Being with Buck is nothing like Eddie thought it would be.
To be fair, itās not like he thought about it much at all. Sure, there was always something, tucked away in some back corner of his mind. Something he wasnāt ready to look at, that he could never quite name. Looking back, heās pretty sure itās called wanting.
But wanting something and taking it are two different things. Even if that something is right there, staring you down, begging you to close your fist around it and hold it. For years Eddie let it hang, untouched, between them. Tried to ignore it, pretended it was something else.
But he's tired. God, heās so tired of pretending.
So he stops. And he takes.
Except here's the thing no one tells you about wanting: it doesnāt really stop once you have it. It grows. It expands and it stretches until it fills up every corner, until itās all you can think about.
So now that he has Buck, that he can look, that he can touchā¦itās like Eddie canāt help himself. His hands are always searchingāfingers finding Buckās wrist, wrapping gently around it. Knuckles brushing over the back of his hand just so he can feel the warmth of his skin. A palm resting heavy on Buckās thigh, slowly sliding higher until Buckās cheeks turn pink. His foot tangling with Buckās under the table, his fingers grazing the curve of Buckās neck when no one is watching.
It happens everywhereāat the grocery store, at work, in the quiet between calls, in the crowded noise of everyday life. Whenever thereās a chance, Eddie takes, and takes, and takes.
And itās not selfish, because Buck craves it just as much. And itās not a life that belongs to someone else, because itās Eddieās. Because Eddie made a choice. He picked joy.
And he would pick it a thousand times over.
Because now, at the end of another long shift, as they head towards their jeep, their home, their kid, their life, Eddie gets to drop his bag to the ground and shove Buck against the nearest engine. He gets to press their lips together, sneak a hand under the hem of Buckās t-shirt.
They kiss, and kiss, and kiss, until Eddieās lungs burn, and then they kiss some more because Eddie is greedy, heās starving, and heās so ridiculously, all-consumingly in love. All he wants is to drink Buck in, to steal every tiny little gasp he makes and keep it for himself. Forever.
His fingers tighten on Buckās skin, holding on, mostly to stop himself from going further (not that he doesnāt want to, but palming Buck through his jeans in the middle of the day, on work property, is a little much even for him.) Buck makes another small sound, and Eddie canāt help but smile into his mouth.
When he pulls back Buck blinks at him, hazed and glassy eyed, and so beautiful.
āWhat was that for?ā he asks, breathless.
Eddie shrugs. āJust wanted to.ā
inspired by this alli post :) @bucksbeagle
