#steedie

“You jealous, Munson?” Steve shoots back, tossing an empty soda cup over his shoulder. “Didn’t realize you were into voyeurism.”

Eddie snorts, but you don’t miss the flush that rises in his throat, the flick of his eyes toward Steve,not quite a challenge, not quite a retreat. Just a beat too long. It lodges itself somewhere under your skin and stays there.

You don’t kiss Steve then, not with Eddie that close. 

You’re not sure why.

The next night, it’s in Eddie’s trailer.

You’re stretched out on the floor with your head in Steve’s lap, the room lit only by the soft flicker of the muted TV and the orange haze of a streetlamp bleeding through the window. Eddie’s kneeling by the stereo, flipping through cassettes with one hand, scratching the back of his neck with the other. Metallica, Zeppelin, The Cure. He pauses on each like they mean something deeper tonight.

Steve’s fingers thread slowly through your hair, the rhythm of it steady, but his eyes aren't on you, they are on Eddie. On the way Eddie’s shoulder brushes yours every time he shifts a little closer to hand you a tape for approval. On the way your pinky drags across Eddie’s knuckle as you take it. You don’t pull away, neither does he.

The room feels warmer than it should, Steve’s other hand is splayed on your stomach, but his jaw is tight.

“You need a fan in here, Eds,” you murmur, turning your cheek into Steve’s thigh, pretending not to notice the weight of his stare. “We’re melting.”

Eddie glances over his shoulder, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He doesn’t look at Steve, just looks at you.

“Can’t afford one that won’t blow a fuse,” he says, selecting a tape without looking down. “You’ll just have to strip.”

Steve lets out a breathy laugh above you,but it sounds more like a warning than amusement.

“Not in front of you, man,” he says, not quite joking.

“Why not?” Eddie finally turns to face him, still crouched, resting one arm on his bent knee. His grin widens, sharp and slow. “You’re the one always you're the one who's always taking off your shirt and showing yourself, never keeping modesty to yourself” Your body stills, breath caught mid-laugh, the room folds in.

Steve’s mouth twitches,somewhere between a smirk and something unreadable. But he doesn’t look away.

“You like it that much,” he says, eyes locked on Eddie, “you should come swimming with us tomorrow.” You smile into Steve’s thigh, lips curving softly, but your pulse skips. Eddie doesn’t answer right away, he looks at Steve, then at you. His gaze lingers too long to be casual. And you feel Steve watching that too.

“Maybe I will,” Eddie finally says, standing to push the tape into the stereo.

The music crackles, low and smoky, wrapping around the tension like a blanket trying to smother a fire.

But the heat stays.

And Steve’s hand doesn’t move from your stomach.

The sun hangs low by the time you’re in Steve’s backyard, staining the sky in slow oranges and bruised purples. The heat hasn’t broken; it’s settled in, thick and sleepy. You can feel it in the air, in your lungs. Every breath tastes like chlorine and cut grass.

Steve’s pool glows a soft turquoise under the last golden light. There’s music playing low from the house—Fleetwood Mac, the older stuff he likes. You’re barefoot on the warm concrete, the hem of your oversized T-shirt brushing your thighs. Beneath it, your bathing suit clings to damp skin, already kissed by sun and sticky with sunscreen.

Eddie is sitting on the edge of the pool when you step out, boots abandoned by the fence, socks shoved into them carelessly. His jeans are rolled to his knees, toes skimming the surface like he's not ready to commit. His hair is frizzed from the humidity, curls sticking to the nape of his neck. There’s a cigarette behind his ear, long forgotten. He’s watching you.

He always watches you like that,like he’s memorizing.

Steve comes up behind you and slides his arms around your waist, warm and familiar. You can smell the citrus of his cologne mixed with chlorine and the beer he cracked earlier. He dips his chin into your shoulder.

“About time,” he murmurs. “You took forever.”

“I was talking to your neighbor’s cat,” you smile, leaning into him. “He likes me more than you.”

Steve laughs into your neck and presses a kiss there,wet, lazy. You feel it all the way to your toes. When you glance up again, Eddie is still watching, but he looks away quickly, sliding his feet into the water.

Later, the three of you are in the pool, your body half-floating as Steve holds you under the arms from behind, your back against his chest. The water makes everything slower, dreamlike. Steve’s breath is steady against your ear, but you feel his attention shift,following yours.

Eddie is submerged up to his shoulders, treading water just a few feet away. He’s slick with hair flattened to his cheeks, water beading on his collarbones. You track a droplet as it slides from his throat, down the center of his chest, he notices.

His eyes lock with yours, unreadable.

Then they flick to Steve.

Steve shifts behind you. You feel the subtle tightening of his grip on your ribs, the way his thumb presses firmer into your side. Protective? Curious? You can’t tell. But his voice is light when he calls out:

“Are you getting in or just soaking like a sponge?”

Eddie raises a brow. “You calling me a sponge, Harrington?”

Steve shrugs, that grin tugging at his mouth. “Said what I said.”

Eddie swims forward lazily, arms cutting through the water with minimal effort. When he stops, it’s only a breath away. His chest brushes yours beneath the surface,barely,but the contact sparks through you like static.

You suck in a breath and Steve feels it, his hand moves to your stomach.

“You okay?” Steve murmurs into your ear. But his eyes are on Eddie now, you only nod, but no one moves. Eddie’s gaze drifts to your mouth, to Steve’s hand on your waist, then back up to his lips. His own hand twitches slightly under the water. You feel the current of it fan against your hip.

Then Steve says,casually, almost too casually:

“You keep staring like that, Munson, I’m gonna think you’re into both of us.”

The silence is sudden. Charged. Eddie huffs a laugh through his nose. 

“What if I am?”

He says it like a joke, you don’t laugh though.

Neither does Steve.

You feel his heart thudding against your back, he doesn't pull you closer but he doesn’t let go, either.

No one speaks.

The sun dips lower, The air grows cooler, but none of you move from the heat. And before anyone can respond the first drop hits your shoulder. Heavy. 

Cold.

Then another. 

And another.

You blink up at the sky. The soft glow of sunset has been swallowed by a thick bank of clouds, and the wind shifts hard enough to shiver your skin. Within seconds, fat raindrops are splattering across the pool, dimpling the surface like fingertips on glass.

“Shit,” Steve mutters behind you.

Fat drops hammering the pavement, loud against the pool water. Eddie laughs,shouts something you can’t hear over the sudden roar and Steve is already grabbing towels, dragging them off the chairs. You lunge for the speaker, water smacking your shoulders as you run.

“Shit! Go, go to the pool house!”

You're all yelling, tripping over each other. Steve’s hand catches yours and pulls, Eddie's footsteps close behind as thunder cracks so loud it rattles your ribs. The door slams shut behind you, echoing in the quiet that follows.

The pool house is warm, but it smells like chlorine and old wood, a mix of wet cotton and something sharp and clean from Steve’s cologne. You can hear your own breathing, your heart in your ears. Rain lashes the windows now, sudden and wild, like it’s trying to get in.

You’re dripping onto the floor, shivering with the change in temperature, but not quite cold. Just charged. Like the storm followed you inside and now lives in your chest.

“Jesus,” Steve mutters, running a hand through his wet hair, making it stick up everywhere. “That came outta nowhere.”

You lean against the doorframe, heart still thudding, skin buzzing. Eddie peels his shirt off,completely soaked and clinging to his stomach and tosses it aside. His chest rises and falls, slow, like he's catching his breath.

You can’t help but look, neither can Steve. His eyes flick over Eddie’s bare skin, the lines of his ribs,the ink of his tattoo's, the way his jeans hang low from being so drenched. It’s not subtle, the way you’re looking.

Eddie notices. Of course he does.

“Staring again, Harrington?” he says, voice low. Less of a tease and more like a challenge. Or maybe a question.

No one speaks at first, Steve just muffled a laugh.

“You okay?” Steve asks, but he’s not looking at you,he’s looking at Eddie.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, equally breathless. “Just wet.”

Steve huffs a quiet laugh, almost bitter. “Yeah. We all are.”

The words hang, your eyes meet Steve’s first, his mouth parted, his brows drawn in a tight line that softens when he looks at you. Then, slowly, his gaze shifts to Eddie again.

 Longer this time, bolder.

“So,” he says, voice low. “You gonna answer that question, or pretend the storm erased it?”

Eddie swallows. He stands slowly, shirt forgotten on the ground, his arms shining with rain, hair clinging to his jaw. His eyes flick to you.

“I wasn’t joking,” he says, stepping forward slowly and deliberately. He tugs at the hem of your shirt. “You’ll catch a cold,” he murmurs, voice thick. His fingers brush your stomach as he lifts the wet fabric of your tshirt, tossing it across the small room. Steve swallows, his soaked shirt clinging to him, his hair curling wildly from the humidity. “This is a bad idea,” he says.

You step forward without realizing it, caught in the gravity of it all,your heartbeat slamming against your ribs.

“I know,” you whisper.

You step toward him, closing the space with the rain hammering like a heartbeat overhead. Steve follows,his hand still on your waist,and for a moment, the three of you just... stand there. 

Eddie’s fingers brush yours, light, like he’s asking. 

Steve doesn’t move away.

And then it happens, soft and slow.

Your hand finds Eddie’s cheek, his skin is warm and damp, and he leans into your touch like he’s wanted it for far too long. Your lips touched, and inside Eddie's stomach it was like fireworks. His tongue explored your mouth carefully, memorizing all the sensations that being so close to you provoked in his body. 

Steve closes the distance first, his hand finds your waist a familiar, anchoring feel. He leans in, kisses you slowly, reverently. But this time, there’s something new behind it. A question.

He pulls back just enough to whisper, “Can I touch him?”

You shudder,voice barely escapes you: “Yes.”

Steve turns his head, Eddie’s breath catches when Steve steps into his space. There’s hesitation, sure! but not fear. Steve lifts a hand to Eddie’s chest, palm flat, warm over damp skin.

“You okay with that?” he murmurs.

Eddie nods then Steve kisses him.

Not rough, nor fast. Just lips meeting lips like it was always supposed to happen,like this tension was waiting for a storm. You watch, wide-eyed, pulse racing, the image seared into your bones and then Eddie’s eyes open, landing on you. He reaches for your hand and you let him pull you in.

You’re not sure who touches first. Maybe it’s Eddie’s hand brushing Steve’s chest, maybe it’s Steve reaching for your wrist or maybe it’s you, stepping between them like gravity pulled you there.

What you do know is that when Steve kisses you, it’s hot and heavy and full of all the things he’s been holding back. His lips are wet and desperate, tongue sliding against yours like he needs it, like he’s starved. You moan softly into his mouth, and he drinks it down.

Eddie’s hand slips over your hip, around your back, his body pressing to yours. You can feel him, already hard, warm, breathing unevenly against your neck. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, voice low and reverent. “You’re really gonna let this happen?”

You don’t answer, you just turn your head and kiss him, tasting metal and weed and something uniquely Eddie.

The tension shatters.

Clothes hit the floor,wet fabric slapping tile, bare skin meeting bare skin in a rush of limbs and breath and gasps. You end up between them, Eddie behind you, Steve in front, their mouths moving over you like they’ve both been dreaming about this for months.

Steve’s hand cups your jaw as he kisses you, slow now, controlled, but his hips twitch forward when Eddie’s hand slides down your stomach, fingers teasing between your legs. You cry out against Steve’s mouth, and he groans, forehead resting against yours.

“She’s so wet,” Eddie breathes, kissing along your shoulder. “So fucking wet.”

Steve’s fingers join Eddie’s, your back arching between them, overwhelmed, your breath catching on every stroke and slide and curl.

“You like this?” Steve asks, voice rough, eyes locked on yours. “You like us both touching you like this?”

You nod, dizzy, lips parted.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, teeth grazing your ear.

“Yes—fuck—yes.”

Eddie growls low behind you, his hands gripping your hips tighter. Steve watches the way your body responds to every motion, every touch, your lips parted, your eyelids fluttering, your body trembling between them like a live wire.

“I want to taste her,” Eddie says, voice rough with need, and Steve doesn’t argue ,he leans in, kisses your cheek, your mouth, and murmurs, “Lay back.”

Your knees hit the old, soft couch cushion behind you. Eddie guides you down gently, and Steve kneels beside your head, brushing damp strands of hair from your cheek. His cock is heavy against your arm, and when you reach for him, he groans softly, nodding.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Just like that.”

Eddie moves down your body with reverence, kissing your skin, trailing his tongue across your stomach, your hips, his hands stroking your thighs apart as he settles between them. You feel his breath, hot and shaky, before his mouth finally finds you, a slow lick that makes your spine arch and a sound you don’t recognize fall from your throat.

His tongue is skilled, lazy at first, teasing. Then deeper, firmer, devouring you like he’s starved. Your fingers tangle in his curls, anchoring yourself to something, anything, as your hips rock against his mouth.

Steve is kissing you again, rougher now, his hips twitching as your hand wraps around his length and strokes. His lips break from yours with a shuddering breath. He watches you fall apart ,your body spread open, taken from both ends, worshipped. 

He groans when you moan around the head of his cock, your eyes fluttering closed. “She’s shaking,” Steve murmurs, looking down your body to where Eddie is still working you with mouth and fingers, relentless and tender all at once.

Eddie lifts his head, lips glistening, pupils blown wide. “She’s close.”

You are so fucking close it feels unbearable. Your thighs start to tremble, and Steve’s hand cups your cheek as you writhe, trying to hold on, trying to chase it.

“Let go,” Steve whispers.

“Come for us,” Eddie urges, mouth brushing your inner thigh.

And you do.

The orgasm crashes over you, full and hard, your body seizing between them, mouth open in a silent cry. Eddie doesn’t stop, not until your hips jerk and Steve has to pull you into his arms, kissing your temple, grounding you again.

You blink up at him, dazed. “Fuck,” you breathe.

He smiles, eyes soft, voice warm. “Yeah. You okay?”

You nod weakly, and then glance at Eddie, he’s watching you both like he can’t decide whether to kiss you or fuck you again right here on the floor.

Steve shifts, voice low and serious now. “Get over here.”

Eddie moves without question. Steve stands, guiding you both to the floor. The cushions are pulled down, a mess of towels and blankets making a nest. Steve lowers himself behind you, lips on your neck, your shoulder. Eddie kneels in front of you, hard, flushed, trembling.

You stroke his chest, let your hand trail down to wrap around his cock, and his head tips back with a moan.

“God,” he gasps. “You’re both gonna kill me.”

You guide him to you, the tip pressing against your entrance, slick and ready, your breath catching as he pushes in slow, thick, filling. Steve’s hand on your hip steadies you, kissing your neck as Eddie slides all the way inside, bottoming out with a shaky groan.

You’re surrounded , Steve kissing you, Eddie inside you, both of them panting, watching your every reaction. It’s too much, it’s perfect.

Steve stood, letting you settle in better. Eddie knelt between your legs, losing himself in how delicious it felt inside you. He stayed by the boy's side, jerking off. Eddie's mouth was watering, and realizing it, Steve let Eddie suck his cock while he fucked your pussy.

Eddie starts to move, shallow thrusts building rhythm, and Steve kisses your shoulder, whispering, “Can I...?”

You know what he means. You nod, breathless.

Steve spits into his palm, slicks himself, and gently presses against you from behind. It takes time,patience, both of them murmuring to you, watching your face, making sure you're okay. When Steve finally sinks into you, slow and deep, you cry out stretched and full, pleasure blooming sharp and hot.

“Fuck,” Steve grits out. “She’s so tight.”

Eddie kisses you then, mouths colliding with hunger, his thrusts slowing to match Steve’s. They find a rhythm, your body caught between them like a secret, a heartbeat, a fuse.

Every movement drives you higher. Every thrust, every moan, every whispered “you feel so good” and “you’re perfect” makes the room disappear.

When you come again, it’s explosive, your nails dragging down Steve’s arm, your teeth biting into Eddie’s shoulder, your cries swallowed by their mouths. Steve follows, hips stuttering, groaning against your neck. Eddie's release comes hot inside you, his head pressed to your forehead, whispering your name like a confession.

After, the three of you collapse together in a tangled heap, limbs heavy and chests heaving. The rain still falls, steady and calm now, as the heat fades.