#poly!steddie

He knows it in the lines of your face in the morning, soft with sleep. In the heat of Steve’s palm against the small of his back. In the smell of lavender soap and coconut sunscreen and bitter coffee grounds.

He knows it in the way Steve collects all your scribbled notes on the fridge like scripture:

don’t forget milk!

back by 9

love you ◡̈

In the way you collect pieces of time, too.

Movie stubs. A wrinkled matchbook from the Hideout where Eddie first whispered I love you. The guitar pick he gave you as an anniversary present, his initials etched on the back in a shaky scrawl.

You tuck love into the corners of your lives. You make a home out of the moments.

Eddie’s learned all the soft, tender things.

But he knows about all the filthy things, too. He’s no saint.

He knows the exact way your head tips when you’re close. That the tender patch behind your ear, where your perfume fades, is a straight line to the prettiest sound he’s ever heard.

He knows you cry a little when edged too long. That you beg so sweet when you’re made to wait. That your favorite toy is still that very first lavender vibrator; you come harder with it than anything else.

He knows Steve’s thighs twitch when he’s seconds from the edge. That he likes getting head with someone holding his hands. That there’s a small mole right at the base of his cock that makes him squirm every time Eddie kisses it.

He knows Steve gets possessive when he watches you and Eddie together, jaw tightening, eyes going dark.

She’s fucking ours, Munson.  

Eddie lives for it. Needs it.

And he knows you love it, too. Being the center of their orbit, shared and indulged.   

He’s addicted to all of it.

But more than all that, he’s learned himself.

He’s learned he can sit still. That he can sit on the floor between your legs, your fingers carding through his hair while Steve flips lazily through some worn issue of Cosmo, reading the dumb quizzes aloud just to make you both laugh. He can sit there for hours and not feel the itch to move or talk or fill the silence.

Because it’s not empty anymore. It’s full.

He’s learned that crying doesn’t make him weak. That he can have a nightmare and wake up with someone already there, rubbing his back, telling him he’s safe.

He knows how it feels to have both of you around him at once—your thighs around his head, Steve’s hand around his cock. Knows the heady rush of being stretched open while one of you holds him down and the other tells him he’s beautiful.

He’s learned he likes the marks. Likes the scratches down his back from your nails. The bruises on his hips where Steve grips tight. Likes waking up sore and smiling, knowing exactly where the ache came from.

He’s learned that being loved isn’t just about sex.

But god, the sex—it’s reverent and filthy and everything he never let himself want before now.

And above all else, he loves getting to feel you fall apart in his arms.

Loves even more that you let him piece you back together.

So tonight, when you pull him down onto the couch with a hushed little come here, whispering dirty promises with that half-lidded, love-drunk grin, he follows without a word.  

You're laughing as you climb into his lap, fingers diving into his hair, greedy in the way he secretly adores. The TV glows soft in the corner, a rerun that’s been on since Steve left a couple hours ago for his evening shift.  

He should be home by now.

The thought passes through him distantly until your thighs tighten around his hips, until your hips start to roll against his own, dragging heat through the front of his sweats. He shudders, hands slipping under your shirt on instinct.

“Baby, you—fuck—you’re gonna get yourself in trouble doing that.”

Your lips hover over his, eyes gleaming with something wicked and sweet. “What if I want to get in trouble?”

He huffs a helpless laugh, head thudding back against the couch. “Damn menace…”

“You know it.” You hum before dragging him into a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. 

Impatient fingers start to tug at his curls, gentle and then not. The rhythm of your hips becomes insistent, the couch squeaking softly beneath you, each movement punctuated by shared breaths and the quiet, hungry smacks of mouths finding each other again and again.

And then:

“I’m home!”

The soft jangle of keys hits the dish by the door, followed by the muted thud of shoes kicked off onto linoleum.

“In here, baby!” You chirp, still smiling, still perched on his lap.

Eddie, breathless, doesn’t know whether to laugh or brace himself.

“Coming!” Steve’s voice calls back, happy and sing-song.

The faint clink of the fridge door. Running water. The familiar shuffle of socked feet across hardwood.  

Then Steve appears in the doorway.

Shoulder propped against the frame, arms crossed and bulging in a tight blue and white polo. Glass of water held loose in one hand, he lets his gaze drift lazily across the room, drinking in every detail.

You in Eddie’s lap. Eddie’s red mouth. His rumpled shirt. The slow, not-so-innocent grind of your hips where you haven’t quite stopped moving.

Steve grins.

You lift your chin and smile back, shameless. One arm loops around Eddie’s neck, staking claim, before you lean down to press a soft kiss to his jaw—punctuation.

Steve quirks a brow, strolls in. Sets the glass on the side table and lets his eyes linger on both of you.

“Well,” he drawls, lips curling. “This looks cozy.”

He leans down to kiss you first, quick and familiar. Then he turns, giving one to Eddie too, lips brushing his temple, fingers grazing his nape.

And Eddie—god, he still flinches a little. Not because it’s unwelcome, but because it never stops surprising him. That Steve can touch like that, can give away affection so freely. Like it costs him nothing. Like it means everything.

That it can be this easy.

It burns, sometimes. In the terrifying way. In the good way.

Steve drops onto the couch beside him in a slow sprawl, legs open, hand already resting on your thigh.

There, sitting hip to hip with Eddie, he turns his head and just... looks at you. Holds your gaze for a long, quiet beat. Like your face is a blackboard and he’s solving some wild, unspeakable equation. His eyes glow dark amber under the lamplight, edged with a curious thought.

Not math, Eddie thinks. Chemistry. Combustion.

Eventually, Steve seems to decide on a tone.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he croons, all brassy and honey-warm.

The sound of it swims through the room, thick as syrup. Steve’s fingers trail slowly up your neck, the backs of his knuckles brushing along your jaw in a gesture so gentle it makes your breath catch. They slip into your hair, threading through with the same care one might use to untangle a silk ribbon.

Until...

His grip tightens.

Hard enough to tip your chin back.

Tilt the spotlight. Isolate you.

When Steve speaks again, his voice has changed.

No more honey. It’s steel wrapped in silk.

“Were you a good girl for Eddie tonight, baby?”

Eddie blinks, heart jolting, thoughts stuttering.

That tone. A clean, whipcrack switch that cuts straight through the room.

He feels it like a shift in barometric pressure, the electric promise of a storm.

Your lashes flutter, lips parting as you try to nod, but Steve’s fingers tighten just enough to keep you still.

“Mhm,” you breathe.

From beside Eddie, Steve makes this sound. A low, guttural hum, almost a growl caught in his chest.

“I don’t know,” he starts, voice rumbling deep.

His gaze stays locked on you, the grip in your hair pinning you in place.

“What do you think, Eds? Has she been good?”

Then, even lower: “Or was she a desperate little slut, like she always is?”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

It’s about to be that kind of night.

Your jaw falls slack. Your thighs twitch around Eddie’s. He feels it, the way your body answers first, ahead of thought. That soft, desperate whimper that gets trapped in your throat when you try to swallow it down.

What if I want to get in trouble?

Eddie almost laughs. Almost.

You fucking menace.

Instead, he adjusts his grip around your waist, fingers skimming up your ribs, dragging just high enough to make your breath hitch.

He tilts his head, playing it casual. Lethal with it.

“I mean… she did start it.”

Steve huffs through his nose—a clipped, amused little exhale—and his expression hardens. 

You look wrecked already: lips parted, chest heaving, eyes flicking between them like you can’t decide who you want first.

You're waiting.

You like the waiting.

Steve’s thumb brushes along your jaw, deceptively soft. “You did start it, huh?”

“Hmm,” you breathe, trying for sweet, but your voice trembles. Your lips twitch, the excitement underneath stretching taut like a wire about to snap. “Baby, I was good. Promise…”   

It’s almost convincing. Almost.

Steve laughs. It’s a quiet, cruel sound. Dragged up from his chest like he’s letting you in on a joke you’re not quite smart enough to get. The hand in your hair tightens again, tugging you back a little further, baring your throat to the ceiling.

“Good, huh?” He tilts your head a fraction, studying your face like he’s remembering the exact shape of your mouth when you lie. “You sure about that?”

You make a high, helpless noise, fingers knotting in the front of Eddie’s shirt.

“Couldn’t even wait for me to get home, grinding all over Eddie.” Steve sinks deeper into the couch, thigh pressing against Eddie’s in a slow, deliberate push that sends a jolt up Eddie’s spine. “It’s kind of pathetic, you know that?”

Eddie watches, burning with awe, as you come apart in his lap.

Loved and ruined in equal measure.

This is what Steve does.

One moment, he’s light: hands like balm, lips like sunrise. And the next, he’s fire: no warmth, just heat.

Steve Harrington is the sun, radiant and merciless.

He’ll offer you his heart on a silver platter, then burn you to ash. Split you wide open, make you sob with nothing but his voice in your ear and his gaze pinning you like a blade between the ribs. 

And right now? With that hunger in his eyes, with the way his tongue’s dragging over his lip like he’s savoring the taste of your ruin?

You’d be lucky to make it out of this one alive.

You whimper again, throat bobbing with a swallow. Steve’s grip is merciless now, his hand a vice, keeping your head tipped uncomfortably far back.

And then—because you’re you, because you never fold easy, because you’re wild and stubborn in the most beautiful ways—

You smile.

That wicked, glorious thing that tears Eddie in two every single time.

“We were just warming up the couch for you, Stevie,” you breathe. “Swear.”

You seal your fate with a demonstrative roll of your hips, bearing down against the bulge in Eddie’s pants.

Oh, god have mercy on you.

Steve’s eyes narrow, amusement twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, thumb brushing softly across your cheek. “You think that’s clever?”

Then the hand in your hair tugs hard. Eddie sees it in the way you wince for real this time, breath hitching, eyes squeezing shut.

Immediately, Steve murmurs: “Color, baby.”

Your answer comes faster than Eddie can blink, breathless but sure:

“Green. So green.”

Eddie watches you both, enthralled.

Another lesson. One of a thousand he’s learned from the two of you.

What once felt awkward and uncertain, he gets now. Understands what it means when Steve color-checks in that tone, low and anchored, like a lifeline.

A reminder that no matter how rough it gets, no matter how far they take you apart, the center always holds.

Eddie swallows hard, brushing his thumb low on your waist, right where your skin is warmest. He feels the shiver ripple through you, delicate and involuntary.  

God, he loves you. Loves Steve. So fucking much it fills him right to the top, threatens to spill over and crack him open.

Steve exhales through his nose, pressing a kiss into your temple with steadying warmth.

“Good girl.”

And just like that, you melt.

It’s magic, the way you do. Such a precious treat to see it like this, so up close. Watching you go liquid from two little words, eyes glazing over, lashes drooping like you’re drifting someplace sweet and far away. You’re hovering in that delicious space he knows you love most: half in penance, half in worship, trembling with the need to give more, to be better, to be theirs.

Steve dips closer, voice sliding back into that velvet-edged steel.

“You were good, huh?” He mocks. “Grinding on him like a desperate slut. That counts as good behavior now?”

Eddie almost chokes at the whiplash of it all.

But you? You only moan louder, hips bucking, thighs squeezing around him as you chase friction like it might save your life.

“Jesus,” Eddie mutters, hands tightening on your waist. His thumbs keep tracing slow, loving circles over your belly, far too gentle for how desperately you’re moving against him. “Look at you, gorgeous…”   

Steve hums at that. “You love it when he talks like that, don’t you?” His eyes cut to Eddie, sharp and knowing. “Gets you all wet and needy while I’m gone.”

Your breath hitches when you try to protest. “I—”

“No.” Steve’s voice slices clean through the air. “You don’t speak unless I say.”

You swallow back the words with a small, obedient whimper.

Steve’s fingers slip from your hair, tracing the column of your throat. They settle there. Just a little weight, not hard enough to choke, but Eddie knows it’s a promise.

“You wanna show us?” Steve murmurs, leaning in until his breath fans your cheek. “Show us how good you can be?”

You nod once, pupils blown so wide your irises are nothing but a whisper of color.    

“That’s my girl.” He kisses the side of your jaw. “Stay right here, baby. On Eddie.”

Steve sinks behind you onto the floor, knees against the carpet, chest pressed flush to your spine. His hands slip under Eddie’s, cupping your ribs. Four hands move as one as they lift and peel your shirt away, baring you inch by inch.

“Fuck, baby…” Eddie breathes, hands roaming your skin. “So fucking pretty.”

Steve crowds closer, lips brushing your shoulder. His touches are less careful: callused palms cupping your breasts, thumbs rolling your nipples into stiff peaks before pinching them with a sharp tug.

You whine, lashes fluttering.

“Please,” you whisper. “Want…”

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Steve croons, teeth grazing your ear. “Use your words.”

“Wanna… wanna come. Please.”  

Steve snorts softly, like he’s barely impressed. “Already?”

Eddie smiles too, eyes glued to the way your body arches, the way your nipples are pebbling under Steve’s clever fingers. “So needy, aren’t you, gorgeous?”

“Greedy, more like,” Steve mutters, pinching again so hard you gasp. “Always so full of it. Mouth, cunt, attitude…”

You whimper at the words; Eddie knows how a little cruelty lights up your veins, praise and degradation mixing the same way in your blood.

You turn toward Steve, mouth parted, seeking his kiss with helpless instinct. He catches your chin, amused, before pulling you in. The kiss is filthy, hungry, his tongue sliding into your mouth in one smooth stroke to claim.

Eddie watches, struck stupid at the sight—your moans muffled against Steve’s lips, body rocking mindlessly against Eddie’s dick. He’s practically leaking under his sweats, the heat from your cunt soaking straight through the fabric.

“Can I touch you, baby?” Eddie whispers against your jaw where Steve’s still holding you in place. He knows the answer, but he needs it anyway.

You nod frantically, a slick string of spit stretching between you and Steve when he lets you pull away.

“Yes, Eddie, please, need you—”

Eddie doesn’t waste a second. He tugs your shorts aside, fingers sliding through your slick—

“Jesus christ.” He stares up at you. “Baby, you’re dripping.”

“Always is,” Steve mutters, lips against the side of your throat, sucking a mark hard enough to bruise. “Pretty slut loves to show off.”

You whine, arching back into his chest as Eddie sinks two fingers into you, slow and deep until his knuckles kiss your skin.

Your entire body bows.

“Fuck, fuck—Eds—”

He curls his fingers, rubbing against that perfect spot like he’s been practicing for months (he has). His thumb circles your clit with steady precision, and your whimpers turn into breathless little cries.

Between your moans and the wet squelch of your arousal, Eddie almost misses your next words.

“Please... wannit, want you inside...”

He pulls his fingers out slowly, watching your hips chase nothing. His cock is throbbing painfully as he pushes his sweats down.

Steve’s voice cuts in, merciless.

“Ask him nicely, slut.”

“Please,” you sob. “Please fuck me, Eddie—need your cock, wanna feel you—please—”

Eddie’s answering smile is pure warmth. “I got you, sweet girl. C’mere.”

He guides you down with both palms cupping your hips. His fingers glisten with your arousal, smearing across your skin.

Inch by careful inch, the slow sink inside you is hot and tight and buttery-smooth.

“Fuuuck…” Eddie groans, completely, devastatingly in love.“You feel so good. Take it so fucking well.”

Steve wraps his arms around you, palm splaying over your stomach.

“What do you say?”

“T-thank you,” you gasp. “Thank you, thank you—”

Every slow thrust rocks a sob out of you. A particularly well-placed grind has you mewling, clawing at Steve’s arms.

Steve cups your jaw, forcing your head back against his shoulder. “You close, sweetheart?”

You nod, frantic.

“Words.”

“Yes, yes, please—can I—”

“Not yet.”  

Your cry is sharp enough to cut straight through Eddie’s heart.

 “Steve,” he grunts, strained. “She’s—”

“I know.” Steve hums, maddeningly calm. His hand slides down to feel your cunt, fingers obscenely framing the place where Eddie’s stretching you open. “She can wait. Can’t you, honey?”

You shake your head in frantic, tiny motions. “P-please, can’t…”

“Breathe through it,” he says softly. “You’re not coming until I say.”

“N-no, please, I....”

“Where are your manners, baby? Eddie’s being so good to your greedy little pussy right now.”

“I’m sorry,” you sob instantly. “Sorry—thank you, Eddie, thank you—Steve, please—”  

Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this. This raw honesty in you. How you become this soft, pleading, open thing in their hands. It’s beautiful, it’s mesmerizing, the way you allow yourself to beg. To come apart for them so helplessly.  

And when he lifts his head, meeting Steve’s gaze over your shoulder, he knows exactly what that look means.

Steve leans in close to your ear, voice dropping to a purr, eyes still locked on Eddie’s.

“You gonna come for him? Make a mess all over his lap?”

“Yes—need to... so close...”

Eddie feels you squeeze around him, tight then tighter, knows it won’t take much more to get you to break. He’s fucking you proper now, thighs lifting off the couch, hammering against that spot until you’re choking on your own breaths.

“That’s it,” he grunts. “Good girl.”

“Please, please, I need to—I can’t—”

Steve’s fists your hair again, grounding you with a sharp tug. “Not yet.”

You nearly scream, nails digging into Steve’s forearms. “No—please! Steve, I can’t—”

“You can. You will. You’re our good girl, aren’t you?”

Even sobbing, your nod is immediate. “Yes. Yours, yours, always—good for you both, please—”

Eddie shudders, the word both hitting him in a place so deep he nearly loses his rhythm.  

Steve smiles, hums a satisfied little note.

And then, finally, he nods.

“Let go, baby,” he breathes. “Come.”

And you break.

The orgasm rips through you in a violent shudder. You sob, convulsing, collapsing forward into Eddie’s chest as every muscle seizes and trembles. You’re shaking so hard he’d be worried if he didn’t know you love it like this.  

Eddie cradles your head, lets his movements slow, helping you come down with shallow, gentle thrusts. “That’s it,” he whispers, voice trembling under the weight of everything he feels for you. “Ride it out, there you go, baby. So good. So fucking good. We got you.”  

Steve’s lips move in a slow drag along your cheek, murmuring praises soft enough to make you cry harder.

And though you’re too far gone to notice it, Eddie sees the look on Steve’s face.

Adoration, vivid and sparkling, like sunlight fracturing through stained glass.

It lives in his gaze, his smile, the gentle crease at the corner of his eyes and the quiet strength in the set of his jaw—every warm, golden inch of the man Eddie loves.  

When your shaking finally slows, your breath tapering down into little broken huffs against Eddie’s collarbone, you lift your head.

And the sight that meets him just about takes his breath away.

Eyes wide and glassy, lashes jeweled with tears. Lips parted in small, shaky breaths, swollen from bruising kisses. You look like you’re trying to speak, words catching before they form.

But you don’t need to say anything at all.

Not when that look—god, that look—says everything.

This awful, beautiful softness in your expression, gratitude and devotion and something deeper still. Something Eddie feels unworthy of, even as he’s desperate to hold onto it. 

Trust.

Bare and luminous.

It wraps around Eddie’s ribs like a pair of warm hands, squeezing until he’s breathless with the weight of it.

Stripped down to nothing but faith in the people you love most, it’s a kind of vulnerability you don’t give lightly.  

Eddie’s heart lurches with something too full to keep inside.

He surges forward to cup your cheek, calloused thumb grazing your skin, and brushes his lips against yours. Barely a kiss, more breath than touch.

You melt into it with a quiet, content sound.

Behind you, Steve’s voice cracks for the first time all night: the first break in his dom voice.

“Fuck me.” he whispers. “You okay? Color?”

You mumble “green” into Eddie’s mouth, smiling.    

Steve’s laugh comes out shaky, relief washing over him in a visible wave. His shoulders drop, whole body softening like he’s finally allowed himself to breathe again.

And when you turn in Eddie’s lap, still wobbly, still glowing, Steve’s already there. His hand slides up to cradle your jaw, thumb stroking the soft place beneath your ear as he draws you in for a kiss that’s nothing like earlier. Slow, gentle, built entirely from affection and no less passionate.

He keeps you close for a moment longer, thumb tracing the back of your neck. When he pulls away, it’s only so he can grab the glass of water waiting on the table. He brings it to your lips with careful hands.

“Small sips, baby. Good girl.”

You drink obediently, eyes half-lidded and lashes heavy.

When you’re done, Steve lifts the glass toward Eddie without a word. Eddie rolls his eyes for form’s sake but still leans forward, cheeks warm, letting Steve tilt the glass for him. Steve makes him drain the whole thing, eyes on him the entire time.

Only when all three of you have caught your breath does Steve straighten with a grunt, knees popping loudly.

He looks deliciously wrecked: hair wild, cheeks red, shirt crooked and rucked up on one side. His Levi’s are unbuttoned, clinging hopelessly to a very obvious problem he’s ignoring.  

“Alright, you little menaces,” he sighs, planting his hands on his hips. “I’ve got ice cream in the freezer.”

You blink down at the obvious situation in his jeans. “But Stevie—”

“Ah-ah.” He points toward the kitchen. “Recharge first. C’mon.”

Your face scrunches into that bratty little frown Eddie knows too well, the one that means you’re already plotting a way around this.

But he also knows you.

And he knows there’s only one thing powerful enough to override your stubborn streak:

Ice cream.

You deflate with a huff, defeated but not really. “Fine.”

Eddie bites back a grin.

You brighten a second later, eyes going big and sparkly. “Wait, did you get—?”

“Yep.” Steve smirks.

He leans down to press a fond kiss to the crown of your head. Then his gaze shifts to Eddie, softening even more.

“Got your favorite too, Eds.”   

Your laugh bubbles out, breathless and sweet. You lean back against Eddie’s chest and whisper into his hair with a conspiratorial grin:

“Hey, Eds. I think he might love us or something.”

Steve snorts, shakes his head, but his eyes crinkle at the corners with a smile too wide to deny. 

“I love Eddie. You? Not so sure.”

Eddie’s heart stumbles. He has to squeeze your hip the moment he hears it, has to ground himself before he launches straight off the couch.

“Yeah, he’s uh…” He clears his throat, tries to hide the wobble in it. “One big softie, huh?”

He says it to you, but his eyes never leave Steve’s.

And Steve holds that gaze, eyes steady and warm, answering a question Eddie doesn’t say out loud.

Eddie smiles, looks away first.

You continue teasing Steve from your spot in Eddie’s lap, trying to coax him back onto the couch. “...I’m just saying babe, we could eat later. You’ll be, like, the main course before dessert!”

Steve snorts and rolls his eyes, already headed for the kitchen.

“I’m gonna start without you two if you don’t hurry up!”

“What? No fair!” you shout, scrambling upright. Eddie laughs as you drag him along by the wrist.

In the kitchen, Steve scoops out meticulous portions of ice cream while still sporting a semi. You pester him about his scooping technique—this was literally your job, babe—while perched up on the counter in Eddie’s Judas Priest shirt, legs swinging off the edge. Eddie leans next to you, arms crossed, throwing in teasing quips purely to watch Steve’s ears turn pink while he tries to defend himself.

You both last exactly ten seconds before boredom takes over.

You toss a marshmallow at Eddie's open mouth, missing so catastrophically that Steve stops scooping to interject.

The bag is confiscated before you can attempt a third throw.

Not that it stops you.

Sprinkles rain across the counter like confetti. Syrup streaks in glossy trails across the marble.

Eddie gets chocolate on his chin somehow, and Steve doesn’t even hesitate—he wipes it away with his thumb, slides it between his own lips, and sucks it clean without breaking eye contact.

Eddie chokes on his own spit. You gasp, delighted.  

And if things start to unravel—as they usually do—with a smear of whipped cream on your cheek, a cold spoon pressed to Steve’s stomach, and then shirts being dragged up and over heads because “you’re all sticky, babe, just take it off."

If a moment later, Eddie finds himself pinned between two warm bodies, one in front, one behind, syrup-sweet kisses trailing across his neck, sticky fingers tracing up his ribs until he can’t tell who’s gasping and who he’s gasping for…

Well.

That part’s for Eddie to keep to himself.

series masterlist

a/n: thank you to everyone who's been waiting for the series finale :) this is the last chapter, BUT if there are headcanons/ideas you’d want to see w/ these three, you can send them my way! who knows where inspiration might strike?

“How long’ve you been up?” 

“I, um…” You shift your legs out from between his, a bit guilty for the relief you feel. “I haven’t been able to go to sleep.” 

Eddie’s smile melts away. His brows draw together, eyes somehow larger. “Oh, yeah?” 

You shrug. “Did I wake you?” 

“Nah.” His hand coasts over your hip, touching you idly as he looks you over. “I was up.” 

You know it’s not wholly true. You heard Eddie snoring just a little while ago. “Why?”

“Because,” Steve grumbles, and you freeze all over again, “he’s a creature of the night.” 

Eddie huffs a laugh at the self-reproach that must be plain in your expression. “That’s vampires, babe,” he says fondly. 

Steve mumbles some bitterness into his pillow. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. 

Eddie shakes his head at you. “You’re good. He’s always like this at night. Roll over, I’ve got something we can try.” 

You watch him bemusedly as he sits up, dragging the covers with him until they’re down to your waist. He gives your shoulder a nudge. 

“What?” you ask, rolling onto your stomach. 

Rather than answering, Eddie sets his hands to your shoulders. His touch is warm, but not the damp heat you were trapped in before. It works like a balm for your strung-up-tight muscles. 

“Oh.” The word tips out of you on a sigh. This is familiar. A couple of weeks ago, when Eddie’s van broke down and you both had to walk to Steve’s, you’d complained half-teasingly that your feet were killing you from the hike. Eddie gave them a massage to make it up to you, and you’d nearly drifted off with your head in Steve’s lap. “Eds, you don’t have to.” 

“Kinda do,” he replies. “First time here, and you don’t catch a wink of sleep? You might never come back.” He pauses. “Plus, you feel like you need it, baby. Shit.” 

Eddie presses harder into your back, and you don’t smother soon enough the thready sound that escapes you. 

Sheets whisper against each other as Steve rolls over. “You okay?” he asks, ten degrees more caring than he sounded a minute ago. 

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Sorry I woke you.” 

The window on Eddie’s side of the bed bleeds streetlight through the curtains, casting Steve’s face in orangey yellow and shadow. His mouth pulls to the side as he lifts a hand to your cheek, pulling a piece of hair from your mouth. “It’s okay. You gonna be able to get to sleep?” 

Eddie pffts. “Have a little faith.” He leans into a spot on your back, provoking a small click that in turn provokes a sigh from you. He pauses. “Was that a good sound?” 

“Yeah,” you confirm. 

“Okay, cool. So yeah, Harrington, a little faith. I’m working magic here.” 

“What about you?” you ask him. 

“What about me, beautiful?” 

“Are you…” You’re interrupted by a yawn. Steve strokes your cheek approvingly. “...gonna sleep?” 

“Oh. Yeah.” Eddie’s voice goes tender. “Yeah, ‘course. I’ll be able to sleep once you’re asleep, okay?” 

He pushes your shoulders into the mattress, and your body heeds the suggestion, growing heavier. “‘Kay.” 

You can practically feel Eddie’s smugness emanating off him above you. Steve must see it on his face, because he scoffs quietly. You make a questioning hum, and he murmurs that it’s nothing while his thumb runs sweetly across your jaw. 

Your smile curls against his cheek, hands winding in the heat between his outer winter coat and knit sweater. “And I thought I told you to be home for dinner. Not my fault you gave me extra hours to defy you.”

Steve feels a twinge of guilt, but it only lasts as long as the gentle pats you give to his clothed ribs, the tease and kindness in your voice better balm than a cup of cocoa as you pull away, just enough to look in his eyes as you comment- “Looks like you’ll be plagued with homework over break. Any professors you want me to beat up?”

Steve chuckles. “Now that I’d pay to see. It’d be a Christmas miracle if you got Mr. Kaplan off my case- the guy takes Math 101 way too seriously. Didn’t even let up after exams, gave us a whole… thirty pages of… stuff…”

Not a very eloquent end to a sentence but given that your lips are now kissing down the line of Steve’s throat, he’ll forgive himself for it. 

Your hands slide up, pushing at the collar of his heavy outerwear; Steve lets you pull it from his frame, then turns to watch as you walk the coat back to its hook on the far wall.

“The guy’s got an ego the size of Indiana but I won’t let his stupid syllabus come between us,” Steve promises gravely, propping one hip against the counter and staring at the ass of your jeans as you stretch up for the wall hook. “Eddie’s good with numbers, I’ll bribe him into doing some of the worksheets for me, and then-”

Steve raps his knuckles on the stack of books, an easy grin and a tilt of his head as you step back onto the kitchen. “-Bob’s your uncle. Nothin’ but time for you.”

This doesn’t earn the playful smile Steve was hoping for- instead, your arms cross, gaze dropping to the linoleum under your socks. “Yeah, ‘fraid not. Eddie won’t be very helpful tonight.”

“Our boy pestering you again?” Steve picks up on the tone in your voice, taking your side with sickening immediacy, gushing sympathy for your irritation and trials. 

He pulls you close by the elbows, kissing the crown of your head with understanding. “What’s that rascal been putting you through, hmm?”

“He was like a goddamn wind-up toy, all through dinner- hot plate in the oven for you, by the way- couldn’t get him to settle or shut the hell up.” 

The side of your cheek pushes poutily into Steve’s chest, though your arms remain crossed with the retelling of Eddie’s behavior. “And I told him to be careful about a million times but he still managed to knock over a bottle of ink into the carpet. That patch will never be the same, even after all the cleanup.”

“Clumsy,” Steve muses, tucking around the contours of your body like he can shield you from his boyfriend's past unwieldiness. “Hope he gave you an apology.”

“He is.”

Steve’s hand stops halfway up the stroking path of your back. “...is?”

“Yeah. I gave him a few options, as far as penance goes. He chose this one.”

Steve’s ears strain for any noise from the bedroom, but there’s nothing louder than the wind and falling snow, suffusing the whole trailer in wintry quiet. He lifts his chin from the top of your head to look around, gazing past the counters, into the other room, over the couch-

and then Steve sees him. 

Eddie is on his knees, lanky frame tucked face-first into the furthest corner of the living room. Umber curls spill loose over his shoulders, while his interlinked hands rest at the bottom of his spine.

Steve can’t quite tell from the angle, but he’s pretty sure Eddie’s nose is pressed to the junction of the walls.

“How long’s he been like this?” Steve asks, suddenly out of breath.

“Mm. ‘Bout a half hour.” You say it so casually, like it doesn’t have devastating effects on Steve’s psyche just to know the number. “I told him to get up whenever he felt reformed, but… clearly it’s an ongoing process.”

This time when you kiss up the column of Steve’s throat, his hands form fists around the fabric back of your shirt, pulling you closer, hips meeting halfway. A steady throb of arousal has Steve’s cock filling out behind the zipper of his jeans in no time, eyes still affixed to the form in the corner.

“Is he- ah- can he watch?” Steve shudders at the feeling of your teeth at his neck.

Against his skin, your lips press into a sulky downturn. “Not sure he deserves to see, just yet.”

Only because Steve is watching with eagle-eyed fascination does he see the slight straightening of Eddie’s spine, a subtle roll in the boy’s shoulders under his t-shirt. 

It must be the purest form of torture distilled, for Eddie to remain so still and far from the center of attention- although Steve’s also sure that Eddie is right where he wants to be.

Playing nice, Steve dips to kiss you, taking a little longer than necessary and making sure the parting wet click is loud enough to be heard across the room. “Can I say hello to our new corner pet, at least?”

“You can do whatever you want.” Your hands cup Steve’s cheeks briefly before you pull away.

With a few short steps, you’re in the living room, settling yourself into the couch with a magazine snagged from the coffee table- every movement blasé, like you don’t have a six-foot metalhead on his knees for you just a few yards away. 

Steve would be lying if he said your disinterest (feigned or not) isn’t deeply affecting. He clears his throat, then pushes a hand through the snow-damp strands of hair that have fallen over his forehead, steeling his nerves to walk across the carpet to the corner of the room.

Steve has a very suave entrance planned (a casual leaned shoulder against the wall and asking some version of “how’s it goin’ champ”), but the moment he gets close enough to see Eddie’s face, shock forces an audible hiss of air from his lungs.

The black bandana that usually hangs out of Eddie’s back pocket has been repurposed, rolled neatly into a very effective gag. It stretches at the corners of his plush lips, a tiny rivulet of drool from one side gleaming in the low lamplight. The knot has been expertly tied and well-hidden under the bulk of Eddie’s hair. 

Well. That would explain why it’s been so unnaturally quiet. 

“Jesus,” Steve curses, standing over Eddie but eyes flicking back to you.

The magazine in your lap rustles with each page turn, feet tucked under yourself, expression impassive as you answer Steve’s nonverbal question with a shrug. “Told you. Couldn’t get him to shut the hell up.”

Eddie’s breathing is slow, measured, but the emotion in his eyes cuts Steve to the center. They’ve got that glassy, blissed-out haze that only happens when Eddie’s this far gone in the clouds of hanging onto nothing but instruction. 

The wetness makes his chocolate eyes seem even more doey, somehow; Steve is equal parts transfixed and aroused, reaching down to run his index finger along the softly rippled scar tissue just under the line of the bandana. Follows the path down, past Eddie’s jaw, his neck, stopping where it disappears underneath the shirt collar.

“Can I… will you let him talk?” Steve keeps staring at the pretty picture at his feet but addresses you. He notices the hitch in Eddie’s air intake, the almost imperceptible way he leans into Steve’s touch as the conversation about him happens over his own head.

Another flick of your magazine; and then, with cool indifference- “He can tell you his color. But the muzzle’s good for him, sometimes.”

Eddie blinks, lashes sweeping, the bottom layer lined with dewdrop tears- Steve runs his finger against them, collecting the moisture and thinking of spiderwebs after rainfall. 

The front of Eddie’s jeans are damp, too- the low-lit room and darker wash of the fabric can’t hide the patch of wetness pooling steadily from the throbbing outline of his cock.

Steve doesn’t do the kind thing (step closer so the poor guy has a leg to hump against). He’s too enamored with you and all too willing to wind Eddie up to the brink of desperation. 

Instead, Steve props one fist on his hip and reaches to tug the bandana out of Eddie’s mouth. “Color?”

“Green, man,” Eddie says, immediately, sounding raspy. “So fucking green-”

“Enough.” Your voice is low but firm. The magazine flutters then smacks noisily against the carpet as you roll your eyes towards Steve. “See what I mean?”

Steve whistles. Really milks it. Shakes his head in disappointment all while showily tucking the gag back into place. “I see what you mean, sweetheart. This mouth of his is nothin’ but trouble.”

“I think maybe he should suck your cock with it. Just to finish out his sentencing.”

You say it in the same cool tone but it has Steve cursing at the thought, and Eddie trying desperately to talk with a mouthful of fabric until Steve takes pity on him.

The moment the bandana leaves his lips Eddie is begging- “Yes, please, lemme suck your cock, Stevie, I’ll be so good for you, for both of you-”

“Okay,” Steve cuts in, a mixture of condescension and concern. He leaves the loop of the bandana to rest around Eddie’s neck, then looks to you for direction.

Your hand pats the sofa. “Sit here. Bring Teddy, too- he might be a little weak in the knees.”

Steve hauls Eddie up by the armpits but keeps hold, allowing a minute for blood flow to return. Eddie stumbles, shakes out his right leg, then takes the opportunity to act up. His hands wander under Steve’s sweater, pawing at him much more than necessary to get a rise out of you-

it works. Your eyebrow arches, voice like a cold shot- “Don’t get cute, Eddie. Would you rather go kneel in the snow?”

Eddie gulps, cartoonishly, but seems properly chastened; he doesn’t say a word as Steve half guides, half pulls Eddie towards the couch.

The cushion next to you dips with Steve’s weight, but when Eddie makes to kneel between Steve’s legs, you stop him with a single hummed note of disapproval. 

He freezes halfway to the ground, waiting dutifully as you pluck a pillow from the far end of the couch to rest it between the stagger of Steve’s socks on the ground. 

You point a finger at the soft spot and Eddie takes to it like a sinner during mass, knees now cushioned for the unholy deeds about to transpire.

Steve feels almost stupid with lust; it makes his limbs vibrate and feel uncharacteristically inelegant. He opts for gripping the edge of the couch cushion with his left hand, and is saved from having to get creative with his right when you fit smoothly into his side. 

Your knees tuck against Steve’s thigh as his arm slips behind your back, palm seeking the soft skin of your side just under the hem of your sweater. 

The two of you are cozied up in a mirror image of how most recent winter nights have been spent, snuggling in shared space and company-

save for the boy on his knees. Looking up and between you both with the searching look of a wayward dog.

Your cheek rests sweetly on Steve’s shoulder, watching as Eddie reaches for the sizable bulge at the front of Steve’s jeans- his movement freezes, again, when you tsk.

“Did I say you could use your hands, Teddy?”

“Jesus fuck.” Steve swears, hoarsely, heat blooming in his lower abdomen. 

Eddie makes a choked noise that’s a mix of disbelief and unbearable horniness. 

His tongue darts out to wet the width of his lower lip, swollen twice-over from his own teeth- but he obeys. Makes no protests as his hands disappear behind his back again, and tips forward, head bowed, leaning face-first into the landing strip of Steve’s lap.

Eddie rubs his cheek along the outline of Steve’s cock. Steve feels a heady rush of pleasure that hollows out his mind and replaces the space with pure feeling. 

The feeling of his pulsing dick stimulated through all the layers of fabric by the cheekbones of the most beautiful boy in the world; the feeling of your head on his shoulder, a tether to reality; the feeling of your hand, splayed bare against his stomach, nails scratching lightly against the treasure trail under his navel. 

Your hand dips lower, fingers catching at Steve’s front zipper, tugging it down, the sound of it loud in the otherwise quiet room. 

Eddie swallows hard, pulling back a bit to give you some room, swaying unsteadily without the use of his hands.

As the zipper reaches its end Steve feels slightly manic, squeezing your side in thanks and filling the electrified air with talk- “You must’ve really acted up today, Eds. Tight leash, huh?”

“It could always be tighter.” 

You’re the one to answer, in that same steady, authoritative tone that has Eddie’s molars grinding together. 

It’s supposed to be a warning, but Steve feels only mounting excitement. 

When your hand lifts from Steve’s lap it goes for Eddie next, pointer finger tucking into the looped bandana, tugging gentle but firm. Eddie follows easily, head tilting down and forward again, until you’ve guided him back to Steve.

The jut of Steve’s cock is more evident now that it’s been given room to breathe, black briefs stretching with the heft and a wet patch similar to Eddie’s dampening one side. 

Eddie mouths along the new space, clever lips fitting over the damp spot and sucking at Steve’s tip through the fabric.

Steve feels his abs clench, air whistling through his nostrils in short pants as his jaw works to stay shut. A pointless effort, because with the next pass of Eddie’s cheek over his cock and your hand back at his stomach he’s letting a long, whiney moan spill out. 

“S’that good?” Your breath is warm at Steve’s ear, and when he pinches his eyes shut to nod, you purr- “Good. Means Teddy is doing his job right. Should we give him some more to say sorry with?”

“Please,” Steve begs. He feels the heat of pure want wash through his whole being, cheeks flushing, chest heaving, as you pull his briefs and the line of his jeans down further. 

He lifts his hips to help, and then his cock is free, velvet over steel of a generous size and bobbing slightly under its own weight. There’s a pearly trail of precum leaking from his tip, string of white contrasting against surrounding blood-flushed skin. 

Eddie and you make the same noise at nearly the same time- a breathy gasp- and Steve would find it funny if it wasn’t for Eddie’s breath spilling hot over his shaft, Eddie’s tongue licking a wide stripe up the side, Eddie’s mouth-

Steve groans deeply as his cock disappears into the tight wet heat of Eddie’s throat; Eddie swallows and it makes Steve’s hand around the couch spasm, wrenching the foam cushion with a hard grip. 

Normally during blowjobs Steve gets handsy- stroking his partner’s face and hair, cupping their cheek to feel himself through their skin- but he’s deferential to you, right now. Will bent gladly for your control, letting his mind slip under the blanketed comfort of knowing you’ll take care of Eddie, and by extension, Steve, too.

Your hand twists the bandana around Eddie’s throat until it digs in, just enough to cause an obscene noise from Eddie’s throat half-stuffed by Steve’s cock. 

“Tap Stevie’s leg if it’s too much,” you murmur, the first words you’ve spoken directly to Eddie for the last half hour.

In response, Eddie hums, vibrations sending shockwaves through Steve’s core.

You’re using the makeshift collar to direct Eddie’s mouth where and how you want, alternating: deep strokes that have Steve’s tip touching the very back of the boy’s throat, then shallow, bobbing motions that both give Eddie a moment to regain his breath and drive Steve crazy with hollow-cheeked suction.

Eddie’s bangs are curling and coated to his forehead with sweat; the next time you guide him all the way down, his hair tickles at Steve’s pubic bone, nose crushed to the trim thatch of bush there. 

Steve is pretty sure he whites out for a second, hearing pitched into a sharp whine as his head thunks backwards into the wall, vision swirling the ceiling into spirals of moving pictures. There’s this animal, sonorous noise that leaves him, somewhere between a moan and an exultation.

When he finds breath enough to come back to the present, Steve realizes you’ve been talking the whole time in a low-toned coo, keeping both your boys grounded through voice alone. 

Your hand leaves the collar briefly to tuck the river of Eddie’s hair behind one ear, a tender gesture that denotes the softness under everything you do. 

“If you weren’t in the doghouse right now, I’d be telling you how pretty you look sucking dick.”

Eddie hums again, smiling obscenely around the wide stretch of Steve’s cock. You hardly need to pull him down this time, that same squeezing channel of throat encasing Steve again.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck me.” Steve fights against the wave of pleasure with sharp, short breaths, balls drawing up into Eddie’s chin, everything feeling so slick and wet and warm- “-honey- fuck- ‘m not gonna, I won’t last, he’s- shit, his mouth-”

“I know, baby.” You’ve kept close, still glued to Steve’s side as you sympathize, a welcome anchored weight. “It’s okay, it’s not about lasting, just let yourself feel good. Let Teddy say sorry.”

Steve whines through his teeth, pulling you closer in by the waist, molding the fat of your hip under his hand but far gentler than the abuse of the couch cushion. 

He can’t decide where to look- the slick shine of his cock in and out of Eddie’s plush lips, the bent bobbing head in his lap, the twist of your fingers in the fabric bandana. It’s all so stimulating, so hot- Steve’s pretty sure his ears are bright pink at this point.

Eddie makes a wicked combination of swallowing and humming at the same time and Steve’s gone. Doesn’t even have time for a warning. One second he’s right on the edge, and the next, he’s plummeting down the face of the pleasure ravine with no end in sight. 

His cock kicks and spurts, cum following a direct path down Eddie’s contracting throat. Steve’s white-knuckling the couch, thighs shaking, babbling nonsense to no one in particular as the sting of your teeth sink into his neck again-

“Baby- oh, fuck! Fuck, yes, feels ‘sgood, so good, like that, honey, fucking shit-!”

Steve comes for what feels like an endless amount of time, to the point where his hips are jolting backwards with hypersensitivity and a growing anxiety for Eddie’s oxygen intake.

No need for worry, though- you’d been watching carefully the whole time, directing while protecting, pulling Eddie off with practiced timing the moment his air drops to the red zone.

There are twin tear tracks slipping down Eddie’s cheeks as he surfaces, coughing wetly around the load of mostly-swallowed cum. His cheeks glow a healthy rose as you lean down, using the bandana again to beckon his face closer.

Steve watches through a post-orgasm fog as your tongue slips against Eddie’s; there’s a shimmering flash of something off-color between your kisses, and Steve realizes with a jolt that you’re tasting his cum from Eddie’s mouth.

“Jesus,” Steve croaks, brain function returning enough to speak. “You two are gonna kill me one of these days.”

You chuckle against Eddie’s lips, pulling back to press a kiss tacky with moisture over the teeth marks at Steve’s neck. “The blowjobs really aren’t as good in heaven.”

Having regained full range of motion, Eddie rocks back on his haunches, a very obvious and much larger stain than earlier at the front of his jeans. He clucks at himself with a head shake, voice hoarse- “And I’m pretty sure they send you down the ladder for blowing a load in your pants.”

Steve laughs at this, taking a moment to tuck himself back into his briefs but leaving the band of his jeans shoved down for now. 

You collapse to the couch back with an irritated little huff, arms crossing, eyes rolling but sounding far too fond for any real anger as you complain- “Well I’m glad you both got off, but I guess that leaves me to go fuck myself.”

Steve’s about to jump to the cause but Eddie beats him to it- the metalhead scrambles with a sudden lurch forwards and up, now laying with his bottom half in Steve’s lap and top half in yours.

“Allow me to be your most willing volunteer,” Eddie says, arms encircling your torso, head pressing into your stomach in his efforts to nuzzle at the front of your buttoned pants. “I can get it up faster than Harrington, lemme prove it.”

“Rude,” Steve says over the sound of your giggles. Eddie’s ass is all too available for a sharp smack, which Steve deals out, smirking with satisfaction as Eddie jolts in his lap.

“Save me!” Eddie burrows further into the protection of your arms, moving with the ungainly bulk of a large dog that’s forgotten his own size.

“You’ll crush me,” you grumble, clearly basking in the affection as you pull Eddie closer, legs wrapping around the width of his middle, hands pushing into the forest of his hair.

Steve encircles Eddie’s ankle and watches the two of you with overwhelming fondness. He knows you’ve forgiven Eddie for whatever minor infractions happened earlier, and that Eddie will be properly wrung out enough to sleep soundly tonight. No nightmares or lingering doubts about his actions- you’ve made sure of it.

Steve works his other hand down the back of Eddie’s jeans, aiming to tease but instead scoffing in delighted surprise- “No underwear? Kind of slutty, even for you, Eds.”

Over the prone form of Eddie (shaking with laughter) wrapped in your embrace, your eyes glint with devilish intent as your grasp tightens just a touch. 

Your fingers carded through the thatch of hair on Steve’s chest, only to grip tight as you rode him into the mattress, earning you a loud groan in response. Eddie was right behind you, pushing Steve’s legs wider and wider apart, with one arm wrapped possessively around your middle. So close to the edge, you rocked faster, harder into Steve’s hips, feeling Eddie snake his hand lower to help you speed towards the precipice.

A head full of inky black curls, tangling with your own hair as he bit down on your neck. Steve groaned beneath you, clearly close as well, if the heaving of his breath was anything to go by. Another hand joined yours on Steve’s chest, this one paler, covered in rings and with nails painted black, holding your smaller one in place. Steve’s knees were tucked either side of your hips as Eddie pushed into him from behind you. Feeling every thrust from Eddie, making Steve rut up into you, you pushed faster and faster, so close to the edge. Closer, closer, until you were right there- and a noise from downstairs, a thud and someone swearing.

You woke with a start, thighs clamped together, with the sheets tucked up between them. A sheen of sweat beaded along your forehead as you sat up and let the blankets fall to your lap. The heat in your stomach bubbled, an angry boil ready to overflow the pot, slowly started to abate. Still there, just under the surface, but no longer a breath away. After a few moments, you’d convinced your heart rate to slow, almost a normal pace now.

With a huff, you smoothed your hair back from your forehead, taking a look around your shared bedroom. It was exactly as you’d left it when you’d gone for an afternoon nap, your side of the bed littered with Eddie’s detritus. He always slept in the middle, between you and Steve, and shared your nightstand with you, hence the cigarette butts and half drunk coffee mugs.

You couldn’t remember every detail of the dream you were having exactly, just snippets of a wide, golden chest smattered with hair and dotted with moles, and bony knuckles as they gripped your skin. The long column of Eddie’s throat, thrown backwards as he made your toes curl, and thick chestnut waves as they dipped between your thighs.

Steeling yourself, you managed to wriggle over onto Steve’s side of the bed and stood, sitting back down with a start when you felt the slick between your thighs.

You’d gone to bed in an old crop top of Eddie’s, more of a full tee on you, and a pair of Steve’s boxers, now no doubt ruined with your arousal. It was starting to spread now you were moving, swirling with sweat in the crease where your thighs met your hips.

You had three options laid out in your head: ignore how pent-up you were (not happening), take care of it yourself (was never as good as when you were with either of your partners), or find one of the aforementioned partners, and convince them to help you out. Considering you’d never had to convince either Eddie or Steve into bed, both of them very willing, it seemed like a no brainer.

The slide of your thighs felt a bit gross as you slinked downstairs, finding Steve sat at the dining room table, surrounded by paperwork. Turns out the thud had been a massive, heavy book being dropped on the floor, and the swearing was exasperation of not finding what he needed within its pages. He had mentioned something about needing to get some paperwork done for the house this week so he could get Hopper to sign as a character reference, and was clearly in the depths of it. He had one hand propping up his head, the other tapping a pen against a notebook, deep in thought. He was wearing the glasses he swore he didn’t need.

You padded across the floor to wrap your arms across his shoulders from behind and nose against his neck. He took one of your hands in his, rubbing circles into your knuckles.

“Hey baby, good nap?” He asked, without really looking up. The rumble of his voice buzzed under the skin against your lips.

“Hm? Yeah, fine” you replied, not listening. You dropped a kiss to the side of Steve’s throat, followed by another, then another. The stretched out collar of the old henley he was wearing left so much golden skin exposed, it was almost rude not to.

Slowly, you made your way around Steve to stand beside him, before you took his chin in your hand, forcing him to look up from the notes he was trying to focus on. Honey coloured eyes only met yours for a moment before you leaned in. He’d grown a bit of stubble recently, and it scratched deliciously against your skin as you kissed him. Both you and Eddie were on a mission to convince him never to go clean-shaven again, beard burn on both your thighs be damned. His big, warm palm cupped your cheek as your lips moved together, comfortable and familiar from the countless times you’d kissed.

You nipped just gently at Steve’s bottom lip, licking into his mouth when it fell open in a gasp, tasting the coffee he’d let go cold on the table in front of him. Feeling the familiar warmth regrowing in your stomach, you remembered why you’d come looking for him in the first place.

“Come upstairs,” you mumbled against his lips. Steve pulled back just enough to speak against your lips.

“I can’t love, I’ve gotta finish this tonight or Hop’s gunna have my ass” he sighed.

“Steve,” you whined, not-so-subtly rubbing your thighs together for even the tiniest amount of friction. He spotted your movement like a hawk.

“Oh, is that it?” He asked with a smirk. “You’ve come down here with an itch to scratch?”

You yanked him in for another searing kiss. “Come and help me with it” you breathed against his lips.

Steve sighed.

“Sweetheart, there’s nothing more I’d rather be doing, I promise.” Steve said between kisses. “But I really do have to finish this.” He removed the hand from your face to push his shirt sleeve up and check his watch. It was simple but classy, silver band with a pearlescent face, a gift from the kids when Steve turned 25.

“Ed’ll be back in twenty minutes, love.” He muttered. “Wanna keep me company until then?”

You hummed happily, stroking over the shell of his ear.

Steve pulled back and took off his glasses, rubbing at his tired eyes. He patted his lap like you were a cat that needed convincing, not that you’d ever need it.

You let yourself get manhandled into Steve’s lap, knees spread wide over his thighs as you faced him. The chair was just wide enough for you to bear some weight either side of his narrow hips. A strong arm wrapped possessively around your back, while yours looped around his neck.

You sort of half heard him going back to what he was doing, occasionally hearing the scratch of a pen, or the tap of a calculator. The simmer in your belly was creeping back.

Running the fingers from one hand through the hair at Steve’s nape, you let the other pull at the collar of his shirt, exposing even more of his throat. You pressed a tiny kiss against one of his millions of moles, eliciting a happy hum from Steve.

The next few kisses planted up and down his neck went much the same way, Steve happy and pliant beneath you, before you pushed your luck- finding a spot near his clavicle to suck between your teeth, pairing the action with an involuntary roll of your hips.

Steve dropped the pen with a huff, you heard it roll off the table and skitter across the parquet floor.

“Sweetheart, I really need to concentrate on this,” he grumbled, hands finding your shoulders to look you in the eye.

You knew you could leave him alone, wait for Eddie to come back and take care of you, or even just force yourself into a cold shower. The hum of the snake coiled in your guts was just too much to ignore.

“Please Stevie.” You flashed your best puppy eyes down at your boyfriend. You knew he was a sucker for what he called your ‘Bambi eyes’. It was the exact same reason he’d fallen for Eddie too, another master of batting his lashes to get what he wanted. Steve wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Promise you’ll be good?” He asked. You’d already won.

Nodding frantically, you let him lift you just slightly from his lap, one wide palm skimming the underside of your thigh, while the other inched higher, pushing his own boxers aside to touch you. You’d never been so grateful for the girth of Steve’s thighs, the leg hole of the boxers wide enough for his whole hand to fit in alongside your thigh. He only stayed like this for a few moments, enough to run his finger tips through your slit, collecting your arousal. You whimpered into his neck as he grazed over your swollen clit.

“I know baby, I’ve got you.” He murmured into your hair, leaving a kiss behind your ear. “So fuckin’ eager. All worked up for us, huh? Can’t even wait 20 minutes.”

Apparently now incapable of speech, you just nodded into the crook of Steve’s neck again.

“I’ve got you.” He mumbled again. “I’ll keep you busy until Ed gets home.”

Gently, Steve withdrew his hand from your core. In the little gap between your hips and his, he managed to yank his sweats halfway to his knees. You watched as he gave his half-hard cock a few tugs, before encouraging you back into his lap. Boxers pulled to the side, he nudged at your entrance. You met his lips again in a soft kiss as he edged inside you. The accumulated slick between your folds eased him, without any prep, inch by inch, until you were fully seated again. A sigh escaped your lips as your eyes fluttered closed, finally sated. You’d always enjoyed this, even slept like this a few times with both of your boys. It was a warm feeling you couldn’t describe, just closeness. It was such an intimate thing to share with someone, not even always sexual, just wanting to feel someone everywhere.

Steve wrapped his arm around you again, tucking your head under his chin. “Now you just gotta wait for Ed, honey”

Time passed slowly. Steve went back to what he was doing, glasses back on, while you listened to his heartbeat against your ear. You felt your eyelids droop, your body warm and appeased. The bubbling in your groin was at peace, calm and still in this state, but threatening to heat up again if either of you moved. It could have been 5 minutes or an hour when the rumble of Eddie’s van could be heard pulling into the driveway.

A few moments later, you listened to Eddie’s key in the front door, him toeing off his boots, and setting a guitar case down in the hall. He appeared in the doorway in his socks, hair pulled up into a sweaty bun.

“Afternoon” he spoke as he entered the kitchen. “What have we got here?” Eddie motioned to you in Steve’s lap.

You smiled sleepily up at him.

“Princess here has been awaiting very patiently for you to get home, Eds” Steve replied, not looking up from what he was doing, but rubbing the thumb of his free hand in little circles on your lower back.

“Is that right?” Eddie asked, pottering over to you both and carding his hand through Steve’s thick hair, ignoring you for the time being.

Steve looked up, putting the pen down. “Oh yeah, came down here all desperate, I think she had a dream about some metalhead that got her all worked up- he sounded like a complete loser”

“He is, you’re right.” Eddie leant down to meet Steve for a kiss. “I assume you’ve taken care of our sweet girl then, Stevie? Considering you’re sat at the dinner table with your pants down” Eddie asked with a grin.

You squirmed a bit in Steve’s lap while the boys talked about you as if you were invisible.

“Well, I’m a little tied up at the moment, but I’ve kept her nice and warm until you came home” Steve stole another kiss from Eddie’s lips before the older boy stood to finally give you some attention.

“Oh darling, all worked up for us?” He asked. You nodded against Steve’s shoulder.

“Wanna come upstairs with me?” Eddie asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Fuck yes” You nodded again, jostling your head with Steve’s chin in the process.

“Come here then, love” Eddie leant you a hand to get up from Steve’s lap and you took it. You hissed as Steve slipped out of you, still not quite fully hard, and Eddie’s eyes widened as he watched. He pulled you tight to his chest when you finally stood, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, followed by a big wet raspberry to your cheek.

“Ew Eddie-“ you laughed, squirming in his hold and pushing at his shoulders, only making him grin wider. He leaned down towards Steve.

“And you, big boy, come here” he leered, leaning closer and closer. Steve spluttered, pushing Eddie away with both hands.

“No way, I don’t want to catch whatever’s wrong with you” he groaned. “Go upstairs both of you, I’ll be up in a minute.”

Eddie took your hand and pulled you towards the stairs.

“Next time you end up like this, call me at practise.” He murmured in your ear. “I swear I’d get here in seconds.”

“Daddy,” You whine. For what? You’re not entirely sure.

“Such a whiny little girl,” Steve pouts at you, “You want more?”

“Uh huh,” You nod, eyes squeezed shut. “More, more, please.”

“What d’you want, hun? Tell me. Use your words.” Steve pants. He’s got one hand on your knee and the other against the back of the couch you’re sitting on. “Be a good girl and use your words f’me.”

“My clit.” You beg. “Please, daddy.”

“Munson,” Steve looks at him, “Spank her clit for me, will ya?”

“Oh,” You hear the smirk painting his face, you don’t need to see it to know it’s there. “Slut likes it rough.”

You pout and furrow your brows. “No.” You shake your head against Eddie’s chest.

“Not a slut,” Steve speaks for you between thrusts, pretty eyes looking into yours reassuringly. “She’s a good girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Good girl, good girl.” You mumble as you nod. “Your good girl.”

“Oh, I’m sorry baby.” Eddie says as he kisses your temple, trying to rectify his mistake. “I’m sorry, you’re not a slut. You’re the best girl, I’m sorry.”

“Iss’okay.” You gasp. “You didn’t mean to, daddy. It’s okay.”

Eddie isn’t sure if he misheard you or if you misspoke, but the moniker makes his cock jump nonetheless.

“You want me to slap your clit, baby?” He asks, returning to Steve’s command. “Want me to make it hurt so good while daddy fucks you?”

“Yesyesyesyes. Please!”

“What was I thinking? Of course you’re a good girl, you use your manners so well.” His right hand leaves your nipple to reach downwards while his left hand stays put. “Didn’t know you two were into this kinda thing.”

“Don’t fuckin’ underestimate me, pretty boy.” Steve chuckles. He pulls back only slightly to stabilize himself as he brings the hand on the couch to your face. He strokes your cheeks so lovingly as he speaks. “You close, sweet girl?” You nod vehemently in response. “Eddie, I thought I told you to do something.”

“Your daddy’s a bossy pants, babygirl.” Eddie whispers in your ear conspiratorially. “Sir, yes sir.”

The hand that was unhurriedly circling your clit pulls away and comes back quickly, smacking your clit lightly. You let out a surprised ‘Oh’ at the hit.

“Come on, Munson.” Steve scoffs. “Our girl can handle much more than that. Harder.”

Another harsher hit comes down on your clit and your whole body jumps. “Oh!”

“You like that?” Eddie smiles, his surprise easily melting into excitement. “You want some more?”

“More.” You confirm. “Faster. Please.”

“Fuckin’ love it when you say please.” Steve growls as he thrusts into you faster. “Oh fuck. Eddie, please. Gonna cum.”

Eddie’s harsh swats at your clit grow faster and faster along with your and Steve’s moans.

“Daddy! Daddy gonna cum!” You squeal at the stimulation. “Please, please can I cum?”

“Just a bit longer, honey.”

You damn near cry at the refusal, but you’re a good girl and you always listen to your daddy.

“Come on, Steve. You won’t make the pretty girl wait, will you? You’ve been fucking her so good, she can’t help it.”

“So good, daddy. Always so good.” You nod along with Eddie.

“How much do you like it, sweet thing? How much do you like Steve’s big cock in your pussy, stretching you so wide?” Eddie’s goading Steve and you know it. But the way he pants at his words shows just how much he’s loving it. “It’s a miracle it even fits, it’s so big. You love daddy’s big cock filling you up?”

“Love it so much. Want him in me all the-all the time. Can never get enough.”

“Fuck!” Steve grunts as he spills himself inside of you. But he doesn’t stop his assault on your pussy, knowing you aren’t far behind him. “Fuck, fuck. Oh god. Come on, sweet girl. Come on, cum for me.”

“Come on, pretty girl.” Eddie moans, the scene in front of him almost too hot to handle. His hand smacks your clit even faster as you approach that precipice. “Cum for daddy.”

You tumble over the edge with a scream you barely recognize as your own.

It’s almost instant, the way you float away. Your eyes glaze over and you go limp in Eddie’s lap as the warmth of your post orgasmic haze washes over you.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” Steve murmurs as he gathers you into his arms, his soft cock slowly slipping out of your bullied hole. You unknowingly groan at the loss of him. “I know, I know. It’s okay.”

“Felt so good, daddy. Was so good, thank you.” You babble as your boyfriend dotes on you.

“It’s Steve, baby. Not daddy right now. Just Steve.”

“Steve.” You nod, nuzzling into his cheek. “My Stevie.”

“Yeah, baby. Your Stevie.” Steve smiles, completely lovesick. “Lay back, hun.”

Eddie watches in awe as Steve lays you down on the opposite end of the couch, his actions oh so loving. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. His own need for aftercare makes him feel alienated. It’s his first time doing this with the two of you and he no longer knows his place in the equation. Should he leave now? Was this it? How awkward would it be if he started getting dressed-

“Eds,” Steve calls to him softly, breaking the ugly cycle of his thoughts. “Lick her clean for me?” He asks as he spreads your legs in Eddie’s line of sight.

“Really?” Eddie asks, both in surprise and exhilaration. Your pussy is a leaking mess in front of him and he can’t take his eyes off of it. Eddie’s cum from his previous round mixes with Steve’s and your juices and it paints a glorious picture. “It won’t be too much for her?”

“Just a bit.” Steve nods as he smooths out the hair stuck to your forehead. “But it brings her back. Be gentle, though. Kitten licks.”

Eddie lays down on his stomach between your legs and kisses your inner thighs as he settles in. He slowly inches towards your aching center. “Such a pretty pussy.” He whispers, placing a soft kiss to your puffy clit.

“The prettiest.” Steve agrees, he gathers Eddie’s hair out of the way for him and squeezes his shoulder gently. “I’ll be right back.”

Eddie languidly kisses and licks your folds, gathering all the evidence of the night on his tongue. He makes sure to be gentle, just like Steve said. He knows you’ve come back when your hands tangle in his hair. You gently tug him up by his roots and he obliges to the wordless command, crawling up into your embrace.

“Hey, pretty girl.” He smiles at you softly and positively glows when you smile back. “Feel good?” You nod and close your eyes, content. “Did so good, pretty. So good.”

“Thank you.” You peck his lips and he hums in gratitude. “You took care of me so well. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He grins, knowing that you caught onto the pun. “‘M sorry, by the way. For what I said.”

“No, Eddie.” You frown at him. “It’s okay, you didn’t know. I promise, it’s fine.”

“Okay,” He smiles softly and kisses you again, deeper this time. “I did good?”

“So good.” You nod at him, hands still tangled in his luscious locks. “Always knew you had a way with words, but damn.”

“Yeah?” He smiles pridefully.

“Mhm,” You hum and nod your approval. “Steve never finishes so quick.”

“He’s so easy to read.” He giggles.

“Tell me about it.” You laugh. “He gets this little furrow between his brows right here.” You thumb at the spot you’re referencing on Eddie’s forehead. Between the brows but a bit closer to the left one. “That’s when you know he’s close.”

“Stop exposing all my secrets.” Steve groans as he walks back into the living room. His arms are full of water bottles and a rogue pack of lemon biscuits he must have found in the back of the pantry. A towel wet with warm water hangs against his forearm like a butler in a fancy restaurant. “Gotta stay hydrated.”

“Thank you, Stevie.” You smile as you and Eddie sit up, your arms out in want of a water bottle. Steve hands you one and Eddie the other, placing his own and the biscuits on the coffee table.

“Lean back, baby.” Steve instructs Eddie, whose eyes stay on you as you guzzle your water.

“He means you, Eds.” You giggle as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, reaching over for the biscuits.

Eddie’s eyes grow wide as he looks at Steve, who only nods at him and gently pushes his shoulders back. Steve gets down on the floor and situates himself between Eddie’s knees.

He gently drags the warm towel over Eddie’s still semi-hard cock and down along his balls. “Want me to take care of you?” Steve asks, eyes all round and sincere.

“No, that’s okay.” Eddie shakes his head. “Twice is more than enough for one night, three times would be greedy.”

“No such thing.” You shake your head as you dust off your hands from the biscuit you stuffed into your mouth, coming over to drape yourself against Eddie’s side. “You did so well for us today, Eddie baby. If you want one more, we won’t say no.”

“Yeah, promise.” Steve nods as he cleans up his own cum from Eddie’s stomach.

“No, no, I’m serious. I’m not shy, I’d tell you.” He shakes his head. “It’s too sensitive right now. Besides, he’ll go down in a couple minutes.”

“Alright, if you say so.” Steve sighs, shuffling on his knees to come in front of you. “You too, sweet girl. Lean back, let me assess the damage.”

“Always so nice to me, Stevie.” You smile as you listen to his instructions. “Almost like you love me or something.”

“Yeah,” Steve huffs in amusement, “Almost.” He drags the other side of the towel against your inner thighs, the rough fabric getting cooler by the second. He cleans up what Eddie didn’t get and then some. “All done.” He pats your thigh and gets up, grabbing your hand to pull you up with him. “Go to the bathroom, then meet in my room, yeah?”

“Okay.” You nod happily, pecking Steve on the cheek and Eddie on the head as you happily strut off.

“Come on, let’s go.” Steve grabs Eddie’s hand this time and drags him upstairs to the bedroom. It happens so fast, Eddie barely has the time to think himself back into that spiral.

By the time the boys are settled in bed, curled up around each other, both in a pair of Steve’s boxers, you’re back.

“Oh,” You pause as you take in their outfits. “I wanna be matching, too.” You decide, and turn to rummage in Steve’s drawers. The boy in question only chuckles at your antics. You quickly shuffle into a pair of blue plaid ones to complement Steve’s choice of red and Eddie’s choice of black before climbing into the bed, making a place for yourself between them.

You curl into Eddie and nuzzle your face into his neck, Steve quick to follow and sandwich you between the two of them, his arm thrown out across your waist and onto Eddie’s to pull him closer.

When you open the door you’re met with an unusual sight. Eddie Munson in a tuxedo.

It leaves you momentarily stunned, so much so that you forget to even offer him a hello.

You’re used to Eddie in torn up band tees or loose plaid shirts. Tank tops in the summer that are slashed at the sides, revealing the delicate black ink that snakes up his ribs, and the subtle muscles of his arms your eyes struggle not to linger on.

But his arms are hidden away now. So are the tattoos, save for those on the backs of his hands and his fingers.

Not that you mind. He looks good in a tux.

The shirt bright white and carefully pressed, buttoned to the top and tucked into his slacks. The black jacket fits his willowy frame surprisingly well given that it’s rented. His uncontrollable curls have been pulled back into a bun at the nape of his neck, just a few tendrils hanging loose that frame his face. His face which is currently turning a delicate shade of rose, blush spreading over his cheeks.

“Hey.” He says, sounding breathless.

“Hi.” You smile back, finally remembering your manners.

“Why did you knock silly boy? You lost your key?”

“N-no. Nope, I just - just thought I’d be polite, y’know?” He stammers.

He’s nervous, you realise. You can see it in the way he bites his lower lip, and his doe like eyes are wide, darting anxiously from your face to the floor and back again.

You felt it too. You’d been doing your best to ignore the feeling, trying to pretend that moths hadn’t been fluttering up a hurricane in your stomach all day. But they demanded to be known now, the tension pulled taught like a wire about to snap.

“Come in.”

You move aside to let Eddie through. He lingers awkwardly while you close the door, acting so unsure. Ordinarily he’d just let himself in, kick his shoes off by the door and head straight through to lump down on the couch beside you.

“You look nice.” He whispers.

“Thank you.” You reply, feeling heat rush to your cheeks.

Eddie’s eyes drag slowly up over your body, from the hem of your dress where it almost kisses the ground, up to where the fabric gathers at your hips, hugging tight across your waist and chest. It drapes around your shoulders, the line of your neck revealed with your hair pinned up like this. You feel goosebumps break out on your arms, a shiver dancing up your spine from the way that he studies you.

“Not nice. Pretty, I mean. B-beautiful. You look beautiful.” Eddie says. He winces. The moths in your belly go into overdrive.

“You look very handsome yourself.” You say, just to watch the blush on his cheeks deepen.

“I’m nearly ready, just need to get my other shoe on.”

Eddie follows you down the hall. In the living room you stumble, your ankle almost rolling when your heels twists on the carpet. Eddie is quick to catch you, one hand wrapping around your arm to offer support. The contact burns. You swear you feel electricity spark in your skin where his fingers touch your flesh.

Eddie pulls his hand away quickly, and you miss the contact instantly. It was unlike the two of you to be so awkward about touching one another. But things were different now, a charged energy pulsing in the space between you. Unfamiliar territory that neither of you were sure how to navigate.

You lower yourself on the couch, slipping your bare foot into the other shoe. Eddie remains standing, his hands fidgeting, twirling the heavy silvers rings wrapped around his fingers.

“All done.” You say as you stand, smoothing your skirt with clammy palms.

“Shall we go?”

“Yeah, uh, just one thing. Could you... I don’t know how to do my tie?” Eddie says.

He reaches into his pocket, retrieving the black length of fabric.

“I can do a normal one.” He adds quickly.

“Just never worn a bow tie before.”

“S’okay.” You whisper, holding your hand out for it.

“I used to help my Dad with his sometimes. I think I remember how to do it.”

Eddie tenses slightly when you step closer. When your hands reach up to lift his collar you swear you hear him hold his breath. With him this close it feels like your mind goes blank, but your hands seem to recall the motion, and you slip the tie around his neck, knotting it with no trouble. You tuck his collar back down, and dare to smooth your hands across his shoulders, greedy for just a little contact.

“Perfect.” You murmur.

Eddie’s wide eyed again. Still blushing, staring at your lips when he whispers.

“Thanks.”

You should step back. You should at least try to talk about it, about the tension between you now, and the night last week that caused it. Everything has changed, and the sensible thing to do would be to address it like adults, figure out what the hell you’re doing before you risk it going any further. But you don’t want to be sensible.

Eddie meets you halfway, leaning in when you do. His lips brush yours tenderly, the kiss such a soft thing. Those same electric sparks crackle again, filling your head with static, no room left for rational thought.

And then Eddie’s deepening the kiss.

Large hands holding your waist, pulling until you’re pressed flush against him. Your arms wind around his neck, head tilting to grant him better access. Lips part, tongues meet, and a deep needy sound reverberates from Eddie’s chest. When you finally part you’re both breathless, gazing at each other with a sickeningly sweet fondness.

“Hey.” He smiles, like you’re both now greeting one another for the first time.

You giggle.

“Hi.”

Eddie leans in, bumps his nose against yours sweetly.

“I missed you.” He whispers.

“I missed you too.”

You feel his fingertips squeeze at your waist, and you cup his jaw gently in response, a small peck pressed to the corner of his smile.

“We should go.” You say reluctantly.

“Yeah.” He nods.

It takes a great deal of effort to will yourself to step back. You grab your bag from the couch, tucking it under one arm.

“Your chariot awaits Madame.” Eddie grins, bowing and swooping his arm out towards the front door.

His goofiness is just what you needed, a familiar ease to the tension. You laugh, grabbing his hand and entwining your fingers.

“Lead the way good sir.”

Steve studies his reflection.

The lights in the hotel bathroom are warm and bright, and they make his permanently sun-kissed skin look more tan than usual, given that it’s the middle of winter.

His tux is expertly tailored, ridiculously expensive as his parents had reminded him multiple times. On his mom’s insistence he’d slicked his hair back, sticky gel to keep the wayward locks in place, the usual soft tendrils that would fall over his forehead left rigid and perfect. Steve knows that objectively he looks good. He looks like the perfect son of two of Hawkins’ wealthiest elite. A pretty doll to be put on display.

He doesn’t feel perfect. The suit feels like it’s suffocating him, the top button and bow tie constricting around the lump in his throat. His hands shake as he runs them under the cold water again, willing himself to calm down.

When he steps back outside he knows so many eyes will be on him. His parent’s friends, acquaintances, business associates, all watching him. They’ll tell his parents how handsome he is, how he’s grown into a fine young man. But Steve knows that his parents’ eyes will see something different. Scrutinising, hawk like. Watching and waiting for him to slip up and confirm what they already know.

That Steve is a failure.

He’s always despised these parties. New Years was supposed to be a celebration, a time to begin anew. But Steve always starts each year the same way. Crushed under the weight of his parents’ expectations, surrounded by people he doesn’t give a shit about. All their fake smiles and faux kindness.

At least this year he’d convinced his mom and dad to allow him two spots on the guest list. Two friends, that was all he’d asked for. His dad was resistant, but his mom won him over in the end.

“They’d better behave.” His father had hissed when he finally relented.

“Of course they will.” Steve had promised.

It’s the only thing that’s giving him the will to get through this night. Knowing that you and Eddie will be here soon. Then Steve will actually be able to breathe, just a little.

Even your arrival poses its own set of worries.

It’s been five days since Steve had seen you both. In that time there’s been no communication. You were all busy with work and family commitments, the time between Christmas and New Years blurring as it always does, when you’re not even sure what day of the week it is.

When you’d all parted in the evening on Christmas Day it had been with shy smiles and lingering hugs, a few chaste kisses shared beneath the mistletoe that hung in your hallway.

Now Steve didn’t know what to expect. He’d spent the last few nights missing you both, an empty ache in his bones that threatened to slowly drive him mad.

Had you felt the same? Had Eddie? Or were you both regretting what had transpired? Perhaps you wouldn’t even show tonight.

Steve’s spent long enough ruminating and panicking in the bathroom. Time to face the music.

The ballroom of The Rosewood hotel is heaving. Steve’s parents hire the space every year, inviting hundreds of “important” guests to ring in the new year. It’s all for show, an over the top display of wealth, hidden beneath the guise of philanthropy. Sure the attendees make generous donations to whatever cause Steve’s mom has decided to feign interest in, and his parents round it all up to an acceptably large amount. But no one here really cares about feeding the poor or children’s hospitals.

The room glitters and shines, twinkling Christmas lights and gaudy chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, towering trees with colour coordinated baubles placed just so in every corner of the room. Ice sculptures and a live band, smartly dressed waiters handing out Dom Pérignon and canapés. All enjoyed by the richest in Hawkins and the neighbouring towns, diamonds dripping from necks, and watches that cost more than the average house strapped around every wrist.

Steve snakes through the crowd. He scans the room, trying to spot you or Eddie amongst throng. Instead his eyes land on his mother. He’s too slow to duck out of her view.

“Stephen! Stephen!” She calls about the music, waving a satin gloved hand to beckon him over.

There’s a girl by her side, around Steve’s age he assumes. In a pale peach dress, so many layers of tulle that the skirt vaguely resembles a blancmange. She sips from her glass demurely, sticky pink gloss left imprinted on the rim, while her smoky lined eyes dance across Steve as he approaches.

“Stephen, darling.” His mom coos. Her hand is like a vice around his wrist, her breath boozy when it fans across his cheek. The pet name alone was enough to suggest she’s probably three or four drinks deep already.

“Stephen, this is Penelope. You do remember Penelope don’t you darling? You used to play tennis together.”

Steve is almost certain that he’s never met Penelope before in his life. Then again, there were plenty of rich kids coming and going through the country club his parents frequented throughout Steve’s childhood. He’d done his best to forget most of them, on account of them all being assholes.

“Yeah, sure.” He lies, with a practiced fake smile.

“Nice to see you again.”

“You too.” The girl replies. She bites her bottom lip between her teeth, and when it pops free Steve notices she’s now got pink glitter smeared on her front tooth.

“Your father plays golf with Penelope’s.” Steve’s mom continues, oblivious to his disinterest.

“She was just telling me she recently graduated from Yale. And now she’s moved back home to join her father’s business. He’s got six dealerships throughout the state!”

“Seven.” Penelope politely corrects.

“Seven! Isn’t that impressive Stephen? Simply wonderful.”

Steve resists the urge to roll his eyes. It’s obvious what his mom was getting at. This was one of the worst things about his parents’ parties. If he wasn’t being ignored then he was being thrust into the path of every pretty young thing with a trust fund and dreams of finding a husband.

“Yeah, that great mom. Really great…” Steve mumbles, still craning his neck to see over the crowd.

Eddie’s van rolls into the parking lot of The Rosewood. The valet sneers in disgust at the vehicle, but still takes the keys from Eddie when he gets out. The boy is quick to jog around to the passenger side, pulling open your door and extending a hand to balance you as you climb down.

“You ready for this?” Eddie whispers as you walk up the steps to the front entrance.

“Not at all. Are you?”

“Nope.” Eddie says. He keeps his hand in yours, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing tenderly.

“As long as I’ve got you I’m sure I’ll be alright.”

You smile at him, pleased when he flashes back a grin of his own.

It was intimidating, walking into a place like this. Neither of you really belonged here. But if you had each other, and Steve, then maybe it would all work out.

Your heels click across the marble floor, and Eddie’s dress shoes squeak with each step. There’s so many people inside, all dressed immaculately, not a hair out of place, suits carefully tailored and jewellery glinting beneath the warm lights.

“Holy shit.” Eddie whispers.

“Yeah. Holy shit.”

You’re about to walk into the ballroom when an arm blocks your way.

“Excuse me.” The man says, his tone polite but eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“I’m sorry, but this is a private event.”

“Yeah, we know. We’re invited.” You say with a tense smile. Eddie squeezes your hand tighter.

“I’ll need to check you off of the guest list. Please step this way.” The man says, gesturing to a small table. He picks up a stack of papers.

“Names?”

You give them, watching his greying brows raise as soon as you say “Munson”. A sense of dread begins to wash over you.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not seeing either of you on here.”

“We’re friends of Steve. Steve Harrington?” Eddie says.

“Your names aren’t on the list.” The man repeats.

“Well maybe we’re on there as guests of Steve’s. Like plus ones.” You say tersely.

“I’m sorry, but there aren’t any guests of Steve on here.” He sounds anything but sorry.

“If you just go and ask him-“

“I’m not about to interrupt the Harrington’s during their own party.” The man interjects.

“I’ll have to ask you both to leave.”

“Are you serious?” You ask, struggling not to raise your voice.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Please don’t make me call security.”

You stiffen at that, chest puffing out and shoulders rolling back.

“Listen here you jumped up little-“

“Ooookay.” Eddie says, pulling you back a little from the table. The man bristles, waving over a security guard who had been lingering by the front door.

You desperately peer into the ballroom, hoping that somehow you’ll be able to spot Steve through the crowd before you and Eddie get kicked out.

Your eyes scan the room while Eddie and the guard go back and forth, the poor boy doing his best to calm the situation down.

That’s when you spot him. In the centre of the room, hazel eyes searching, a concerned expression on his face. His mom stands beside him, saying something to a pretty little blonde who is staring at Steve like he’s a succulent feast and she’s been starving. It has your stomach twisting in a knot with jealousy. But then Steve lights up when he sees you, a bright grin breaking out across his handsome face.

“Steve! Stevie!” You shout. A few party goers eye you with contempt.

He waves eagerly, breaking away from him mom and the girl without a backwards glance. He cuts through the bodies that fill the room, offering apologies as he goes when he stands on toes and accidentally elbows some guy in the ribs.

“Hey! You guys made it.” He says, his arms extended for a hug. You fall into them so easily, wrapping your own around him and squeezing. When you step back you shoot a smug look towards the man who’d been denying you entry. He’s silent now, back to reshuffling his papers with a scowl on his face.

“Sorry we’re a little late.” Eddie says.

“Don’t be, it’s all good. It’s.. it’s good to see you. Both of you.” Steve says, suddenly seeming so shy of himself. The boys look like they don’t know what to do now they’re face to face. Shuffling awkwardly, they settle for a weird half hug, something decidedly platonic. But they’re both blushing, Eddie practically beetroot to the tips of his ears.

Steve clears his throat.

“Do you uh- do you guys want a drink?”

“Sure Stevie. Lead the way.” You smile.

Sandwiched between the two boys you push through the crowd. Steve stops in front of a waiter, plucking two slender stemmed flutes and passing them to you and Eddie before grabbing one for himself.

“Cheers!” You say brightly, clinking your glasses together. The bubbles fizz in your nose when you take a sip. The champagne is dry and tart. It’s not your drink of choice, but you were never going to complain about free booze.

“S’a real rager hey Harrington?” Eddie grins.

“Oh yeah. This crowd gets really wild.” Steve laughs.

“Do you know most of the people here?” You ask, a little overwhelmed by the sheer number of bodies in the room.

“Nah.” Steve shrugs.

“I know a few, people my Dad works with, members of the country club, stuff like that. But it’s not really my crowd.”

“What about that girl? The one you were talking to when we got here?” You try to act casual, taking another nonchalant sip of your champagne. But Steve catches the edge to your tone, a playful glint in his eye.

“She’s no one.” He says quietly, a smirk on his lips.

“Nothing for you to worry about.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

“Sure thing honey.” Steve teases. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the pet name that has your chest growing warm.

“Stephen! Stephen, I was wondering where you ran off to!”

Steve’s face drops, but he quickly rearranges it into a polite smile, turning as his mother approaches.

“You know it was really rude to run off and leave Penelope like that.” She scolds.

“Sorry mom. It’s just I saw my friends arriving, so I wanted to greet them.”

“Your.. oh. I see.”

Mrs Harrington finally notices yours and Eddie’s presence for the first time. Her thin lips press together, hazel eyes narrowing and giving you both a quick once over.

“These are your.. friends?” She asks.

“Yeah. Remember, you and Dad agreed I could invite them?”

Mrs Harrington just hums in reply, still watching you as she raises her own glass and takes a large swig.

“Yes, I remember. I just assumed you’d invite Tommy. And maybe that little red head.. Carrie?”

“Carol.” Steve corrects dully.

“Mom, I haven’t been friends with Tommy or Carol for years.”

“But he was such a nice boy.”

Steve opens his mouth to protest, but is stopped by a hand clasping his shoulder.

“Who’s a nice boy?” Mr Harrington asks. He moves to stand between his son and his wife, looping an arm around the latter’s waist.

“Tommy dear.” Mrs Harrington says.

“Hagan? Great kid. He’s got a fantastic serve on him, he used to beat you every time you’d played tennis together, remember Stephen?”

“Yes dad, I remember.” Steve sighs. In his parents presence Steve shrinks, his shoulders hunched and brows almost meeting in the middle.

“Is he coming tonight?”

“No dad. I was just reminding mom that me and Tommy don’t hang out anymore. On account of the fact that he’s a massive douchebag and-“

“Hang on Stephen.” Mr Harrington interrupts.

It seems that much like his wife, it takes Steve’s dad a moment to even notice that you exist. But now that he has you feel a similar scrutinising stare. His charming smile never falters, but there’s a coldness in his eyes that makes your stomach sink.

“Sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met?” He says.

“We’re friends of Steve.” You reply, doing your best to remain polite despite his obvious distain.

Mr Harrington looks over you from head to toe, his expression unreadable. When he turns his attention to Eddie his eyes linger on the silver ring in his ear, the tattoos on his fingers, the few curls that hang free about his face.

“You’re the Munson boy, right?”

Steve winces.

“Y-yes sir. Eddie.”

“Eddie.” Steve’s dad repeats.

“Well I’m sorry that you and your girlfriend have made a wasted journey Eddie. But I think it might be best for you to leave.”

“Dad! Seriously? C’mon, you said I could invite them!” Steve says.

“I told you could invite some friends Stephen.” His dad replies coldly.

“But I thought even you had better sense than to bring the son of a drug slinging criminal.”

Eddie stiffens. His dad was always a sore subject, the very mention of Al was like pressing on a bruise. God forbid if Mr Harrington knew that Eddie too used to have a hand in the illicit business.

“What’s that got to do with anything? It’s not like half of the guests haven’t been cutting lines in the bathroom all night.” Steve snaps.

“Christ, keep your voice down. I’ve got colleagues here Stephen. The mayor is here.” His dad hisses.

“I don’t give a fuck who is here!”

“Stephen, don’t be like that.” Mrs Harrington pleads.

“Be like what? God, I really hoped you’d be different. But that’s just stupid old me, right? Expecting that the two of you could just be happy that I’ve got good friends, people who actually give a shit about me.”

“Stop cursing right now.” Mr Harrington snarls. He glances around, but all the people around you are too self-absorbed to pay any attention to what’s happening.

“Why? You worried some of your stuck up guests might see the drama and realise that your perfect little happy family is all just an act?”

Steve’s chest heaves, his face flushed red. A vein protrudes from beneath the skin of his neck, and he tugs angrily at his collar to loosen the tie restricting his throat.

“You’re embarrassing yourself Stephen.” Mr Harrington says calmly.

“Your friends need to go, and you need to have a think about your ungrateful behaviour-“

“Ungrateful?” Steve laughs sarcastically.

“Fuck you dad.”

“Stephen!” His mom exclaims in horror.

Steve ignores her. He turns to you and Eddie, shed tears glinting in his eyes.

“Let’s get out of here.”

He storms off, with Eddie close behind him.

You look back at the Harrington’s one last time, debating on saying something. Anything, just to let them know how much they’re missing out on the wonderful person their son has become, because they’re too busy trying to make him someone he’s not.

But you realise it’s pointless. There’s nothing you could say to change their minds.

You’ve lost sight of the boys, but you know where the van is, so you make your way towards the ballroom doors. As you’re about to leave you pass a table, filled with more bottles of Dom Pérignon.

The waiters are topping up more flutes and balancing them precariously onto silver trays.

Fuck it. The Harrington’s might as well pay for whatever semblance of a good New Years Eve you can still salvage. You lean over, snatching a bottle in each hand by the neck.

“Hey! What are you doing?” A waiter shouts, but you’re out the door and running across the foyer before he can even finish his sentence. Your heels click loudly and your giggles echo in the vast room as you hurry to the front door.

Steve is waiting on the steps outside. His hands shoved into his pockets, shivering from the cold. He turns at the sound of your laughter, a puzzled expression on his face.

“What are you-“

“Parting gifts from your parents.” You grin, raising the bottles victoriously.

It’s a relief to see his smile. His real smile, not the strained grimace he had to plaster on to keep up appearances in the party.

The telltale rattle of the van’s engine gets louder, and Eddie pulls up at the bottom of the steps. Steve takes one bottle from you, freeing a hand for him to hold so he can keep you steady as you hurry down to the van. He squeezes your fingers tight, and you give him a reassuring squeeze back.

You both climb in the front. It’s a tight fit, but Steve pulls you half into his lap, his arms looped around your waist like your own personal seatbelt.

“Wondered what took you so long.” Eddie grins.

“Well we couldn’t see in the New Year without some drinks, right?”

The boy laughs, putting his foot down on the gas so hard the tires squeal as he peels out of the parking lot.

When you’re out on the road, with the glittering lights of The Rosewood no longer visible in the wing mirrors, you let out a sigh of relief. You feel Steve’s chin rest on your shoulder, the skin of your neck warmed when he too sighs.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs.

“Huh?” You twist as best you can, finding him with the edges of his lips pulled down.

“What are you sorry for Stevie?”

“For all that stuff my parents said. I should have never let them talk to you guys that way.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You say softly.

“You tried to stick up for us.”

Steve sniffles, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“I hate that they would do that. I’m so stupid, I just hoped they’d be nicer y’know? I wanted them to see how great you both are.”

“Steve. You’re not stupid, don’t talk about yourself like that.” You say. You reach up to run a hand through his hair, freeing a lock from the confines of its gel and letting it swoop down across his forehead like it usually does.

“Ed, I’m sorry they said that stuff about your dad.”

Eddie takes his eyes off the road for a moment, giving Steve a soft smile.

“S’okay. They’re not wrong, he was a piece of shit. Although dealing drugs was like, one of the least shitty things about him.”

“It’s still not okay.”

“But it’s not your fault Steve. You’re not responsible for the way they behave. And I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be.”

“I know. But it’s okay. ‘Cause I’ve got people who don’t judge me for shit I can’t control. Just like we’re never gonna judge you for your parents being assholes.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“We are right.” You smile.

“And screw ‘em! We’re gonna have a far better time just the three of us anyway.”

You meant it perfectly innocently. Just that the three of you would enjoy one another’s company, free to be yourselves without anyone else judging. But the van is suddenly filled with tension. Like you’re all remembering what happened last time you were all alone together.

Eddie clears his throat, keeping his eyes firmly locked on the road. Steve falls quiet.

You continue the rest of the journey in silence.

Back in your apartment you kick you heels off by the door. You leave the boys unlacing their dress shoes, heading into the kitchen to put one stolen bottle in the fridge. You fetch three glasses for the other. No champagne flutes, so tumblers will have to do.

There’s movement behind you. Steve and Eddie are now the living room, the former taking off his suit jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair. Eddie’s already lost his, likely dropped on top of his shoes in the hallway, and he tugs at the bow tie around his neck until it comes free. He pops a few buttons too, revealing the familiar silver chain and guitar pick.

The sight of it makes your cheeks grow warm. It was such a simple thing, something he wore everyday, had done since way before you first met him. On Christmas morning, after that fateful night, the three of you had sat close on the couch tearing through wrapping paper and getting tangled in ribbons. You’d opened a small box to find a matching necklace inside. Eddie had gifted it you, and one to Steve too. He’d seemed embarrassed at the time, blushing and stammering about how it was a stupid idea really, and he’d just wanted you all to have something the same. You’d shut up his rambling with a kiss.

Steve too sheds his tie, and beneath his collar you spy the tell tale glint of silver. You approach, putting the drinks down on the coffee table, then turning to Steve. Reaching up, you gently hook the chain with your finger and pull it free, so it dangles over his shirt.

“You’re matching.” You say with a smile.

“I should’ve worn mine.”

“Don’t really think it would go with this outfit honey.” Steve grins.

“Which is beautiful, by the way. I don’t think I told either of you that you look good.”

“Thanks Stevie.” You whisper.

You find yourself staring at his lips. Plump and pink, practically begging for a kiss. But you can’t bring yourself to do it, still a little of that uncertainty lingering in the back of your mind. Instead you busy yourself with filling the glasses, passing one to each of the boys. You don’t catch the look of disappointment on Steve’s face. He clears his throat quietly.

“Cheers.” Steve says.

“Cheers.” You and Eddie reply in unison.

The tumblers clink, and a weighted silence falls while you all take a sip. The energy feels tense, so different from the usual peace the boys’ presence brings.

Eddie grimaces after his sip.

“Christ. I don’t really think I’m a champagne kind of guy.”

“I’ve got beer if you want one?” You offer.

He shakes his head.

“S’okay. I’ll drink it, after you went to so much effort to get it.” He laughs.

The quiet returns. The three of you lingering awkwardly, like you’re back at that stuffy party, and not in the sanctuary of your apartment.

“You alright man?” Eddie whispers. You follow his gaze to Steve. He appears deep in thought, a frown marring his pretty face.

“Yeah.” He says softly.

“Just thinking.”

“About what?” You ask.

“Still worrying about my parents I guess.”

“Oh Stevie. We told you, we’re not upset at how they reacted.”

“I know. But.. I don’t.. I don’t want…”

“You don’t want what Steve?” Eddie murmurs.

“I don’t want you both to think less of me!” Steve whines, tears beginning to fill his eyes.

“I know you say you won’t. But I’m used to being a perpetual disappointment. I can see it in my parents’ eyes every time they look at me. They think I’m weak, and stupid, and lazy. I don’t want you two to ever see me that way. To think I’m just pathetic Steve Harrington, the guy who still can’t stick up for himself or his friends, the guy who can’t stand on his own two feet, just some useless-“

“Stevie.” You say, interrupting his ranting. You take his glass and put it with yours on the table. Freeing your hands to pull him close, arms winding tight around his waist. Steve rests his head on your shoulder, a shuddering breath exhaled, like it’s taking all the strength he has not to cry.

Something warm and solid presses to your back. Eddie wraps his arms around you both, the three of you held in a tight embrace.

“We would never think that about you. Never. Right Ed?”

“Of course not.” He says softly.

“You’re not any of those things. You’re so smart, and you’re kind, you’re generous. Your parents are dumb as shit that they can’t see that.”

“We - we care about you so much Steve. Nothing will ever change that.”

“But - but…” Steve sniffles.

“But what honey?”

“What if something does change that?” He buries his head further into your neck. The words easier to say when you can’t see his face.

“I don’t just mean the stuff tonight. I mean what happened before.”

Behind you Eddie stiffens. You feel your own chest seize tight.

“I’m s-sorry. I just - I can’t stop thinking about it. Thinking about both of you. And I’m so confused, I don’t know what any of this means. I don’t know what we’re doing.”

His thoughts echo your own. All the confusion and anxiety, the longing and the fear of getting hurt. It was a conversation you’d all been avoiding, but there was no more hiding from it.

Pandora’s box was open.

“Do you want to stop?” You whisper.

“Do you regret it?”

“No.” Steve says, with a confidence that surprises you.

“I don’t regret a single thing that we did. But I’ve been worried that you guys would.”

“Never.” Eddie says. You feel one of his arms lift, his ringed fingers stroking through Steve’s hair.

“I don’t know what any of it means. But it feels right. So I don’t regret it. And I don’t want to stop.”

Steve finally lifts his face from his neck. His cheeks shine with tears, his bottom lip wobbling despite the way he smiles softly at Eddie over your shoulder. He looks to you then. So much swirling in his eyes. Hope and fear.

“Honey?” He breathes.

You can’t say it. You don’t have answers, not any that you could articulate. There’s a word for what you feel, for this magnetic pull between you that has your heart skipping a beat every time they’re near. But it’s the most terrifying word to say, and it could so easily destroy everything you’ve got.

So you say nothing. You respond the only way you know how.

The first press of your lips against Steve’s feels like coming home. It’s warm, familiar. Like finding peace after chaos.

Your pour everything into that kiss. The things you can’t say, the things you’re afraid to feel, you let the truth spill out with your tongue on his and his body pressed against you.

Eddie peppers kisses across your bare shoulder, lips tracing a burning path up to your neck. The flames threaten to engulf you. You’d gladly let them burn everything to the ground.

Steve parts from you when Eddie tugs at his hair, just enough to have his eyelids fluttering, spit slick lips parting on a soft sigh. Then Eddie’s kissing him. Swallowing down the needy sounds he makes, their lips moving frantically, bodies pressing closer in desperation.

You don’t care that you’re almost being crushed between them. You latch your mouth to Steve’s neck, feeling the coolness of the silver chain brushing your lips. You find the spot beneath his ear that makes him sing so pretty, sucking a bruise until he shivers.

It’ll leave a mark. You want it to. Even if no one else can know who left it there. You and Eddie and Steve will know. That’s enough.

You’re not sure how or when you move from the living room to the bedroom. But you’re here now, Steve pushing open the door, holding and Eddie by the wrists, tugging you towards your bed.

He collapses back, hair tousled by Eddie’s fingers, the brunette strands splaying out across your pillow. You’re about to join him when a hand catches your waist. Eddie spins you quickly, cupping your jaw and guiding your mouths to meet. It’s only been a few hours since you kissed him, but that’s entirely too long. He groans through it, licking hot into your mouth, teeth nipping at your bottom lip.

“God. Fuck - I’ve missed this. Missed you both.” He pants.

“S’been driving me crazy.”

“Me too.” Steve says. He sits up to take your hand again, pulling until you’re splayed out on the mattress beside him.

Eddie stands over you breathing heavily. His eyes roam greedily, like he can’t believe his luck, eager to dive in but unsure where to start.

“Tell us.” Steve says.

“Tell us everything you’ve been thinking about. Tell us everything you’ve been wanting to do.”

The pleading tone is one you’re not used to hearing from Steve. He’d been so confident last time, taking charge of the situation, you and Eddie happy to submit to him.

Now he’s looking up at Eddie in reverence. All doe eyed beauty and whispered pleas. He needs this, you realise. Steve’s always had to meet expectations. Always had to try to be in control, to keep up appearances, to be the man the world sees him as. He doesn’t have to do that here. Not with you. He can let someone else have the control. He can trust that you both just want to take care of him.

Eddie begins to hurriedly pop the buttons on his shirt. You and Steve get the message, stripping yourselves down to your underwear while Eddie slides his belt through the loops, slacks falling to the ground.

The solid length of him strains in his briefs, and he presses a hand to the base, a moan exhaled through gritted teeth.

“Been thinking about you both.” He gasps.

“How you look, how you sound. Fuck - how you taste.”

Beside you Steve palms himself over his boxers.

“Been wanting to have you both like this again.” Eddie continues.

“Even if it’s just once more. I - I just wanted to have you.”

“You’ve got us.” You say breathlessly.

“So what are you going to do with us?” Steve asks.

Eddie launches himself at the bed. He falls over you, lips pressed to your neck, one thigh sliding up until it meets your cunt. The pressure lights sparks in you, your breath stuttering as your hips attempt to rock against him.

Beside you there’s a muffled moan. Steve’s kissing Eddie, who’s hand has already made it’s way beneath the other boy’s boxers, stroking him at a slow pace.

“Fuck, Eddie.” Steve sighs, his eyes rolling back.

“Please. Please, just wanna do whatever you want.”

“Jesus Christ your killing me.” Eddie whines. You take a fistful of his hair, guiding him back to kiss you.

“Whatever you want.” You echo between presses of your lips.

“We’ll do it.”

“Okay, okay. Shit.” Eddie whispers. He pushes up to his knees.

“I.. I want to watch you ride him.” Eddie says to you. Your stomach flips.

“Yeah, we can do that.”

“But-“

He hesitates.

“But what?”

The boy buries his face behind his palms, his words quick and muffled.

“Ed, we can’t hear you.” Steve says.

“I said I want to finger you!” Eddie blurts out. He immediately cringes, hiding in his hands again.

“Look we don’t have to! I know you’ve probably never done that before, and you probably don’t even want to. It’s stupid and I shouldn’t have said anything.”

For a moment you’re confused. Then it hits you. Eddie doesn’t mean you.

“Me?” Steve whispers.

Eddie looks like he wants the ground to swallow him.

“Please just forget I said anything.”

“No, Ed it’s okay. You can. I want you to.”

Eddie’s jaw falls open.

“Are - are you sure?”

“Yes Eddie. Please.” Steve practically begs. The older boy freezes.

You nudge him with your foot, snapping him back to reality.

“Bedside drawer.”

Eddie tilts his head, confused. He riffles through the drawer as instructed, lips forming an ‘o’ of surprise when he finds condoms and an old tube of KY Jelly. The items shake in his hands, like it’s dawning on him that you’re really about to do this.

Steve pulls you close, kissing you deeply, fingers hooking under your panties to drag them down.

The first brush of his fingers on your clit makes your body jolt, pleasure zipping up your spine. You lean into it, hips bucking from the bed while he touches you more firmly, alternating between drawing agonising circles on your clit and dipping down to collect the wetness that leaks from his efforts.

It’s so easy for him to slide in, one thick digit stretching you gently. He’s careful, searching deep to find that spot that makes your toes curl. When he presses on it you cry out, the sound smothered by his kisses.

There’s a slick sound from the end of the bed - Eddie watching intently as Steve opens you up. His hand around his cock moves faster when Steve adds another finger, the metal head’s pupils blown as he stares at how well you take Steve’s fingers, your body sucking them in greedily.

Eddie hisses curses through his teeth, fist squeezing around his base again to stave off his release.

“That’s it.” Steve purrs, his teeth catching your earlobe.

“You’re doing so good. Our perfect girl.”

“Please Stevie.” You whimper. Your head spins, lost in a cloud of lust.

“Don’t wanna cum yet. Want you to feel it.”

“Yeah.” Eddie says breathlessly.

“Let her get on top.”

Steve catches the condom Eddie throws his way with his free hand, the other slowly retreating from your heat. You whine at the loss, but stop when you watch him rolling the condom over his cock. You’ll have something better to stretch you soon enough. Something bigger.

And it is a stretch. Despite his effort to warm you up, when you rise onto trembling knees and straddle Steve’s hips, the first press of his head to your cunt has you gasping. It’s a lot to take, even just the first few inches making you feel fuller than you’ve ever experienced.

“Take it slow. That’s it.” Eddie guides. His hand on your back is a comfort, rough fingertips brushing soft skin. He kisses your shoulder, eyes flitting to the boy beneath you.

“You doing alright Stevie?”

His eyes are screwed closed, cheeks flushed and mouth hanging open, staccato panting breaths escaping.

“Yeah. Tight.” He grunts.

“Must be good if you’ve lost the ability to talk in full sentences.” Eddie teases.

“You - you oh fuck.” Steve groans, eyes snapping open when you raise up a little only to drop yourself back down onto his lap. He stares at where your bodies connect, watching himself disappear into you again and again as you finally begin to find a rhythm.

“You’d struggle to talk too fucker.” Steve gasps.

“I’ll bet. And I’m sure you’ll remind me when I’m in your position.”

It has your body burning hotter, the confirmation that you’ll do this again. It’s not just a two time fling. Whatever this is, whatever the three of you are, you’ll get to keep them.

“Oh shit, honey you just clenched.” Steve laughs breathily.

“You want that? Wanna have a turn with Eddie too?”

The pleasure you feel is so overwhelming that it strikes you mute. So you just whine and nod desperately, hips rocking and circling, throwing yourself back onto Steve’s cock harder now the pain has subsided.

“Lean forward a little f’me baby.” Eddie says, his hand sliding up to press between your shoulder blades. You fall forwards over Steve, his arms winding tight around your waist. Beneath you he rolls his hips up, punching a moan from your chest, his feet planting on the bed to thrust up into you.

You’re vaguely aware of the quiet click of a bottle cap behind you. When Eddie speaks again his voice comes from the space between Steve’s legs.

“You still sure Stevie?” He whispers.

“Please.” Comes his whimpered reply.

Part of you wishes that you could see. The thought of watching Eddie stretching Steve sending a thrill through you.

But from your current position you can see Steve’s face, read every expression that crosses his features. He gasps at the first contact, the first touch to that place that no one has ever explored before. His eyelids flutter, lips popping open on a pleased sigh.

He stops thrusting, and you too cease your movements. Steve’s hands grip your hips, fingertips indenting the fat there, threatening to leave bruises in their wake.

Eddie continues to whisper, soft praises, urges for Steve to relax.

“Holy shit.” Steve whines.

“Are you - are you..”

“Yeah, I’m in.” Eddie says in awe.

“Just one. You doin’ okay?”

Steve nods, his bottom lip clamped between his teeth. Eddie won’t be able to see, so you answer for him.

“He’s good.” You say.

In the quiet you can hear the slick sound of Eddie’s finger moving in and out. On every gentle thrust forwards Steve’s cock kicks, you feel it nudging deep inside of you. You both stay still for a few moments, letting Eddie work and Steve adjust, the only sound Steve’s occasion moans and whimpers.

“Can you take another?” Eddie asks.

“Y-yeah. Fuck, yeah give me another.” Steve begs.

He cries out when the second digit pushes in beside the first. You lean down, peppering kisses across his cheeks, sweeping the perspiration from his forehead with gentle hands.

“You’re doing so good Stevie.” You murmur.

“M’not - I’m not moving honey. M’sorry, I just can’t. S’a lot.” He says.

“It’s okay. Just let me and Eddie take care of you.”

A ringed hand lands on your hip, splayed out over Steve’s. Eddie pushes, encouraging you to rock forwards. He guides your hips in a slow roll, timed to the thrust of his fingers where they sink into Steve.

“Oh god.” Steve groans.

“That’s it. Just take it. You’re doing so good for us Stevie.” Eddie says.

He holds you tighter, encouraging your movements to quicken, until you’re bouncing on Steve’s lap once more. You can feel your orgasm approaching, a pressure building in your core, heat radiating through to every limb.

“You gonna cum for us baby?” Eddie whispers.

You nod, so close you can almost taste it.

Eddie leans forwards. The angle is a little awkward, but he manages to slide his hand from your hip to where you and Steve connect. It takes just a few quick circles traced over your clit for you to tumble over the edge, head tipping back and body shuddering as your release washes over you.

It’s that moment that Steve too loses composure.

With a garbled shout he cums, thrusting up weakly while heat blooms inside you, his release filling the condom. For a brief moment you wish it’s wasn’t there at all. Wish that you could take all Steve has to give you. Feel it spilling back out later.

Tears spill from the edges of Steve’s eyes, falling down to wet his hair line. He looks so beautiful you can’t resist the urge to fall down and capture his lips in a messy kiss.

Steve winces when Eddie pulls out. You hear the slick sound of Eddie working over himself, curses grunted through gritted teeth, his lubed fist stroking his neglected cock furiously. In seconds he’s gasping, his release landing across your lower back.

“Jesus Christ. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you.” He chants.

The room falls to quiet. Panting breaths the only sound, your heartbeat in your ears so loud it threatens to drown them out.

No one moves for minutes, you collapsed over Steve, Eddie slumped forwards, his head resting on the younger man’s thigh. As the race of your heart slows, Eddie finally shifts.

“Don’t move.” He whispers, giving a quick kiss to your shoulder before he climbs off of the bed and leaves the room. He returns soon after, a wad of tissues in his hand which he uses to carefully clean your skin.

His hands hold your waist as you rise off of Steve, a stability your grateful for, because you’re pretty sure at this point your legs no longer work. With a sigh you flop down beside Steve, curling your body towards his, one hand resting in the thatch of hair across his pecs. Eddie snuggles against him from the other side, the boy sandwiched between you both.

“Shit.” He exhales, kiss bitten lips pulling into a grin.

“That was… that was something.”

“You can say that again.” Eddie says.

“That was somethi- oof!”

Eddie cuts him off with a playful swat to the head.

“So that was really okay? For both of you?” He asks.

You nod.

“Perfect.”

“Perfect.” Steve echoes. He stretches his arms out, encasing you both and pulling you in closer. Eddie puts on hand on Steve’s chest, linking your fingers together.

Sometime later, the faint sound of cheers will float through the thin walls of your apartment, your neighbours celebrating the clock hitting midnight. Your bedroom will illuminate with colourful light, the Harrington’s exuberant fireworks display in the distance signalling the arrival of a new year.

Their son won’t be there with them to see it.

He’s snoring softly in your bed, the two people he loves the most holding him close.

You start singing, voice low but loud. Steve nods annoyingly at your singing while watching traffic, but you can see how he tries to hide his smile. 

Eddie rolls his eyes and crosses his arms like a pouty child. But when you finally get to the chorus you see how Eddie flushes pink when you point at him and sing “you!” 

They both look thoroughly unamused, but you know they love it. You’re thankful they don’t tease because of your cracking voice or when you forget the words and end up just making sounds for the instruments. 

But you’re not as prone to not tease them when the very next song that comes on is “last Christmas” by WHAM! You can’t help it. 

“Oh my gosh!” You turn in your seat to look at Eddie. “This is totally Steve’s song!” 

Steve makes a face. “What do you mean ‘this is my song’ it’s literally not.” 

“No no Harrington, let’s hear her out on this one.” Eddie leans forward, always wanting to get in on the teasing. 

“Last Christmas you gave your whole heart to Nancy and then she gave it away to Johnathan, now you have to find someone special to give it to and that was me!” 

“Or me.” 

Eddie intervenes and now it’s you who’s rolling your eyes. “Or you, Ed’s.” 

“No— that’s not how it went.” Steve shakes his head, still a bit flustered with the things that happened with Nancy even though it was forever ago. 

“It literally is! The song says ‘With a note saying, ‘I love you’, I meant it’ how is that not you and Nancy!” 

Steve laughs nervously and runs a hand through his hair, it’s clear he’s not thrilled by the joke but he’d laugh later when he’s alone, and sure no one will see. 

“Wait guys.” Eddie butts in again to look between the two of you. “What’s my Christmas song?” 

You and Steve don’t even have to look at each other to both blurt out “carol of the bells.” 

“By Trans Siberian Orchestra?” 

“We wouldn’t make you sing the regular carol of the bells.” Steve looks at Eddie in the rearview mirror and you swore you saw a wink being given. 

“And!” You jump at the idea. “Gareth can be the little drummer boy!” 

Eddie snorts. “Little indeed.” 

“Come on Ed’s,” Steve groans softly. “He’s not that much shorter than you.” 

“Guys…” your whisper is softly heard over the radio. “What do you think my Christmas song is…?” 

Apparently Eddie and Steve aren’t as connected as you thought because they both reply with a different answer. 

Steve’s answer is “baby it’s cold outside.” Which warms your heart at the thought.

Only for the gentlemen Eddie to reply with “hippopotamus for Christmas.” At the same time. 

“Wow Eddie.” You stare at him with a blank face, only kinda annoyed. 

“I didn’t mean it like that!” He scurries and leans forward to try and get your attention. “I mean because like, the kid in the song is just so passionate about what he wants, and you’re passionate too!” 

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Ed’s.”

Steve is trying to hold back a smile but you both see it. The curve of his lips lifting up as he makes another right turn. 

“I meant to say Santa baby.” Eddie tries to save himself. 

“Did you? Really?” 

“Yes, because you have been an awful good girl and I’ll slip you a ring before Steve does.” He grabs at your arm, sliding your hand into his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles, really playing up the charm. 

“Yeah fucking right.” Steve’s hand settles on your thigh as his jaw locks. Shaking his head at Eddie’s words. 

“Seems like you sparked a fire, Ed’s.” You hum.

“Maybe I’m just revealing how close we really are to giving you the old ball and chain.” 

Your heart stutters in your chest, head clouding over with love. You don’t really know how a three way marriage will work. But the thought that they’re both trying is sweet enough. 

“You know the Grinch would be a good song for you too…” 

“Eddie.” 

He thinks maybe it might be nice to sit outside for a little while once he changes out of his gritty work clothes. On his lunch break, he'd smoked nearly clean through the pack of cigarettes he'd only just picked up yesterday, but he reckons that he probably has enough weed left in the jar you keep stuffed in the drawer with the oven mitts that he could roll a few joints. He could manage at least two, and that would be enough. You and Steve both have a startlingly low tolerance, so he figures the two of you will share and Eddie can have the other mostly to himself.

Eddie's already plotting it all out in his head. He's trying to keep a mental checklist of things to bring out with you. A few blankets, definitely. Something to drink for your inevitable smoke-dry throat. He pats his pockets in search and sighs heavily at the realization that he's left his lighter on his workbench at the garage again — He has got to stop doing that. He know's Steve has a few lying around as well, though he's been trying to cut back on actual cigs on account of the way you keep pestering them about the, y'know, tar that they're sucking into their lungs-

Eddie's kicking his shoes onto the little rubber mat beside the door, his boots land right there between your shoes and a pair of Steve's clean, fancy Nike's.

It's only then that Eddie notices just how quiet it is inside the house. His gaze cuts over to the clock on the wall in the kitchen, quarter past eight. He can't imagine the two of you are in bed already, but he pads deeper into the home with intentionally careful steps anyway — Just in case.

He finds both of you huddled together on the floor in the dark hallway. He debates with himself for a moment before flicking on the light to see you both a bit better.

Steve's head is tipped back against the wall, mouth slack and lips parted around sleep-soft breaths. He's got a bottle of hairspray hanging limply from one hand, his other arm wrapped securely around your shoulders. You, on the other hand, have your nose burrowed into the curve of his shoulder, lips pressed to the loose, stretched out collar of his tshirt, legs thrown across his lap. There's a can of bug spray cradled to your chest protectively, sitting snug in the curve of your arm as if it's a child's stuffed animal rather than an aerosol can.

The sudden brightness in the hallway has Steve waking, jaw snapping shut and his eyes squinting hard against the light now flooding his corneas. His gaze falls to the closed door at the other side of the narrow hall and he shuffles up a little straighter against the wall, sniffing hard as he readjusts his grip on both his hairspray and your shoulders.

"Wha'd we got here?" Eddie questions curiously, leaning his shoulder against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest.

Steve's head snaps in Eddie's direction so hard it sends a sharp jolt up the sore muscles of his neck. Steve winces at the ache, rolling his shoulder and jostling you in the process.

You groan quietly as Steve goes to answer and he's swallowing down his response in favor of turning to help you sit up. Eddie watches on as Steve murmurs soft apologies. Watches Steve's hand come up to encompass the back of your neck. Watches the way you lean into his touch. Watches the way Steve's thumb drags soothingly along the column of your throat right over where Eddie knows there's a healing lovebite that Eddie himself had sucked into the skin just a few days prior.

As you slowly become more alert, your eyes cut toward Eddie at the end of the hall and a sweet smile pulls at your lips at just the sight of him. And God, having you fix him with looks like that makes Eddie's chest feel all warm.

"You're home." It comes out a little raspy from sleep, but the pure unadulterated joy in your tone is enough to have Eddie shuffling on his feet.

He still doesn't quite know how to simply accept all of the love you seem to have for him, and when Steve turns to follow your gaze, Eddie feels that love overflow and creep right up his collar to flush his cheeks and ears. The loud but emotionally unaffected bravado Eddie has worn like battle armor since he was eight years old crumbles every time one of you looks at him like that. Expressions flooded with soft adoration — As if Eddie might actually be someone worth loving.

"Hey, Ed," Steve finally greets him with a soft smile, "How was work?"

The question is entirely too casual for someone who's clearly been sitting on the floor for quite some time. You'd both been there long enough to have fallen asleep, for Christ's sake.

"Was fine." Eddie says easily, nodding his head to motion across the hall, "Why's the bathroom door closed? And why's there a towel on the floor? Why're you on the floor?" He has so many questions he can't stop at just one, all of them tumbling out of him before either of you can give a real answer.

"Spiders are more active at night." You tell him with a small yawn.

"There was a spider?" Eddie asks slowly, a little apprehensive.

Steve nods, shrugging a little sheepishly as you continue, reaching your arms out to stretch as you speak.

"Steve was gonna get him, but he said it was too quick to be captured so he was gonna kill it-"

"Oh, Steve was gonna kill it-" Steve repeats, playful and mocking. "Baby, you're making me sound a little like a villain here."

"In the spider's story you are the villain." You tell him with a roll of your eyes.

Your arms are still hovering in the air, and you give your fingers an insistent little waggle in Eddie's direction when his gaze flicks back to you. He doesn't need more than that before pushing off the wall taking the two steps across the narrow hallway to grab ahold of you. Your skin is soft beneath the callouses on Eddie's hands as he helps you to your feet with a gentle tug. You melt into Eddie's chest the moment you're upright, pressing a kiss to his cheek as your arms make their way around his waist — Entirely unconcerned with the filthy coveralls tied off around Eddie's hips.

"Anyway, I couldn't let Steve kill him-"

"Ah, Big Bad Steve was gonna get him with the deadly can of Farrah Faucet spray, huh?" Eddie grins into the crown of your head, nose pressed to your hair as he breathes you in after a long day. "Spiders everywhere better watch out."

Steve snorts quietly as he gets to his own feet, and Eddie knows just by the fond look of amusement on Steve's face that he's the one on the receiving end of your eye roll this time around. It only urges Eddie on.

"-And sheesh, thought you were on Team Spider, sweetheart." Eddie pointedly gestures toward the canister of bug spray you abandoned, dropped on its side on the laminate floor.

"It was a last resort only. A little spritz for stunning, no killing. But it wasn't even necessary. And anyway," You repeat with emphasis, "I suggested we lock the spider in the bathroom— Just until you got home and set him free."

Eddie strokes the warm stretch of skin between your shoulder blades, his other hand reaching out to pluck at a tuft of hair sticking straight upright at the side of Steve's head with a chuckle.

"Oh, I see," Eddie says slowly, "And you both just expected me to come home from work and save the day? Clock out at the garage and clock in as resident spider wrangler?"

"Well, yeah."

The both of you say it in synchrony and Eddie can't hold back a grin as you continue.

"So we stuffed the towel into the crack at the bottom to make sure he couldn't escape."

Steve's chest puffs up a little proudly, "The towel thing was my idea."

"Uh-huh." Eddie soaks in the information for a moment, and then he eases you back from your embrace to flick his gaze between the two of you, one eyebrow raised. "So, wait, hang on. You guys are telling me..." Eddie pauses, dramatic effect and all that, "You haven't been able to use the bathroom since I left this morning?"

Steve shrugs. "We made it work."

"Do... I dare ask how?"

"We went for a walk," You supply slowly, as if you're just now becoming aware of how ridiculous it all sounds, "And we... Well, we peed in the woods."

Eddie snorts this time, thinking back on every complaint you've ever made in regard to going to the bathroom outside on days parked up at lover's lake. He'd have loved to have been there to experience it today. He can practically see Steve holding your hands to help you keep balance, can practically hear your grumbling all the while.

Steve is quick to interject. "In my defense, I wanted to use the kitchen sink, but this one wouldn't let me-"

"In your defen-?" Eddie starts but shakes his head, "No, you know what, I'm in no place to judge you on that one."

You shiver, taking another step back from Eddie until his hands have no choice but to fall from your shoulders.

"Gross.. You guys are aware we wash food in that sink, right?" You feign a gag. "Men."

"Yeah, alright." Steve says, moving to the end of the hallway to dig through the recycling bin just outside the kitchen. "Well when you're complaining about mosquito bites on your ass tomorrow, this man doesn't wanna hear it, then. Because I was trying to save you from that but apparently someone is too good for a piss in the sink."

Steve pinches your ass playfully as he returns with a glass jar that used to hold tomato sauce. He receives a light pinch of his own to his bicep from you, and it's while he's clutching at his arm and pretending it hurts far worse than it does that Eddie leans in to steal a quick peck from Steve's pouted lips.

While you and Steve's bickering picks up, Eddie finds the cleaned jar being shoved into his hands. He takes the dismissal as it comes, already kicking the towel on the floor to the side and entering the small bathroom with caution.