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Eddie’s not sure exactly who had the original idea to make an annual sexy firefighter calendar for charity, but he would like them to pay for their crimes.
Chief among them would be dressing Buck in that tight, black tank top, and making him pose so that his biceps and pecs look, frankly, obscene, and telling him to “smolder” while the camera flashes at him.
Eddie didn’t sign up for this. He absolutely, one thousand per cent did not sign up for this. Is it possible to die from how hot someone is?
When Buck had told them all the Hot Days, Smoldering Nights, Men of the LAFD Wall Calendar had selected him to represent the 118 for the month of July, Eddie hadn’t thought much of it. He’d congratulated him with a clap on the shoulder and laughed along with Hen, Chim, and Bobby’s good-natured teasing, and that had been that.
Well, Eddie certainly isn’t laughing now.
Instead, he’s glaring daggers at the photographer, who for some reason thinks it’s acceptable to put his hands all over Buck’s biceps, positioning him just so against the fire engine.
“Perfect,” the photographer croons, snapping picture after picture. “You’re doing great.”
Buck preens. Eddie sips his coffee aggressively.
“Let’s lose the shirt,” the photographer suggests, and suddenly Buck’s pulling the skin-tight tank top up, flashing his toned abs at the entire station.
Eddie—
Needs a minute.
He flees up the loft stairs and makes a beeline to the refrigerator, pretending to rummage for a snack just so he can feel the cool air on his face.
“Mr. July having fun down there?” Hen asks from the table where she and Chim are playing cards.
Eddie shuts the refrigerator with a loud thud.
“Looks like it. Why do they have to do the photoshoot here, anyway?” he grumbles. “Don’t they have a studio for that?”
“Authenticity,” Chim answers knowledgeably.
Hen snickers. “Aw, is someone jealous?”
“What?” Eddie barks. “No, I’m not—why would I be—that’s completely—why would I be jealous?”
It takes him another second of spluttering to realize Hen and Chim are looking at him like he’s completely lost it.
“That they picked Buck over you?” Hen says. “Don’t you remember your first week here? You and Buck had that whole rivalry over the stupid calendar?”
Eddie thinks it’s more accurate to say Buck had a rivalry with Eddie over the stupid calendar, but he’s not really in a position to quibble at the moment.
He chokes out a laugh, face burning. “Come on, Hen, I didn’t even submit this year. And besides, you know how excited he is about this.”
Chim rolls his eyes. “Yeah, he hasn’t shut about it since he found out.”
“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, but he’s pretty sure he misses the mark for “exasperated” and hits something closer to “completely smitten.”
The rest of the 118 had found Buck’s excitement damn near insufferable, but the truth is Eddie can’t help but be charmed by it, just like he’s charmed by pretty much everything Buck does, even when he tries to pretend he’s annoyed.
Hen just peers at him over the rims of her glasses.
Eddie clears his throat. “Isn’t the whole thing kind of, uh, heteronormative?” he says, trying to bait Hen into going off on another one of her rants about heteronormativity.
She just snorts. “Sexist, sure, but who do you think buys the majority of those calendars?”
Eddie blinks and glances to Chim.
“Middle-aged women and gay guys,” Chim fills in for him.
And that. Well. That does make sense. He wonders, idly, if Buck knows that.
“Yeah, didn’t I ever tell you about the time Karen and I went to a gay bar in WeHo and lo and behold we see none other than Mr. April himself plastered on their wall?” Hen asks.
Chim blushes slightly. “And you have still yet to let that go.”
“You should be proud, Chim,” Hen advises. “If the gay men of WeHo think you’re hot, you’re definitely doing something right.”
Eddie tries, unsuccessfully, not to think about pictures of Buck being plastered all over West Hollywood. He’s not sure why, but the thought of it makes him want to commit arson.
Okay, fine. He is sure why. It’s because Eddie is kind of insane when it comes to Buck, and he can’t stand the thought of some horny guys panting over pictures of him at a skeezy bar when Eddie’s been doing everything in his power not to pant over him since the day he met him.
He’s aware that he sounds deranged. He’s working on it.
Mostly.
The photoshoot wraps up not long after Eddie’s strategic retreat to the loft. Buck gets redressed, and the alarm rings before he can rejoin them. The rest of their shift is the usual mix of calls and downtime, and Eddie’s able to put the whole thing out of his head. Buck comes home with him after their shift, and they hang out as they usually do, and everything is totally, perfectly, completely fine.
Except that when Eddie goes to bed that night he can’t stop thinking about it. How Buck looked leaned up against the fire engine, his collarbone damp with sweat. The flex of his abs and shoulders as he peeled off that stupid, tight, tank top.
Buck’s gorgeous, and everything Eddie could ever want, and if he’s being honest he’s been quietly having a crisis about it for the last six months, but usually he’s able to keep his depraved thoughts to a minimum.
But apparently, it seems that the stupid LAFD wall calendar shoot was a bridge too far.
At first, the thoughts seem to creep up mostly at night, when Eddie is thankfully alone.
But then, he catches himself admiring the gleam of sweat on Buck’s neck while he spots him at the gym. Then it’s noticing the way the harness hugs his hips and thighs during a rope rescue. And then one night, drinking beers on the couch, Eddie completely loses track of what Buck’s saying because he’s distracted by the dark ink of his tattoo peeking out from beneath his short sleeves.
“You okay?” Buck asks gently after Eddie has to ask him to repeat himself.
Eddie puts his fingertips, cool from the beer bottle, to his face. “Guess I’m more tired than I thought,” he says, instead of the truth, which is no, I’m not okay, because apparently I can’t hold a conversation with my best friend anymore without wanting to pin him to the nearest flat surface and put my mouth all over him.
Buck just teases him for being an old man, they finish their beers, and the incident is forgotten.
Except not for Eddie, who lies awake that night, for once not thinking about getting his best friend naked, but instead thinking of how horrifically he’s going to fuck up their friendship if this continues.
He needs a break from being around Buck. Or he needs to get laid.
He’s not sure which idea appeals to him less.
There is a third option, of course. He could tell him.
It’s not the first time he’s considered it. He’s always told himself he would, when it was the right time. Knowing in the back of his mind that the right time was never going to come.
Because when is the right time to upend one of the most stable, important relationships of your life? When is the right time to tell your best friend, the man who’s been there for you and your son more than anyone ever has, that you want to fuck him into the mattress and oh yeah, you’re also deeply, incapacitatingly in love with him?
There isn’t one, of course. There’s only a million little opportunities that Eddie will continue to let slip by him until he dies or loses his mind.
And right now, the latter is looking far more likely.
Three weeks after the photoshoot, Eddie wakes up to a text from Buck.
It’s here!!! 😊 😊 😊
Before Eddie can figure out what it is, a second message comes through—this one just a picture of a calendar.
A Hot Days, Smoldering Nights, Men of the LAFD wall calendar, to be precise. The cover is just a group shot of all twelve of the participants. Eddie picks Buck’s face out almost instantly, but he doesn’t let himself linger.
He rubs a hand over his forehead. The calendars are mail-order. As a good friend and a charitable man, Eddie obviously ordered one. That means it’s probably sitting in his mailbox right now.
He tries desperately not to think about it while he gets up, brews a pot of coffee, and gets Christopher off to school.
It’s as he’s coming back from dropping Chris off that Eddie’s curiosity gets the better of him. He pulls into the driveway, turns off the truck, and goes out to the mailbox like he would any other morning.
Inside he finds a couple bills, a ton of credit card offers and other junkmail, a postcard from the dentist reminding him about Christopher’s cleaning next week and—
A padded envelope addressed from the LAFD’s Department of Public Relations.
Eddie breathes in slowly through his nose and takes a quick look around, as if any one of his neighbors is going to care that he is holding in his hands this year’s Hot Days, Smoldering Nights, Men of the LAFD wall calendar.
He hurries inside.
There’s no use pretending he’s is going to get anything done with that calendar sitting in his house, so he quickly dumps the junk mail in the recycling, drops the bills on the desk in the corner to deal with later, and tucks the padded envelope under his arm and takes it into the bedroom.
He doesn’t think it would be appropriate for Chris to accidentally stumble upon the calendar, so opening it in his bedroom makes the most sense. Still, he can’t help but feel, as he closes the door and sits at the foot of his bed, that it’s making this whole thing feel a lot more illicit. Like he’s doing something wrong. Like he’s thirteen and hiding girly magazines under his bed.
Except at thirteen, Eddie had felt more of a bemused interest in those magazines than anything else. He’d just wanted to know why the other boys at school talked about them with such reverence. The reality had turned out to be something of a disappointment.
Maybe that should’ve been his first clue that girls weren’t exactly his main interest.
Eddie’s stomach knots as he rips open the padded envelope. The calendar is shrink-wrapped, and Eddie stares at the cover for a minute, finding Buck’s face in the group shot. He’s off to the side, wearing his turnouts, an axe slung over one shoulder and a smile lighting his face. His strawberry birthmark is just visible in the tilt of his head.
He looks open and generous, everything Eddie’s not. Everything he wants.
He rips open the cellophane with shaking hands. He doesn’t bother to glance at any of the other months, instead flipping straight to July.
Jesus fucking Christ.
It’s worse than Eddie ever could have imagined. Even though he was there for the shoot (well, until he had to leave to protect his own sanity and possibly the life of an innocent photographer) he’s still utterly unprepared for the pictures themselves.
For this year’s calendar, instead of the standard single shot, they’d decided to go with a collage of five different poses.
In every single one, Buck looks—
Well, he looks like a slut. Which probably isn’t cool for Eddie to even think but it’s all he can think.
There’s one where he has one foot propped up, his thumbs slung into the turnout’s reflective suspenders, the way Eddie’s seen him do so many other times. Except in the picture, his expression is sultry and wanton, his chest beneath the suspenders completely bare, sculpted and gorgeous, the black ink of his tattoos on display.
Eddie wants to lick those tattoos.
In another, he’s leaning back against the firetruck, his turnouts slung low on his hips, that tight black tank top stretched over his torso. His arms are. They’re—
Bare and bulky and fucking bitable.
Arousal roars in Eddie’s gut like a wildfire.
Buck’s looking up at the camera slightly, eyes hooded and dark, like he’s just waiting for someone to pin him against the truck, slot a leg between his thighs and rut against him until they both come in their turnouts.
Before Eddie knows what he’s doing, he’s got a hand around his cock, the calendar clutched in the other. He jerks himself with fast, brutal strokes, hips lifting into it like he can’t help himself.
A voice in his head tells him this is wrong, he shouldn’t be jerking off to pictures of his best friend. Another much louder voice says these pictures are out there in the world where no doubt countless strangers are doing the exact same thing—looking at Buck with his thick arms and his wet lips and his fucking bedroom eyes and imagining what it would be like to kiss him, to touch him, to fuck him.
The thought stokes a fire in his chest, heating his blood. They shouldn’t get to have Buck, even in their own thoughts. Not when he’s Eddie’s.
It’s not rational. Buck isn’t even really his. Not like this, anyway. But right now, with his right hand wrapped around his own cock, Eddie can’t think of a goddamn reason why he shouldn’t be.
He gets to have so many pieces of Buck—his tired smiles at the end of long shifts, his rambly tangents about whatever latest topic has caught his fancy, his cocky swagger when he beats Eddie at Street Fighter, his relentless determination in the midst of danger. Those pieces belong to Eddie, and it feels unthinkable, suddenly, that there’s any part of Buck that doesn’t.
Buck looks strong in the pictures. Sexy and confident and just a little bit cocky. But only Eddie knows the sweetness behind it all. Only Eddie knows how good he is.
He strokes himself faster. Buck would be so good for him. Spread out on Eddie’s bed, all those muscles on display. Eager. He’s always so goddamn eager to please and it gets him in trouble all the time, but with Eddie it wouldn’t. Buck could offer his whole self to Eddie, and Eddie would take all of it and keep it safe.
God, he wants it. He wants to press his fingers inside Buck, just so he can be sure there’s no part of him Eddie hasn’t touched. He wants to make Buck fall apart on his cock, make him delirious and senseless with pleasure, and know that he’s the only one who gets to see him like that.
It’s irrational, but suddenly the thought that there’s anyone out there—past or present or future—who’s seen Buck, who’s had Buck in a way Eddie hasn’t, fills him with blistering anger. There’s a fire coursing through his veins, an ugly, jealous hunger in his gut that wants to devour him.
His cock pulses. A groan punches from his chest and then he’s coming harder than he has in months—maybe years. He spills over his hand, onto his belly, the sheets. He has to lie there a moment just to catch his breath. He turns his head and glances down at the calendar still clutched in his hand. Those stupid, slutty pictures.
He waits for the wave of shame to hit him.
It doesn’t come. He feels embarrassed, stunned by his own lack of self-control, but not ashamed. There’s still a fire kindled in his chest, hunger clawing at his gut.
He jerked off to pictures of his best friend, and he does’t even feel bad about it.
If Eddie thought he could just shove the calendar away and forget about the whole thing, he’s sorely mistaken. He’s done a good job compartmentalizing his brief boner-induced insanity in the last twenty-four hours, but the problem is Buck.
Specifically, the problem is that Buck wants to talk about the stupid calendar.
And, okay. Eddie’s always known that Buck has a bit of a vain streak. It’s actually…well, it’s kind of endearing. Buck's into his looks and his fitness, and if it makes him feel good then Eddie is more than happy to listen to him go on about macros and PRs and body recomp.
“So what did you think?” Buck asks, taking a swig of his beer. They’re hanging out the night before their next shift, like they so often do. Chris is at a Marvel movie marathon sleepover, so it’s just the two of them, drinking beers in Eddie’s kitchen and shooting the shit.
Just like any other night.
“Of…what?” Eddie asks, tearing his gaze away from the movement of Buck’s throat as he swallows.
“The pictures!” Buck says. “You saw them, right? Have you not seen them? I have a copy in my Jeep, I can go grab—”
“No!” Eddie exclaims, way too loud. Before Buck can get that kicked dog expression, he adds, “I mean, yes, I saw them. They were good.”
“They were good?” Buck echoes. “That’s it? Hen and Chim ribbed me for like two hours and all you’ve got is ‘they were good?’”
Eddie takes a sip of beer so he doesn’t haven’t to answer right away. He shrugs. “Sounds like you got thoroughly roasted by them already. I wouldn’t want to pile on.”
“Yeah, but you love roasting me,” Buck says, eyes narrowed. “So, come on. Let me hear it. What did you really think?”
Eddie shrugs, with as much nonchalance as he can muster while his mind is helpfully replaying images of the calendar and his frantic jerk-off session.
“You didn’t actually see them, did you?” Buck asks suspiciously.
“Trust me, I saw them,” Eddie replies, unable to hide the bitter edge to his tone.
“Aha!” Buck crows, triumphant. “You do have something to say about them. Come on, give it to me. I can take it.”
Eddie swallows hard and tries not think about what Buck would sound like saying those words in another context.
“I really don’t, Buck,” he insists blandly. “I saw the pictures. They look good. I’m happy for you.”
He doesn’t quite manage to make the last part sound sincere. Because Eddie is not happy for Buck at all. And he’s certainly not happy for the hundreds—maybe thousands—of people who are going to see those pictures and lust over Buck like he’s some hollow vessel they can project their hot firefighter fantasies onto. And he’s absolutely not happy for himself, who now has to live the rest of his life knowing he had one of the best orgasms of his life while looking at those pictures.
“You’re being weird,” Buck says.
“I’m not being weird,” Eddie snaps. “I just don’t see the need to keep talking about pictures of you looking like a slut in a stupid calendar.”
The words are out before Eddie can catch them and hold them back.
“What?” Buck croaks. He’s staring at Eddie, his expression stunned.
Eddie opens his mouth—to apologize, to backpedal, to pretend it was some kind of awful joke—but something stops him. It’s just—Buck’s expression. There’s something odd about it. He looks shocked, but not horrified. Not even close.
Instead, there’s heat in his eyes. A pink flush across his cheeks, down his neck. A shy tilt to his head.
Eddie’s heart thumps in his ears.
He knows Buck, inside and out. He’s seen every expression his face can make. He knows what each one means. He knows what this one means.
But if he gets this wrong…
Eddie swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. “I said,” he says steadily, “that you look like a slut in those pictures.”
Buck sucks in a sharp breath. His eyes are dark, blue swallowed by black. He straightens up, swaying toward Eddie. “You think so?”
The hoarse scrape of his voice sends blood rushing to Eddie’s cock.
He didn’t get it wrong. Buck is completely, unmistakably turned on.
And with just a handful of words, they’ve crossed a line they can’t come back from.
Eddie called Buck a slut and Buck liked it. Even if nothing else happens, that alone is enough to torment Eddie until the day he dies.
“You know you do,” Eddie says, low and firm. He sets his beer bottle deliberately on the counter and draws toward Buck. “You let them take those pictures of you and you didn’t even care who would see them.”
Buck watches his approach with dark eyes and says nothing.
“No—that’s not right, is it?” Eddie says. “You wanted people to see them. To see you looking like that.”
Buck swallows. “Maybe I did.” He glances up through his lashes, eyes catching on Eddie’s. “Or maybe I just wanted one person to see them.”
Fuck. Eddie’s whole body ignites with scorching heat. His cock twitches. All he can see is the plump curve of Buck’s lip. The delicate fan of his eyelashes. The pink splash of his birthmark on his pale skin.
All he can see is what’s his.
Eddie doesn’t know who moves first. But one minute they’re staring at each other, inches of space between them. And the next they’re crashing together, kissing like they’ve been holding back from it for years.
Eddie crowds Buck against the counter, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other fisted in his shirt between his shoulder blades. Buck’s mouth opens to him easily, so easily, like he’s just been waiting for it and Eddie doesn’t have it in him to hold back. He feels like he’s starving, and the taste of Buck’s mouth is the only thing that can sate him.
Buck gives as good as he gets, hands roving over Eddie’s body, touching every part of him he can—shoulders, biceps, down his ribcage to the dip of his waist until they find the hem of Eddie’s button-up.
It becomes very quickly clear what Buck’s aim is. He tugs Eddie’s shirt from his belt and starts frantically fumbling with the buttons, breaking the kiss for only seconds at a time before Eddie captures his lips again.
Eddie finally relents and drags his mouth down to suck at Buck’s jaw, his throat, and is rewarded with a punched-out moan.
“Eddie,” Buck gasps. The hot, greedy monster in Eddie’s chest groans in satisfaction. He’s heard Buck say his name so many times in so many ways, but never like this. Eddie wants to hear it again, and again, and again, until Buck doesn’t even have breath left to say it.
Buck shoves Eddie’s shirt off his shoulders and Eddie helps, tugging at his sleeves until he’s able to strip the shirt off. Then he reaches for Buck’s t-shirt and strips it off of him. He doesn’t even have time to admire Buck’s bare chest before Buck’s kissing him again, frantic now. Their bodies press together, bare chest against bare chest. Eddie’s never even kissed another man, but he likes it, likes it so much he feels dizzy with it. Likes that Buck is so big in his arms, likes the faint rasp of his stubble, likes that he can feel where Buck is hard, hips stuttering slightly against Eddie’s like he just can’t help himself.
Eddie wants—no he needs—more. He needs to make Buck come apart, needs him to get so overwhelmed by pleasure that he can’t think of anything except Eddie.
“I need you in my bed,” Eddie tells him. “Right now.”
“Fuck,” Buck breathes. “Yes. Yeah. Okay.”
Eddie spins them, backs Buck out to the dining room, and then the hallway. They get a little distracted making out up against the wall there, but Eddie gets them back on track, and they stumble together through Eddie’s bedroom door.
From there it’s very easy to push Buck down on his bed and drag his sweatpants over his hips and down his long legs.
He can see Buck’s cock straining in his briefs. Eddie’s mouth actually waters.
But he doesn’t touch him just yet.
“Jesus,” Eddie says, taking in the full effect of Buck, nearly naked, flushed and lying back against Eddie’s rumpled bed. He has to take a moment just to remember that this is real, and not a fantasy. Buck is really in his bed, pliant and eager for this, for Eddie. “You’re unbelievable.”
Buck preens a little. He knows what he looks like.
It makes Eddie a little crazy. He strokes up Buck’s thigh, squeezing the muscle there. He keeps going, up Buck’s chest, running his hands over his tattoos, his abs, his pink nipples, his ridiculous pecs. He maps Buck’s body with his hands and his mouth, charting a course. He’s touched Buck plenty of times in plenty of places before, so there’s a familiarity to having his hands on his body. But at the same time, he’s never put his hands on him like this, and each touch feels electric and new.
For his part, Buck seems content to let him explore.
“You have no idea,” Eddie says, sucking wet kisses down his chest, savoring the slightly salty taste of his bare skin. “No idea how much I’ve thought about getting you like this.”
Buck huffs out a breathless laugh. “Well, feel free to get me like this anytime you want.”
There’s a touch of humor to his words, but all Eddie hears is the promise in them. The confirmation that Buck is his, that Eddie can have him however he wants him. The hungry, possessive little monster inside Eddie purrs.
“But I think it’s unfair that you still have pants on,” Buck complains.
Eddie glances down. He completely forgot he was still wearing his jeans, too focused on getting to touch Buck as much as he wants.
He looks back up at Buck with a sly grin. “All you had to do was ask.”
He stands up at the edge of the bed, undoing his belt and zipper. He keeps his eyes focused on Buck as he slides his jeans and briefs off slowly.
Buck’s eyelashes flutter, and he lets out a soft, shuddering breath.
Everything up until now has been all desperate, frantic heat. But in that one small gesture, Eddie sees Buck’s vulnerability. The acknowledgement that they’re about to do something that will change their relationship forever.
Slowly, Eddie puts one knee on the bed next to Buck’s hip.
“Wait,” Buck says softly.
Eddie stops, breath catching in his chest. Terrified that Buck is about to call this off.
Buck scoots up the bed and reaches over to Eddie’s nightstand, rummaging through the drawer.
“Don’t tell me you don’t have lube in here, Eddie,” he says, almost chiding. “Hold on. What’s this?”
He turns back to Eddie, grinning, a tube of lube clutched in one hand…and the calendar in the other.
Eddie’s face gets very warm.
“You keep this in your nightstand?” Buck asks, amusement dripping from every syllable. He opens the calendar to July, the page with his own image plastered all over it, and then pauses. “Is there…jizz on this?”
Eddie knows his face is bright red now. He might die of mortification before he even has a chance to have sex with Buck. The injustice of it is enough to keep him breathing—for now.
“Uh,” he says.
“Eddie,” Buck says very seriously. “Did you jerk off to pictures of me?”
Eddie thinks maybe he should try to deny it. But Buck looks utterly delighted and Eddie adores him so much he doesn’t even care.
“Okay, yes,” Eddie admits. “But it’s only because you—”
“Look like a slut in them?” Buck suggests. There’s a hint of challenge in his voice.
And oh. Eddie sees the game now. He gets on the bed, crawling over Buck so he’s straddling his thighs. He reaches for the lube, plucking it out of Buck’s hand and pouring a little onto his fingers.
“I think,” he says slowly, tracing the edge of Buck’s briefs, “you don’t just look like a slut in those pictures. I think you are a slut.”
Buck’s expression, which was bright with amusement, is now transfixed, eyes wide, watching Eddie like he’s waiting to see what he’ll do next.
Eddie dips closer, his lips just barely brushing Buck’s when he says, “But only for me.”
A moan trembles from Buck’s mouth and Eddie swallows it with a deep, greedy kiss. Without breaking the kiss, he reaches into Buck’s briefs and wraps his hand around his warm, hard cock. It feels so perfect in Eddie’s hand he groans.
He strokes him with just enough speed and friction to make Buck cry out.
“Look at you,” Eddie says. “You just want to be good for me, don’t you?”
Probably everyone who’s ever met Buck can tell he has a praise kink the size of the sun, so it’s not really a surprise when he hisses out a breath and another low moan, but it is gratifying.
“Fuck,” Buck gasps. “What the fuck. How—fuck.”
Eddie tightens his grip a little and speeds up his strokes.
“You want to show me what a slut you are for me?” The words just spill out of him, like he can’t even control them.
“Yes, goddamnit Eddie, what the hell.” Buck groans loudly, thrusting into Eddie’s fist frantically.
“Too much?” Eddie asks.
“Fuck, no.” Buck grabs at his shoulders. “More, I want more, please, Eddie, keep—keep going.”
Eddie does as he’s told. He drags Buck's briefs off, tossing them aside. Then he takes Buck’s cock in his hand again and pumps it reverently, watching every tiny expression that flashes over his face. The tension and release in his jaw. The rise and fall of his chest. The tremble of his lower lip as soft little panting moans spill from his mouth. He’s so fucking beautiful, so responsive, so beyond anything Eddie could have conjured in his head. Eddie feels drunk. He feels powerful. The hunger and desire in his chest grow with every new piece of Buck he’s given.
He keeps stroking Buck and lets his mouth run. “You’re so pretty like this, Buck. So pretty when you beg like a slut for me. You want it so bad, and you know I’m going to give you everything you want, don’t you? You know I’m going to take care you, give you everything you need.”
“Eddie,” Buck pants. “I’m gonna—I’m not gonna last.”
“Then make a mess for me, sweetheart,” Eddie says. “I wanna watch you come just like this. From just me touching you. That’s all you need, isn’t it, baby? Just me.”
Buck sobs as he comes, clutching at Eddie’s shoulders and spilling over his fist. Eddie strokes him through it until Buck tightens his grip.
Eddie can’t help himself from pressing kisses to Buck’s hair, his cheek, down his jaw. “God, you’re perfect,” he murmurs absently. Buck whimpers.
Eddie lets go of Buck’s cock and glances down at his lube and come covered hand. For a second he thinks about wiping it off on his sheets and then thinks better of it.
His own cock is still hard and flushed, straining for attention. Eddie wraps his hand around it, using the lube and Buck’s come to slick the way. He lets his head tip back as he lets out a low, satisfied moan.
He feels Buck’s hands around the backs of his thighs and glances down. The sight that greets him nearly steals the breath from his lungs.
Buck looks wrecked—his chest flushed, his curls in disarray against the sheets, his mouth swollen and half-open as he stares up at Eddie with a look of astonishment.
Eddie did this to him. Buck looks like that because of Eddie. It makes Eddie’s blood pump hot under his skin, and his hand stroke frantically over his cock.
He’s almost too far gone to realize that Buck isn’t just groping his thigh, he’s trying to nudge him into a different position. It takes another second to realize he’s trying to get Eddie to move up.
Eddie goes eagerly, tucking his knees on either side of Buck’s waist. The greedy, ravenous creature in his chest wants to mark up every inch of Buck’s broad, inked chest. He’s too close to draw it out—he needs to come, he needs to come now, and he he needs to come on Buck. Breath punches from his chest as he works his cock, the edge of his orgasm hurtling closer. The nearer it gets the more mindlessly Eddie chases it.
One of Buck’s large hands wraps around Eddie’s thigh, squeezing and urging him on. His other hand is on Eddie’s waist, long fingers spread over his ribcage.
“Fuck,” Buck breathes while Eddie strokes himself. “Yeah, come on. Wanna see you come, Eddie. Come on me, let me feel it.”
Eddie chokes out a moan and soars over the edge, into the hot, hazy tide of his orgasm. For a minute he loses track of all his senses—all he can think is yes and Buck and mine. It feels so goddamn good—good in a way sex has never quite felt before.
When he comes back to his body and blinks open his eyes, it’s to the sight of Buck beneath him, panting hard like he’s the one who just came. Streaks of sticky come trail all the way up his chest. There’s even a little on his cheek. He looks, in a word, debauched. Used.
Eddie stares, ears ringing. Breath stutters out of his chest. Because the sight of his own come splashed across Buck’s body—the same body Eddie’s been coveting in his dreams—does something to him.
Buck can clearly tell because he aims a sweet, cocky little smile up at him. “You wanna take a picture to add to your collection?”
“Can I?” Eddie blurts without thinking.
Buck’s mouth drops open in shock.
Eddie’s face blazes with mortification. With the haze of his orgasm subsiding, he feels suddenly, terribly exposed. “Oh, god. I—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—that was over the line. I don’t—”
“Eddie,” Buck says, voice dark. He squeezes his waist. “Don’t apologize. Tell me. I wanna know. Tell me what you want.”
And it’s like Buck has cast a spell on Eddie, because when he opens his mouth what comes out is: “I want to take pictures of you covered in my come and show them to everyone who looked at that goddamn calendar so they all know you belong to me.”
Buck’s eyes ignite with heat. “Jesus fuck, Eddie. How did I not know you have such a filthy mouth?”
“I, uh…” Eddie stammers. “I don’t? I mean. I haven’t.”
Sex with Shannon had been mostly non-verbal, aside from the occasional direction or check-in. And with Ana, well…everything had been so very vanilla. She’d called sex making love.
“You’re kidding,” Buck says.
Eddie shakes his head. “It’s just, uh…I just have all these…thoughts. About you.”
Buck’s smile spreads across his face like sunshine. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
Eddie swallows. Now that they’ve both come, and the urgent, devouring desire in his chest has been satiated, he feels a little…uncertain.
But Buck is staring up at him like Eddie can do no wrong, like Eddie’s just the most amazing thing he’s ever seen, and Eddie takes a second to recognize the fact that Buck looks at him like this all the time.
It makes him want to be bold.
“Come on, Eddie,” Buck goads. “If you get to jerk off to me—and on me—then I get to know what you think about. That’s the rule.”
Eddie leans in, bracing his hands on the mattress and caging Buck between his arms. “That’s not a real rule.”
“Maybe,” Buck concedes. He tilts his chin up when Eddie leans down to kiss him. “You can tell me,” he murmurs when their lips part again. “You can tell me anything, Eddie.”
Eddie kisses him again, slow and indulgent. Relishing it. “Okay,” he whispers. “Sometimes, when I see you lifting weights in the station gym, I think about biting your biceps.”
Buck lets out a high-pitched noise that sounds suspiciously like a giggle.
“Buck,” Eddie huffs. “I can’t talk about this if you’re laughing at me.”
“No, no, keep going,” Buck says. “I’m not laughing at you.”
“Well, I’m not laughing so you can’t be laughing with me.”
That elicits another snicker. “It’s not—I’m not laughing at you. I’m just. Laughing. Because this is…kind of surreal, man. I mean. We’ve been friends for like half a decade without so much as a drunken kiss, and you just called me a slut and came all over my chest. Which I was very into, in case that wasn’t obvious.”
Eddie sits up, startled. “Is it—is this too weird? Is it going to make things weird?”
He takes a second to appreciate the irony of asking that question while straddling Buck’s naked body, which is still, by the way, splashed with Eddie’s come.
Buck props himself up on an elbow, suddenly serious. “Well, I think that kind of depends.”
“On what?” Eddie asks, afraid to hear the answer.
“On whether you think this is going to be a one-time thing or not.” Buck meets Eddie’s gaze, but there’s a hesitance there. Like he has to keep himself from looking away.
Eddie doesn’t know what answer Buck’s looking for. He wishes he did, because the thought that he might have just ruined the best relationship of his life over a bout of uncontrollable lust is a little too much take.
But even more unbearable is the thought that he might never get to have this again. That it was just sex, that Buck was never really his to claim.
In the end, it doesn’t make a difference what answer Buck wants. There’s only one answer Eddie can give.
“No, it’s not a one-time thing, Buck,” he says. “Not for me.”
A smile spreads over Buck’s face, soft and bright and relieved. Eddie’s heart flips in his chest.
“Then I don’t think it’s going to make things weird,” Buck says. “I think it’s going to make things awesome.”
Eddie cups his face in his hand and kisses the delighted curve of his smile. “You’re a dork.”
“Yeah,” Buck agrees happily. “And you like it.”
God, does Eddie like it. He likes everything about Buck. He kisses him again, a little dirty, biting at his lip. Buck lets out a gratifying moan in response.
“I have to say,” Buck continues as Eddie sucks more kisses onto his jaw. “I’ve thought about fucking you like, a lot and I somehow never expected you to be like that in bed.”
“Like what?”
“Uh,” Buck says, like he lost his train of thought already. Which might be due to the way Eddie’s worrying a mark into the sensitive skin of his throat, right where his pulse beats. “Sweet but also incredibly filthy? Surprisingly really into come-marking? Apparently much more depraved than I ever gave you credit for?”
He says it like a compliment, so Eddie takes it like one. He lifts his head from Buck’s neck to look him in the eye.
“I didn’t really know I had this side of me, either,” Eddie says. He’s just never let himself be that unrestrained with any of his previous partners. He’d always been so focused on pleasing them, and his own desire was somehow secondary. With Buck…with Buck, somehow the line between the two is completely blurred. Pleasing him feeds the hungry, jealous, possessive beast inside Eddie. “You, uh…you kind of bring it out in me, I guess.”
“Eddie,” Buck says, his tone somewhere between turned on and touched.
“You just make me feel completely out of my mind sometimes,” Eddie continues. “You’re so gorgeous and you’re so good to me and it feels like you belong to me and I want you to.”
“Oh,” Buck breathes.
Eddie cradles his face between his hands. “You get what I mean, right? I don’t just mean sex. Although I’d like to have a lot more sex with you all the time, forever, if that’s what you want, too. I just…you’re my…person. I want you to be mine, and I want you and everyone else to know it.”
Buck’s eyes are damp, shining with joy. He’s so fucking beautiful like this, Eddie doesn’t know what to do with himself. “Eddie, that’s the hottest, most romantic thing I’ve ever heard, how the fuck are you doing this?”
Eddie opens his mouth to deny that he’s doing anything when Buck cuts him off with a fierce kiss.
“I am yours,” Buck says when he pulls back. “I have been for a while now. I’m glad you finally realized it.”
A tear escapes from Buck’s eye and Eddie wipes it away gently. He traces the pad of his thumb to the bright splotch of his birthmark. His chest is bursting with all the love and devotion and desire he feels for the man in his arms, that jealous little creature finally content. Buck is his.
“And we can have as much sex as you want,” Buck adds.
Eddie kisses him again, deep and dirty and a little teasing. In a low voice he says, “That’s a very, very dangerous promise to make.”
Buck smirks. “Come on, Eddie. You’re talking to Firehose here. I may be ready to settle down, but my sex drive remains pretty damn high.”
Eddie snorts. “Okay, we are not competing to see whose sex drive is higher—”
“Because I’d win.”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “In normal circumstances, maybe. But when it comes to you, I’m pretty insatiable.”
Buck goes red, but his eyebrows raise in interest. “You wanna go again?”
It calls to mind another night, years ago now. Eddie leaning back against the cool counters in Buck’s loft. Buck approaching with a hand on his belt and a challenging look. You want go for the title?
It was the first time Eddie had fully felt that zing of arousal around Buck. The first time he’d understood what it meant.
The words send a similar bolt of heat through him now. “Yeah, I do.”
Buck reaches up and smooths a thumb over Eddie’s brow, then around the curve of his cheek, his jaw. Eddie dips his chin and catches the thumb between his lips, flicking his tongue out and nibbling gently.
Buck just watches him do it for a second, like he can’t look away. Then he says, “Do you want to fuck me?”
Eddie’s mouth drops open, releasing Buck’s thumb. “You want me to?”
Buck nods vigorously against the sheets. “Like, a lot.”
The mere thought of it makes Eddie feel overheated.
But he knows, he knows, this isn’t something they can just dive headlong into. There are practical concerns.
“Have you, uh—ever?”
“No,” Buck says, “But, you know, I’ve done…some stuff, with guys. And I own a dildo. I’m pretty sure the practicalities aren’t all that different.”
Eddie chokes. “Why do you own a dildo?” he blurts, which is immediately in the running for one of the stupidest questions he’s ever asked.
“I mean, we’ve established that I am very interested in getting your dick inside me,” Buck says, a transparent attempt to get Eddie to choke again. It works, of course. “Obviously I was curious to see if I’d even enjoy that sort of thing. Which, if you were wondering—the verdict is a very enthusiastic yes.”
“Oh, fuck,” Eddie says, burying his face in Buck’s chest because he can’t just look at him knowing Buck went out and purchased a sex toy for the express purpose of figuring out whether or not he’d be into getting fucked, specifically by Eddie. And then used said sex toy on himself. Maybe while thinking about getting fucked specifically by Eddie.
Buck is going to wreck him before Eddie even gets close to fucking him for real.
“So, that’s a yes?” Buck asks hopefully, running his fingers through Eddie’s hair.
Eddie groans. Then he lifts his head from Buck’s chest, which is actually kind of a shame because his chest is warm and broad and muscular and just one more part of Buck he can’t get enough of.
“Oh, fuck,” Eddie says again, but this time it actually just means oh fuck and not oh fuck I’m so turned on I might pass out.
Buck’s fingers still in Eddie’s hair. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t have any condoms,” Eddie says. “I haven’t—you know. Needed them in a while.”
“Oh,” Buck says, looking relieved. “Eddie, there’s a Rite-Aid like three blocks from here.”
Buck wants him to get up? Put clothes on? Leave this warm, comfortable bed that has everything Eddie could ever want in it?
Buck must read the reluctance on Eddie’s face, because then he says carefully, “Or…you know. I’m clean.”
“Me, too,” Eddie says at once.
“Yeah, so…we don’t really need a condom, right?” Buck reasons. “And that way you could…”
Eddie’s got an inkling what the rest of that thought is, but he wants Buck to say it.
“I could what?”
“You could…come. Inside me.”
Molten heat shivers through Eddie’s core. He leans over Buck, bracing his elbow on the mattress beside his head. “Is that what you want? You liked it when I came on you, and now you want it inside you?”
Buck uses the hand in Eddie’s hair to drag him into a messy kiss. “I want any part of you you’re willing to give me.”
Eddie’s breath breaks on a moan and he brackets his elbows beside Buck’s face and gives him the kind of kiss that makes you forget every other kiss you’ve ever had. He kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him, and he knows what he’s willing to give Buck because it’s everything.
It’s a kiss without an agenda, although they both know where they’re headed. But for the moment, for right now, Eddie’s content just to kiss Buck, to taste him and feel him beneath him. To touch him, to hold him, to love him.
They’d got all night, and they’ve both already come once, so while Eddie’s blood is burning under his skin to give Buck what’s he’s asking for, there’s no real rush. They can indulge, take their time, explore.
They kiss, and touch, and occasionally break apart just to trade goofy smiles and laughter when it all starts to feel a bit surreal again. Buck eventually does grow impatient, after they’ve been making out for a while and his cock is starting to get hard again, pressing insistently against Eddie’s thigh.
Eddie kisses him again—and then once more, because fuck is it addicting—and then reaches behind Buck to grab a pillow while Buck hunts for the lube again, which has been lost somewhere in the sheets.
They meet back again for another kiss and then Eddie slides the pillow underneath Buck’s hips and sits back on his heels.
Buck’s cock is fully hard again, and Eddie reaches for it, giving it a few quick pumps, feeling smug when Buck groans and flops back against the sheets.
He brandishes the lube at Eddie. “Here.”
Eddie takes it. “You want me to…?”
“I can do it,” Buck says, looking up. “If you don’t—”
“I want to,” Eddie says, his voice coming out much huskier than he intended. Buck’s eyes go dark and he nods.
Eddie pours some lube onto his fingers, embarrassed to find that is hands are shaking a little. But he can’t help it—there’s anticipation and feverish desire thundering through him, nerves thrumming through his chest and his stomach. They’re not the bad kind of nerves—more like the butterflies he felt on his first day at the 118, his body understanding how momentous and huge that moment was, maybe even more than his mind did.
He gives Buck’s cock another stroke, massaging his balls a little before he slides his fingers between Buck’s cheeks, just brushing his hole with the pad of his middle finger.
And then, because Buck had asked, because Buck had wanted anything Eddie was willing to give, because Eddie’s willing to give him everything, including his most private fantasies, he murmurs, “You wanted to know what I thought about. I thought about this. Touching you here. I don’t want there to be any part of you I haven’t touched.”
He can hear Buck’s shaky inhale. “Eddie,” he says. “Please. Please, please, please.”
Eddie has to close his eyes for a second and just breathe, because he’s got Buck in his bed, begging so sweetly for the things Eddie’s been dreaming about giving him, and it’s overwhelming.
He opens his eyes again to watch Buck’s flushed face when Eddie finally dips his finger inside him. He feels—soft and warm, like velvet or—like nothing Eddie’s ever felt before. Eddie feels dizzy with it, with the intimacy of touching him like this, with the ferocious desire it stokes inside him.
They’re both quiet as Eddie probes a little deeper, nothing but the sound of their breath filling the room. And then Eddie’s finger brushes the soft, firm nub of Buck’s prostate. Buck’s eyes flutter closed and he lets out a noise somewhere between a breath and a moan.
“That’s so good, Buck,” Eddie says, stroking him there with more intent, while he uses his other hand to pet Buck’s hip. “Relax for me. You’re doing so good.”
“Eddie,” Buck moans, throaty and raw, squirming down on Eddie’s finger like he wants to take more.
“Good boy,” Eddie says, and Buck whimpers. “You’re so eager for it, aren’t you sweetheart?”
Buck moans again. “I like when you call me that.”
“Sweetheart?” Eddie asks, pumping his finger a little faster.
Buck nods. “I—ah, I like when you call me anything. Sweetheart, baby, Buck. Idiot. Slut. Even like Evan when it’s you saying it.”
“I’ll call you anything you want,” Eddie promises. What he really means is, I’ll do whatever you want.
“More,” Buck says, sounding half-feverish. “Give me more, Eddie, please.”
Eddie obliges, slipping a second finger inside him. Buck pants, chest rising and falling on each ragged breath. If Eddie thought Buck looked like a slut in his calendar pictures, he was entirely unprepared for how Buck would look panting and squirming on Eddie’s fingers, cock hard and leaking onto his tensed abs, his chest still painted with Eddie’s drying come.
He looks like a goddamn wet dream.
He has the passing thought that he could get Buck to come like this, and it’s a tempting idea. Maybe they’ll try that soon. There are so many to touch him, so many ways Eddie can get him off, and he wants to do them all. He gets to do them all.
The possessive monster inside Eddie rears its head again. He leans forward and, on some primal, greedy instinct, slips the head of Buck’s wet, straining cock between his lips. Buck moans.
Pre-come pools on Eddie’s tongue, the bitter taste more of a turn-on than he’d anticipated. His own cock springs to full hardness. He sucks at Buck’s tip experimentally, and is rewarded with another low, thready moan. He tries it again, this time pressing his finger against Buck’s prostate at the same time, and Buck yells, thrusting his cock up into Eddie’s mouth.
“Shit, sorry!” Buck says as Eddie pulls off, gagging a little. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Eddie.”
Eddie sits up, wiping his mouth with his free hand. He was more startled than anything, and now just embarrassed that he has no actual idea what he’s doing when it comes to sucking cock. “I think that was actually my own fault. Got a little ahead of myself. We might have to work up to that a bit more.”
Buck cups Eddie’s face in his hand, his brows drawn in concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Eddie turns his face to kiss Buck’s palm in reassurance. “I’m great. Are you?”
Buck’s expression settles into something hazy and affectionate. “I’m here with you, Eddie. How could I be anything but great?”
Eddie can’t keep from kissing him, his fingers still pumping into him, spreading and stretching him gently.
“Is it time for you to fuck me now?” Buck asks between kisses. “Please?”
Eddie bites back a laugh at how impatient Buck sounds. “You want it that bad, huh?”
“You may have heard this about me already,” Buck murmurs, pressing his forehead to Eddie’s. “But I’m kind of a slut for you.”
God fucking damnit, Eddie loves him so much. He pulls out his fingers, grabs Buck’s face between his hands and kisses him again, deep and dirty.
“Want your cock in me, Eddie,” Buck says while Eddie lavishes attention on his neck. “C’mon, please.”
There’s no way in hell Eddie is saying no to that. He nips at Buck’s jaw and pulls back.
“We’ll take it slow, okay? Tell me if anything hurts or just doesn’t feel right,” he says. He’s all too aware that this the first time either of them are doing this, and as much as the thought thrills him, he also knows he doesn’t want to mess it up, wants to make sure they can both enjoy themselves and the newness of it all.
Buck nods, serious. “I trust you.”
The sincerity in Buck’s voice almost gets Eddie choked up. They’ve both trusted each other with so much over the years—with their safety, their lives, their vulnerabilities, even with their anger and their heartbreak. They’ve always kept each other safe.
This is just one more thing they’ll trust each other with.
“I’ve got you,” Eddie vows. He slicks himself with more lube and strokes a hand down Buck’s hip, slips it under his thigh and presses it open, spreading it wide enough to guide his cock to Buck’s entrance.
He pauses there, the head of his straining cock just barely brushing Buck’s hole. He takes a breath, takes in the sight of Buck beneath him, his lips half-parted, his blue eyes wide and dark with anticipation. Eddie wants to stain the image of him into his brain, wants to capture it like a photograph.
With a trembling breath, Eddie pushes into him. He feels Buck tense at the intrusion and stops, waiting. Then Buck lets out a breath and relaxes with a small nod, urging Eddie on.
Eddie braces himself over Buck and presses in deeper before pausing again for Buck to breathe and relax, ignoring the primal, desperate desire to plunge himself into his warm, tight heat.
“I’m good,” Buck says, his voice shaking a little. “Keep going.”
Eddie’s careful as he sinks in deeper, watching Buck for signs of discomfort or panic. But Buck’s blue eyes stay on Eddie’s face and he just looks—stunned, almost. Amazed.
Eddie can relate. He gasps out another moan as he sinks in all the way to the hilt, his hips flush with Buck’s. He stills there, both of them just breathing for a moment.
Buck finally breaks the quiet. “Eddie,” he whispers.
“Yeah?”
“Your dick is inside me.”
Eddie fails to stifle a snort of laughter, which of course sets Buck off, too. Eddie buries his face in Buck’s neck as they both shake with laughter. He’s so happy.
Once the giggles subside, Eddie looks down at Buck and brushes his fingers through his curls. “Sweetheart, why don’t you leave the dirty talk to me from now on?” He rolls his hips just a little. “And you stick to begging for my cock so sweetly.”
“Ah—okay, yeah,” Buck agrees through a soft moan. “I can do that.”
Eddie gives him another gentle thrust. “How does it feel?”
“Good,” Buck breathes. “So good. Too good. Like…full and hot and intense. How does it feel for you?”
How does it feel? It feels right. It feels like something Eddie’s been missing his whole life, like everything he’s ever wanted, everything he’s been too afraid to reach for. It feels like coming home and like running headfirst into a fire but knowing he’s going to come out all right because Buck is with him. It feels like the kind of love Eddie never even knew was possible until Buck walked into his life and gave it to him without hesitation, without reservations. It feels like the rest of his goddamn life.
It feels like making love. For maybe the first time in Eddie’s life, he actually understands the phrase.
And suddenly, Eddie can’t stand not telling him.
“I love you,” Eddie says, as easy as breathing.
Buck flushes a gorgeous pink, his eyes going misty. “I love you, too.”
Eddie can’t help but kiss him then, pouring every drop of his love and desire into it. Buck whimpers into Eddie’s mouth and cradles Eddie’s face in his hands, kissing him back.
Eddie pulls away after a moment, partly for air, and partly because he just wants to look at Buck again.
“Not that that wasn’t stupidly romantic,” Buck says a little wetly, “but did you really have to pick the moment you entered me to say that?”
Eddie huffs out a laugh. “Yes, actually. Because I didn’t want to do this without you knowing what it means to me.”
Buck melts again at that and pulls him down into another devastating kiss. Eddie starts to move then, a few more gentle rolls of his hips, but it’s enough to make Buck break the kiss with a gasping moan.
“Fuck, Eddie,” he slurs. “That’s so good.”
“You’re so good,” Eddie says, brain already kind of stupid with how Buck feels around him. He braces a hand on the mattress and thrusts a little harder, working himself into a rhythm, still watching Buck carefully. “So good, sweetheart, so perfect for me.”
Buck cries out, his hand squeezing Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie can’t tell if it’s from pain or pleasure so he stills.
“You okay?” he asks. “You need to slow down?”
Buck shakes his head. “No, I—I just kind of still can’t believe this is really happening.”
“I want you so much,” Eddie murmurs, and it’s not exactly his A-material but Buck looks awed just the same. “I want every part of you. I want to know you better than anyone ever has. I want to know what it feels like when you come on my cock, and on my fingers, and on my tongue.”
“Fuck,” Buck breathes. “No one’s ever—I’ve never done this before with anyone.”
It wouldn’t have made a difference if he had, because Eddie knows, without the merest doubt, that this—the vulnerable way Buck trembles beneath him, the connection between them, the taut, electrifying feedback loop of desire—belongs to them, and only them. It doesn’t matter who else has touched Buck, has seen Buck, has wanted him, because Buck is wholly and completely Eddie’s.
Eddie tells him so. “You’re mine,” he says again, driving into him as if to prove it. “Every part of you is mine.”
“Eddie,” Buck practically sobs. “Say it again, please.”
Eddie knows him, inside and out—and now literally inside and out—and he knows that’s all Buck’s ever wanted. To belong to someone, to be theirs without having to cling so desperately, and Eddie’s just lucky he gets to be that person.
Except no, it’s not luck, not even close—the two of them, they’ve been building this thing between them since the moment they met. It was luck, maybe that put Eddie at the 118, but after that? They’ve fought for each other, leaned on each other, walked through a thousand fires for each other. Buck pushed through the walls of Eddie’s heart like they were doors just waiting for him to open. And Eddie brought Buck inside like there was no where else he could ever belong.
“You’re mine, Buck.” He’s fucking him in earnest now, the bed frame smacking against the wall with every hard thrust, and Buck is moaning like he can’t control the sounds spilling out of his mouth.
Eddie takes his leaking cock in hand, stroking him like he did the first time he got his hands on him, fast and tight and relentless. Buck keens.
“It’s your turn now,” Eddie says, breath catching in his throat as Buck clenches down on the next thrust. He’s not even really sure Buck can hear him with the way he’s moaning, with how rapidly he’s unravelling beneath Eddie, but Eddie’s determined. He strokes Buck again, leaning down so they’re pressed chest to chest. “Your turn to say it, Buck. Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours, Eddie, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m—” He breaks off with a hitching sob, trembling in Eddie’s arms as he comes apart, clenching around Eddie and spilling over Eddie’s hand onto his own stomach, where Eddie’s come is still drying on his skin.
The sight of it, of Buck covered in both of their come, makes Eddie’s blood sing hot in his veins. He can’t help himself from fucking him harder, Buck’s soft whines and grunts and moans spurring him on. He hitches Buck’s thick thigh up, pounding in deeper, as deep as he can, only barely aware of Buck’s desperate pleas for Eddie to come inside him—“Please, Eddie, I need it.”
Eddie, who promised to give Buck everything he wants and anything he asks for, buries his cock inside him and comes. Every petty, possessive nerve in his body blazes with electricity as his orgasm crashes though him.
It seems to go on forever—far longer than Eddie’s used to—waves and waves of pleasure quaking through his whole body. He can feel it in his toes, in his fingertips, in his throat. He’s still thrusting shallowly into Buck, hips stuttering and then stilling. He takes a shuddering breath, body tingling, and slips out of Buck, who breathes in sharply at the loss.
The aftershocks are still fluttering in Eddie’s stomach as he looks down at Buck caged beneath him.
His expression is like no expression Eddie’s ever seen on his face before. He looks fucked out, stunned, like Eddie just took him apart and turned him inside out.
In other words, he looks exactly how Eddie feels.
Sweat dampens the curls at Buck’s temple. Eddie strokes a thumb there, and then traces Buck’s birthmark.
Buck’s eyes close and breath trembles from his chest. He looks so vulnerable like this, open and bare. Eddie breathes in, flooded by a fierce protectiveness. Like if he can just keep Buck here, with him, then he can shield him from anything that might ever hurt him.
Buck swallows and opens his eyes again. They’re so blue. “Was that good for you?”
A bark of laughter erupts from Eddie’s chest and he collapses next to Buck. “Yeah, Buck, that was good for me. Was it good for you?”
Buck grins and turns onto his side, curling his broad body into Eddie’s. “Mind-blowing, actually, might be more accurate.”
“Mind-blowing, really,” Eddie echoes haughtily. He slings an arm around Buck’s shoulders, pulling him close, and sucks a few kisses into his collar.
Buck hums, pliant in Eddie’s arms, and rubs his face into Eddie’s neck. “You rocked my world, baby.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m ridiculous?” Buck says incredulously, pulling back. “Which one of us jerked off to the LAFD calendar and then called me a slut for taking the pictures in the first place?”
Eddie tugs Buck back into him, kissing all the tempting skin down his neck. “It’s not my fault you’re such a slut. A gorgeous, lovable slut.”
“Who gives very good head,” Buck puts in.
“We haven’t done that yet.”
Buck waggles his eyebrows. “I know. You want to?”
And fuck, the thought of Buck between his legs, pink lips wrapped around Eddie’s cock, looking up at him with those bright, warm blue eyes—it’s almost enough to get Eddie hard for the third time tonight.
“Can I get a raincheck for like, thirty minutes?” Eddie asks.
Buck grins. “The offer’s open for basically the rest of our lives.”
Eddie’s heart thumps in his chest. God. It hits him that he gets to have this, have Buck, not just tonight, but forever. He always knew he’d get to have some part of Buck for the rest of his life—but this. Giving Buck pleasure, putting his mark on every part of his body, learning what he likes, showing Buck what Eddie likes, learning new things they both like together…
It makes him greedy for all of it.
He groans and rolls over so he’s caging Buck between his arms. Buck just lays back with a smug little smirk. Eddie kisses it right off his face.
Buck reaches up, above his head, and when Eddie pull back to see what he’s up to, he sees the damn calendar in Buck’s hand again.
“After how well this went for me, I might just have to try out for the calendar every year from now on,” Buck says, wiggling it a little.
“Do that and I will burn down the LAFD’s PR department,” Eddie warns, making a grab for it. “Do you want me to become an arsonist, Buck? Do you?”
Buck snatches the calendar out of Eddie’s reach, laughing. “I dunno, sounds kinda…hot.”
Eddie groans. “God, you’re a dork,” he says, but what he really means is god, you’re cute. He makes another grab for the calendar, which commences a brief wrestling match, which ends when Eddie pins Buck’s arms down into the mattress and kisses him, grinning into it.
Buck lets the calendar go in favor of kissing him back.
“Anyway, I liked your plan better,” he says as Eddie peppers kisses down his neck. Eddie has absolutely no idea what plan Buck is talking about, but he loves listening to him talk so it doesn’t really matter. “We can just take our own private pictures.”
Eddie pauses, heat thrilling through him. His plan, meaning the embarrassing, petty, possessive confession he’d made about wanting to take pictures of Buck.
“I am about to get very, very into photography,” he vows.
“Whatever makes you happy,” Buck says, all patronizing.
And that—well, that’s never been a question.
It’s always been Buck.