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The thing is.
The thing is: Steve’s been with girls who weren’t that into him. Who he could tell were thinking of other guys whole he was fucking them. One who even called him Peter, in the middle of it.
And that probably should have felt really fucking bad but… but it also felt kind of like. Well. Like it was easier without the attention. Like it wasn’t so much about him, as it was about making them feel good despite whatever they were thinking. Like when he snapped his hips just right and saw them realize that they may not care about what he was doing but he was still doing a great fucking job at getting them off? Wasn’t there a power to that, too?
It felt better, somehow, than the girls who called him King Steve and giggled about being in King Steve’s famous bedroom and getting fucked by King Steve’s famous cock. The girls who wanted him to tell them stories of his exploits, who wanted to watch him be a version of himself that was more fake than real these days, those were worse. Because something about that, of knowing that he spent all day performing and now he had to keep it up, keep up the charade even when he was naked and writhing on top of them?
That kind of chafed.
And Eddie, well. Eddie’s always been into him. That much was clear from the minute he woke up in the hospital and started shouting for Steve. Clear from the way he looked for him in every gathering, from the way his eyes tracked Steve’s lips and Steve’s hands.
Clear from the first time they hooked up, Eddie’s hands travelling over his skin, eyes scanning every inch, raving about Steve’s body and Steve’s face and his skills and yeah. It feels really fucking nice to be wanted. He knows he doesn’t have to act anymore. He knows that Eddie likes him not just without King Steve, but in spite of it. And he gives the attention back in spades, because he wants to show Eddie he feels the same. Honestly these days he doesn’t think he could look away even if he wanted to. And Eddie eats up the attention, he loves to be looked at, to be focused on. He preens under it, grows under it. Once, when Steve had drifted slightly, floaty and almost high on the way Eddie was touching him, Eddie had snapped “eyes on me” and god, if that hadn’t done it for both of them. But Steve…
There’s something about the way Eddie is always looking, always expecting, that feels… well.
He doesn’t realize what it feels like until he feels the opposite.
The first time it happens is a total accident. At least. Steve thinks it is, until it’s over.
Eddie insisted it was finally time for Steve to watch Lord of the Rings, after many months of dating and cajoling, and finally there’s a night where no one else needs them. Because even if Steve is going to sit through Lord of the Rings for the man he loves, he’s absolutely not going to do it in the same room as Dustin fucking Henderson, who would likely talk through the entire movie, and also make fun of Steve every time he forgets who’s who (because he’s seen the poster on Eddie’s wall and he can already tell that that’s going to happen. Like there are multiple white men with slightly wavy brown hair and then there’s all the short ones and, anyways-) but Eddie is going to be sweet about it, probably. Because it’s Eddie’s favourite, favourite book series, favourite movies, so he’s going to make sure Steve gets it.
And truthfully he also kind of thought they weren’t really going to watch the movie. Because they’re both, well, they’re young adult men and there’s something about each other. They can usually keep it in their pants when the kids are around (though, the new movie theater’s bathroom stall has seen its fair share of hurried blow jobs, he can’t deny that) but fuck, he’s never been so horny all the time for one person. Sure, he’s had girlfriends who wanted to fuck first thing in the morning, or maybe a quickie during lunch, but if Steve and Eddie have an uninterrupted day sometimes they just never stop. Some days it feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t get his dick in Eddie’s mouth and Eddie feels the same way, so.
So sue him, that he figured they’d probably start the movie, and then get a little too hot and heavy and probably not pay much attention which is fine, because, again: Steve doesn’t really care about Lord of the Rings.
And it starts that way, for sure. They’re next to each other on the loveseat in Steve’s apartment, which is at a bit of an awkward angle from the television so they have to crowd together, bodies half turned so they can both see it. Robin’s gone for the day, off with Nancy, and honestly Eddie basically lives here now anyways though he still keeps half his shit in the trailer park because he doesn’t want Wayne getting too lonely. They’d smoked half a blunt before they started, just to take the edge off, and have curled up underneath the blanket, the ratty one that definitely needs a wash, and at first they’re just sitting, side to side and angled so that Eddie’s just a bit behind Steve, pressed against each other.
The tall wizard man–Gandalf, he tries to remember–is telling Frodo to leave the shire when Steve reaches over, slides his hand down over Eddie’s thigh, lets it brush over the front of his jeans. Just being in proximity like this has already got his mind reeling, the subtle calming buzz of good weed lowering his inhibitions, and just being able to smell Eddie (pot and sandalwood and nicotine and old spice) has him half hard already. Eddie, clearly, is equally as affected, and he hums a little and pushes his hips up into Steve’s hand.
Then he seems to remember himself.
“Stevie, watch the movie,” he says, and it’s probably not his fault that his voice has slipped into that tone. That tone that sends a spark of interest straight to Steve’s cock, because he can hear it in his head on a loop (‘Stevie, eyes on me’ and ‘Stevie, be a good boy and stay still’, and the worst one, the one he thinks about constantly, ‘Stevie, you better not come until I let you’) and he snaps his head so fast back around to the television that he almost hurts himself.
He can see Eddie’s little smirk in his peripherals, and oh yeah. No. The voice was definitely on purpose.
“Good boy,” Eddie purrs, and his voice is so close Steve feels the ghost of it over his ear and he can’t stop the full body shudder at the sensation. “Keep your eyes on the screen and pay attention. There may be a quiz later.”
Then he stops, mostly, except for the fact that he’s still breathing near Steve’s ear and his fingers are tracing small circles over Steve’s chest. Eddie stops for a second only to slide his hand up Steve’s shirt, and when he pinches one of Steve’s nipples between his fingers Steve is so taken aback he lets out a little yelp.
“Be quiet,” Eddie instructs, and Steve snaps his mouth closed. “You know,” he says, conversationally, “they really cut this whole scene down from the books. Actually,” his hand has slid down, now, over the front of Steve’s grey sweatpants which are unfortunately starting to tent up with his erection. “They actually cut a whole character, Tom Bombadil. They cut him entirely because Jackson couldn’t figure out how to work him in, but he was kind of unique-” Eddie pauses for a second to give Steve’s cock a squeeze, and then slides his hand down the front of Steve’s sweats and boxers, skin on skin. “In the books, the ring has absolutely no effect on him.”
Steve nods, feeling dumb, because he can barely pay attention the actual plot on screen in front of him, let alone the plot of the books which is apparently totally different. But Eddie stops talking and moves his hand and Steve lets himself relax a little.
At least, until Eddie drops to his knees in front of the couch and tosses the blanket off, tugging Steve’s pants and boxers off in one fell swoop. He’s turned Steve around a bit and angled them so that even though Eddie’s now kneeling in front of Steve, who’s naked from the waist down, they’re both still watching the TV. And Eddie is definitely watching, despite Steve’s cock hovering inches from his face, aching hard and starting to leak.
Steve lets his eyes drift down to the top of Eddie’s head as he feels the man’s calloused fingers skim over him. He loves watching Eddie suck his dick, there’s something so erotic about it. Eddie makes a mess every time, saliva everywhere, and Steve loves to watch Eddie wreck himself on his cock. But Eddie isn’t sucking it. In fact, he’s not even looking. He’s just caressing slowly, eyes fixed to the television, and oh.
Oh.
That… something sparks low in his belly, and he tries to push it away.
“Stevie,” Eddie says, and the harsh snap is back to his tone. “I told you to keep your eyes on the screen.”
“Sorry,” Steve says, instinctively, and forces himself to look back up. He isn’t sure how Eddie even saw him, but Eddie can always tell when Steve’s eyes are on him and when they’re somewhere else. Just like, Steve supposes, he can always tell when he’s in the spotlight of Eddie’s doe eyed gaze.
Eddie pinches the soft skin of his thigh, hard, and Steve keens at the hurt of it, the way it somehow makes him even harder. “And I told you to be quiet. Don’t you want to be a good boy for me?”
Steve forces himself to keep his mouth shut and nods, one two three times.
This seems to satisfy Eddie, and he goes back to running his fingers over Steve’s cock. And then, just as Steve is starting to settle into the sensation, good but not so good it’s going to cause too much distraction, Eddie licks a long stripe from Steve’s balls right up and over the head, and Steve has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise, but he lets his hands fist in the blanket balled up on the couch beside him. Forces himself not to look.
The Hobbits have evaded some potentially serious shit with a group of creepy shadow-esque demons and found a bar and Steve is starting to actually get into it. Eddie’s still playing with him, just some gentle touches and light licks, but Steve is still able to focus, enough. There’s a stranger in the corner staring at them, and the creepy demons are back. Steve is finally starting to figure out what the hype is around this movie, with the a giant fucking flaming eye, when the stranger with the perfect jawline slams Frodo into the wall (and isn’t that a memory, of when he first met Eddie), then pulls down his hood to reveal curly brown hair, just a little too dirty to be hot but–
But Eddie has, in one perfect motion, taken Steve’s entire cock into his mouth and Steve has to bite back a groan because when he chances a quick glance down, Eddie’s eyes are still fixed on the screen. He sucks down hard and swallows around Steve’s length and he almost blows his load right there because they’re, if he can figure, almost an hour into this movie and at least forty five minutes of being hard enough to come from barely any movement and now there’s an incredibly handsome stranger on the screen and his incredibly hot boyfriend on his knees and Eddie’s sucking his cock like something he does all the time but he’s not even looking at Steve, like the cock is just an incidental, like he’s doing it because he’s bored and he always needs to fidget during movies and.
And holy shit, does that tighten something in his stomach. Because Eddie is barely paying any attention to Steve. Enough, obviously, that he would notice if Steve stopped watching the movie, stopped doing as he was told, but for once it’s like sex without the spotlight, sex without the expectation and the performance and Steve bites back another whimper. He’s learned a lot about himself, since he started fucking Eddie, but this one catches him by surprise.
Just as he thinks he might actually come, Eddie has pulled completely off his cock. “Viggo Mortensen did all his own stunts,” he says, like they’d been having a completely normal conversation about the movie and he wasn’t about to make Steve orgasm harder than he had in weeks. Steve’s reeling, trying to catch his breath, and Eddie doesn’t even look at him. “He also only used a real steel sword, insisted upon it. Could definitely take down a demogorgon or two with that thing.”
Steve swallowed hard around the lump in his throat and nodded, dumbstruck. Eddie had to have known he was close, right? Was he doing it on purpose?
“He almost got arrested because he kept carrying it around off set,” Eddie says with a little laugh. “God, he was like. One of my first crushes as a kid. I jacked off to him so much.”
There’s something about that too, Eddie’s casual tone as he sits inches away from Steve’s cock (which is, at this point, aching and red) and talks about jacking off to another guy. Another guy that doesn’t actually look anything like Steve. There’s something about it he can’t name and he isn’t sure if he wants to.
Steve doesn’t see the way Eddie’s eyes flick over, the way they catch him panting and red, flushed over almost all of his skin. Eddie licks his lips, and Steve doesn’t see that either. “I guess I like my men lethal,” he says, and Steve lets his head turn a little, just so their eyes meet for a second.
A check in.
An ‘is this okay’ in not as many words.
“Steel sword, nail bat, I’ve got a type,” Eddie pushes, a little further. A reminder that he’s still here for Steve, first and foremost.
Steve melts a little, and he nods, once, twice. Not wanting to speak when he hasn’t been given permission. But Eddie catches him biting his lip, pushing his hips up just a tad, as if the air could give him some relief, and his smirk widens as he slides right back into it.
Eddie doesn’t give him long to recover, just enough that his orgasm is perilously out of reach again, when he takes up sucking Steve’s cock once again. It’s not as intense as before, and some delirious part of Steve’s brain wonders if the previously invigorated performance has to do with Eddie’s attraction to Viggo just as much as it does with his desire to make Steve feel good.
But still, it’s intense enough that Steve is struggling to focus but he’s trying, because Strider is talking about the demon-ghosts (nazghouls, or something, his brain is trying to remember, but it’s a weird word), and the Hobbits are walking through the woods.
This continues for a few minutes. Hobbits walking, Eddie sucking his dick, and Steve can tell he’s getting close again. He hates to think what part of the movie they’re going to be at when Eddie tips him over the edge, he can already anticipate that weird sense of shame, like when the porn goes just a touch too odd but it’s too late and suddenly you’re cumming to a close up of some girls toes, and he clenches his hand in the blanket as the Nazgûls come back on screen and then Eddie, fucking Eddie, pulls his head back up and off.
“Aragorn–that’s Strider’s real name–said they were all kings,” he says, and Steve nearly screams in frustration. “But actually, in The Silmarillion, not all of them were. Kings, sorcerers, warriors. Using the nine rings brought them power and glory and riches. And even the leader, he was the Witch-King, not just a king.”
Steve clenches his jaw so hard he thinks he’s going to break a tooth, and looks back down to see Eddie, eyes fixed to the screen, one hand wrapped tight around the base of Steve’s cock so he couldn’t come even if he wanted to.
“Pay attention,” Eddie snaps, not even looking as he squeezes Steve’s cock a little tighter in warning. “This is important.”
Strider/Aragorn is talking about a blade, and Steve is going to fucking die right here on his couch.
Still. He gives himself the time, taking deep breaths as he tries to recover. There’s a cut to some pretty fucked up looking, he thinks they’re called orcs?, and that helps too, because it’s definitely the opposite of sexy. It’s not enough to send his hard-on packing, but enough to pull him back from the edge. Eddie’s still holding him, and then his fingers are back with featherlight touches and Steve lets himself shudder, a little bit, and tries to keep his attention on the screen.
There’s a blade at Aragorn’s neck (another fuck moment, if a blade and a beer bottle have any of the same weight in his turned on beyond belief brain, and they do), and Eddie drops his head again, leisurely licking up and down Steve’s cock as an absolutely stunning brunette–Arwen, the subtitles say–appears on screen in a halo of light, speaking a different language that’s all soft ss and musical lilts that go right to his dick.
Curse his bisexuality, he thinks, because fuck if he wouldn’t sign up for a threesome between Arwen and Aragorn any day of the week. And Eddie seems to recognize this, giving him a particularly good suck as Aragorn tells Arwen to “ride hard”, and Jesus, yep, he’s so goddamn fucked.
Steve’s so overstimulated by now, the movie soundtrack blasting in his ears, watching Arwen absolutely ride that horse like she knows what she’s doing, brown eyes brown hair perfect cheekbones Arwen speaking Elvish, Eddie’s tongue dragging leisurely up and down his cock, he can’t stop the low keen he lets out when Eddie sucks him particularly hard.
Everything stops immediately and he whimpers, he almost cries but he manages not to. “Eddie,” he whines, and his voice is fucking wrecked, a total disaster.
“Only good boys get to come,” Eddie says, sounding so bored Steve almost wants to pack up and go home but the tone, the indifference with just a hint of mean, has him whining again and clenching hard because he almost comes untouched just at that.
“Please,” Steve whispers, thighs clenching with the effort, and he’s digging his fingernails into his palms so hard he’s going to draw blood any minute. “I’m gonna die, Eddie, fuck-”
“You’re interrupting my favourite movie,” Eddie says, and doesn’t even deign to look at Steve, who’s now dripping precum onto the couch, his cock so red and tight he wants to cry. “Now be quiet.”
Eddie’s word is law, final and harsh, and Steve squirms on the couch for a long minute, taking the deepest breaths he can.
“Stevie, stay still,” Eddie adds, like it’s nothing, like Steve’s body doesn’t instantly freeze at the command, despite how hard it is to keep his hips from moving, to keep his hands from reaching. It would be so easy, he thinks, to reach down and finish himself off. He’s three good strokes away but something in his gut squirms at the thought. He wants Eddie to do it, he wants to make Eddie proud, and he knows if he breaks Eddie’s words that Eddie would be so disappointed in him. It’s not the threat of punishment (which they’ve both learned is far closer to pleasure than pain for either of them anyways) but rather the knowledge of breaking this perfect bubble Eddie’s built for them, when as much as he wants to come he also wants to follow through.
Eddie barely touches him as the Hobbits reach Rivendell, as the Hobbits reunite. Finally, Eddie’s lips are back on his cock, gentle and slow, barely sucking. Just there. Like he knows that Steve is close, and he wants to pull him closer without threat of sending him over the edge.
Steve almost cries at the sensation, but he bites his lips instead, digs his fingernails in harder. Just as Eddie is starting to get into it, as Steve is starting to feel himself climb the crescendo again, Eddie pops right back off his cock.
“For the books,” he says, and Steve has never hated books or literature or even fucking words more in his life. “Tolkein actually created the entire elvish language of Sindarin. Rivendell, in Sindarin, is Imlardis, and means ‘deep valley of the cleft’. I can speak a bit of it, actually.”
There’s no denying that the way Eddie hisses out the word, combined with the visual image of a deep cleft, has Steve whimpering even further. And then, like he hadn’t just ripped another potential orgasm opportunity away from Steve, goes right back to his cock.
Steve quite literally can’t help the sob that slips past his lips, but Eddie is being generous because he completely ignores it. Eddie is back to sucking, leisurely, eyes never leaving the television screen.
He gets closer even faster this time and his legs are starting to shake as Eddie pulls off again. “Filmed in New Zealand,” he says, offhandedly. “I’ve always wanted to go see it. But it was actually based off of a place in Switzerland, so maybe I should go there first.”
Steve nods, barely able to conjure up the effort to do it with the way his abs are twitching. His shoulders are so tight he’s going to need a massage after this afternoon. Eddie doesn’t even notice.
He doesn’t even notice and Steve, every time he thinks about it, has to suppress another shudder. Eddie’s back on his cock, but only long enough to drag Steve up to the edge and shove him back, hard, as he pulls away again.
“One does not simply walk into Mordor,” Eddie parrots, at the exact same time as Sean Bean, who’s character’s name Steve has quite literally completely blanked on. (Not that he thinks he needs to remember it, because Sean Bean is kind of known for never making it far into any major franchise, so he figures if he’s still alive in the second movie he’ll learn it then.)
Another lick. Another clench of Steve’s abs. His blood is pumping so loud in his veins he can barely hear the characters on the TV.
Frodo says he’ll take the ring to Mordor, and characters are standing up, volunteering. Elrond hadn’t been hot to Steve until his snide remark and eyebrow raise about the Hobbits, but maybe at this point–two hours deep into the movie, more than an hour into whatever the fuck Eddie has been doing to him–maybe he’d find a scarecrow worth fucking, just for the goddamn relief.
He opens his mouth, wants to babble, remembers Eddie’s commands and swallows his words, and his whole body is tense under the effort of it all. It doesn’t help that Aragorn is speaking elvish again and holy shit, he wonders if he can get Eddie to speak elvish to him in bed. If Eddie ever gets him into bed, which at this point he has no idea. He’s going to die here on the couch if he doesn’t get to come soon, and he’s going to die if he does come with how strong the orgasm’s going to be. His abs are twitching hard and Eddie slides a hand up to press on them, his other hand still tight around the base of Steve’s cock to stave off any orgasm that Steve tries to sneak through. A tiny subtle acknowledgement that he is paying attention, he knows Steve is fighting himself for Eddie’s sake, but he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t take his eyes off the screen.
Steve hates how much he’s loving it.
He loves how much it’s turning him on, sending him into that dream like floaty headspace he's come to crave so much.
He doesn’t know what to do with this, this new thing they’ve stumbled onto, and his brain is too fucked up to parse through any of it now. All that he knows is he’s sneaking looks down, seeing the way Eddie is sucking his cock but looking at the TV, the way Eddie’s barely paying attention to him, the way he seems almost bored with Steve, and he knows he’s going to have to dig into it, because the way it makes him feel is unlike anything else.
Eddie has redoubled his efforts now, sucking harder and taking Steve deeper than he has in a while. Steve is close within seconds, and it is taking every ounce of self control he has not to come. In a few moments he won’t even be able to hold onto that, because as hot as it is to not come until you’re told he is also only a man and there’s only so many orcs he can picture to stave things off at this point.
On screen the group, the fellowship, he supposes, is leaving Rivendell, setting out on a trek. The camera pans up over the mountain pass, characters walking in a straight line, Aragorn fierce and hard, and the screen cuts to black. Steve’s head is so far in the clouds he has no idea how he’s keeping up with this, knows it’s going in and straight out. He’s basically drunk on Eddie’s touches, on the whole situation, but he can’t bring himself to care.
If there’s really a pop quiz, he’s going to fail spectacularly.
Eddie pulls off with a sigh and the sob slips out of Steve without warning again, his entire abdomen tight and shaking, abs and pecs and hamstrings literally jumping under the effort of keeping his muscles clenched. But this time, Eddie licks his lips, and flicks his eyes up to Steve, his whole face radiating boredom.
“I need to switch the DVDs over,” he states, and then rolls his fucking eyes. “You’re being so fucking pathetic. Do you need something before I get up?”
Steve bites down the words hard. Pathetic rings in his brain as a compliment, not an insult. Like, it’s pathetic how much Steve wants Eddie (it is), and how Eddie’s so indifferent, and here’s Steve so fucking horny he’s ruining the movie. From anyone else it would hurt, small and angry, and from Eddie it sounds like a fucking gift, because Steve knows how much Eddie wants to be wanted, wants to be drooled over. Steve being fucking dumb over how much he wants Eddie is top of Eddie’s fantasy list, and pathetic is thus the highest compliment.
It’s taking all of his brain power to not squirm, to not sob, to not babble out everything he wants and needs but he knows Eddie can be cruel when he wants to be, and he hasn’t been given permission yet. He doesn’t want to risk another two hours of this.
“Speak,” Eddie says, and again, that tone of boredom. But there’s a flash in his eyes, wide with his dark pupils blown, that tells Steve that Eddie’s enjoying this just as much as he is.
Well, maybe not just as much.
“Please,” Steve whines, in a breath, his voice shaking and desperate, high and cracked. “Please baby please I need, I want, I need to come or I’m going to die please please please please-”
“Please what?” Eddie drawls, and he’s already starting to pull back, to pull away, as if he’d leave Steve here covered in quickly drying saliva, leaking precum, stomach so tight he’s going to break any second.
They haven’t done this much but it doesn’t matter because Steve knows exactly what Eddie wants.
“Sir, please sir, please please, please let me come please I can’t, I can’t, I’m-”
“Enough,” Eddie snaps, but Steve catches the whine in his voice too. “Better make it fast,” he adds, and then takes Steve back in his mouth like he’s doing him a favour. Eddie loosens his grip just slightly and lets his wrist flick a few times as he takes Steve deeper down his throat than he has in almost an hour and Steve lets out a sob, broken and desperate, because Eddie hadn’t told him to be quiet anymore.
Eddie sucks harder, flicks his wrist two more times, and that’s it. Steve comes with a shout, his entire body arching up off the couch, seeking the hot wet of Eddie’s mouth. He comes so hard and for so long that his vision goes black, his entire body twitching and shaking, muscles jumping under his skin. Eddie rides him through it, sucking him through the entire orgasm and out the other side, sucking until Steve is so overstimulated he lets out another little sob and tries to pull away, and sucking for just a few more seconds beyond that, Steve’s legs twitching so hard they’re jumping a bit and he sobs one more time, low and broken.
And then Eddie lets go, lets Steve collapse back down onto the couch, lets him catch his breath.
When Steve finally opens his eyes again, Eddie is kneeling closer to his head. He didn’t even remember lying down on the couch, but he’s been arranged carefully propped on a pillow, blanket back over his lap. Eddie is holding a glass of water to his lips and Steve sips, carefully, for a long few seconds before Eddie puts it aside. Then Eddie climbs onto the couch behind Steve, and tugs Steve into his arms, wrapping them around him.
“You okay, baby?” he whispers, into Steve’s ear. Steve nods, dizzy and sleepy and sated. “Use your words,” Eddie prompts. “That was intense, I need to know you’re good.”
“Mm good,” Steve mumbles, and tips his head back so he can look at Eddie. “You.. you were…” he starts, blinks, lost in Eddie’s eyes.
Eddie leans down to kiss Steve’s forehead. “You were so good for me,” he continues, dragging his fingers through Steve’s hair, smoothing the sweaty mess away from his face. “Such a good boy.”
“I really,” Steve starts, trails off, swallows hard and gives it another few seconds. “Really liked that.”
Eddie laughs, low and smooth. “I could tell,” he says. “Which part?”
Steve licks his lips and Eddie smooths his hand down over Steve’s chest, over the tired muscles which twitch under his hand. “All of it,” he admits. “‘Specially… you… um…” he feels his face flush again, but forces through the feeling. He’ll never get a repeat if he doesn’t tell Eddie what he liked. “You ignoring me. The. Um. Pathetic. Don’t know why.”
“I had a hunch,” Eddie admits, with another soft kiss to Steve’s forehead. “Thank you for giving me that, baby. It was so fucking hot, I’ll be jacking off to this forever.”
Steve squirms at the praise and realizes, belatedly, that Eddie was in sweatpants now too. He feels the rush, low and proud, that Eddie came in his pants and had to go change, he was so into it. “Again?” he whispers, swallowing, the anticipation of what more could be down this particular rabbit hole too enticing to avoid.
Eddie laughs. “Yeah, baby. Not today. Today we’re going to watch the second half of the movie. But I can ignore you again later.”
Steve curls in further, lets Eddie’s warmth and love surround him as he tries to catch up with what’s happening on the screen again, now that Eddie’s hit play on the remote, and lets his brain drift as he replays, over and over, the last two hours of his life.
Jerking off over it forever sounds about right to him too.
