#my*stuff

His pulse skips as Steve’s hands tighten on his hips. Steve takes a step, slotting his thigh between Eddie’s, who eagerly  tugs the front of Steve’s shirt to further close the near non-existent space between them. He rolls his hips along Steve’s thigh, gasping when he’s suddenly dragged backwards, almost tripping over the corner of the runner that leads to his room.

Eddie’s hands roam over Steve’s chest, laughing into Steve’s mouth when one of his rings catches on the hair that sits there. Steve’s hisses into his mouth before he nips lightly along Eddie’s lips, not enough to bite, never enough to possibly break skin. Eddie just hisses back, mouth moving onto Steve’s neck as the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed.

Steve gently lowers them down, using his strength to gently but quickly flip their positions. Another thing Steve won’t allow is for Eddie to never be in control, to never to be on top. Eddie goes with the motions, eager to take control even if he doesn’t fully agree with the reasons behind it.

Eddie sinks heavily against Steve, using his position to pull Steve’s neck further back to deepen the mark he’s always determined to leave behind, even if Steve will heal too quickly for it to stay for too long. Steve lets him, lost in the scent that is Eddie Munson and his blood. Blood that he’ll never allow himself to taste, no matter how much Eddie begs. Again, it doesn’t stop Eddie from trying.

They slowly make their way towards the head of the bed, with Steve sitting upright with Eddie in his lap, knees tight around his hips. Eddie pulls away from Steve’s neck, finally, sighing contently he leaves a mark, even if it starts to heal before his eyes. Next time he thinks, kiss swollen lips crashing back onto Steve’s as he takes his face in his hands, rings searingly cold against the heat of Steve’s skin.

He rocks forward once, a strained moan escaping both men that leaves them both panting into each other’s mouth. It makes Steve’s insides burn, another strained moan escaping him as he starts to want Eddie in more ways than one.

“Sorry,” Eddie breathes, closing the distance between them, his tongue plunging deep into Steve’s mouth in apology. Steve takes it gladly, his vampiric sight making his head go foggy as his body yearns for more than Eddie’s body pressed up against his. Eddie’s tongue presses flat against the roof of his mouth and Steve stiffens. Eddie freezes with him, except for his tongue which continue searching because–

Steve pulls away with a pop, careful to open his mouth to avoid something stupid like cutting his boyfriend’s tongue with his vampire teeth that have chosen now to extract from his gums.

“Shit,” he sighs, head turning away to hide himself as best he can while Eddie remains in this lap. “Shit shit shit, that’s not supposed to happen, I’m–”

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------ start of pt 17 -------

Steve somehow, somehow, doesn’t break him. Mentally, he feels like his brain is about to explode and ooze out of his ears, which is probably why he’s being so gentle as his hand, cigarette abandoned somewhere on the floor, comes up to take Eddie’s face. His heart is thrumming in his chest, his fingers feel like they’re buzzing, legs like he’s balancing on a beam a hundred feet in the air because he’s kissing Eddie Munson.

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Eddie hums in confusion, wincing as Stephan licks into his stinging mouth. Eddie’s hands come up at the intrusion, grabbing a fistful of the lapels of his collar because of course Mr. Prep wears fucking polos. Eddie’s tries to pull away, but Stephan just moves with him, moves until he’s flush up against him and he can’t move. When he actually starts to kiss him back he realizes he’s the one who pulled him in.

He should be fighting back, he hates him, shouldn’t he? Except he’s kissing him, doesn’t want it to stop, and Eddie thinks he might die right there, either from the stinging pain or from how disgustingly hot it is. He feels Stephan's fingers rake towards the nape of his neck and he shudders at the touch, gasps when his neck is turned to somehow further deepen the searing kiss.

He thinks about biting that top lip that’s between his, also considers shoving him away. He can’t decide which, but then the guy sucks his bleeding tongue into his mouth and his knees go weak, and suddenly he’s pulling him even closer.

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Sweet like honey, smooth like his favorite shot of bourbon. Eddie’s blood isn’t anything like Steve dreamed, but better. Steve can feel his blood escaping him from the corner of his mouth and he laments. With his other hand, Steve takes Eddie’s chin and parts his bleeding lips. Steve watches as blood trickles down, pooling over his thumb. He leans in as he uses his thumb to catch the droplet, smearing his lips before pressing his thumb over the cut. Eddie hisses with the drag of his split lip, his left hand rushing to take hold of Steve’s wrists, yet he doesn’t make an attempt to pull his hand away.

Steve sighs contently as he leans forward and spreads his tongue flat, laps at his lips once before kissing him again. And Eddie lets him, kissing him back just as desperately, as if he’s the one starved for blood. Steve bites his own lip enough to nick himself, knows he should help the guy heal with his blood. It only makes the kiss messier, and it makes Steve want more than just the little bit of blood he gets.

There’s a part of him that wants to just take him, to take Eddie by the neck and just drink directly from the vein. But this other part, the more persistent one that wants to just hear that sweet moan he heard in his dreams that he can get from just this.

Steve takes a step, slots his thigh between Eddie’s who hums with the movement, a gentle, tentative roll of his hips that makes Steve exhale forcefully from his nose. Eddie bites at Steve’s bleeding lip and takes his own drink, his human body instinctively desperate for the taste of the healing vampire blood and Steve groans, feels his grasps on Eddie get tight, suddenly too tight.

Then the gravity of what he’s done hits him and Steve pulls away with a low belly butterflies forming suck, earning him a shiver-inducing moan from Eddie. Just like in his dreams.

The all too familiar roaring returns to his ears as he turns his head away, placing his hands on either side of Eddie’s head along the door, way too fast to be perceived as human. His gums ache as his teeth further extract and he feels the start of a headache forming as his vampiric seight heightens. He can feel the bloodlust veins squirming underneath the skin around his eyes and he shuts them, as if he could hide it away from himself and Eddie.

Eddie whose blood you just drank you absolute fucking goddamn idiot.

Eddie sighs a stuttered breath, seems frozen where Steve left him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve murmurs, burying his face into his own shoulder. “I don’t know- I mean, I do know, but it’s, I’m–”

“Weaver?"

“Harrington,” he mumbles on autopilot in correction, voice barely above a whisper. “It's Harrington. My name is Steve Harrington.”

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Eddie’s heart and mind are both racing. With a free hand he reaches up, fingers to his lips. How did this even happen, he thinks as he licks his lips, still buzzing and this side of bruised from their kiss. Who the hell is Steve Harrington, and, wait. What the fuck happened to my tongue, my lip–

“My blood. It healed you,” Stephan, no, Steve murmurs in answers, as if he knew what he was thinking, his voice muffled by his shoulder. Eddie goes stiff, suddenly feels the bubbling of panic build in his chest.

“What do you mean your blood, Weav- Harrington? What, who the hell is Stephan Weaver, then, what–” Steve pulls away and stands as straight as his spine allows, hands falling from where they crowded him. For the first time Eddie sees him for what he truly is.

This Steve Harrington is a vampire.

And Eddie does what he does best. He runs.

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