Closer. He needs to be closer, so Steve tightens his legs around Eddie's hips, scooting upwards, until his dick is rubbing against Eddie's stomach. It feels good, everything feels so fucking good right now that he closes his eyes, and tilts his head back. 

Eddie chases after him, lips brushing against his throat as he brings his hips up and down, sliding deeper into Steve in a slow, enticing slide.

Steve lets out a moan that sounds loud, even to his own ears. Shit.

He's supposed to be quiet. He promised he would be. Could be.

But that was before Eddie's body was all over his own. Before Eddie had slid right inside him, like that's where he was always meant to be.

The frat party is still raging below, but the odds of anyone hearing them over the music and other chaos is slim.

But there's no reason to risk it.

The lock on the door is iffy at best, and Steve scooted his dresser in front of the closed door, but if it fails, that won't buy them a whole lot of time.

Even knowing all that, Steve still can't help it, can't contain himself, as he lets out a groan that he can feel deep in his chest.

"Sssh," Eddie says, and Steve's trying. He's been trying. He really has. All night. But it's been so long since they've been able to do this. Too many people around, too many obligations that Steve can't ever manage to sneak away from. 

It's always torture to see Eddie across a room, but being unable to just have him all to himself. 

Tonight though, tonight is Steve's.

And when Eddie nails his prostate dead-on with precision, Steve keens.

"Harrington," Eddie warns.

Steve covers his own mouth with both hands, clamping down, squeezing his fingers into his cheeks, but he still arches his back higher. Wanting more. And as he gains more clearance between his ass and the sheets, Eddie grins at the opportunity he's been given. He reaches underneath Steve, and slaps him on the ass, making Steve giggle from beneath his sweaty palms.

"I can keep you quiet," Eddie assures, and leans forward, picking up the lighter and the half-smoked joint from the ashtray. He lights it, takes another hit, holding the smoke in as he reaches down, prying Steve's hands off his face. Then he closes his mouth over Steve's, letting the smoke waft from his mouth into Steve's.

Finally Eddie pulls back, intently watching as Steve holds it in for as long as he can, before exhaling it out through his nose.

"Goddamn," Eddie says, putting the ashtray back down so he can grip Steve's hips. "You know what that does to me."

Of course Steve knows what works on Eddie, and he grins, pleased with himself.

Eddie leans forward, asking in a hushed whisper, "You're just asking for it tonight, aren't you?"

And he is. 

He is, he is, he is.

And this change in angle is goddamn perfect, forcing out a long, desperate whine.

"Steven Harrington," Eddie admonishes, "what am I gonna do with you?"

"Fuck me. Come in me," Steve answers, as if that were the question Eddie was posing. 

Eddie laughs, "Like I already said, you are just asking for it tonight, aren't you?"

"Yes. I am. Because I need it."

"Where do you need it?" Eddie asks, and Steve knows he's playing with him, because he knows him better than anyone else on earth.

"In me, in me," Steve whines, fisting the sheets under him, begging for it. Begging for anything Eddie wants to give him. 

And he hopes Eddie will give him everything he can.

"What do you want in you?" Eddie asks, lips brushing against his ear, his voice low.

"You," Steve says, "your cock, your come."

"You want me to breed you?"

Steve's dick jumps, more precum helping to slick the way as the head of his cock rubs against the coarse hair on his belly. On Eddie's. Trapped between both of them.

"Oh, you like that idea," Eddie says, and fuck yes he does. 

Eddie keeps talking, "I'll keep doing it until it takes. Until we can show everybody you're mine."

Steve nods, "I'm yours. I want to be yours."

But then Eddie leans back, sliding out of him, and that's the exact opposite of what Steve wanted. 

He doesn't have time to complain about it, as Eddie manhandles him over onto his knees, and Steve feels his head jerk back a little as Eddie uses a hand to smooth back Steve's sweaty, damp hair off of his forehead, before he's cinching a baseball cap down onto Steve's head, backwards. The plastic snap adjuster strip is digging into Steve's forehead as Eddie pulls it down, tight.

Steve wants to collapse, wants to grind down into the sheets that he knows he's dripping all over. But there's no time for that. Eddie doesn't allow it before he's back inside Steve. Fucking him hard now. For real. Chasing his orgasm so he can come right in Steve.

Giving Steve what he wants.

Now, Steve's just along for the ride, and he's a-okay with that. Most definitely. He feels like he's been balancing on the knife's edge forever, and he thinks he could probably come untouched, just like this, Eddie fucking him so goddamn good.

He's always down to get fucked, and hard, by Eddie. Because he's learned there's nothing better. Nothing more satisfying, or grounding.

It's so easy to get lost in the feeling of it, so easy to nearly float away with the pleasure, but Steve hears Eddie's tell-tale groan, hips snapping one more time as he comes inside Steve, saying, "There. Take what you wanted from me."

And maybe he should be embarrassed, but that's when Steve comes all over the bed below.

There's no time to even breathe around that though, because Eddie immediately pulls out, and then replaces his cock with his fingers. Shoving them deep into Steve, "Yeah. I'll keep it all in you. Don't worry."

Steve nods, he never worries when he's with Eddie. Especially not right now, while Eddie's acting as a makeshift plug as best he can, keeping his come inside Steve.

And they stay that way for a while, Steve on his knees, Eddie leaning over his back, fingers buried deep, until Steve starts to feel it. His heartbeat is throbbing in his ass, clinched around Eddie's fingers, and he finally says, "Okay. I'm calling it."

Eddie's fingers slide free, and Steve feels open, and kind of hollow, but he knows all good things must come to an end. At least temporarily.

He feels the bed shake as Eddie climbs off of it, feet padding towards the door.

"Did you really have to move the dresser?" Eddie asks, trying to pick it up to get it away from the door, but his hands keep slipping, and he's making no progress.

"Just scoot it," Steve suggests.

"And scratch the hardwood floor? No fucking thanks," Eddie complains, still trying to pick it up, unsuccessfully with his slick hands.

"You're the one that wanted to play frat boy and the big, bad drug dealer tonight. So, I just added to the reality," Steve answers.

Eddie is the one that wanted to go back in time, back to how they met. Back to how they fell in love, before they grew up.

Now, Eddie is waving his hands towards the floor, dramatically.

"Emptying all the dresser drawers seems a little unnecessary," Eddie adds.

"Do you not recall what a frat house bedroom actually looked like?" Steve questions, eyebrow quirked as he watches Eddie try to figure out what his next move is.

"Well, the dresser and the clothes are definitely adding to the reality of me not being able to exit our bedroom to get to the bathroom," Eddie snarks back, trying to grip the back and side of the wooden dresser with both hands. "And now it's got come and lube fingerprints all over it."

"That's what Pledge is for," Steve banters, tucking his hands behind his head, backwards cap still on his head, so he can watch the rest of this show. It's his favorite one. Has been for years now. Eddie working himself into a lather, getting revved up, for no real reason.

All that big personality shining through.

"Pledge or pledges?" Eddie asks, and Steve laughs. There aren't any pledges in their house, they are both long past college age, even if they don't always feel that way. But there is some furniture polish under the sink. At least, he assumes there is, it's not like he's used it recently.

"Pledge. With a capital P."

Then, to Steve's horror, Eddie bends down and grabs a shirt, Steve's shirt, from the floor and wipes his hands.

"Hey! That was still clean!" Steve hollers, but knows he had that coming. Big time.

"Well, it was on the floor," Eddie banters back, arms waving, before finally getting the dresser picked up, and away from the door. 

Steve watches him go, bare ass illuminated by the nightlight in the hallway of their house. Their perfect house that they've made into their home.

It doesn't take long before Eddie's back, warm washcloth in hand, and Steve is stunned when it hits him square in the chest with a wet splat.

"Uh, rude!" Steve snaps, picking it up, pinched between two fingers.

"Oh, was the frat house fantasy already over?" Eddie goads, and then places a knee on the bed, leaning over Steve, pressing his lips to Steve's, and taking the washcloth from his hand. "Let me take care of you then, princess."

"Well, I'd say. That's more like it," Steve says in his best haughty voice, but rolls over onto his belly, avoiding the wet spot they'll still have to deal with before bed. 

Then Steve giggles.

"You're stoned, aren't you?" Eddie asks, but doesn't wait for an answer, "Goddamn, Harrington, you're such a lightweight these days."

"I have to work on Monday," Steve answers. "I have to teach children, Eddie." Because he does. He can't be stoned for that, legal weed or not.

Eddie presses his cheek to Steve's back, "You'll be fine by Monday, sweetheart. Nobody will ever know what Mr. Harrington does in his free time."

"You think?" Steve asks.

"I do," Eddie answers, gently removing Steve's hat, and Steve buries his face into his pillow, smiling as Eddie brushes Steve's damp hair off the back of his neck, saying "But until then, I'll take care of you."

And Eddie, his husband, his love, his damn whole world, does just that.

Modern college town AU featuring frat president Steve, who's been convinced no one will ever really love him by his parents, his past relationships, and Tommy & Carol. The latter not only "date" him but regularly use him and his money by utilizing his self worth issues against him.

Hes barely scrapping by in class, kind of wants to pick up a side job to get out from under his parents financial thumb, and enjoys talking shit with his sort of new friend Robin at a retro vinyl store, but with Tommy and Carol reporting back to his parents/the frat he's not able to take up Robin's offer to work there with her.

The frat keeps him busy the rest of the time--he's a legacy, and several members are deeply entrenched into a competition against the other fraternities that frequently cause problems on campus due to their pranks, parties and general bullshit. Steve has to run shoulders with the college Dean and such a LOT to peace keep.

Eddie works at the major game shop across the road from the vinyl place, which helps pay for the automotive program he's in part time at the college. He runs all the D&D campaigns, including several for adults and kids. A lot of the events he tries to get going on campus get shut down as the school and police target him and the "scary kids" in a show of misdirected anger at the frats they can't touch without risk of losing out on their parents money.

Eddies particularly pissed at Steve after an infamous incident involving Eddie spearheading a pokemon go event that came into contact with some kind of frat beer run, which led to Eddie being wrongfully arrested.

Their enemies piece began with Eddie storming into Steve's frat, demanding he do something as he's one of the more influential presidents and Steve, goaded on by Tommy and Carol, refusing.

This is further cemented when Eddie finds out one of his favorite high school players, Dustin, is close with Steve and defends him constantly, refusing to elaborate much when pressed other than to tell Eddie that Steve used to watch Dustin a lot as a babysitting gig and he's a "really good guy under all the frat shit Eddie, seriously."

(Dustin does not elaborate that his mother was on the PTA with Steve's mother and that she clocked his parents abuse, and used the babysitting angle to get Steve out of that house as a kid, and Steve sees Ma Henderson more as a proper parental figure than his own parents.)

Throw in some light sub/dom dynamics, Eddie breaking into Steve's room as revenge only to overhear Tommy and Carol being downright vicious to him, and a "who did this to you" crying in the rain scene before the prompt line finally kicks in.

It's taken time to get used to it, taken time to learn how to submit without any pushy, loud demands. He's still learning. But Steve tries. He breathes through his nose, sucking in air, and then pushes it back out again.

Eddie squeezes his shoulder in time with his breathing. A deep squeeze as he inhales, and a slow release of pressure as he exhales. And that does feel good. Centering. It's quiet, and completely still in the room. The only sound is Steve's breathing, and Eddie's rings slightly clinking together as he applies steady pressure to Steve's bare skin, and then lets it fade, again and again.

Eddie may be able to temper himself, may have all the self-control in the world in this room, but Steve can't say the same for himself. 

So, he's gagged. Eddie's bandana rolled up and forced between his teeth, tied into place behind his head. The fabric is wet, and he can't help touching it repeatedly with his tongue. Being held open this way, for this long, is making his jaw a little sore, but in a good way. Everything Eddie does, even if Steve's less than gung ho about it from the outset, is good.

Steve's learned to trust the process. Even if he's terrible at it. Because Steve knew he was supposed to be quiet tonight. And yet, he still couldn't manage to do even that one simple thing. Instead, he was gasping and moaning and whining so loud that Eddie decided it had to be done for him with a black strip of fabric, decorated in long-ago faded skulls.

"That's better, finally some peace and quiet around here," Eddie says, and Steve thinks that's a little ironic. Eddie doesn't have a leg to stand on about keeping quiet. He hasn't gone twenty minutes without yapping for as long as Steve's known him.

Unless they're doing this, of course, where Eddie Munson is suddenly as quiet as a church mouse. Somehow. Against all odds.

But Steve nods, agreeing with Eddie's statement, because that's what Eddie needs from him. Wants. Desires. 

Steve likes the noise.

But he's giving Eddie the silence he's requested.

Because when it comes down to it, Steve's always willing to submit to him, even if this particular line item is not something that really revs his engine. Steve would rather hear Eddie. His voice, his laugh, his whole, far too big to contain, personality.

And yet, somehow Eddie does just that: contains it. He tamps it down, bottles it up, shoves it away, and Steve is a little bit in awe of that, still, all these years later.

Steve swallows as much as he can around the gag, and it always makes him feel like he's gonna choke. It's not totally silent, can't be, as he works his throat to get the lump there to go down. He's sure it can't be pretty. And he likes to be pretty for Eddie. Likes when Eddie looks at him like he's still stunned that he caught Steve Harrington, and got to keep him.

It's selfish, and vain, and-

"Steve," Eddie says, and Steve opens his eyes, looking up at him. Forgetting where his brain was wandering off to, mid-thought, as Eddie's eyes lock on his.

He's fine. He's good. And Eddie sees that, checking in, and once Steve's sure Eddie has found what he's looking for, Steve closes his eyes again.

If he wanted out of this, all he'd have to do is stand up. Or reach up and untie the fabric. And Eddie would let him. Eddie's in control, Eddie's leading, but Steve always has an easy out. A clearly marked exit ramp, if needed. Eddie's always made that abundantly clear.

Steve doesn't really like to be restrained, and Eddie really doesn't like to worry about him.

He suddenly wants to be closer to Eddie, and leans his head back further, until the back of his head touches Eddie's stomach.

Eddie strokes his hair, and it's nice. Relaxing. As much as he can relax on his knees, jaw sore. 

Then, Eddie shifts and uses his thumb to stroke between Steve's eyebrows, soft upward motions, and it's like Eddie is pulling the tension straight out of him. It's like his strings have been cut, as he slumps forward, and Eddie was clearly prepared for that, because he guides him up onto the bed.

Adjusts his pliant form, and finally slides into Steve's body. Steve breathes deep through his nose, and moans around the bandana, as Eddie's hands grip is his hips, finally fucking him. Steve's cheek and chest are pressed into the sheets, his ass pulled upwards so Eddie can get the angle he wants.

Hips snapping against Steve's ass, his bony hips digging in, working to bring this all to a close. 

And Steve shuts his eyes and enjoys the ride. 

Then he feels Eddie's fingers untying the fabric, feels the bandana being pulled from his mouth, feels the release of being released wash over him. This must be what a dog that's been let off-leash feels like.

Free.

"Let me hear you now," Eddie says.

And Steve lets loose, finding his voice. It's dry, and scratchy, but he gives Eddie everything he has, and Eddie gives it back to him, tenfold. 

Loud moans, louder words, and deafening, ear-ringing amounts of love.