eternity || epilogue

Eddie whines into the mattress, teeth worrying damply at the wrinkled sheet that he's been mouthing incoherently into for the last, oh, few hours or so. His fingers twitch weakly beneath Buck's grasp, the tangle of their hands slick with sweat. His eyes, when Buck catches them, are glassy, wet, glazed-over with the kind of pleasure that you can't quite differentiate from pain.

Buck smiles back, rolls his hips again, knocking a drawn-out gasp from Eddie, his body twitching into Buck, then away, then back again. Buck presses him down deeper into their bed, grinding into him in slow, agonizing circles.

Eddie keeps making little breathy sounds of pleasure, or maybe protest, his limbs shaking as Buck keeps him in place. His hips are pressed to the bed, his twitching, spent dick dragging along the mattress in a way that must feel agonizingly oversensitive. Buck scrapes his teeth along his neck, reworking a bruise already red and blossoming there, and watches with satisfaction as Eddie hiccups on a sound that dragged out of him, his hair falling into his face as his fingers tighten around Buck's.

His own cock feels almost numb from the heat of Eddie's hole, the steady way he's been edging himself inside of Eddie for what feels like an eternity. But the desperation in his gut feels secondary to Eddie, to making the tears gathering at the edges of his lashes fall, to make even more of a mess of their sheets.

And he's getting close, Buck can tell. His whole body is trembling slightly, his sounds going high and surprised and a little scared, like he didn't know that this kind of pleasure is something that his body would allow him. Buck smiles into the back of his shoulder, presses a kiss that's probably too gentle for the situation into the damp curve of it.

"There you go, baby," he mouths into Eddie's ear, nipping it just to hear the little squeak. "You're so close, aren't you? I knew you could do it. I knew you could be so sweet and messy for me, just the way I want."

Eddie makes a little warbling noise, hair falling in strands as he shakes his head. "I--" he says, the words sounding like each one is being scraped out of the bottom of his lungs, like he barely remembers how to form each syllable. "I-- Buck, I can't-- it's too--"

"But you already are," Buck tells him, hitching one knee up a little so he can lock Eddie more firmly in place. The sheets beneath him slide a little, and he rocks forward a little harder than he means to.

Beneath him, Eddie gasps, makes a long, lost sound, tears finally spilling out of the corners of his eyes, each one beautiful and Buck's. Buck licks them off of Eddie's cheeks, pressing a kiss under his lashes after each sweet offering.

He loosens one hand from Eddie's grasp, causing him to whine in protest, crying a little again, and Buck kisses him soothingly on the back of his neck as he runs his palm down Eddie's sweat-slick side, gripping the frankly absurd curve of his hip.

"Let go, Eddie," he murmurs, arousal thickening his words, tasting salt and Eddie's skin beneath his tongue. "It's okay. You're doing so good. I've got you."

He holds on, bites the spot on Eddie's neck that he just kissed, and rocks forward hard.

Eddie wails, voice stuttering in and out like a bad recording as his entire body seizes up, as Buck feels him twitch and come beneath him for the nth time, the wet spot beneath them spreading warm and probably a little humiliating for him as he does. Buck spares a moment of thought for the sheets beneath them, which they'll probably (definitely) have to throw out after this.

Honestly, the mattress might need a change after this, too.

Still, that's a thought for future Buck. Current Buck ruts into Eddie's warm, twitching hole, finally allowing himself to come with a groan mouthed into Eddie's shoulder. He can't help a few more twitches of his hip as his cock softens inside of Eddie, and Eddie barely has the wherewithal to even move in protest, just making soft, fucked-out sounds as he drools into the sheets clenched between his teeth.

Eventually, their breaths slow, and Buck lifts himself up slightly by his forearms to look down at the bruised mess of Eddie's neck, collar, shoulders, back. The loose limbs that twitch slightly with every brush against them. The sweaty hair, the drool-slick lips, the wet clump of lashes against dazed eyes. The hole that, as Buck pulls his soft cock slowly out, clenches against air, pleading, wet with every time Buck has come inside of him that day.

Eddie's always the most beautiful person in any given room, but the sprawl of him beneath Buck right now makes him feel high, like an artist, the body beneath him the only canvas that has ever mattered. He shifts his hand on Eddie's waist away, tracing first the dark fingerprints left on his hip, then moving slowly upwards. A thumb in the divots at the small of his back. A dance of fingers against a constellation of freckles. A press of his palm against a cluster of bruises sucked into the back of his neck.

Eddie stays still for him through all of it, loose-limbed and soft and relaxed, the dark haze of his expression slowly loosening with every touch. Buck catches his eye again, smiles, sweeps a thumb over the back of Eddie's knuckles with the hand still entwined with his.

Even like this, still too spent for words, Eddie's fingers curl around his right back.