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“Are you going to move in with us?”
Eddie froze, mouth wide open around a caramel apple. It wasn’t the worst position he’d ever been caught in, but it was certainly an undignified one. He unstuck his teeth and swallowed a combination of sugar and wariness, then turned to give Max his attention entirely.
She looked unamused. She had chosen to ambush him while Steve was in a long line for drinks, and she sat beside Eddie on one of the fairground’s picnic tables, their feet side-by-side on the bench. Their haul sat between them: three pumpkins, an apple pie, the remainder of Max’s corndog, and the stuffed bat that Steve had won for her with his latent jock abilities. For someone whose face was painted to look like a fairy, the intimidation she managed to wear was impressive.
“Would you want that?” Eddie hedged, glancing over to the beverage line. Steve was closer to the front, but Max had chosen to strike at the perfect time— he wouldn’t be back for a few long minutes yet. Eddie forced his eyes away from Steve’s ass in his light wash denim to focus.
“My friend El’s dad moved in with his girlfriend,” she countered, and he weighed the gossip against her point.
“I mean, that’s usually what adults do, when they’re in love. It’s nice to live together. Personally, I’ve always thought it seems like a good idea before you decide to marry someone— like, what if they eat all the good snacks and hog the covers?” He thought he had done a good job of being kid-friendly with that answer, his years of teaching allowing him to self-censor on his feet, but Max’s eyebrows shot up.
“So you’re going to get married?”
“I— No! I mean, not no, I’m not against it, it’s just too soon to think about.” He tried his best not to look like someone who thought about it all the time, actually. His sweet Stevie boy, all dressed up with his brightest smile on. Putting a ring on him, a real one, not— he coughed and put his apple down on its napkin. “Max, you’re your dad’s number one. He would make sure you were okay with it before we even had the conversation about moving in together, you know that, right?”
Max was quiet for a moment. “I like your house, but I’d want my own room.”
“Oh.” Eddie was struck by something— a swelling feeling, scary in its sudden size. “Well, we could find a new place together. Something up to your standards.”
“And Kickflip’s.” Max nodded, appeased. “Yeah, because I like that you’re closer to the skate park, and I like Wayne, and also I want a TV in my room because Lucas has one.”
“You’ll have to talk to your dad about that last one,” Eddie warned, but Max shrugged. She reached out, and Steve came up to them, handing over the hot chocolate she had requested. He dropped a kiss on her head, then sat down between Eddie’s knees and handed a cider up to him, wafting the scent of cinnamon and bourbon.
“What are we talking about?” he asked, leaning back against the table. Eddie had to touch him, so he did: ran a hand through his perfect hair to make Steve shove his Ray Bans up and scowl at him. “Don’t touch the hair.”
“We were talking about how we should also get a pumpkin pie,” Max said hopefully. “And apple cider donuts.”
“You’ll rot all your teeth out before Halloween even gets here,” Steve sniffed, tipping his sunglasses back into place. He leaned back, settling his weight against Eddie, and Max launched into an argument about the fleeting nature of seasonal treats, and Eddie let himself imagine this— the three of them— leaving the fall festival next year to one house, filled with all the treats Max could want, and more love than one person could possibly use up in a lifetime.
That night, Steve finished putting Max to sleep and knee-crawled into his own bed, holding a fat orange cat to his chest. Eddie set his book aside and made room for him, arms out until Steve was settled with his furry prisoner. Kickflip had the same glare as his mistress, but Steve cooed at him anyway. The second he put the cat down, he ran back out of the room, presumably to protect Max from any nightmares.
“I don’t think he knows I’m the one who buys his food,” Steve said, sulking. Eddie laughed: he had always thought of himself as a dog person, but Kickflip’s attitude was hard not to respect.
“He’s a one-kid cat, you can’t blame him. He’s got the coolest kid in town.”
“That he does,” Steve agreed, mollified. “Speaking of which, what were you two actually talking about earlier? I looked over and it seemed kind of serious.”
“Hmm.” Eddie shifted his hold on Steve so Steve could look up at him, blinking those enormous hazel eyes, darker now in the low light. “Well, she wanted to let me know that my trailer isn’t up to snuff, when we move in together.”
“When, huh?” Steve grinned and curled in closer. Eddie brushed some fur off of his sweater for him, then smiled back, pressing his thumb into the corner of Steve’s smile.
“Yeah, I swear it was her idea. Or at least something she had been wondering about. But she doesn’t seem opposed.”
“Are there any two-bedrooms in the park?” Steve asked, and then “what?” when Eddie didn’t answer.
“Nothing,” Eddie laughed, knowing his face had done something funny. His heart certainly had. “It’s just— I wish I could go back in time and tell myself that I’d have the king of Hawkins High be willing to move into Forest Hills to be with me. How far the mighty have fallen.”
“Shut up.” Steve poked Eddie in the ribs. “It’s not my fault I have bad taste, it’s incurable.”
“I fuckin’ hope so.” Eddie bit down on Steve’s neck, huffing into it to make him screech. “You’re stuck with me now, kid.”
“Could be worse,” Steve allowed, and snuggled closer. “Now come on, show me one of your awful movies.”
Eddie had been working on Steve’s horror movie education ever since the weather had gone crisp and the nights had grown longer, the promise of Halloween in the air something that always excited his inner weird kid. He had grown up watching any horror movie that he could sneak into, even the hokey old ones that were on when Wayne was off at his night shift and Eddie was awake too late, eyes glued to the screen as movie monsters made it hard to sleep at night.
Steve hadn’t grown up on the same bloodthirsty classics as Eddie had, and definitely hadn’t kept up with the latest, so Eddie loved sharing movies with him— loved making him jump, to a degree that likely fed some aspect of his not-so-secret sadism. It was only because Steve was his perfect masochistic match that the movie nights continued.
“I could do that to you,” Eddie murmured in his ear later, as Scream played. They had finally migrated under the covers, and their bodies curled together perfectly in the dark. “Chase you around until you’re all pretty and wide-eyed.”
“But what would you do when you caught me?” Steve asked, playing along. “Not stab me, I hope.”
“I’d stick something in you for sure,” Eddie assured him, tickling Steve’s side to make him shriek. He stopped before Steve pulled away, letting the movie play on.
“That could be hot,” Steve said later— too much later for it to sound as nonchalant as he meant it to. Eddie smirked to himself: sometimes he’d throw something out there without thinking, only to find that Steve had gotten stuck on it, turning it over and over until Steve had polished another fantasy in his horny little mind. He liked to make Steve tell him all of the filthy things he dreamed up, embarrassing him by whispering it back in his ear as they played.
But this was capital-p-Play, characters and costumes and an outlet for all of the drama kid energy that had brought Eddie from jumping on tables in high school to jumping on his desk as he taught middle schoolers. The fact that his life could be like this, that instead of being too much for someone, he could use those powers of ridiculousness to fuck his dream boy… it made Halloween feel more like his birthday.
“What sounds fun about it, baby?” he asked now, playing his fingers lightly over Steve’s shoulder, listening intently as Steve laid out his imaginings, sleepy and shy. He fell asleep a bit later, in the middle of the second movie, and Eddie knew that he would forget most of their conversation in the morning.
But Eddie wouldn’t forget.
Halloween itself didn’t arrive for another week, a week in which they barely saw each other beyond the hallways of school. Eddie had just begun to prepare his kids for their holiday concert, and they’d need every minute of the next two months to practice to where they could be proud to play for their parents. Steve had thrown himself into costume-crafting with Max, and every night after school the two of them would hot-glue their fingers into the night, sending Eddie progress pictures with every new layer of their wings: Steve’s white and fluffy, Max’s black and webbed.
Eddie had declined to join, always careful to make space for the Harrington’s father-son relationship to come first. He smiled to imagine them together, his angel and the little devil, only hoping someone would grab a photo of Steve chaperoning Max and her friends trick-or-treating. After, Steve would drop her at her friend El’s house and head home— no plans made to see each other, at least that Steve knew of. Eddie had a picture of Steve in his mind then, bittersweet from Max’s growing up and tired in his wilting wings, putting the television on without much thought and continuing whatever movie Eddie had left queued up. And then when Steve was curled up and tense from the movie and alone… that was when Eddie would set his plan into motion.
He may have skipped the wholesome portion of Halloween, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a costume for other purposes. Halloween was on a Friday, which worked out not only because of the sleepover Max would get to go to, but also because of the late night that Eddie had planned in her absence.
Dressed in head-to-toe black, Eddie picked up a duffel bag and slipped out the door. He parked a block down from Steve’s and crept down the street, peering through Steve’s windows to see the TV flickering from the crack in his curtains. It was the next in the Scream series they had begun together, which made Eddie smirk as he tied his hair back.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he glanced down at it to see Steve’s name as he circled the building. Steve’s apartment had a small patio in the back where Eddie typically smoked, but today he just hopped the cement wall and glanced in again. Steve was in the kitchenette, phone in the crook of his shoulder as he poked through the fridge. His phone buzzed again, and Eddie ignored it. Steve would see him soon enough— he just didn’t know it.
Steve’s shoulders moved as if he was sighing, and he put his phone down on the counter before moving out of sight, either into his bedroom or the bathroom. Perfect. Eddie tried the back door: he had secretly left it unlocked the day before, and he was both pleased and annoyed to find it still accessible. He’d have to lecture Steve about locking up before bed. Anyone could get in… even him, slipping through quickly and shutting the door as quietly as he could.
The layout of the apartment was small but old-fashioned, and it was easy to knock on the wall of the hallway that Steve had disappeared behind on the way to hide in Max’s room. Eddie pressed himself to the back of her door and waited, keeping quiet while Steve’s footsteps returned. Eddie peeked around the doorjamb and watched as Steve went to the front door, picking up a bucket of candy before he opened it to nobody. Eddie fought the urge to chuckle as Steve tipped his head, looking like a confused puppy even from behind before he shut the door. Eddie hid again, listening to the sound of Steve putting the bucket down, picking up a crinkling piece of candy, and returning to the couch. The old springs in it were louder than the low sound of the movie, and he made another mental note to take Steve shopping for a slightly less used one.
Eddie waited until Steve was still on the couch again, giving it a moment before he pulled the mask he had brought out of his bag. Maybe it was a little on the nose, the classic white ghost face, but he wanted Steve to understand the game right away: to deliver on his half-imagined fantasy instead of genuinely scaring him with something like a ski mask instead. The game was about fear, sure, but the fear was secondary to the act of play.
Kickflip’s eyes caught the light from under the bed as Eddie shifted his weight and pulled the mask down, and his eyesight may have been limited by the eye holes, but he was still sensing some judgment from the fat orange cat. He held a finger to his lips, grinning as Kickflip flicked her tail and turned to ignore him.
Next step. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and clicked on the missed call. Almost immediately, Steve’s phone rang from the kitchen. Steve hopped up instantly, which was sweet, making Eddie almost feel bad about what he was going to do to him. Almost.
He hung up the second Steve was in the kitchen, moving as quickly and quietly as he could through the living room and over to Steve’s bedroom. The room was a dark, cozy mess, blankets in a pile in the middle of the bed. Eddie turned all of the lights on and then tucked himself into Steve’s closet this time, again leaving the door cracked. His phone buzzed one more time as Steve called him back. He ignored it again until he could hear the kitchen floor creak, a pause by the hallway entrance as Steve noticed the lights on.
Showtime.
It took a moment for Steve to come back to the bedroom, his steps hesitant. Eddie could see him looking around, confusion on his soft, pretty face. Steve was still wearing the white knit sweater that had been a part of his angel costume, and he looked like the perfect victim in it, innocent as he hugged his arms around himself, the combination of Halloween and being home alone and the scary movie he had left on in the other room mixing with the strange knocks and calls and lights that Eddie had orchestrated to put him on edge.
Steve looked around the room frowning, but turned the light back off. He began to walk back out of the bedroom, surely telling himself that he had simply forgotten the light, surely trying to convince himself that any fear he felt was entirely in his head…. And then Eddie moved quickly, and grabbed him.
Steve gasped, stiffening, and Eddie squeezed a hand over his mouth. He had wrapped his other arm around Steve’s body, and Steve’s hands came up to grasp his forearm, every line of him rigid with fear as Eddie set his chin on Steve’s shoulder and turned his masked face to Steve’s startled one.
“Got you,” he whispered, and shifted his weight, taking his hand off Steve’s mouth to slip the length of rope from his pocket. He yanked Steve’s arms back so that he stumbled forward a bit, looping the rope between his wrists and tying it off quickly.
“What the fuck,” Steve protested, voice weak and still startled. “Eddie?”
“Eddie?” Eddie repeated, making his voice deeper and more mocking. “Shut the fuck up and maybe I won’t hurt you.” Steve shivered: he could feel it. Eddie laughed and ground against his ass, already half-hard from the adrenaline of his break-in. “You like this? God, you’re a slut. What kind of idiot leaves their back door unlocked? You must have been wishing somebody would break in and take you. I ought to steal you back to my own bed and tie you to it, you’d be the perfect willing victim.”
“Eddie—”
“Shut up.” Eddie walked Steve forward: not to the bed, but to the dresser, shoving him until he was bent over it, face pressed into the mirror. His breath began to fog the glass immediately, and Eddie winked at him before the warmth of his breath obscured his wide, sweet eyes. Steve grinned, then gasped as Eddie pushed against him again, so forcefuly this time he knew he was pushing Steve’s dick painfully into the corner of the top drawer. With his hands tied behind him, Steve couldn’t correct his posture, could only let out a harsh whine and let Eddie manipulate him into a bend, his back a slutty arch where Eddie pulled his hips up high.
He stepped back to take in the picture Steve made, the lack of his body making Steve slip and attempt to brace himself better. He swayed as if to stand, and Eddie let one hand come down hard on his ass. Steve was still in his pajama pants, the material keeping it from hurting the way Steve liked: that wouldn’t do. “Don’t fucking move,” Eddie warned, and backed up to grab his bag. He dumped it out beside Steve on the dresser, allowing Steve to see what lay in store for him: the lube, the ball gag, the knife.
Steve made a noise that made Eddie chuckle: it wasn’t fearful, but eager, and Eddie watched in the mirror as the ghost he was dressed as kicked Steve’s legs further apart. He slipped the gag into place, shaking his head as Steve took the ball gently between his teeth.
“You like this too much,” he chided, testing the tightness with one finger at the back of Steve’s head, then sliding his hand up the back of his skull to seize him by the hair, holding him at the hip to steer him upright, Steve’s throat flushed and his eyes dark. He was so pretty: a sacrificial lamb eager to be devoured. And without his mouth free to sink teeth into Steve’s pulse the way he wanted to, Eddie reached for his knife.
Another noise escaped from the gag, but it was muffled, and Eddie smiled in response. “See? Now I can do whatever I want to you. Pretty little idiot. Where’s your daddy? Shouldn’t he keep you safe from bad men like me?”
Steve breathed out hard through his nose and wriggled against him, surely pulling his own hair in the process. Eager slut. Desperate thing. Eddie loved him so much.
For all that he seemed to be gagging for it, Steve still made a noise of protest as Eddie flipped his blade open and ran it over the front of his sweater. Finally, something that scared him— but Eddie wasn’t cruel enough to strip Steve of his adorable brand of comfort. He did, however, slice the tie at the front of his pajamas, neatly splitting the knot to tease the skin that was revealed when they dropped low on Steve’s hips. He could feel the heave of Steve’s breathing beneath the tip of the blade, the way it had gone ragged and uncontrolled. And interested: Steve’s erection was the primary thing still holding his pajama pants in place, and when Eddie ripped them away it bobbed back upward, pink and sweet and asking to be slapped.
He couldn’t slap it, knife in hand, but he ran the flat of his blade over it anyway, watching through the mirror to ensure that it remained an empty thread.
But Steve swallowed, and his dick hardened under the knife, lifting against steel, and the tiniest drop of blood swelled up anyway.
“Well, well, well.” Eddie flipped the knife shut and pocketed it so he could reach around, thumbing over the cut and pulling his hand back again, tasting the new salt on his thumb. “Bleeding between the legs like a little virgin, are you?” Steve protested and thrashed, finally looking as if he was taking things seriously. The pants on the floor kept his legs trapped in place, and he fell backwards against Eddie, Eddie shushing him as he took Steve’s weight.
He looked them over in the mirror again, still holding Steve’s hair so he had to look, too: the way Steve was stripped and bleeding on the bottom, tangled up and bound and gagged, his hair already a mess and his eyes dark, the way he was still wearing his soft sweater, the sleeves over his hands and his wrists bound together over the white cable knit.
“You’re so pretty,” he mused, unable to keep the compliment from leaving his mouth when it was simply the truth. “I think I’ll keep you.”
Steve tried to turn into his arms, but Eddie caught him at the bound wrists and turned him fully, stepping out of the way to let Steve stumble knee-first into the bed. He caught him by the binding of his wrists, watching the skin turn red and angry as he used their bite to turn Steve’s body. He strained to do it, but he was able to shove Steve upward quickly, on his back with those arms still behind his back so they were trapped underneath his body. He hummed and assessed, then fished more rope from his pocket, pressing Steve’s knee up and making a loop around it. Steve kicked out— half-heartedly, but Eddie appreciated the effort— then tugged the slack sideways to make another loop on the other leg as well.
He pushed Steve’s knees up, and up, forcing him into a curl to slip the length of rope between Steve’s knees behind his head instead, the end result trapping him with his knees by his ears, his arms useless, and his most sensitive places exposed. Eddie was tempted to cut him again: the fold of his belly in half, the sensitive soles of his feet in the air. It didn’t look comfortable, but it looked like every pornographic fantasy Eddie had ever had, and it was all his.
Eddie pushed the sweater up higher on Steve’s body to see his nipples: pink and pulled tight, half-hidden by dark hair. He wanted to bite them, but the mask wouldn’t allow it, so instead he worried each one between his fingers, pinching hard.
Steve tried to roll away, but rocked back into place, the bonds keeping him trapped and the gag making it impossible for him to complain if he wanted it otherwise. They had systems in place by which Steve could wordlessly, instantly signal for a stop, and Eddie made sure to pay attention for those, but they never came. Willing victim indeed.
“Look at you,” he marveled. “Spread wide open for me. So good, I almost don’t want to hurt you.” He thumbed at the furl of Steve’s asshole, the only shadowed spot in a split of perfect pink. “But I will. Poor baby. Just say something if it’s too much.”
This, of course, was a cruel joke— Steve glared at him above the ball gag, drool collecting now at the corners of his mouth. He looked stupid: beautifully so. Eddie didn’t want to hurt him, really, but he would: he did. There was lube in the bag, but he only used a little, squirting it cold over Steve’s skin to see him squirm. It would smooth the entry, but not painlessly. He rubbed it over his own dick, selfishly, just enough to ease his own way. Steve was impossibly tight when he pressed in, almost too tight, and if he hadn’t been so hard he would never have been able to force his way through the barrier of Steve’s body. Steve was hot and snug around him, the kind of embrace he’d been waiting a lifetime for. It wasn’t just the physical that felt good: it was all of this, here, everything. The way Steve’s body loosened around him just enough to find the perfect fit, the way his eyes had gone soft and dreamy, the way Eddie was trusted to take him through his paces to that haze, the way he was allowed to hurt him, to touch him, to take him. To love him, the piece of this thing between them that took the most trust of all.
Fuck it: he shoved all the way in, hips hitting Steve’s thighs, crowding in close enough to pull off the mask and kiss Steve— over the gag, then unfastening it to do it properly, Steve returning the kiss hard, sloppy, unable to use his hands still but biting down on Eddie’s lip in revenge. Eddie was red-faced and sweaty where he had pulled the mask off, his hair escaping now around them, but the taste of Steve’s tongue again was too sweet to stop and savor.
“Fuck,” Steve groaned into his mouth, his voice a ruin, his mouth too wet from saliva. “Fuck, you got me, daddy, scared the shit out of me, I swear.”
“Don’t be scared,” Eddie cooed, pressing kisses now to everywhere he could reach on Steve’s face. “I’ve got you, baby, you’re all mine. My sweet boy. Did you have a happy Halloween?”
“I will if you shut up and fuck me,” Steve complained, and Eddie laughed, and did.