Controlled Burn

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Eddie stands in the, whatever, sex stuff aisle. He doesn’t have anything at the house. He doesn’t know if Buck does. Nothing they’ve done so far has required it, they still haven’t even been fully naked with each other yet. Well, Buck gave him a blow job the other day (his heartbeat gets a little funky just glancingly thinking about it now, Buck’s little inhales through his nose and his fluttery closed eyes and the way he hadn’t been frowning and how Eddie hadn’t realized until that moment how much Buck goes around frowning these days) and maybe he should have been wrapped for that but he was clean before Marisol and they were always protected so that probably hasn’t changed. Shit. He should go get tested just in case? It’s probably a good idea to grab condoms, anyway. He hovers. There’s the kind he usually gets, and his size. Does he… Eddie doesn’t know the protocol. Does he get some for Buck, too, or is that his responsibility? What if he’s picky about them? He’s picky about a lot of things. And Eddie’s not sure… Buck- he feels a little bigger. A size up? Or two? And then what about lube? He’s, you know, vaguely aware of the basic concepts of penetrative sex between guys, but like. Oh god. There’s so many to choose from. That one’s strawberry flavored. He’s standing there staring at strawberry flavored lube and there there’s a little paper bag crinkle and Bobby is standing right next to him. “Hk,” Eddie says, and walks quickly around the corner.

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