aww, I know. And they're almost as pretty as your dick." As he says this tongue-in-cheek, he reaches down and wraps his fist around Steve. He pumps the shaft a few times, his grip too shallow to really do anything but spread some of the wetness leaking from the tip along Steve's length. Batting his eyelashes at Steve, he adds, "Will you finally fuck me with it?"

Searching for Eddie's gaze and holding it with his own, Steve leans all his weight on his left arm where it rests beside Eddie on the bed and reaches between them. Steve's hand, so much bigger than Eddie's, surrounds his and draws it away from his cock. For a second, Eddie thinks he's read it all wrong, but Steve doesn't pull away.

Instead, he laces their fingers together and lifts their joined hands up over Eddie's head.

Butterflies take flight in Eddie's stomach, filling his insides and chasing away his dark thoughts. He feels like he could float away if it were not for Steve's body anchoring him. Steve's hazel eyes look down at him, soft despite the hunger simmering in them, and he leans down to capture Eddie's lips in a surprisingly tender kiss.

Lowering his naked body onto Eddie's, their heated skin touching from head to toe, Steve almost immediately slides his tongue into Eddie's mouth. And yet there is something almost chaste about this whole moment. The way Steve kisses him feels like a Sunday morning spent in bed, the sun warming him as he stretches lazily, his whole body humming with contentment. Eddie lets himself melt into the mattress and a sigh spills from his mouth into Steve's.

"There you are," Steve murmurs against Eddie's mouth before descending on him again. The wet sound of their lips against each other and their panting breaths is loud enough to drown out his thoughts for a while, but it's not enough. The thoughts creep back, not even the feel of Steve's tongue in his mouth or the way his hard cock keeps sliding against Eddie's sweat soaked skin is enough to keep them at bay.

Pressing his knees against Steve's hips, Eddie tries to get him to move, the frantic energy from earlier returning and he needs...he needs...

"Steve," Eddie whimpers as soon as he catches his breath, his mouth tingling from their kisses, "Please."

Steve doesn't answer, at least not verbally. What he does is squeeze Eddie's hand as his mouth leaves Eddie's to kiss his cheek and down his throat, distracting Eddie enough that he doesn't even notice Steve reaching for the lube or coating his cock with it. It comes as a surprise when he feels the slick head of it nudging against his entrance.

He gasps out Steve's name, only to have it swallowed by the man himself as Steve pushes into him.

It's not the first time, but it feels like it, the feeling of Steve overwhelming as he fills Eddie inch by tantalizing inch and Eddie squeezes his hand so hard it must hurt.

Steve never stops, never hesitates as he slides inside him and it feels like it will never end. Just more and more of his hot flesh making its home inside Eddie until he can feel it in his gut, in his fucking throat.

They both moan as Steve's hipbones finally press against his ass.

As he pulls out almost all the way again, Steve squeezes Eddie's hand before slamming back into him with a force he has never used before. With each sharp thrust, more of the choked up sounds are punched out of Eddie's body. A particularly hard one pushes Eddie higher up on the mattress and he clings to Steve's body with his legs around his waist. Their hands are still intertwined and it feels like a lifeline, keeping him grounded in the here and now as Steve grinds impossibly deeper into him.

Steve is fucking him just like Eddie asked him to, hard and fast and teetering on the edge of too much. And yet Eddie can't help but think that it feels like Steve is making love to him. Like he's carving a place for himself inside of Eddie, fusing himself into Eddie's essence until you can't tell where one ends and the other begins.

It feels like no one has ever wanted Eddie as much as Steve.

The thought draws a wet sob from his lungs and eager lips catch the sound before it spills out of the intimate bubble they built around their writhing bodies. Steve kisses him like it's the only thing keeping him alive and Eddie has never felt this way before.

Wanted and cherished.

Loved.

They've never talked about what they are to each other outside of their friendship, let alone love, but Eddie can't help but think the word over and over again. Lovelovelove, like a mantra. The despised words from his letter are drained from his mind like venom from a snake bite by Steve's mouth. Steve's hands, and especially his cock with its intoxicating slide against his inner walls, is the remedy Eddie craved.

"Steve," he moans, hoping Steve hears all the things he couldn't say. "I'm close, so close."

Pressing his body harder into Eddie's, Steve leans closer and whispers in his ear, "Me too, baby. Feels so good around me, fuck. Can you come like that, just on my cock fucking you?"

He has never done it before, always needed a hand on him to finish, but Eddie thinks he can this time. It's different. It feels different. The way Steve's hairy belly rubs against his own cock trapped between them, while Steve's thick length presses into him, its head dragging against his prostate, it all makes the coil of desire inside him tighten.

"Yeah, just keep going, keep going," Eddie babbles. A shiver runs through him at the sensation of Steve's tongue flicking against his ear before licking a wet line up his neck.

"Taste so good," Steve hums contentedly into his ear as his hips pick up speed again. "My good boy, so sweet, so good for me, you're perfect."

Squeezing Steve's hand again, Eddie matches the rhythm of his thrust, muscles clenching around the thick head, pressing harder against where his pleasure burns the hottest.

"That's it, take what you need, baby. So beautiful. All for me, only for me." Steve sounds reverent as he says this, his voice full of wonder. Like he can't believe his luck, like it's not Eddie who's thanking his lucky stars every day to have someone like Steve even look at him. It's incomprehensible to him, the way Steve makes him feel, but Eddie knows he never wants it to end.

"Only for you, no one else makes me feel the way you do," Eddie gasps, too honest, but he can't help it. He'll blame the cock-drunk confessions spilling out of his mouth on his imminent climax, even though he means every single word.

Steve groans at his words like he's been hit, his hips faltering in their relentless assault, no longer slamming into Eddie almost brutally. Instead, he's grinding against him, his hips flush against Eddie's ass as if he's trying to crawl into him. "Eddie, fuckfuckfuck," Steve whines and Eddie feels the hot wetness of his release spilling into him.

Even as he shudders apart on top of him, Steve's hips keep going, urging Eddie to follow. As if Eddie could ever deny him. He clenches harder, bucking his hips just so, and the added friction is enough to push him over the edge as well, spilling between them in hot, messy spurts.

With an exhausted grunt, Steve collapses on top of him, letting Eddie take his weight as he catches his breath. Steve's face is pressed against Eddie's neck and Eddie can feel the hot breath against the cooling sweat on his skin. The hand that isn't clasped with Steve's finds its way to Steve's back, stroking it soothingly.

Eddie feels Steve softening inside him and hisses as Steve shifts his hips enough to slip out of Eddie. A trickle of cum follows, leaking out of his hole and onto the mattress. He tries to hold it in, wanting to keep some of Steve inside him as long as possible, but Steve's length has him gaping, and more drips out the longer he lies there. Eddie knows they will have to clean up soon, and he can feel the mess on his stomach drying, skin and hair sticking together uncomfortably.

He allows himself just a few more minutes of peace and quiet. Steve doesn't seem to mind, judging by the way his fingertips keep running up and down his arm in meaningless patterns.

They are still holding each other's hands.

Eddie swallows the lump in his throat, his voice thick as he tells Steve, "Thank you."

Steve hums in acknowledgment, his fingers never stopping their soothing motion.

"I'm sorry. For...you know. Acting weird."

That makes Steve pause, and Eddie is glad he keeps his head on Eddie's shoulder. He's not sure he can have this conversation with Steve's eyes on him.

“’s okay. Had me worried though. You wanna talk about it?"

No, he really doesn't. But he'll do it anyway, because it's Steve. Eddie takes a deep breath and says, "My father never wanted me. I tried everything to be good enough for him. Learned how to hot-wire cars, pick locks, the works. But he never cared. Left me behind to save his own ass. And now he's asking me for money. Today was the first time I heard from him in a decade, and the only thing he wants is money."

The bitterness in his words sounds muted to his own ears, the burning anger replaced by defeat. There's no point in getting angry about the things you can't change, he knows that.

That doesn't mean they don't hurt.

Letting Eddie's words sink in, they both remain silent. Eddie doesn't expect Steve to say anything because there really isn't much to say. He doesn't want pity or lies about how deep down his father cares, he just can't show it. It's a cheap comfort, not made to last before it cracks and crumbles in his hands.

Steve offers none of these things. Instead, he pushes himself up to look into Eddie's eyes, holding his gaze as he lifts their joined hands to his mouth and presses a soft kiss against the back of Eddie's hand.

"Fuck him. You don't need him. You have Wayne. Your band. The kids." Another kiss, this time on Eddie's lips. "You have me, in any way you want me."

There it is again, at the forefront of his mind.

Love.

"Even in the forever way?"

Steve's smile is blinding as he presses their hands to Eddie's chest, right over his heart.

Eddie’s body aches, so Steve does what he’s done since he started helping Wayne care for Eddie in the earliest days of his recovery. He draws him a bath, and sits with him in lavender-scented warm water. Eddie hisses as his skin adjusts to the water, some wounds and scars still sensitive to temperature, as he sits in the space that’s been carved out for him over the past year between Steve’s legs, his back against Steve’s chest and his legs straight out in front of them. 

As his body acclimates and his muscles begin to relax, his head tips back to rest against Steve’s shoulder. It’d all started innocently enough, with Steve helping Eddie bathe in the earliest days of his recovery. But day by day, bath by bath, Eddie loses another layer of clothing, and then another layer of shame, until all that’s left is raw vulnerability in the comfort of Steve’s embrace. 

He’s not sure if they’re friends because as Steve carefully shampoos and rinses his hair, pours warm water over his shoulders, and massages the tightness in his neck, Eddie thinks they could be more. After all, he can count on one hand the number of friends whose cocks have been this close to his ass. On one finger, really. It’s just Steve. 

Eddie’s body aches, and for long moments, he sits with the silence that’s become comfortable between them as he thinks. His body aches for more Steve, for his hands to drift into the very few places they’ve yet to explore—

“Steve, at what point does this become uh, not platonic?” 

The words are supposed to stay in his head. The question is supposed to be a hypothetical one to himself that he never gets an answer to because he’ll never ask. His impulsive mouth gets the better of him. 

Steve doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t release the luxurious pressure of his thumbs into the knot he’s discovered between Eddie’s shoulder blades. Instead, Eddie feels his chest rumble with soft laughter before he responds.

“At what point did I say that it was?” 

“Well, we never said it wasn’t. Guess I assumed.” Eddie shivers and tilts his head to the right as Steve sweeps his hair to the left and presses his lips to the side of his exposed neck.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, Ed, but I don’t make a habit of sitting dick-out with my friends in bathtubs. That’s just for you.” His lips trail from neck to shoulder to collarbone as his hand glides from where it rests on his stomach lower, lower, lower. 

“Steve…” Eddie whispers, hips moving on their own accord. 

“Can I touch you? I’ve wanted to touch you like this for so long.” 

“Please, yes, please.” Eddie’s nearly embarrassed by the sound that escapes him, something akin to a whimper, something desperate. Nearly. 

He’s too far gone already to actually care because Steve wraps a hand carefully around Eddie’s hardening cock and glides slowly from root to tip, exploratory. Eddie’s surrounded by Steve and water and both make him feel weightless. 

This isn't going to last long, he knows.

Up and down, up and down, as Eddie falls deeper and deeper into a trance, nothing but their quickening breaths and the undulating, sloshing of the water around them. Steve sucks a few small bruises into his skin on top of his shoulder before working up and gently nipping at Eddie’s ear. 

“How’s it feel, baby? Feel good?” Steve whispers, hot and wet right into his ear. 

“So fucking good, should’ve said something so much earlier, Jesus Christ,” Eddie groans, letting one of his arms float up and tangling his fingers in the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck. 

“Mmm, yeah, should’ve. I should’ve made it more obvious too though, how fucking bad I’ve wanted you. So long, Ed, so long.” 

Eddie’s hips roll up and Steve wraps his free arm around Eddie’s torso, holding him close, safe. “I’m close, Steve, God, don’t stop, please.”

Steve's lips graze his ear as he keeps going. “I’ve got you, Eddie. I’ve always got you. Go ahead, come for me, baby. Let me see.” 

There’s something in the way Steve says always that sounds like a promise, an oath, and it knocks Eddie over the edge. He comes with a silent shout, his head dropping back to Steve’s shoulder as he feels rope after rope coat Steve’s hand and be swept away into the water. 

His ears ring and his vision goes white, the only outside stimulus that breaks through is the feeling of Steve's hands on him and Steve's voice. Distantly, Eddie registers Steve praising him, talking him through his orgasm, telling him how beautiful he is. Eventually, his body goes limp and Steve swaps arms, using his clean hand to turn Eddie’s face by the chin. He captures Steve’s lips against his own, an awkward angle for a first kiss, and it’s not lost on Eddie that Steve’s now had his dick in his hand before they’d even kissed. 

They’ve never done anything traditionally anyways. 

“Eddie?” Steve starts, breaking the kiss and looking at him with glassy eyes and a crooked grin. 

“Yeah?” Eddie returns the smile.

Steve pushes a piece of wet, curly hair out of Eddie's face. “I meant it, what I said. I’ve always got you, for as long as you want me to.” 

Eddie’s body aches with a truth that he’s known for at least a year, one that he wants to say aloud. One that he hopes Steve feels, too. 

But tonight’s been a night of confessions already, and Eddie can’t help but feel that tonight is just the beginning, the beginning of many more nights with plenty of opportunities for declarations and commitments. 

“Careful with those promises, Stevie. That might be a really long fucking time.” 

Steve hums and kisses him again, soft and slow, one hand in his hair. 

The pastel polo shirts, the shoulder pats with his other jock bozo buddies, the day he came to school with his face rearranged followed by Hargrove looking worse for wear.

The quiet way his social ladder was slipping out from under him rung by rung.

Well, Eddie couldn’t help but notice.

Notice the sadness in his light brown eyes.

Notice the way he chose to sit by his Ex and her new boyfriend. The one who turned out to be her soulmate.

Notice the way he seemingly was trying to disappear.

Notice that even though Eddie wasn’t going to graduate Steve barely scraped by.

How could he not notice the sailor’s uniform?

But- Eddie saw, because he was looking.

•

“Munson, you still sell?” Steve pitched his voice down low as he came up to Eddie at the mall food court.

The recent grad was in polyester blue shorts that showed more thigh than Eddie thought would be appropriate for an ice cream shop.

Steve never used to directly buy from Eddie, it had usually been Hagan or one of the underclassmen.

Eddie was in his ripped up black jeans and an Iron Maiden tee just trying to beat the obscene summer heat. He looked around to make sure no one was hearing the conversation, “Who’s askin’ Harrington.”

His eyes met Steve’s and he saw the tiredness that clouded them, “Me, ya dweeb, can’t sleep.” There was no actual bite behind the words more like fond exasperation.

Eddie wasn’t sure where the fondness came into play.

Eddie bit back a smile, “Dweeb? My liege that’s rich coming from someone in a sailor’s uniform- nice hat.” He reached up and flicked the brim.

Steve glowered.

“Dingus! Get back here I’m drowning!” Robin called out over a quickly accumulating line of people.

Steve made a frustrated sound, “Blanket apology if I was a dick to you Munson but I could really-“

Eddie cut him off he saw the desperation there, “Calm down big boy. Meet up at the trailer park after you get off.”

Steve beamed at him before running back to help Robin.

Eddie stood for a beat- he’d never really interacted with Harrington before and it hadn’t gone…awfully?

Something curious took hold.

•

The thing about soulmates was they weren’t like…predetermined at birth.

There had to be potential on both sides for that kind of a match to happen. Some, like Wheeler and Byers, happened in high school. Others more likely in their early to mid twenties, and even some got it much later- Wayne matched with his soulmate Susan when he was honorably discharge from the military at age thirty eight.

She had passed away young and Wayne always said he’d choose it all over again for the time he and Susan had together. She was the love of his life.

He still had the faded words on the inside of his forearm, ‘aren’t you a sight for sore eyes’- Eddie didn’t consider himself a romantic but how could you deny those first words steeped with potential?

When a soul match could become a bond each prospective person got their words.

If a bond was denied the words faded to nothing. If the match was cultivated, explored, and the people became soulmates the words stayed permanently.

Eddie wasn’t sure if you noticed potential before a match.

But,

He couldn’t stop noticing Steve Harrington.

•

They sat at the picnic table in the trailer park as Harrington bought an eighth.

This close up and he looked exhausted.

“Man, you just graduated, it’s summer time, what’s got you so worked up.” Eddie tried to ease the interaction.

Steve gave him a measured look, “There’s monsters in Hawkins.”

Eddie started laughing at the absurdity, “No shit?”

Steve giggled too, “No shit, Munson. Stay safe, don’t wander in the woods at night.” Steve got up and winked before heading to the maroon BMW sorely out of place amongst the trailers.

Eddie sat with the feeling that he wanted to know more about Steve.

He saw him trailing around with middle school kids, and spending time with Buckley outside of Scoops! More pieces to the puzzle of Steve Harrington not really making sense but nevertheless slotting into place.

A few weeks later and the mall burned down.

•

The guys from Hellfire always volunteered at the local Haunted House. Even their newest recruits Mike, Dustin, and Lucas had come to spook a few weekends. Jeff’s dad’s company sponsored it and the guys loved Halloween. Especially Eddie. It was one day out of the year being a freak was almost respected.

He lit up his joint in the van comfortably hot boxing himself and Gareth, “You doing the killer clown thing tonight or the ax murderer?”

They worked on their haunt characters with the same dedication they had to their DnD campaigns.

Eddie mulled over the question, “Jeff wanted to do the killer clown bit tonight and Grant was committed to the chainsaw psycho at the end so…I think I’m gonna go with guide tonight?”

“Seriously? You never like the dull parts.” Gareth said on an impressive exhale of smoke.

Eddie licked his tongue over his teeth and gave Gareth a deranged smile, “Who said anything about letting the part be dull? Jeff always plays it like he’s one of the group- but what if…mine isn’t reliable?” He waggled his eyebrows at Gareth.

The other man snorted and shook his head, “Well, shit, can’t wait to see it. You know Halloween weekend is our best turn out so you’ll have a pretty captivated crowd.”

“Exactly.” Eddie smirked as they exited the van and made their way to the warehouse where the Haunt was set up.

A familiar maroon Beemer dropping off the younger members of Hellfire.

Dustin’s voice screeched on the note, “You promised you and Rob would come tonight! It’s the last weekend Steve, atleast be supportive!”

Mike’s body language was all slumped shoulders and boredom, “Forget it Dustin, Steve’s a total baby about anything horror.”

Steve shot him a look, “A hundred bucks says we both know that’s not true and I’ve got the nail bat in my trunk to prove it.”

Lucas laughed, “He’s got you there Mike.”

“Steve, Steve, you promised!” Dustin said with an air of finality.

The bickering continued as Eddie approached. He amicably knocked shoulders with Steve as he looked amongst the young teens, “It’s his tone isn’t it?”

Steve huffed out a laugh and ran a hand through his perfect bronze height of hair. He tugged at the roots before letting go, “Yeah, the attitude? Absolute lack of respect.” Steve agreed as he unexpectedly leaned into Eddie’s space.

Eddie fought off a giggle as Steve turned to look at him head on. He was higher than he thought. Steve’s heavy gaze traveled over his face as a slow smile curled up the edges of his mouth.

“You want me to come tonight, Eddie?” He asked in soft husky voice.

Eddie nodded, “I’ll be guide tonight, wont let any monsters get you.”

Dustin cut in, “You’re being the guide? But that’s boring, I though Jeff or Grant usually were the guide.”

“Switchin’ it up half pint. I think I’ll add some of my own flare.” Eddie grinned and turned to Steve, “See ya later? Bringing your girlfriend?” He asked.

Steve gave him a confused look as Mike snorted, “Girlfriend? Steve has no game.”

Steve shot him an affronted look, “Can it little Wheeler.”

Eddie looked at him all doe-eyed, “Buckley?”

The kids started laughing.

Steve’s shoulders relaxed, “Robs? She’s my best friend, Eddie. And uh- she already got her soul mark. We’re capital P platonic.”

“She does?” Eddie asks. The answers swirling around in his mind.

“It’s…complicated?” Steve said, “And not my place to say.”

Eddie nodded, “So are you intrigued, gonna come back for a scare later?”

Steve looked exasperated, “Fine.”

He pinned the kids with a look, "Be good, stay safe, Nance is picking you all up later.”

•

Eddie looked manic, wide eyed and paranoid, he had his whole bit down. Gain their trust, and betray them when the real scares started. He had to take groups larger than two and unfortunately Steve and Robin ended up with what Eddie assumed Steve had wanted to avoid tonight- Jason Carver and his iteration of jock headed goons.

Eddie was surprised he’d even come with this being the- devil’s territory. He was scoffing at the theatrics. A few cheerleaders amongst the group. Chrissy towards the back hanging behind closer to Steve and Robin.

He got through his spiel with eye rolls and comments from the jocks. He hoped they pissed themselves, “If you’re so noble and brave perhaps you should lead us.” Eddie pointed to Jason.

He scoffed and pushed forward, “No problem, freak, it’s all fake anyway.”

They began the tour through the maze of haunted scenes and rooms. Chains rattling and the first big jump scare had Jason screeching like a little girl. Eddie grinned and caught Harrington’s eye. Worth it, he thought to himself.

As they moved along he saw Buckley’s hand dipped into Chrissy’s. He thought back to Steve’s soul mark comment from earlier. He wished in a selfish way that maybe he wasn't the only person in Hawkins with his preferences. It was still less respected same sex soulmates. Times were getting more progressive but Hawkins was often backwards.

It gave him a feeling close to hope. He felt delusional.

Eddie heard the revving of the chainsaw. The group went rigid. Steve was velcro close to his side now. He had laughed at Mike’s attempt to scare him. Eddie saw him genuinely jump a few times.

Eddie allowed himself to rest his hand in the crook of Steve’s elbow for a moment he leaned close to whisper, “Wanna avoid the chase? Go left.”

Steve looked at him, their faces too close. Steve let out a breath he must’ve been holding. “Thanks Eddie.” He said as he broke free and guided Robin and Chrissy to the left with him.

Eddie still had five more groups to bring through thr haunt open until midnight. He couldn’t stop thinking about Steve the entire time.

•

They crossed paths with the kids after Hellfire club. Steve bought from him semi-regularly. He seemed like a good guy- decent in a way Eddie hadn’t expected. Also a quiet sort of biting humor that never failed to pull laughter from him.

And then Cunningham came to him for weed. Asking for something stronger.

Everything changed.

There were monsters in Hawkins.

•

Eddie’s heart was jack-rabbit fast under the tarp in the boat house. He heard footsteps and voices. He was going to be burned at the stake by the townsfolk, isn’t that how these things usually ended?

He thought about Chrissy’s floating form.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Eddie?” The tentative voice sounded like Dustin.

“She’s okay, she’s gonna be alright- Eddie?” He repeated.

Eddie shot out from under the tarp broken bottle in hand and held up to Harrington’s throat.

His voice a quiet tremble to it as Steve whispered between them, “You’re safe now, it’s gonna be alright.”

Eddie felt the white hot sensation on the inside of his left forearm. The realization a shock to his system. The potential had been real, but today was so fucked up.

He lowered the jagged glass slowly, “How can you promise that?”

He watched Steve’s features carefully as they shifted to something of quiet awe. He had felt the words too. His amber eyes softened as they found Eddie’s. He slipped his palm into Eddie’s and squeezed his hand, “Because you’re mine. We’re each others, and I’m gonna be so pissed if I don’t get to ask you out when all of this is handled.”

Robin came up to them close and looked between them. Steve just nodded and Robin let out a tiny squeal, “We knew it was you.” She cleared her throat, “Chrissy is okay except for a broken arm and the crushing realization Jason got when he saw her soul mark and it wasn’t him. He thought it was you.”

Eddie’s eyes went wider as he processed her words. It explained a lot with the hunt the freak chase that had broken out. He had thought Chrissy was dead.

He let out a full body sigh knowing she wasn't.

“The next few days is gonna suck, Dustin wanna crash course Eddie on the upside-down?” Steve looked over and asked.

Dustin ran up and took his moment to fill Eddie in using Tolkien lore and DnD manuals to bridge the gap of fantasy with their real life shit show.

And it would be a hell of a few days.

•

Bloodied and full of upside down grime Vecna defeated and casualties being chalked up to an earthquake in Hawkins Steve lead Eddie back to his house.

“Let’s get cleaned up?” He asked gently.

They were alone for the first time since their words showed up, “Can I see them?” Eddie asked almost shyly.

Steve let out a pained noise but nodded.

He shrugged out of the torn up clothing he had on and extended his arm to Eddie. Eddie’s fingertip traced the letters in his own unique script, how can you promise that?

But they were standing here alive, a little worse for wear, but they had each other.

Steve’s words rang true, he was safe and things albeit fucked up would eventually be alright.

Steve pulled him in close, “I’m so glad it’s you. I hoped it’d be you.” He said before closing the gap, pressing his lips against Eddie’s.

They’d already gone through hell for each other. Everything else seemed manageable.

•

Two weeks later and almost daily movie nights, and dinners, and sleepovers with the Party had Eddie wound up with a need to be one on one with Steve, his soulmate.

Steve clicked the door shut behind the younger teens leaving. Eddie had the pleasure of meeting Super girl and little Byers, two more that just fit the Party. A small family forged over time and now Eddie and Wayne got to be a part of it.

Chrissy’s family upset about her soul mark belonging to another girl had them quietly pretending like it wasn’t happening. Which didn’t affect Robin’s parents as they made up the guest room and took Chrissy in. The girls a blushing mess of first love when anyone asked about them amongst their trusted group.

Eddie crowded Steve against the now locked door. The two of them in the empty house had him already buzzing under the skin. They shared breath between them the air charged with desire. Eddie leaned down to meet their lips. Steve gasped into it as he let his hands grasp Eddie’s shirt. They had shared words and matching bat bite marks still healing. A weirdly packaged pair now. It had something stirring in Eddie’s gut.

He slotted his thigh at the apex of Steve’s legs, he felt the other man grow harder. It was carnal and Eddie needed.

Oh how he needed.

He broke apart from their messy kiss as he left bruising bites and kisses down Steve’s throat. The man reduced to a whimpering, handsy thing against him. Between kisses Eddie punched out the words, “I think I always knew it’d be you, Stevie.”

Steve ground down against his thigh. Riding his leg as Eddie assaulted his throat and caressed his body. No one had ever felt the way Eddie did to Steve. The desperation mounting. Eddie shoved off Steve’s shirt and kissed down his chest, tender over the healing bites as he gazed back up at Steve’s face.

He slunk down his body and undid the button on Steve’s Levis, “Yeah?” He looked up again.

“Please, Eddie, please.” The begging tumbled out and settled between Eddie’s own legs. His cock an angry, insistent line inside his jeans.

Steve whined above him as Eddie lowered the zipper agonizingly slow. He dipped a hand into Steve’s briefs and guided his beautiful cock out. The head a pretty velvety pink already wet with desire. Eddie leaned in and tongued it.

Steve keened.

He kissed the tip before swallowing him down.

This is my soulmate. Eddie thought as he grinded his own over-sensitized cock against the tightness of his jeans. Every twirl of his tongue or the way he fluttered it up the underside of Steve’s cock elicited another delicious noise Steve would make for him. He wanted to catalogue them.

It was heady.

He was getting him off and he was so close in his own pants.

Steve’s hand brushed his cheek and carded through his hair, tugging gently as Eddie moaned around his length.

“Eds, Eddie- I’m so close.” He panted above him.

Eddie adjusted himself and eased Steve’s jeans lower. He guided his hands up to Steve’s ass and squeezed as he sucked him down. Bobbing his head and working his tongue he felt the hot release against his throat, he let up for it to gather on the back of his palate. Swallowing as much as he could.

He trembled on his knees.

He knew he had made a mess of himself.

Steve pulled him up by his hair and kissed him deep. Tasting himself on Eddie’s tongue. He let his hand wander down and cupped Eddie’s cock just starting to soften. Eddie shyly pulled away, “I, uh, um-“ He stumbled over his words embarrassed.

Steve blinked as he connected the dots, “Did you come in your pants for me, Eds?”

Eddie bit his lower lip, cheeks pinking up against his will.

Steve groaned out, “So fucking hot.”

Eddie gave him a soft smile, “Really?”

Steve kissed him, “Can’t wait for you to open me with you fingers so I can ride you, next time you’re coming in me.”

Their marks a deeper black, stark on their skin, the potential a match, and their free will chose each other.

Eddie couldn’t wait for the life he had ahead of him with Steve in his corner.

•

The Adonis-like man smiles at him, hand outstretched in some kind of welcome handshake. Eddie’s own hand moves on its own accord, slipping into the man’s grasp. How he manages to not slip his fingers between the man's and never let go is beyond him. But he’s glad his conscious has the ability to show some restraint.

Because his mind certainly isn’t. Too busy running through scenario after scenario, all ending with the man’s pristine white polo discarded, preferably into the choppy waves below, his slacks yanked down to his knees, and his sun-kissed back bent over the railing.

Jesus H. Christ.

Somehow, Eddie manages to float down the line of other deckhands, shaking their eager hands and smiling fondly as some of them sing their praises about him and his band. The curly-haired boy at the end seems to be the biggest fan, practically bouncing on his feet before the Captain, a stern-looking man, shoots him a look.

The Captain, Hopper, Eddie thinks the man’s name is, starts talking about the plan for the next seven days, but it goes in one ear and out the other as Eddie shuffles over to where Jeff is listening intently. A swift elbow to the rib is all it takes, though, to get Jeff to focus on him instead.

“What?” Jeff whispers, glancing at Eddie.

“You didn’t tell me this stupid boat included a literal Greek God!” Eddie hisses, leaning into Jeff’s side. “I wouldn’t have put up such a fight had I known. I mean, look at him! He’s—“

Jeff snorts, elbowing Eddie back. “Behave,” he warns before turning his attention back to Captain Hopper.

Behave? Ha! I’ll behave all right. Just as soon as I get my hands on him.

⛵️ ⛵️ ⛵️

“Robin!” Steve hisses, sneaking up behind her as she carries a stack of empty plates from dinner service down the stairs.

“What the hell, Dingus,” she snaps, dishes clattering in her hands as she shoots her free hand out to steady herself. “You know better than to scare me on the stairs when I’m carrying things!”

Steve shrugs his shoulders, wincing in a weird apology of sorts before taking some of the plates from her hands. “I need a favor,” he says as they continue on.

Robin shakes her head, a silent “we’ll talk about this in a minute” look exchanged as they hand off the empty plates to Argyle. A moment later, Steve finds himself being tugged into their small, shared bedroom for some privacy.

“What do you want?”

“Pretend to be sick tomorrow? I’ll tell Hop you’re not feeling good and let one of the deckhands do my job for the day, and I’ll take over as charter host.”

Steve tries not to squirm under Robin’s scrutiny. All narrow eyes and arms crossed. Like she’s staring directly into his soul. He both loves and hates that she knows him so well.

“This is about him, isn’t it?”

“Can you blame me?” he whisper shouts, throwing his hands on his hips. “It’s been months since I’ve gotten laid, Robin. Months! And now, Eddie fucking Munson is on our ship looking like that, and I’m what? Not supposed to feel anything?”

“You know Hop would fire you if he caught you hooking up with a guest, right? Especially one of Munson’s status.”

“He won’t find out.”

“Steve,” Robin sighs. “You’re not that stealthy.”

“Excuse you, I am very stealthy. Like a ninja, actually,” Steve pouts. “But I won't have to be stealthy. I won't be hooking up with him here.”

For the first time in a long time, Robin is generally shocked by the words leaving Steve’s mouth. He can’t help the surge of pride that courses through him. See, he thinks, you don’t know everything about me.

“So, what’s the plan then?”

“Tomorrow, there’s a water day planned and then a beachside dinner. You call in sick. I became the charter host and spend the whole day flirting with him. And then at dinner, I somehow get him to follow me to that tourist trap of a bar a mile up the road with the big, single bathroom and—“

“I’ve heard enough!” she shouts, slamming her hands over her ears.

A silence falls between them as Robin makes a show of considering the plan, and Steve contemplates getting on his knees to beg for her help. Thankfully, she saves him the embarrassment (and his knees from any soreness that would prevent tomorrow’s activities from happening) and agrees to the plan.

“I swear to God, Steve, if you get caught and fired, I will kill you. You can’t leave me here alone.”

He laughs, pulling her into a hug before Robin heads back out to finish up her chores. Steve stays behind, calling it a night early. He’s going to need all the sleep he can get if his plan is going to work tomorrow.

⛵️ ⛵️ ⛵️

Thanks to Jeff’s constant presence and Gareth's watchful eye from across the room, Eddie reluctantly behaved the first night. Said please and thank you when he was asked for his drink and food order. Made small talk with the other deckhands and even stealthy signed a CD for the curly-haired kid who introduced himself as his biggest fan and then by his actual name, Dustin.

Eddie wasn't exactly pleased with his proper behavior, but it was a bit easy to play the part of the good rockstar when Mr. Greek God, aka Steve, as he came to find out, kept his distance from him. From what he gathered in the few short hours on the sailing yacht, Steve is the second in command around here, meaning he’s constantly being pulled in different directions, much to Eddie’s chagrin.

However, that seems to have changed this morning when Steve’s the one bringing up a delicious spread of breakfast foods. Buttery warm croissants, pancakes the size of his head. Even some bastard breakfast pizza that Steve says is the chef’s specialty. It all looks great but not nearly as delicious as Steve looks in his red, slightly too-tight polo.

And then, as if a gift from the universe for his behavior the day before, Steve tells them Robin is feeling under the weather, and he'll be their charter host for the day. Thankfully, Steve runs off to start setting things up in the water and misses Eddie's pathetic reaction to the news. 

Now, Steve’s currently shouting orders at a pair of deckhands as they lower a jet ski into the waters below. His voice is commanding, and Eddie knows in an instant that he’d do anything Steve tells him to do if he speaks to him like that. And Eddie doesn’t ever give up being in control, so, like, the thought really fucks him up in the best way possible.

As if that’s not bad enough, the minute the stupid jet ski hits the water, Steve tears off his too-tight red polo and throws it down on the deck beside him before kicking off his shoes. His sun-kissed skin is on full display, and it’s even prettier than Eddie imagined. (And boy, did he spend the entire night imagining it while alone in the main suite.) Eddie only has time to ogle for a moment before Steve races down the steps to the lower dock and dives into the open ocean like a fucking Olympian.

Jesus H. Christ, who is this man?

“You’re drooling,” Jeff teases, swatting Eddie with the linen napkin.

“Can you blame me?” Eddie asks, dragging the back of his hand across his lips. “Look at him. He’s a work of art, and I want to destroy him.”

“Seriously, Eddie?” Jeff laughs, shaking his head. “He’s just some guy.”

“No, you are just some guy. Gareth is just some guy. That guy I hooked up with in London with the piercing blue eyes? That was just some guy. Steve over there…” Eddie trails off, literally swooning. He pillows his chin in his hands, elbows digging into the warm railing of the boat as he looks out into the ocean. Steve’s straddling a jetski now, life vest thrown haphazardly over his body, unsecured.

“You’re down so bad,” Jeff laughs.

“I’m not even joking, Jeffy. You might have to find a new lead guitarist. I think I’m going to be staying here forever.”

“Slow it down, Romeo. What if he’s not even into guys?”

“Oh, trust me,” Eddie says, turning to look at Jeff with a wicked grin and mischief in his eyes. “He doesn’t have to be into guys; he just has to be into me. And I can do that with one very skilled blow—“

“Yeah, yeah, you’re the Blowjob King or whatever,” Jeff says, rolling his eyes. He takes a sip from his beer and lets his eyes drift out to the ocean, following Eddie’s gaze to where Steve is. “Just be careful, okay? We’re stuck here for six more days. Don’t make things awkward.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Eddie says, licking his lips as Steve pulls himself up onto the boat’s platform. He eyes Steve like an animal stalking his prey. Tunnel vision hits him as Steve shakes the water from his hair and rubs a towel over his gorgeous, hairy chest. “It’s him you should be worried about.”

⛵️ ⛵️ ⛵️

Steve has enough time to turn the lock of the single-stall bathroom at the Tropical Getaway Bar before Eddie is on him. Crowding into his space and pushing him back, back, back until his shoulders collide with the door.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since the minute I saw you,” Eddie groans before smashing their lips together.

It’s quick and dirty, and Steve tries to chase Eddie’s lips when he pulls away, but then Eddie’s lips are on his neck. If it weren’t for Eddie’s firm grip on his hips, Steve would be a puddle on the floor.

Eddie works fast, yanking the polo from where it’s been tucked into his stupid khaki shorts before fiddling with the belt. In one fluid motion, Eddie pulls the belt free and throws it across the room without a care in the world. He’s pretty sure he hears it splash into the toilet, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s got other belts on the ship.

And then Eddie lowers himself to the ground, chasing the tug of Steve’s shorts until they’re both on the grimy bathroom floor. Steve’s not sure how long he’s going to last — god damn months-long dry spell — but he hopes it's long enough to permanently burn the image of Eddie on his knees into his head forever.

“I have one request,” Eddie says, gazing up at Steve with blown brown eyes. Index finger dragging up and down the inside of Steve’s thighs, coaxing goosebumps to rise on his skin despite the humid temperature in the bathroom.

“Anything,” Steve gasps when Eddie abandons his light teasing and grabs Steve with one hand, squeezing just enough to burn in the best way. The moan that falls from his lips is embarrassing, but Steve doesn’t care. “Anything for you, rockstar.”

Eddie chuckles at the nickname and leans forward until Steve can feel his warm breath against him. “Use that pretty mouth of yours and tell me what you want,” Eddie says, pressing a kiss to the tip of Steve’s dick. “Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Yeah!” Steve nods, hips bucking up into Eddie’s face on their own accord. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Even he can admit he's thought about Steve enough to have thoughts on all of those situations and musings about how he'd handle each of them.

But he's not exactly prepared for Steve to be handsy, to be giggly and leaning into him and joking and touching him casually. Because sober Steve keeps his hands to himself, Eddie's noticed.

He's had a theory for years now that Steve is probably touch starved, from not having his parents around much, from the only form of intimacy other than sex being clapping his friends or teammates on the shoulder.

And knowing him now, actually knowing him, he knows he was right. Because Steve is somehow so touch starved that he's touch averse with most people, like he can't handle it, the lightest brush of someone's hand oh his skin has him dodging out of the way to avoid it.

The only person he isn't like that with is Robin. And Dustin has speculated enough times why that might be that Robin eventually came out to the group just to get them all to stop talking about it - well, that and she trusts them. It felt like Eddie's heart was going to burst in his chest at being part of that trusted group.

So Steve doesn't really touch people, doesn't reach out for any of the group for hugs, doesn't really cuddle with anyone during movie nights.

But high Steve, he touches.

They don't even finish the joint they're sharing, because it's been a while for both of them. Eddie's feeling the pleasant buzz under his skin, his lips feeling cold and tingling a little when they're barely halfway done with it. He stubs it out when Steve bows out of taking it from him.

Without the joint to pass between them, they talk. One of his hands somehow ends up in Steve's grasp. He touches Eddie's fingers, plays with his rings, as he talks.

It's mostly chatter that Eddie mostly can't keep up with as he acclimates to the way his brain feels less fuzzy than it has in months, the background noises fading away until all he can hear is Steve, all he can feel is Steve's fingers spinning one of his rings around.

He feels grounded, kind of, focusing in on Steve's voice, watching his mouth move as he talks. He's calmer than he's felt in months, feels less out of control, sitting on his bed next to Steve, letting him touch his hand.

It's only a handful of minutes later when they're laughing about something or another, when out of nowhere Steve puts his hands on Eddie's chest and pushes him down on his bed in what has to be a moment straight out of Eddie's wet dreams before he realizes that Steve is pressing him into the bed because he wants to cuddle with him.

It still has his heart racketing in his chest even after realizing, because he's so close to Steve. Their faces are pressed close together and he can feel the several points of contact between them like a brand on his skin.

It's one of those weirdly hot September days, so they're both in shorts. Steve's wearing a sweater even though Eddie knows he has to be hot in it. Even with the sweater on, this is more skin contact than Eddie is used to with anyone.

He realizes now, in this moment, that he too has become a little touch starved since everything happened.

He couldn't handle a lot of touch in the beginning, his body healing, his skin scarring over in a lot of areas. The scar tissue was sensitive for a long while even after it was safe to touch, so the party and his friends stopped touching him - he'd flinch or brace himself when people got near, ready for the ache or pain or sensitivity that comes with touch nowadays, so they stopped touching him as much to spare him of that.

And now, laying here, pressed up against Steve Harrington, of all people, he's realizing how much he craves touch, how much he's missed having someone's skin against his like this, even platonically - not that he has much experience with things being not platonic.

But his friends stopped touching him because any touch hurt him for a while and then they just kind of haven't started again.

They're probably waiting on a cue from him, he guesses. It's what he'd do, if touch suddenly hurt one of his friends. He'd wait for them to say it was okay, or to initiate touch, before he started cuddling up to them again.

So even though he knows cognitively that's likely the reason, there's a thread of a darker thought that passes through his head, that maybe his friends don't touch him anymore because he's somehow even more of a freak than before. That his scars make him untouchable, undesired, that even the freaks of Hawkins don't want to touch him.

He shakes himself free of those thoughts. He knows that's just his brain being dumb. His friends don't care what he looks like, they never have. If they did, they wouldn't be his friends anyway - that's not the kind of company he keeps.

He tries to get back to the feeling of finally having someone's warmth against his skin after a long, touch-starved drought, calming his thoughts again so all he feels is Steve.

He likes it, he finds - the warmth. Steve's skin is hot to the touch, the air around them warm from having the air conditioning off.

He likes this, probably too much, hasn't had enough touch in months, and Steve is the one here giving it to him.

He likes this and he's been unknowingly craving this. That's a dangerous combination.

He wants to burrow deep, to pull their clothes off so he can get even more skin contact. He wants to feel the whorls of his fingertips dragging on Steve's own scars, because he's maybe the only one who can appreciate it. He's maybe the only one who can understand this - what it's like to want to be touched but not be able to be, to feel like maybe the scars are the reason why he's not getting the touch he needs.

He feels the heat seeping from Steve's skin against his and he wants to wrap himself up in that warmth. After a moment of contemplating whether it would be a good idea or not, he does it anyway.

He's spent months not being able to do the things he wants to do, is the thing.

He's spent months not getting high, not really being able to have his friends touch him without it hurting, not being able to get out of bed, not being able to stand for too long without it hurting. He's spent months bored out of his fucking mind while his body healed from something more traumatic than he ever thought he'd go through.

He thinks he's allowed to have this. He thinks he's allowed to enjoy this, even.

So he pulls Steve closer to him, impossibly close, pressed together all the way from their chests to their shins, legs tangling together. He tucks his head in close, rubs his face against the soft fabric of Steve's sweater.

"I've missed this," he finds himself saying, sighing into Steve's shoulder.

Steve pulls back a little to be able to look at Eddie's face when he asks, "Getting high?"

Eddie snorts. "Yeah, that. But also, this," he says, trapping one of Steve's legs between his and squeezing it between his. "I feel like no one touches me anymore."

There's more he could say, the introspective thoughts about how he gets it - the self-deprecating jokes about his scars bitter on his tongue. But he doesn't say it because Steve already gets it. He has similar scars. Scars that run along his back and his torso and his neck. His neck scar is still visible in most shirts. Eddie knows he gets it.

"Yeah," Steve says quietly. "I think I missed this too."

They've never touched like this before, never spent an afternoon curled up together, and he wishes he could go back in time to tell himself to befriend Steve, so they'd get more moments like this. So they'd get thousands of moments like this before all the bad stuff happened.

His brain conjures up the image of high school Steve in his bed in his old trailer. He thinks of Steve's coiffed hair and his polos and barely contains the laugh bubbling up in his chest. He'd look so out of place there.

But Eddie doesn't think he would have been, not really. Not after he lost his crown, after his downfall from King of Hawkins High. He thinks Steve would have fit right in with the rest of Eddie's things - his sweetheart, his posters, his rack of cassette tapes, his Steve. Eddie thinks he would have liked Steve in that room, surrounded by all of Eddie's favorite things.

But he knows his past self wouldn't have allowed it. Even though Steve had changed by his senior year, Eddie was still very much subscribed to a nerds versus jocks dichotomy.

He doesn't think he would have allowed Steve to get close enough to him to be someone he invited over, someone he invited into his room, his space, the only place in Hawkins that was really Eddie's. He would have been too paranoid that Steve would have been trying to pull something over on him.

He's pulled from his thoughts by Steve putting his hand on Eddie's side. He's not touching his skin, but Eddie still flinches. The skin has long since healed over into scars that sometimes pull weird with sudden movement, making it feel like the skin is going to crack open.

"I'm sorry," Steve whispers. "Do your scars still hurt? I should have probably asked that before tackling you to the bed."

"No," Eddie says. "They don't hurt. The skin's just weirdly sensitive sometimes. You can keep touching me. It's fine." The second the words are out of his mouth, his face is on fire.

You can keep touching me. That's a loaded sentence if he ever heard one.

Steve either doesn't notice or doesn't care that his face is beet red. He just returns his hand to Eddie's side, where his shirt has ridden up a little. This time, instead of letting his hand rest over Eddie's side on top of his shirt, he pushes his shirt up more, spreading his big hand over the expanse of Eddie's largest scar.

God, his hands are so big. And this is so not the time to be thinking about that.

The feeling of Steve's hand on him makes Eddie shiver. He tries to suppress it, but it wracks its way through his body regardless.

He knows Steve feels it. He has to, with the way his body is pressed so close to Eddie's. There's no way he misses it, the full body shudder, the way his breath hitches a little because of it.

Steve doesn't say anything, but he thumbs at the scars on Eddie's side, right where the scar meets his unmarred skin.

He's being so gentle with him that it makes Eddie want to whine. It makes him want to whine and rock his hips against Steve's, the delicate way he's touching him, just the slightest pressure of his thumb on his skin. It's like a tease, almost. It's like Steve wants Eddie to feel like this, like he knows exactly what touching him like this is doing to him.

Eddie tries to get his bearings right again, tries to be normal about this, but he's high, and it's been so long since he felt good like this. Part of him wants to give in completely, right away, wants to, to knock Steve onto his back and climb on top of him. Wants to press his entire body weight onto him, feel every inch of his skin against his own.

But he knows that's crazy. Even if Steve were receptive to the things that Eddie wants, he doesn't think Steve would want to jump right in. He seems to be the type that would want it to go a little slower, to want to be wooed in bed. He's the type to hold hands during sex and look deeply into his lover's eyes for the connection. At least, that's what Eddie assumes about him, anyway, from the way he talks about relationships and love and what he wants his future to look like.

So even as high as he is, he knows Steve probably wouldn't want to be pushed around like that, at least not at first.

The longer Eddie thinks about it, the longer he has Steve so close to him, the longer he has his hands on him, the more Eddie craves it. He's never wanted like this before, he doesn't think.

He's not super experienced beyond quick and dirty hand jobs or blow jobs. He's never had someone touch him like this before. Touching just to touch. Any touching during his previous encounters were just the quick preliminary touches to get the other guy out of his jeans. The touches didn't linger. They certainly didn't feel like this.

He tucks his head close to Steve's neck again, lets his lips just barely brush against the skin there, tries to keep his breath even. It could be written off as an accident, that he just got too close, because they're already so close. Steve could ignore it.

He doesn't.

He slides his hand down Eddie's side, past his hip to grip his thigh and hitch it up near Steve's hip. Eddie can't keep the gasp from escaping his mouth.

He's already half-hard, just from thinking thoughts about Steve. How the hell is he going to survive this?

Steve's hand travels back up the back of his thigh, stops right before it reaches his ass.

Eddie's heart is beating so fucking fast in his chest.

He pulls back to look at Steve. His eyes are dark, and his lips are red like he's been biting them. Eddie wants to bite them, too.

"Steve," Eddie says, unsure exactly what to say, what he could say to get Steve to want this. Does he have to convince him? Does he have to tell him it doesn't have to mean anything? It would be a lie - it would mean something to him. But if Steve only wants this now, when he's high, Eddie thinks he can handle that. He thinks he can be okay with it, if it means he gets to have this right now.

Steve shushes him though, doesn't seem to need any convincing before he leans in and kisses Eddie.

Eddie lets out a shuddering breath against his mouth.

He hadn't realized how much he's been wanting this because he never really let himself think about it. It's not just touch, not just anybody's touch, not just anybody's kiss, that he craves. It's Steve's touch, Steve's kiss. It's Steve's lips against his, Steve's body against his.

He obviously knows Steve is attractive, but they've grown close over the past few months.

He thinks Steve is probably one of the best friends he's ever had. And of course, with that comes other feelings because how could it not? How could anyone look at Steve and not want? How could anyone know Steve and not want him?

Eddie hasn't been thinking about it, about how he looks at Steve sometimes, about how he watches him. He hasn't thought about it because he knows what it means when his heart beats faster because of it. He knows what it means when his heart feels like it could burst out of his chest when he makes Steve laugh. He knows what it all means, so he hasn't let himself think about it.

But with Steve pressing sweet, gentle kisses against his mouth, the feelings slam into him. He's wanted this so bad.

This impossible crush, these impossible feelings that he has tried so hard to ignore, tried to get to lay dormant when he became friends with Steve, come rushing to the surface with him so close like this, with his mouth on Eddie's like it belongs there.

He pulls Steve's bottom lip into his mouth and bites it. He can't not. Steve gasps against his mouth.

He sucks on his lip gently, tongues at it to soothe the sting away, and hears Steve let out a sigh.

Steve's hand is still on his thigh, trapping his thigh against Steve's hip. He wants his hands on him, wants Steve to touch him everywhere.

He licks into Steve's mouth, slow and deep, their tongue sliding against each other like they've got all the time in the world.

Eddie's hand has been idle against Steve's chest, but he needs to touch, needs to feel him. So he slides his hand up to cup Steve's neck, to tilt his head to better lick into his mouth. He keeps his hand there, fingertips brushing the scar on his neck, his thumb digging into the hinge of his jaw.

He kisses him and kisses him and kisses him, until all the air in his lungs is gone, until he's hard in his shorts, until his lips feel swollen.

Steve's hand stays stubbornly on his thigh, not moving an inch up towards his ass. Eddie might be a little offended by it if he couldn't feel the way Steve is also hard in his shorts, if he hadn't just spent ten minutes getting to know the inside of his mouth.

He likes this so much, he realizes. He's never been the type to savor it - he hasn't ever really had the opportunity to. The few times he's had anything like this, it had to be quick, it had an expiration date, it had to be over as soon as possible. He's never just sat around and kissed someone until his jaw hurt, until his lips were aching.

He didn't expect it to be this easy, to just put a tiny little thread in the loop and have it spin so easily for him. He didn't think that maybe Steve had been wanting this too, craving this for just as long as he had.

He couldn't even imagine it - Steve, looking at him and wanting, Steve watching him when he's not looking the way that he watches Steve. He can't wrap his mind around it, Steve looking over at him being a dumbass in so many situations and still being like, yep, I want his tongue in my mouth.

But it feels like that's what this is. Because Steve's kissing him with just as much hunger. Steve's kissing him and has his hand on his thigh, gripping him like he owns him. Eddie wants him to push him on his back, to spread his thighs open and show him just how much of him he owns. He wants him.

He pushes his hips forward experimentally, a slow grind. It makes Steve groan against his mouth. The sound is addictive - Eddie wants to chase that sound, to make Steve groan over and over and over as he chases his pleasure between Eddie's thighs.

Steve bites his lip, harder than Eddie had bitten his, and it stings. They've been at it for so long that Eddie's lips were already getting swollen and sensitive, so Steve biting one of them like that pulls a moan out of him.

He pulls back, breathing heavy, to kiss his way down Steve's neck, to bite at his neck. He wants to cover him in marks - deep, purpling bruises. He wants to see his neck and his chest covered, a molten mess of love bites.

His heart stupidly stutters in his chest at the thought of biting a bruise the shape of a heart into his skin. God, he's so gone for him. He has a heart boner for him in addition to a regular one.

He pulls the neck of Steve's sweater down and sucks a bruise into the smooth, tan skin of his collarbone, and when he pulls back, the skin is a deep red. He smiles at his work, knows it's going to deepen in color with time. He's never felt possessive like this before, like he wants to cover him in bruises so everyone knows he's someone's, so everyone knows he's Eddie's.

Is he Eddie's?

The look in his eyes when Eddie looks back up at his face says yes.

Steve pulls Eddie on top of him, their bodies flush together again, and gets a hand in his hair. He tugs his head to the side so he can bite at Eddie's neck the way that Eddie was just gnawing on his. It startles a moan out of him. He didn't know his neck was so sensitive.

He lets Steve suck a bruise into his skin and tries not to accidentally come because of it. All the kissing, their bodies pressed together, their cocks hard and grinding together through layers of fabric - it all feels like so much, too much almost.

He's on top of him, but he doesn't feel in control right now at all.

He can barely stop himself from grinding down and coming in his underwear like a teenager. He wants it, wants to come with Steve's mouth on his skin.

Steve kisses his neck, where his skin is likely bruised now, before he pulls back, thumbing at the mark like he's satisfied he left his mark on Eddie as well.

Steve releases his hair from his grip and slides his hand down between them. Eddie can't stop the groan that leaves his mouth at feeling Steve palm at him.

"Is this okay?" he asks, and Eddie isn't sure what he's talking about - his hand touching Eddie's dick? Hell yeah, that's okay. This entire thing? Again, hell fucking yeah.

He nods, because any way you spin it, everything they've been doing is a-okay with Eddie.

Steve grins up at him and Eddie can't help but grin back at him, still in awe that this is happening.

Steve undoes the buttons on Eddie's shorts and unties the tie at the waistband of his own shorts.

Eddie sits up to shove his shorts down and off, watching Steve do the same, leaving his shorts around his thighs.

He looks at Steve's bulge, his cock hard and straining in his underwear. He wants to lean in and put his mouth on it. Get the fabric nice and wet with a mix of his spit and Steve's precome. He wants to suck it through the fabric, tongue at the soft fabric and pull noises from Steve the entire time.

He wants to put his mouth on Steve's thighs. They're paler than the rest of his tan skin, milky and smooth. He wants to see that skin mottled and bruised too.

He can wait for those things, though. He thinks he has time. The thought makes him damn near giddy - the thought of more, of doing this again and in different ways, in every way possible. They haven't even made each other come yet and he's thinking about all the other ways he wants him. He's so far gone on him.

When Eddie lowers himself back down, he tries to keep his reaction to their cocks rubbing up against each other through their underwear to a minimum, but he feels a shiver run through him. It feels overwhelming, and they aren't even naked, aren't even touching cocks with nothing separating them.

He thinks that would probably be enough to make him come immediately, feeling the velvety skin of Steve's cock against his own as they grind together, if how overwhelming this feels is any indication. He feels like he's just a few breaths away from shoving his hips down and humping Steve with abandon until he's making a mess of both of them.

He grinds down against him slowly, trying not to overwhelm himself. He presses his mouth to Steve's again, tangling his tongue with his as his hips move. He rolls his hips against Steve's, their dicks pressed together tightly.

He pulls back to look down at the way they're pressed together and he groans. There's a wet spot on Steve's underwear where he's leaking precome into the fabric. He's losing his goddamn mind.

He sits up and pulls his shirt off so he has a moment to take a breath.

He leans back in and grinds down on Steve again, pushing Steve's sweater up, not sure how he's even still wearing it. Eddie's sweating and he was only in a short sleeved shirt.

Steve enthusiastically pulls his sweater up and in the excitement, it gets a little tangled getting over his head, so they have to stop grinding against each other to figure it out. Steve's head pops out of the head hole of his sweater and Eddie can't help but sit up and laugh. Steve arms are caught up in his sweater, awkwardly making his arms box his head in.

He looks flushed and aroused and out of breath from struggling with his sweater and his hair is a mess, but he's still so unfairly pretty.

Steve pouts at him and says, "Don't laugh at me. Help me out of this?"

"Hmm, I don't know," Eddie says with a grin, sliding his hands up to push the sweater up a little, exposing more of Steve's biceps. Eddie wants to bite them. "I kind of like having you at my disposal here."

He says it as a joke, mostly, ready to help Steve get his arms untangled from his sweater. But he sees the way Steve's eyes darken, sees the way he licks his lips like he likes that thought, the thought of being at Eddie's mercy.

He asks, "You like that?" because he has to be sure he isn't reading this wrong. Steve nods his head, slow and sure.

So Eddie grinds his hips down slowly, pushes Steve's sweater up more, to free up more of his arms. He pushes his hands into the arm holes of the sweater and tangles his fingers with Steve's hands where they lay draped above his head. He knows their hands are going to get sweaty underneath the fabric of Steve's sweater, but he doesn't care right now.

He presses his weight more fully onto Steve, uses his hands to press Steve's into the mattress as leverage. He spreads his legs, knees digging into the bed so he can roll his hips against Steve's harder, still keeping the pace slow and steady.

"Fuck," Steve says on a breath out, keening at the rough way Eddie's cock is sliding against his.

They're breathing the same air, not really kissing, mouths barely an inch apart.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods desperately. He closes the gap between their mouths and licks at Steve's open mouth, his tongue brushing past Steve's lips, tasting him.

His brain is only a little hazy, but Steve's tongue feels hot against his, hot like the embers at the end of the joint they just shared.

He rocks down against Steve faster, picking up the pace, feels the vibration of his moans against his mouth more than he hears them.

He feels the familiar coiling in his stomach, the tightening of his core muscles that tells him he's going to come soon.

He gives into it, huddling impossibly closer, hips moving faster, less controlled than before. He's sweating, his hands on Steve's are damp, beads of sweat rolling down his neck. But he keeps going, he's so fucking close.

"Stevie," he whispers against his mouth.

Steve nods, says back, "I'm gonna come."

Yeah, yeah.

So Eddie releases one of Steve's hands and gets it between them, squeezes Steve through his underwear. He lets Steve jerk his hips up against his hand, chasing his orgasm. He curls his hand around Steve more firmly, hears the curse that falls from his lips.

He bites at Steve's bottom lip, the feeling of his cock riding up against the back of his hand as he gets Steve off overwhelming, Steve's gasping breaths and groans the only thing he can focus on.

Steve lets out a sharp cry and Eddie feels the wet heat of his come seeping through Steve's briefs. He strokes Steve's cock through his briefs, feeling him tremble a little when it gets to be overstimulating.

Steve, having finally weaseled his hands out of his sweater, rubs his hands up and down Eddie's back gently as he comes down.

It's the tenderness, this moment of connection, that has Eddie leaning down and pressing his teeth into the soft skin of Steve's neck.

He's still riding close to the edge and now feeling the satisfaction of making Steve come. He turns his hand over and barely has to put any pressure on his dick before he's coming too, his open mouth pressed against Steve's throat.

He pants through the waves of it, feeling his briefs get stickier and wetter with each pulse.

He's shivering when it's over, the sweat on his skin drying, the come in his underwear cooling.

His hand feels sticky when he pulls it away and he wonders if he'd taste a combination of their come if he licked his palm right now. His cock jerks painfully at the thought.

He rolls off Steve, sated and sweaty, breath still shaky.

Steve reaches between them and laces their fingers together.

"Are we- what are we doing?" he asks, a little nervous, looking over at him.

Steve brings their entwined hands up to his mouth and kisses the back of Eddie's hand.

"Whatever you want," Steve says easily, letting their hands fall between them again.

Eddie steels himself and bites the bullet. "And if I want everything?" he asks, heart in his throat.