Archive of Our Own

Steve stood outside the door to Eddie’s trailer and hovered there, trying to decide if this was the stupidest thing he’d ever done.

It wasn’t some emergency; there was nothing to be fought off, nothing to run from. He didn’t even really know the guy, aside from the weird camaraderie that came from running away from hell-creatures together. But since he’d ditched Tommy and the rest, Eddie was the only guy Steve knew that wasn’t a literal child, and there was no way, absolutely no fuckin’ way he was telling Robin about this. Ever.

Steve steeled himself and knocked, half-hoping that Eddie wouldn’t be there, he could give this up as a bad job, go home and stare at the ceiling until he fell asleep. Again. But there Eddie was, squinting at him through the screen door as if he’d just woken up, his hair an utter disaster.

“Whuh?”

“Dude, it’s like, 3pm.”

The door slammed in his face, and Steve dug his nails into the palms of his hands. God, why was he such an asshole?

“Eddie?” He tapped again. “Eddie, c’mon. Sorry man, I didn’t mean to be a dick.” He leaned forward, his head resting on the screen. “I’m a little on edge.”

The door opened almost immediately, Eddie frowning at him this time. “Everything okay, Harrington? There’s not… I thought, y’know. It’s over, right? It’s been months, man.”

“Yeah! Yeah, no, this is… completely non-Upside Down freaky monster shit. Or… Yeah, I mean, it’s probably nothing. Sorry to bother you, man, I dunno what I was thinking -”

Eddie sighed, then leaned forward to push the screen open.

“Come on. In.”

Steve followed him mutely, trying not to glance too obviously at the ceiling repair as Eddie shuffled into the kitchen.

“Coffee? OJ?”

“No thanks, man.” Steve hovered beside the couch, feeling like the world’s biggest fucking idiot. God, why was he here? Why did he think that talking to Munson was going to help? He scrubbed his hand through his hair and considered how insane it would look if he just ran out of the trailer without saying anything. Fuck.

“Sit,” said Eddie, dropping a mug of coffee on the table between the chairs. He sat heavily, then tucked his socked feet up under him. “So. This is weird.”

“I know,” said Steve, but he sat down and stared at a worn-out patch on the rug. “Uh. Fuck.”

“Is anyone dead? Maimed horribly? Just so I know where to set my expectations,” said Eddie. Steve looked up in surprise; there was a small worried crease between his dark eyes.

“No! No, nothing like that. I promise. Sorry, I’m just… I’m being stupid, probably.”

“Okay,” said Eddie. He took a sip from his mug and raised his eyebrows, waiting for Steve to say something. Steve took a breath.

“So, um, this is more of a question than a… than something. Uh. Than something I needed to tell you. Um -”

Eddie’s eyebrows were rising higher, his mug pressed against his mouth. Steve soldiered on.

“Did you. I mean. Have you, um… noticed anything, since you were like… bitten? In the Upside Down?”

Eddie’s hand jumped up to his throat, then back onto his mug, like a reflex. “I thought this was non-freaky shit we were talking about?”

“It is! Or like, it could be? Maybe. The timing kinda works out, I dunno -”

“Harrington, you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Ugh,” Steve groaned. “God, I shouldn’t have, fucking - okay. Please try not to laugh too much.”

Eddie nodded solemnly. “I do so swear,” he said, because he was a fuckin’ nerd.

Steve focussed on that little patch on the carpet, and forced his mouth to say the words.

“I can’t like… get hard. At all. Since, uhhh -” he trailed off awkwardly.

There was silence, for a second. Steve’s fingers dug into his thighs.

“You… what?” said Eddie, finally.

Steve gritted his teeth and looked up at him. “You know,” he said. Then he gestured at himself, in what he hoped was a demonstrative way. “Since I got chomped by those freaky fucking demobats. Like you said, months ago. I can’t. There’s… nothing happening. Zilch. Nada.”

Eddie’s eyes were wide, when he looked up, but his expression was otherwise neutral.

“Okay, and this is, uh. No offence, dude, but you’re telling me this because…?”

Steve groaned and pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Right. Uh. I thought, maybe. That it might be the bites, or something? And like, you got bitten as well.” The more he was saying it out loud, the stupider it sounded to his own ears. “And I guess I thought, maybe -” He pushed his hands through his hair and sat up. “I don’t even know what I thought. Like, maybe if I could work out why, I could fix it.”

“Ah. No. Sorry, Harrington. Just a you thing.” He sounded sympathetic and wow, why was that worse than mockery, but then he suddenly smirked. “I can see why you’re on edge.”

“Oh, fuck off, Munson. Jesus, give a guy a break.”

“If I could, I would,” said Eddie, then he took a mouthful of coffee before Steve could try and think of an appropriate reply.

“Okay,” said Steve, “I’m just going to… pretend that this interaction never happened and that I still have some dignity left intact.” He hovered at the door again, on the other side of it this time.

“No judgement here, man.”

“I… thanks. If you could, uh. Not tell anyone about this, that would be… uh. Good. Especially Nance.”

“What, you think me and Wheeler have sleepover parties where we braid each others’ hair and talk about boys?” Eddie cupped his hands under his chin and gave Steve a considering look through his mane of hair. “I won’t tell anyone, Harrington.”

“Um, thanks.”

“And hey, if you need any suggestions about how to spice things up in the bedroom -”

“I’m leaving now! Bye!” He slammed the door, hearing Eddie’s cackle echo behind him and fuck. If there was one thing that Steve could have hoped for, it would be that the humiliation of that exchange would have done something to cool him off a little, but no, because fuck his life. Eddie’s voice echoed in his head, If I could, I would, and Jesus, the flare of heat that had sent through him was pathetic. Almost matched by the frustration of absolutely nothing happening. That sweet-hot little thread of arousal zinged right through his body, and it was like the wires were crossed somewhere, the signal blocked. Whatever metaphor Steve was using, the message wasn’t getting to his dick.

Obviously things were getting desperate if Munson was starting to turn his crank; even that little smirk had made his mouth dry. Maybe he should talk to Nance. But no, she was still in that weird semi-off, semi-on again thing with Jonathan, and Steve was an asshole, but he didn't want to get in the way of their whole… deal. Steve sat in his car in the trailer park and pressed his forehead against the steering wheel. Then, because he didn't want Eddie looking out of his window and seeing him having a weird dick-related breakdown, he drove home.

-

The problem was, was that Eddie was everywhere.

He and Steve, they didn't exactly hang out after the not-pocalypse; Eddie hung out with Robin, and because Steve was a sadsack with exactly one adult friend, and Robin was a kind and benevolent person, she usually let him tag along. Plus, the munchkins fucking worshipped the ground he walked on, especially after he'd singlehandedly taken on a swarm of demobats and come out the other side, only a little chewed on.

So if Steve had secretly hoped to drop that bombshell on Eddie, then cope with it by never speaking to him again, well. It didn't last very long.

"Harrington," said Eddie, as Steve approached the two of them at the entrance to the movie theatre. To anyone else it would have seemed completely neutral, but Steve saw. Steve saw the imperceptible little twitch of Eddie's eyebrows that said I haven't forgotten. Steve glared at him.

"Munson. Robin, hey."

Robin glanced between them.

"So. What are you two being all alpha male about?"

"What? We aren't -" said Steve, and "Uh, nothing," said Eddie. Then Eddie knuckled Steve on the shoulder and gave him a scrunched-up little grin.

"Really. We're pals, aren't we Harrington?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "You bite a demon bat for a guy one time."

"Fucking cool as hell, is what that was," said Eddie. "C'mon Robs." He swung an arm around her shoulder and ushered her towards the ticket booth. "Are you ready to have your mind blown by the genius of Sam Raimi?"

"Wait," said Steve. "Is this a scary movie?"

"Oh, you innocent soul!" said Eddie. "You're gonna love it."

Steve did not love it.

"Why was there so much blood?" he heard himself saying, as they staggered out into the parking lot. "Why was… what did the tree do to her?"

Robin patted his arm. "There, there." She leaned over to stage whisper into Eddie's ear. "He's a sheltered boy. His favourite movie is The Goonies."

"Aw," said Eddie.

"Why am I driving you both home, again?"

"Out of the goodness of your heart," said Robin. Then she pinched his cheeks.

"Get in the fucking car, idiot."

Steve desperately didn't want to be left alone in the car with Eddie, but it would have looked weird if he'd driven way out to the trailer park without dropping Robin off first, so he gritted his teeth as he waved her off, then maintained his gaze straight ahead of him as he pulled away from her place, willing Eddie not to say anything.

"So,” said Eddie immediately, and Steve groaned. “Any luck with your little problem?”

“No, and also, shut up. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine, fine!” said Eddie. “Just asking.”

“Well, don’t.”

Eddie didn’t say anything, but he drummed his fingers against the armrest rhythmically; it set Steve’s teeth on edge.

They pulled up beside Eddie’s trailer, but when Eddie didn’t immediately get out, Steve risked a glance at him. He was looking at Steve consideringly.

“Have you tried -” he trailed off, but raised his eyebrows and, inexplicably, wiggled the fingers of his right hand.

“Jesus, why did I ever think telling you was a good idea.”

“Is that a no?”

“I… what are you even talking about. What’s -” he copied the wiggle. Eddie bit his lip and held his hand up, two forefingers together and the rest curled in a fist. He made a beckoning motion, and Steve felt himself get it and go hot all over. He glanced in the rearview mirror and watched a horrible flush begin to spread over his entire face.

“Uh -” he stammered. “No. I haven’t. Um. Jesus, can we stop talking about this, please?”

Eddie raised both his hands in a gesture of supplication.

“Sure. Sure, Harrington. Just trying to help. Thanks for the ride, anyway.”

“Uh-huh,” Steve choked. He didn’t even remember driving home, his mind filled with the image of Eddie’s fingers. The little ‘come here’ motion he’d made with them. The way his mouth had looked, teeth digging into his lower lip. Christ, Steve felt like he was going to go completely insane.

-

He tried it, obviously. He was a desperate man, and even though he’d never thought about or wanted to think about taking it up the ass, everything else had been a non-starter. And it couldn’t hurt, right?

The angle was difficult; he wasn’t sure where he needed to be, where to put his legs. It seemed like it would be easiest face-down with his arm behind him, but that felt like too much, somehow. Too exposed, even though he was in his own locked bedroom, curtains drawn. He’d even waited til dark; it had seemed weirdly filthy to do it in broad daylight.

Steve sat propped against the headboard, legs tucked under his ass, knees spread. He could just about reach his arm around and get his fingers in position without straining something, and he felt more in control than he had on his back with one leg hitched up over his elbow. He’d lubed up his fingers with lotion in preparation (he knew that much, thank you Munson) and he hovered there a little nervously, waiting for… what? For it to feel right? He took a deep breath and touched himself lightly with just the tips of his fingers.

It felt… cold. Cold, and more sensitive than he’d been anticipating. He stroked a little, experimentally, and felt a short, shocked gasp fall out of him. Okay. Okay, this was something. His eyes flicked down between his legs, to where his dick still lay soft against his thigh, but the rest of his body was beginning to wake up. Jesus, okay, Eddie might be onto something here.

Steve rubbed his fingers back and forth, shuddering, and found himself wondering if Eddie had ever done this to himself. He must have, to have suggested it. Or done it to someone else. Steve took a shaky breath and pressed into himself with his fingers. It was… god, it was fucking hot, in a filthy sort of way. It hurt a bit; he was probably going at it too quickly, too rough, but it didn’t matter because all he could think about was the fact that he had something inside him, something fucking him, and that Eddie Munson had told him to do it.

It didn’t take long for his arm to spasm into a cramp, for the lotion he had used as lube to dry out a bit too much, and for his ass to get sore in a way that was less fun than it had been just a few minutes before, and Steve slowly eased his legs out from under him and flopped backwards onto the bed. His whole body felt like it was lit the fuck up, pulsing with electricity, and he squashed the urge to scream out loud in frustration. God, that was the closest he’d got to… anything in months, but it still wasn’t enough. If he could have just kept going longer, got (he swallowed nervously), got deeper, then maybe. Steve turned and blew out a breath into his pillow, then ground his soft dick against the comforter until he was almost rubbed raw from it. Then he gritted his teeth and tried his very best to fall asleep.

-

Eddie pulled him aside at a party a week later, cornering him by the makeshift bar as Steve attempted to get one last beer out of the keg.

“Dude. You look like shit.”

Steve licked his lips, his mouth dry. He gave up on the keg and let Eddie tug him to sit by the edge of the pool, blue rippled light washing over them. “Yeah, well. Can’t really sleep.”

Eddie’s eyes flicked quickly down Steve’s body then back up, and even that made Steve heat up. “Still nothing? Not even -” he waggled his eyebrows.

“No,” said Steve. Then, because his brain to mouth filter was obviously completely fucked, he continued, “not that I don’t appreciate the advice. It’s the closest… uh. The closest I’ve got.”

“Yeah?” Eddie murmured. “Can’t get the angle?”

Steve glanced at him sideways and swallowed thickly. His shirt felt too tight.

“No,” he breathed, almost a whisper even though there was nobody nearby. He felt Eddie’s eyes on him almost like a physical touch.

“Thought about asking Wheeler?” said Eddie, and Steve’s body flooded with shocked heat at the thought of Nancy doing that. Pushing his legs apart. Putting her long, pretty fingers in him. Fuck

“What? No. No, she wouldn’t. I wouldn’t ask her. She wouldn’t.”

Eddie shrugged. “Just saying, man. I don’t think she’d say no.”

Steve gaped at him. “I think… uh. I think she and Jonathan are, you know -”

“Huh. Her loss,” said Eddie, then he slapped his hands on his knees and stood, leaving Steve with his head spinning. Then he made a split-second decision, stuck his arm out and managed to grab onto Eddie’s sleeve before he could think about what he was doing.

“Hey, Munson, d’you think, would you -” and then immediately wished he could stuff the words back into his mouth because what the fuck.

At least Eddie didn’t seem like the type to beat a guy up for looking at him the wrong way. He swallowed, and, for the first time since Steve had started this stupid fucking thing between them, he looked a little nervous.

“You could call me Eddie,” was what he said, finally. “If you’re asking what I think you’re asking. And if you’re about to punch me, just give me a moment to brace myself.”

“Eddie,” said Steve, already feeling a little sick with anticipation. He couldn’t make himself say anything more, but Eddie’s eyes were fixed on him, dark, heavy-lidded. He looked like he’d do anything Steve wanted.

“Eddie,” he said again, stupidly.

“Jesus,” said Eddie. This close, Steve could hear the way he was breathing; a sharp, shuddering little inhale. Could feel the heat coming off his body in waves. Steve looked at Eddie’s mouth, then glanced around them; there were people everywhere. He took a jerky step back and nearly tripped over a plant pot.

Eddie swallowed, his gaze unreadable in the low light. “Come over,” he said, and Steve’s heart rate kicked up again. Jesus, what the fuck was he doing.

“Now?” he said, thickly.

Eddie tugged him in close, his eyes tracking over Steve’s face, then glancing around them to check if anyone was watching. Steve couldn’t help the way his face tipped up longingly, but Eddie just held him there for a moment. He leaned in.

“Now,” he said, then released his grip on Steve’s shirt and pushed him lightly backwards.

Then he was gone - threading his way through the mass of people in the house. Steve pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, then followed.

-

He found himself hovering on the step outside Eddie’s trailer again, a different kind of nervousness threading through him. Before he had a chance to make the sensible decision to turn around and go the fuck home, Eddie was pulling the door open and beckoning him inside.

“Is… uh, your uncle?”

“Night shift,” said Eddie, throwing himself onto the couch. Steve stood for an awkward moment, wondering if they were going to have to make small talk, ugh, and then Eddie patted his knee and said “C’mere,” and Steve felt his stomach drop. God. Was he really doing this?

He trailed over to the sofa and then hesitated, not knowing where Eddie wanted him. Eddie leaned forward and grabbed him behind one knee before he could make a decision, and he found himself suddenly on Eddie’s lap, knees spread, his hands braced on the back of the couch behind Eddie’s head.

Steve concentrated on not panting out loud as Eddie’s hands slid up his thighs. He’d stopped at home to shower and change, and gym shorts had seemed like the right choice at the time but now he felt very exposed.

“Damn, Harrington,” said Eddie reverently. “Nice pins.”

“Fuck off,” Steve choked, as Eddie’s fingers crept under the hem of the shorts. His face felt like it was on fire, his hands clenched on the back of the couch. “Get on with it… if you’re… if you’re going to -”

“Eager,” said Eddie, continuing to stroke against the grain of the hairs on his legs. Steve fought the urge to squirm on his lap.

“If I’d known you were such a fucking tease, I’d have asked someone else.”

“Oh yeah? Who?”

“Someone less smug -” Steve managed, as Eddie’s fingers crept higher.

“Uh huh,” said Eddie. His eyes were dark, even as he shoved the hem of Steve’s shorts up to properly grab his ass, and Steve couldn’t help it, he ground down onto Eddie’s lap and fuck, discovered him hard in his jeans and Eddie was grabbing him and pressing them together, shoving his hips up -

Jesus. If Steve was capable of getting hard, he’d be trying not to come all over himself at the feeling of Eddie pressed all up against him, dick a thick, hot line against Steve’s hip. There was something about being able to physically feel it against him, that Eddie was turned on by this, that was turning Steve’s brain to liquid. Eddie was breathing heavily into his neck, and his fingers were like a fucking vice-grip pulling Steve down onto him.

“Harrington, we need to -” he gasped, still gripping Steve’s ass. “Slow your roll, man.”

“Can’t -” said Steve, almost out of his head. He wanted more, wanted to rub off against Eddie, wanted his mouth on him, his fingers in him, but his stupid fucking dick still wasn’t getting the memo. He forced his thighs to relax and let out a shuddery breath above Eddie’s mane of hair.

“Fuck.”

“Just gimme a second, man,” said Eddie, sounding a little dazed as he pulled his hands out of Steve’s shorts, then plucked at the hem. “Jesus, did you really have to wear these?”

“I uhh, I thought, they’re not too tight -”

“Easy access, huh,” said Eddie. “Not that I’m complaining. At all.”

“Uh -” said Steve.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna ask for my fingers up your ass but get all weird when I think you’re hot in your little jock shorts.”

Steve felt himself go even redder. “I’m not! I just didn’t think you -”

“Dude. Don’t bullshit me.”

“Okay, I mean, I did. Or like, I don’t think I’m really thinking very clearly. Uh. At the moment.”

“No shit.” Eddie leaned over to grab his jacket from where it was slung over the arm of the couch. He extracted a little sachet from the inside pocket and wiggled it at Steve.

“Alright. Spread ‘em, baby.”

“Jesus Christ,” said Steve, face heating. “Why are you like this?” But he spread his knees a little wider over Eddie’s lap. He had to close his eyes while Eddie slicked up his fingers, because maybe if he didn’t watch it would feel more normal. But it didn’t feel normal to have Eddie’s fingers leave little wet trails as they slid back up his thigh, under his shorts. It didn’t feel normal when they pressed delicately against him.

He did finally open his eyes when several seconds went by without Eddie doing anything. He found Eddie looking right at him, staring searchingly at his face.

“Alright?” he said, sincere for once.

Steve just nodded, because he didn’t think he’d be able to make words come out of his mouth. His entire body felt like one raw nerve, all centred on where Eddie’s fingers were just… touching him. Slick and wet and not really moving, and Steve’s own fingers felt like they were cramping up where they were gripping Eddie’s shoulder.

“I think, uh -” he said, and obviously Eddie was a mind-reading genius because he chose that moment to adjust the angle of his arm and then his fingers were inside Steve, and Steve couldn’t stop the noise that fell out of his open mouth.

“God,” said Eddie. “Yeah, okay.” And he barely gave Steve time to breathe before his fingers were sliding out, then back in again deeply, a slick, steady rhythm.

Fucking. He’s fucking me, Steve thought, and felt a surge of heat go through him as he did. He opened his eyes and Eddie was staring right at him. Steve could see the muscles in his right arm flexing rhythmically, and he was going out of his fucking mind.

“Eddie, fuck -” he choked. “I can’t -”

“Jesus. You can. Fuckin’ look at you, yeah you can.” And Steve wondered what he was seeing that was making him look like that; his expression was so intense it almost had a weight to it. Then Eddie’s eyes flicked unmistakably to Steve’s mouth, and Steve felt a surge of want flood through him almost to his fingertips. God, how hadn’t he thought to want that?

“Yeah,” he said, already tipping forward, Eddie’s fingers still inside him and then Eddie’s tongue was in him and Steve was going to melt, or combust, or burn up from the inside with how fucking hot he was and how he was still wearing the fucking shorts, and the little noises that Eddie was making into his mouth as they kissed and kissed and Eddie’s sweaty fingers slipped against his ribs trying to pull him closer.

Steve couldn’t even focus on trying to make the kiss good, he just wanted the slide of Eddie’s tongue against his, desperate for it. Eddie seemed to have lost his smooth rhythm, his arm trapped awkwardly inside the fabric of Steve’s shorts, and he pulled away to gasp for breath.

“Stop fucking distracting me, Harrington,” he said. His mouth was red, his hair wild. He used one hand to hold onto Steve’s hip and pull him down onto his fingers. Steve jerked in his grip, caught between wanting more of Eddie's mouth and the realisation that the fingers pushing relentlessly into him were, fuck, yeah, they were getting him there. He hadn't recognised it for what it was at first, but it was there: a slow, simmering something building up deep inside him.

"Yeah?" Eddie murumered, at whatever expression was on Steve's face.

"Fuck -" Steve gasped. "Yeah, like that."

Eddie bit his lip, stroked his free hand up and over Steve's thigh, his ass, up under his shirt. He pulled out for a second to tug Steve's shorts down so they were tight around his thighs, and then his fingers pressed back in at a slightly different angle, deep and slippery and if he kept… if he kept -

"Ohfuck -" Steve rocked forward, trying to chase it.

"Right there?"

Steve could only pant into his neck. His whole body was shaking, every muscle in him tensing up, chasing it.

"You look unbelievable," Eddie said, as Steve leaned back on his lap to try and search for the angle he needed. "Take it like a fuckin' dream."

"Fuck. Keep talking."

Eddie's eyes crawled over him, dark and heavy. His bicep flexed and tensed, flexed and tensed.

"Want my cock in you," he said finally, like he was choking the words out. "Wanna - fuck, Steve -"

Steve saw it in his head, unable to stop it from playing out like a movie. Spread over Eddie's lap like he was now, Eddie's hands on his waist, pulling Steve down onto his dick -

"Say it again," Steve gasped. "Say it, say you'll -"

"You'd look perfect," said Eddie, and his fingers were perfect, and his mouth was perfect. "I'd fuck you so good, Harrington. God, come on, that's it -"

"Oh god, Eddie," Steve choked out, "I'm, I think I'm -"

"I got you, come on."

Steve had never felt like he was coming with his entire body before, like it was being pulled out of him from somewhere deep inside. It was the weirdest, most overwhelming sensation and he looked down at his dick and it was still soft, but there was come surging out and over his thigh and Eddie's wrist and it looked filthy and hot and his body spasmed with it.

"Fuck, look at that," said Eddie, and he was still fucking Steve and Steve was still coming holy shit. His thighs collapsed into Eddie's legs, and he stuck one hand out to stop himself sliding off and onto the floor and held himself like that until it slowed, then stopped. Gradual, instead of all-at-once. He gulped in a mouthful of air, realising he’d been holding his breath for so long he was going lightheaded.

“Uh. Do you mind if I… ?” said Eddie, and Steve blinked slowly, trying to make his syrupy brain parse the words. Eddie’s fingers slipped out of him, then they were on the fly of his jeans, his expression questioning and a little desperate.

“Knock yourself out,” Steve managed. He stared as Eddie unzipped, then slid a shaking hand over himself through his boxers.

“Fuck,” he said. “This is not gonna take long.”

“You can, uh -” said Steve, gesturing at him uselessly. His tongue felt too big in his mouth. He wanted to see. “Get it out.”

Eddie looked up at him and bit his lip, then hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down over his hips. Steve stared. It was just a dick, but it was such a dark red it looked almost painful, and it was shiny at the tip. Eddie’s pale hand curled delicately around the base and lifted it off his belly.

“If you keep looking at me like that, Harrington -” he said.

“Like what?” Steve said. Eddie thrust shakily up into his hand, his thighs flexing under Steve’s weight.

“Like you’re gonna eat me alive. Fuck.”

His mouth was open, panting, and Steve needed to kiss him but also he needed to watch, and instead he found himself sliding his thumb questioningly over Eddie’s lower lip, pushing inside when it opened up for him.

“Uhn -” said Eddie, and then he was tensing up, sharp edges of his teeth digging into Steve’s thumb as he moaned and came all over his hand and his belly and up onto his shirt. Steve rubbed his wet thumb over Eddie’s chin, eyes fixed on the spit-slick trail it left over his mouth.

Steve felt almost delirious. He ached, and his ass was kinda sore, but a blissed-out sort of relief was flooding through him, slow and syrupy and delicious. Eddie blinked slowly up at him.

“I can’t feel my feet,” he said, raspy. “Why are you so heavy?”

Steve tugged his filthy shorts back up and collapsed sideways off Eddie’s lap.

“Pure muscle,” he managed. “Fuck. That was… I mean. Thank you.” With some effort, he turned his head to look at where Eddie was slumped similarly beside him.

“Jesus, please don’t thank me. That’s fucking weird.” He used his clean hand to push himself into a sitting position. Then he tucked himself back into his jeans and wiped his other hand on his shirt. “Ugh.”

“Gross, man.”

“Uh: pot, kettle,” said Eddie, looking pointedly at Steve’s shorts, which, okay yeah they were a fucking mess. He adjusted himself, which somehow made the situation worse.

“Um,” he said, beginning to feel awkward now the post-orgasm glow was starting to wear off. “I guess I’d better, uh, get out of your hair.”

“Okay,” said Eddie, looking at him a little warily as he stood up. “But um, listen. If you... I mean. That wasn’t a hardship for me. Like, at all.”

Steve swallowed. He didn’t know how it could be so easy when he was on Eddie’s lap, watching him come, pushing fingers into his mouth, and so difficult when he was standing in front of him in his sticky shorts, his fingers still wet.

“Yeah, I mean. Me neither. It was, uh. Good.”

“Good, huh? Wow. Let me bask in the glow of your appreciation, why don’t you?”

“You know what I fucking mean. Jeez.”

Eddie’s eyes tracked over him, lingering on the gross wet patch on the front of Steve’s shorts. “Yeah,” he said, a stupid smirk on his face.

Steve wanted to kiss him, but he wasn’t sure if that would be weird. They weren’t… this wasn’t a thing. Did Eddie think it was a thing?

Fuck it. He leaned forward, eyes darting up to Eddie’s, finding them wide. The kiss was almost chaste, and he felt Eddie’s little gaspy breath across his mouth as he pulled away.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m gonna. Uh -”

“Right,” said Eddie. He looked dazed again. “Right. Um. See you?”

“Yeah,” said Steve. “See you around.”

He walked out into the cool night air. His clothes were gross, his legs were wobbly, and he felt lighter than he had in weeks.