Archive of Our Own

Eddie doesn't know what he expected. Well, actually, he did know; he did expect something, though he knew his imagination might've been going a little too far, exaggerating a bit, but... this was the complete opposite of what he was picturing.

He heard rumors about how many girls Steve had been with and about how good he was in bed—thoughtful, sweet, handsome, and fucking good—but never anything about his size. He just supposed he was at the very least bigger than average, and in his mind, in his dirty, wet dreams, he was big, freaking hung. He imagined comparing the length and width of his cock to his own and how it would feel in his hands, mouth, or ass—how full he would feel once he was all the way in.

So now forgive him if he's a little wide-eyed as Steve lays naked on his bed, smirking up at him with all the confidence in the world, his dick hard and red and... small. Eddie hasn't seen many cocks in his life, but this is certainly the smallest. Not super small, not clinically small, he guessed without knowledge in the matter, but certainly smaller than average, small enough that he would think people who had the pleasure of seeing him naked would mention it, even make fun of it.

It's small, barely around 3 inches long, but Steve looks so confident, like he's hot and he knows it, and it makes him fucking hotter; it makes Eddie want to jump him. It's small, but fucking pretty, hard as a rock, red and angry, and a little curved and a little slick with pre-cum, and it looks delicious. It's small, but Eddie wants to devour it, to take it down his throat and suck Steve's life out of it.

"Take a fucking picture; it lasts longer." Steve snaps, his once relaxed and smug face twisted into a frown.

"What?" Eddie stupidly says, only now realizing how long he must have been staring in awe.

"Stop staring at me with that face, God! Didn't think you of all people would be an ass about this. Fucking laugh if you want, but you're not gonna laugh when you realize what a good fuck you just lost, fucking fre-eeak" He starts his rant with anger in his voice and face, full of annoyance and insecurity, seeming ready to get off of the bed and start getting dressed, but before he could do any of that, Eddie drops in front of him and without a first thought engulfs Steve's whole penis in his mouth, grabbing his hips as well to pull him closer.

He can fit it all in his mouth without problems, almost as if it were made exactly to be put in his mouth specifically, and so he licks, and sucks, and enjoys the taste of hot, clean skin and the glorious amount of pre-come his dick seems to be spurting out, Steve's angelic moans filling his ears.

"Holy shit, God" 

"It's so beautiful, Steve. Fucking hell."

"It is?" Steve asks, his voice trembling, as if for a split second he forgot to keep his confident, douche-y act on and instead let himself be vulnerable, real.

Eddie adores it; he adores his small, shameful whimper, his flushed cheeks, and being able to see the real Steve, even for a split second.

"So. Beautiful." He remarks, giving two firm licks to his length after each word, then returns to fully slurp his entire hardness in his mouth, bobbing his mouth more for the fun and pleasure of it than for it being any useful to the act.

His tongue moves expertly around his cock, hard and wet and pulsing, and so damn delicious; he tastes it as if it's his last meal, as if the world will end if he doesn't suck it. It kind of feels like it, even.

"Eddie—Jesus Christ—fuck." He could spend all day—no, all his life—listening to Steve's groaning, listening as he tries to mask his high-pitched whines with deep moans, desperately trying to hold on to what remains of his dignity and masculinity.

He couldn't care less about that, not when Steve Harrington is naked in front of him, not when his amazing cock is in his mouth, not when he's moaning for him and moaning his name. Steve might be an asshole, but Eddie has been crushing—no, not crushing, more like... having interest, sexual interest—for this asshole for months, years even, and his stupid flaws are literally the last thing on his mind.

So instead he keeps his dick in his mouth, pleasuring him as he takes advantage of his free hands to run them up and down his body, exploring it and trying to memorize every bump, every muscle, every single mole or scar.

which he seems to have a lot of. lot of muscles, lots of moles, and lots, lots of scars. He didn't even notice them before, not at swim practice, or in gym class, or even earlier –though he might have been distracted by something else–,  and they're superficial, honestly, just some small, faded bruise, some healed cuts, maybe done by shaving his smooth chest and legs, maybe by a cat he doesn't know about, or a fight he had with Tommy Hagan, or Jonathan Byers, or fucking Billy Hargrove or something, so he doesn't stop much on them, just caresses on it like he does for the rest of his body, lingering with his fingers on those places where Steve seems to like having touched –his nipples, his damn nipples.

Just as he plays with them, twisting his nipples between his fingers, Steve lets out what must be one of the hottest sounds ever to exist in history, surely the hottest one Eddie has ever heard, making him twitch in his boxers.

"I'm gonna—shit, I'm gonna fuckin' come."

He sucks harder, and harder, one of his hands on his nipple and the other on his balls, and soon enough Steve is coming right on his tongue, sweet and just as tasty as he ever imagined it. He swallows around it, trying to milk as much cum as he can out of his dick, until he feels it soften in his mouth, letting it out of his mouth with a whimper slipping from his lips.

"God, you sucked the life out of me," he says, short-breathing, pushing his long, styled hair out of his face.

"Do you think you still have some left in you to fuck me?" He asks, struggling to keep a straight face when he sees Steve's reaction.

His eyes are blown out wide, and his neck must hurt from how fast he turned around to look at him. It's funny to see the school's royalty, himself, have that kind of reaction, seeming insecure, and all because of him.

"You—you want me to fuck you?" He asks back like he couldn't believe Eddie would ever want that, like it would be more believable if it was all just a prank and there were cameras all over the room recording the scene. Eddie kind of starts to question whether Steve actually had sex with all those girls or if he just blackmailed them or something into saying they did.

A part of his brain wants the rumors to be true, because if he did have sex with those girls, if they weren't lying, then Eddie is in for a really, really enjoyable evening. The other part of his brain wishes for the opposite, because… reasons. Reasons that don't involve his absolutely non-existent crush on Steve, his "not" jealousy, or the pride, the honor he would feel if he were actually taking the guy's virginity

"I would really like that."

"God—shit—of course, of course, I have it in me. What kinda question is that? Let me—let me grab my condoms and lube." He hurries, putting his confident façade back on, turning around and leaning on the bed to get to his drawer, staying on all fours and pushing his ass out as he searches for what he needs with his arm, leaving the goods all out for Eddie to admire. He's probably doing it on purpose, wiggling his perfect, round-shaped ass in front of Eddie's face, like the slut everyone knows he is, and Eddie is surely not going to complain about it, the view being more than welcome.

He wants to grab it, bite it, and slap it, then run his hands and fingers all over the tanned skin, tracing his moles and... more scars. Somehow, he hadn't noticed those before, but now that he's staring at them, they're impossible to miss. They're not like the ones on his front, nothing like those superficial scratches and cuts; his skin appears to have been burned in some places, and Eddie is certain that they must be cigarette burns; his own experience with his dad and his hobby of putting out cigarettes on his arm when he was a kid makes it easy for him to recognize it.

Maybe he should say something, he thinks, but then again, Steve wouldn't tell him anything; he would get angry, and it would just end up with the two of them upset, so what's the point? For all he knows, he could be into some kinky, BDSM, or sadomasochistic shit, and that's just the remainder of a really pleasant night. It doesn't really sound like Steve, but he really doesn't know him for real, and it's not any of his business anyway.

While Eddie has been contemplating Steve's body, Steve has found his stuff, hidden deep down in his drawer, and he turned around to face Eddie, holding out in one hand the lube and in the other a wrapped condom.

He wonders, for a second, if the big, popular Steve Harrington felt awkward going out to buy those things, grabbing the lube and condoms while avoiding everybody's look, or if he acted like he did the second Eddie walked in the room, all confident, like he didn't give a damn. He probably bought his condoms online, though; he was probably too ashamed to buy size S or lower condoms in front of other people.

He wants to ask, so bad, to make him feel weird and uncomfortable almost as much as his stupid friends made him and his friend feel. He also wants to kiss his stupidly beautiful face and treat him like a princess.

Eddie's a mess, and all he can manage to get out of that is

"Goddamnit, you're beautiful."

Steve smiles for a second, the slightest blush appearing on his cheeks, then he lets his hands drop what they're holding on the bed and grabs Eddie's face, pulling him in.

"Well, thank you. You're not too bad yourself. At all."

They smile, then Steve's lips are all over his, kissing, licking, sucking, and biting. He can't breathe; Steve is all over him, and his kisses are overwhelming; his tongue intertwines with his own, and then Steve sucks on it like a fucking lollipop. His dick is impossibly hard, still completely covered, and he audibly whines, trying to get some friction.

Another whine comes out, but not from him this time, but from Steve, who seems just as upset about him being still dressed as he is, maybe even more.

"Why the fuck are you still dressed?" He asks rhetorically, clearly frustrated, as he immediately starts to peel off Eddie's clothing.

His shoes, vest, and leather jacket are fortunately already off of him, forgotten somewhere on the lower floor, so Steve just has to push his hands under his Black Sabbath t-shirt and pull. As soon as his chest is free, Steve's lips start leaving kisses all over it, while he quickly reaches for Eddie's belt with his fingers, working it open.

Eddie can only stay there, sitting on the bed and letting Steve do all the work, enjoying the kisses and those random licks and bites he leaves on his skin and nipples, breathing heavily and trying not to grab Steve's hair.

They call him Steve the Hair Harrington for a reason, and he surely doesn't want to upset his poor ego by ruining his hairstyle.

He realizes his black skinny jeans are off when he can finally feel the pressure being taken off of his hard cock, making him let out a sigh of relief. But his boxers are still there, so he starts bucking his hips up, almost pushing them against Steve's face.

"Calm down, tiger, I'm taking it off." And so he does, looking almost as eager as Eddie for his penis to be freed. When he lowers his underwear, his dick bursts out, slapping against his thigh, and Eddie's taken aback when he hears Steve moan.

His eyes are glued to his shaft, and Eddie knows it is slightly bigger than average, but he didn't expect any kind of reaction, let alone one like this. But then again, it must look enormous compared to Steve's. It does make Steve's small cock look even smaller.

"Shit, man" He curses out, before taking his tip in his mouth, eagerly sucking on it, slowly taking a bit more of his cock, and the more he got down on it, the more he moaned around it.

He faintly hears the lube's cap popping open, but he's too focused on the feeling of Steve's lips against his length, his tongue around him, and the absolutely blissed-out look on Steve's face as he takes more, and more, and more, and then he feels Steve's cold, slick fingers between his legs, rubbing on his inner thigh and then stopping on his balls, making Eddie shiver.

Steve grabs them in his hand and begins massaging them; then his hand slides lower and lower, and his fingers are rubbing on his hole, and Eddie can't wait for what's to come.

It'll be so good, he knows it. But if he wants that to happen, Steve needs to stop sucking. Now.

He grabs Steve by the hair, careless, and pulls, trying to get him off of him. It doesn't even work at first.

Steve moans louder and higher. Eddie doesn't know if it's a good moan or a painful moan; his bets are on the first, but he knows that Steve doesn't look like he wants to stop, holding onto his cock for dear life.

He seems to get the clue when Eddie pulls again, harder, then pushes on his forehead.

He lets his dick slide out, giving it one final lick. He looks disappointed, and Eddie honestly thinks he must be dreaming; he is not actually seeing the king of Hawkins High pouting because he can't suck some cock. No, not some cock, but his cock.

They don't say anything, and Steve, who has probably already understood, returns to what he was doing, minus the blowing.

He rubs his finger again and again, pushing but not nearly enough for it to penetrate, and just as Eddie is about to growl a frustrated complaint, Steve's finger is in him. He pulls in criminally slowly, but soon enough it is deep to the knuckle.

It's just a finger, nothing special, nothing Eddie isn't used to, but Steve takes his time with it; his finger is so wet and long, and he moves it like he knows what he's doing, pushing in and out, moving all around, and bending it, touching his walls and making him moan.

Then, with a sharp push, his whole body trembles, and he feels it everywhere. Steve found his prostate, and he's massaging and drilling against it like his life depends on it, leaving wet kisses on his leg.

He rarely could reach it alone with his fingers; he never did with just one, and maybe he was used to fucking with shitty people, but those times he bottomed no one really cared about even making an attempt to find it.

He previously doubted Steve had real experience with women, but now he doubts Steve never had other experiences with men.

"Hell, you're good at that," he comments.

"Had any doubts?" Yes, he wanted to say. But he didn't; he just kept silent, waiting for Steve to give him more.

Except he wouldn't do that. Eddie moaned and whined and tried to push himself against his finger, but Steve would just keep on only using his pointer finger. It's fucking frustrating. It doesn't feel half bad, but it's not nearly enough; Eddie needs more.

"Just put another finger, Christ" He snaps at him, raising his voice just a little, pushing himself against his finger another time for good measure.

"Just shut up and let me do my thing!" Steve screams in reply, his face contorted. He appears frustrated, even angry. It makes Eddie's whole body freeze—he wasn't expecting Steve to snap like that.

Steve's face falls as quickly as his reaction, clearly realizing what he's done, shame and mortification molting in his face.

"Sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to raise my voice." His voice got significantly lower.

He looks sincere, like he's actually sorry and truly ashamed of his poor reaction.

Eddie is okay, honestly; he's not scared or upset or angry; he's actually just... sorry.

Steve appears to be the one who is upset, not at him but at himself, and...

God, he probably didn't want to put a second finger because… because then it would be too loose for him.

Past Eddie would've felt good about making Steve panic and making him feel uncomfortable, but present Eddie just feels guilty for not thinking about that.

He wants to slap himself for it, but hell, Steve just apologized to him; if he can do it, then Eddie can as well.

"And I didn't mean to be a dick. Just really want you to put your cock in me already. Can you do that, big boy?" He gently caresses his face, kind of mocking him in a sweet way.

Steve's lips are back on his own, and then he’s pushing him onto his stomach, his big hands gripping tight on his hips and pulling them up.

He hears the sound of the condom wrapper opening, and he can feel Steve struggling behind him to put it on, opening the bottle of lube to pour some more on his cock.

Then finally, fucking finally, he feels the tip of his small cock against his hole. At first it's just some brushing, then brushing turns to rubbing, then pushing.

It doesn't take much effort for Steve to finally penetrate him, and he tries to take his time, pushing slowly in and out, and Eddie loves it. He lets him do the job, for now. He lets him decide the pace and do his thing.

Then he feels Steve's hips flush against his ass, and he might not feel full; he could take more, much more, but he's actually enjoying having that small thing inside of him, weighing nothing, just staying there, not moving, just pressing on his walls.

"Holy fuck…" He sighs as Steve starts to move slowly inside of him. Clenches a little because it feels good, and it feels even better to hear Steve's strangled moan.

"So tight, Eddie, oh my god." He hisses, and his movements start to get faster and harder, and it doesn't feel like much, but that doesn't stop it from feeling amazing.

Steve's gripping hard on his hips, probably leaving some angry marks, pounding expertly inside of him, moaning like a bitch in heat.

Eddie is, just like he is in life, usually very vocal, but now he almost tries not to make much noise, muffling it all in the pillow under his face. Just for now, just for a bit, he has to keep himself. He needs to hear Steve right now, whining and babbling and breathing hard.

He just can't do it anymore, though, as Steve shifts one second and then he's railing right against his prostate, barely reaching it, really, but he still does.

His chest is suddenly against his back, his face against his neck, breathing and moaning against his ear, and Eddie can feel everything—every breath, every heartbeat, every movement.

He can feel Steve is going to come soon, and he's honestly going to as well if he touches himself, but he really wants to come only on Steve's dick, or at least he wants to try.

"Fuck, oh fuck, I'm gonna come again, shit." Steve's thrusts get sloppier, and he's not pushing on his prostate every time anymore, but his voice makes up for it. He bet if he just turned around and saw Steve's face—his surely red, sweaty face, beautiful hair sticking to his forehead, lips parted, mouth open—that would be all Eddie would need to come. Not touching himself, not any stimulation anywhere, just the look on his face as he tries not to come, would do it.

"Make me come, King Steve, make me come on your royal dick baby." He wants to turn around and kiss him, but Steve's lips are sealed against his neck, surely leaving more than just a hickey, and his arms are on his chest, kind of hugging him, and his hips are moving wildly, and that's honestly all that matters.

"You're so—fuck, you're so weird," he hisses against his skin, and he feels like he should be offended, but he can't help but chuckle at his words.

"And you love it, don't ya baby?"

"Yeah– Yeah! Fuckin' love it, such a freak" the answer comes almost immediately, and it sound so desperate it makes Eddie go feral.

Steve whines and cries and then he stills inside of him, gripping on his chest even harder than he was before, his hips twitching.

Steve slumps forward against him, catching his breath after his orgasm; little pleased sighs and almost moans escape his mouth, and they make it even harder for Eddie to ignore his still hard and leaking cock.

He thinks he should give him a second to come down from his high, but then again, why would he?

"Think you've got another one in you, big boy?" He asks, turning his head to look at him.

His face is hot, and his cheeks are the prettiest shade of pink, as are his lips.

He slips out of Eddie, and babble a little before replying

"I- yeah, yeah of course I do, just–just fucking wait, fucking cock slut"

Eddie laughs at that, letting Steve handle him and turn him around, leaving them face-to-face with Steve on top of him, between his spread legs.

"Oh c'mon, darling, you're just as much of a cock slut; were sucking my dick earlier like it was your last fucking meal, just fuck me and shut up"

He doesn't say one more word after that. He doesn't even dare look Eddie in the eyes.

He fists at his tiny dick, eyes closed and breath itching, used condom still on, and he thinks he should probably change it, but he doesn't really care much when he feels Steve's already hard dick rub against his hole once again, then pushing and reaching inside of him for the second time. It's nothing less than it was before—just as good and just as filling.

And Steve doesn't talk; he doesn't try to call him a bitch or attempt at dirty talk, but he surely isn't shutting up. He keeps whining; embarrassingly high moans can't help but come out of the younger boy's mouth, and Eddie can't do much but go crazy about it.

"Hell, you really can't shut up, can you? So noisy, god damn it, you're so hot, moaning like a little bitch."

"Stop it, oh my god," he says, his voice still too high to be taken seriously and his face flushed red.

"What? Don't try and tell me you don't like it, 'cause I know you'd be lying."

"Oh my god, stop, fucking– shit– fuck" he drowns any other complain or moan against Eddie's collarbone, keeps thrusting into him.

He can feel his thighs shaking as he pushes and pushes, and his noises fail to be muffled.

"Cumming, I'm cumming Eddie, oh shit" he almost whispers it, his mouth watering and leaking all over Eddie's neck, leaving a messy pool of saliva trail down his collarbone.

"Cum for me, beautiful, c'mon," he whispers in reply, right against his ear, grabbing his earlobe between his teeth and lightly pulling.

He clenches around Steve as he can feel him coming a second time, a broken mewl coming out of his throat right by Eddie's ear, filling up the condom a second time.

He slowly slips out of Eddie, raising his head and chest off of him to move, slipping out of the cum filled condom, and tying it off to throw it in a nearby bin.

Eddie carefully observes every move he makes, admiring his toned body, his muscles hypnotizing as they flex around, and his sweat-covered, silky-soft skin looking even tastier than before the two orgasms.

He's still looking at him when he comes back to him, dropping his head low right in front of Eddie's erection and not wasting a second before diving in and taking it all in his mouth.

"Jesus Christ Harrington," Eddie curses, faintly hearing Steve gag a little before swallowing around him, closing his eyes, hollowing his cheeks, and sucking, sucking, sucking.

"Oh, oh, I'm going to cum Stevie." It's inevitable; he can't bear to last longer, and he doesn't even care to try. His dick achingly hard for what felt like hours.

Just like that, Steve pulls out, and Eddie whines. Not like he expected King Steve to swallow or something, but well, he hoped.

Then Steve opens his mouth, looking at him with wide, blown-out eyes and dilated pupils and staring right at him with pleading eyes.

"In my mouth, please," he mutters, spreading his mouth wide and letting his tongue slip out. Steve's hand grabs the base of his cock, guiding the tip to rest on his tongue, jerking off the rest of the length as he eagerly waits for Eddie's cum.

As he's coming, Eddie closes his eyes hard, then forces himself to open them, not wanting to miss the view.

Steve wines, maybe even louder than Eddie, as long, thick strips of cum cover his tongue and mouth, some spilling on the corners of his mouth, and his eyes are closed, his expression blissed out.

He licks his lips, tries to lick off the cum he can feel on his cheek, and when he can't, he helps himself with his thumb, wiping it off and then sucking the finger clean, swallowing everything while still keeping the digit in his mouth.

Eddie lets out a laugh as he comes down from that high.

He cannot believe all of that just happened; he feels drained but happier than ever, light and carefree.

He just had the most amazing sex with the best-looking guy ever; he's never going to forget this day, he's going to vividly remember every single detail of this day for the rest of his life.

Maybe he's being a little dramatic, but try putting yourself in his shoes. That's Steve fucking Harrington.

Even if this is the first and last time they do this or that they even talk to each other, Eddie wouldn't be disappointed. He's had more than he ever wished for.

He looks back at Steve, who had sat next to him in the meantime, and doesn't see what he expected to see.Not a relaxed, blissed-out face like just a minute earlier; not a confident smirk; not a lovely smile; not even an annoyed expression; he doesn't look angry and ready to kick him out; he doesn't look horny and ready for round two (or three? or four? ); he doesn't even look bored or tired.

He looks fucking sad. Depressed, even.

He doesn't know what could've upset him; he asks himself if it was what he said or if he went too far with the teasing. Normally, he wouldn't care; Harrington was a jerk to everyone; why would he give a shit if he got post orgasm depression? But. He cares now, for some reason.

"Stevie?" He tries calling out, his voice soft, trying not to upset him further, and right as he turns to him and sees the miserable look on his face, Eddie knows what he needs.

"Do you want to cuddle?"

"Uh. Yeah, sure."

And so they lie down on Steve's bed, both automatically deciding on spooning, and though it seemed like Steve tried to be the big spoon, Eddie almost forces him to be the little one, moving faster than him and pinning him down.

Steve doesn't even try to stop it; he just relaxes in Eddie's arms and lets out the world's longest sigh.

"Was I good?"

"The best, King Steve,"