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Oh god.
Ohgodohgodohgod.
He’s gone and fucked it now.
He got too comfortable and forgot that reality and fantasy do not exist on the same plane.
Jesus Christ.
And Steve is just staring at him, looking at Eddie over his shoulder. Eyes wide, mouth open in a perfect O. The ring of the smack Eddie just delivered on his perfect, beautiful ass still resonating in the empty kitchen.
The scars that litter Eddie’s body, the ones shaped like demon bat teeth, are all twitching like they’re reminding him what happens if you don’t run . And for a second he thinks he might run. He just might run and never look back because -
June 27, 1986
How the fuck had Steve fucking Harrington become his best friend? Sometimes it feels like he must have died in the UpsideDown and everything that had happened since was some kind of undeserved heaven. Not that he believes in that kind of thing but it’s the only logical answer for how he finds himself with a whole gaggle of friends who were more like family.
After it all, after Vecna was dead and Max was awake and Eddie was alive even though the bats did a fucking number on him, they’d all just…been there. Without question. Without guise. A new family that welcomed uncle Wayne too.
He isn’t sure he deserves it.
He is damn sure he doesn’t deserve Steve Harrington.
*
“Munson, are you ready yet?”
“Yeah yeah, keep your shirt on!” Eddie grouches, tying his bandana around his head and grabbing his keys, stuffing them into his cut off jean shorts as he bounds toward the door and the man blocking the sunlight through it.
Living in an actual house is a trip that Eddie is still getting used to. They don’t have enough furniture still and the walls are blank since nothing survived the rift that had run through his trailer. RIP his long collected skin mags. And his guitars. And his bitchin’ band tees. Fucking Vecna. Asshole.
“I brought an extra pair of swim trunks. Figured yours might’ve gone down with the ship,” Steve is saying as Eddie pulls the door closed and locks it. “If you want, I mean.”
“It’s cute that you think I owned swim trunks.” He laughs and then almost swallows his goddamn tongue when he turns around and gets a look at Steve without the sun behind to cast him in shadow.
Eddie is gonna die today. He’s going to drown himself in the lake.
Shorts? Is that what those are? Dear god. So much naked thigh. And after staring at Steve’s hairy chest in the UpsideDown, Eddie should have been prepared for him to have hairy thighs. Nope, he did not prepare for this. And not just hairy but also toned with years of swimming and basketball or whatever the fuck jocks do to keep in shape. And he’s standing there with his hands planted on his hips in that familiar way that makes Eddie go weak in the knees for some stupid reason. To top it off, his white t-shirt is tucked into the front of the shorts, shorts that hide abso-fucking-lutely nothing.
Drown himself. He’s going to just give in and drown himself.
“I’m just saying, I’ve worn wet cut off jeans before. That shit chafes. If you want swim trunks, I have them.” They’re walking to the Beemer where Dustin, Max and Lucas are waiting. Robin and Nancy got Mike, El and Will. Jonathon and Argyle are meeting them there because no one trusts them to drive children around.
Eddie skips ahead a few steps, turning to walk backwards so he can look at Steve when he leers, “Are they as short as yours? Cause I’m not sure the world can handle seeing quite that much of this freak.” One hand waves across his front in a gesture that could mean Eddie himself if you wanted to take it that way but very much meant his dick.
Steve blushes and before Eddie can decide what to do with that, Dustin yells, “Let’s gooo already!”
Eddie spins toward the car and at the same time, he and Steve point at Dustin and say, “Tone!”
“Jinx!” They both shout, turning toward each other but Eddie is just a hair faster.
“I never should have let you become friends.” Dustin grumbles, settling back down into his seat.
As he’s climbing behind the wheel, Steve opens his mouth to probably tell Dustin off but Eddie interrupts, “Ah-Ah-Ah, no talking until someone says your name, big boy.”
It’s an older way to play the jinx game. No soda owing involved. But it’s his favorite because, and he can admit it, Eddie gets a little drunk on power. And Steve at his mercy? Yes, please.
Steve rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything, sliding his Ray Bans on and pulling out onto the road.
Eddie claps his hands and rubs them together, turning in his seat to look at the kids, “Wonderful, now we can talk about D&D the entire ride there without interruption!”
“Steve Harrington.” Max says, lifting one eyebrow at Eddie’s faux wounded expression.
“Thanks Mayfield, remind me to buy you an ice cream cone later.” Steve grins at her over his shoulder.
Eddie sputters. “Red! How dare you?! I didn’t even get to take advantage of it!”
“Shouldn’t have threatened me with two hours of your dumb nerd game.” She shrugs, pushing her headphones up to her ears and pressing play without breaking eye contact with Eddie.
“I can’t compete with her level of petty.” Eddie states, turning to look at Steve.
Steve pushes a cassette into the player, “No one can.” But then the awful opening track of Kenny Loggins’ Danger Zone starts up.
“You bastard.” Eddie cackles because how fucking dare this man? This single has been out for less than a month and he finds a way to play it every time they’re in the car together because he knows how much Eddie despises it.
“Hey, this is a good song.” Lucas pipes us from the back, bopping his head a little and sticking one arm out the windows to let his hand surf the wind.
“You’ve ruined our children.” Eddie says with all seriousness. “Are you happy now?”
Steve just smiles.
And Eddie just. Well. He just.
August 5, 1986
“Man, you ever think how one moment, one choice, one decision changed the entire course of your life?” Steve is saying from where he’s leaning back next to Eddie on the hood of the Beemer. “Like how that probably happens to us every day but this was so big that we know the exact choice that brought us here?”
“Yeah. Like, if I’d ditched school that day, Chrissy wouldn’t have come to me and none of this would have happened.” He’s so high right now that saying her name doesn’t make him cry but it’s close. It’s always close. She was so fucking nice. And sometimes it hurts to think that she had to die so that he could have this, these people. Like maybe his destiny is what caused her death.
Fuck, man.
Steve rolls over to face him, head propped on his hand, “Nah, not like that. I mean the decision you made that changed your direction on a path that might have happened no matter what. You befriended the dorky kid in the Weird Al shirt who just happened to be deeply involved in this fucked up path we’re on.” He passes the joint that they probably shouldn’t finish since it’s their second and they’re both really fucking high, back to Eddie.
Eddie takes a drag and puts it out because they do need to get home eventually and Steve’s getting a little too deep for a summer night by Lover’s Lake.
“Yeah man. And if you’d gotten in your car and left the Byers that night, you’d have avoided all this shit.” Sometimes he’s glad he wasn’t there at the beginning but sometimes he’s oddly jealous that these people have trauma that started before his part of sharing it with them.
Which is weird. And stupid. Who wants more trauma to add to their nightmares?
Eddie apparently.
He rolls back onto his back so Steve can’t see whatever that looks like on his face.
“Oh. Yeah. I guess that was the first good decision I made once I was on that path.” He rolls back to his back too. “And then it was almost easy to make the rest of the good choices. The kids. Robin. You.”
You. Like that doesn’t devastate Eddie. Him. A good choice. Someone good thinking that he, Eddie Munson, is a good choice.
“How did I get here, man?” Eddie scoffs, because that’s how this whole conversation started. How they got here.
“It’s a circle.” Sitting up, Steve turns toward Eddie and, since the hood isn’t that big, he’s almost leaning over him. Eddie has had a lot of fantasies that start in exactly this way.
He swallows and tries to concentrate, “A circle?”
“Yeah, like. Look.” Steve’s all frenetic energy as he adjusts to get comfortable but that just brings them closer together, his knee resting on top of Eddie’s thigh. “So at some point, when you were a kid or a teenager - whatever, I don’t know when it started - someone was a bully to you. Made you feel like an outsider, right”
“Thanks for bringing up my childhood trauma.” Eddie deflects. Not wanting to say - birth, it started at birth. His parents were both a couple of selfish assholes. His dad called him a fairy and berated him for ‘crying like a girl’ as far back as his memory goes.
“Sorry, but like, I don’t know how man but you figured out how to own that shit. And then when you got older, you made a fucking choice, man. You decided to take these little assholes, these nerds, these weird ass kids. And tuck them under your wing.”
Eddie feels like he’s lost the plot because Steve’s so excited about his discovery that it overshadows Eddie’s ability to even think straight. He must look as confused as he feels because Steve suddenly jumps down from the hood, throws his arms out and grins at where Eddie has sat up to keep an eye on him.
“Munson. Some asshole like me, got you to this place in time. Got you to us right when you would need us, sure. But also, right when we would need you , the Master of Puppets. When I would need you because I wasn’t enough to keep them all safe that time.”
There is so much to unpack there.
“Disregarding the fact that it wasn’t, and it still isn’t your job to keep the kids safe, how is that a circle? You weren’t a bully when you did those things.”
Steve grins manically and for some godforsaken reason crawls back up onto the hood right on top of Eddie, forcing Eddie to lay back again to accommodate him. He’s staring down at him, hands on either side of Eddie’s head, knees bracketing Eddie’s thighs and dear god, dear god, dear god. “I wasn’t. Not anymore. But it was because I’d seen how strong people who had been bullied actually were and how wrong I was. Jonathon, and Robin and those nerdy little brats. People like you changed me so I was ready when you needed me.” He sits back, sitting on Eddie’s thighs with a satisfied and really dopey smile. “A circle.”
And that is the moment. That is the moment that Eddie’s crush, which is admittedly fucking huge already, pops like an over filled balloon and he realizes that he’s completely in love with this man. This man who saved the world with him. This man who carried his hemorrhaging body to safety. This man who is the best friend Eddie’s ever had. This straight man who is oblivious to the havoc he is wreaking on Eddie’s heart and soul and currently his fucking lap.
He wants to kiss Steve so badly.
In his mind he sees himself surge up, cupping Steve’s gorgeous face and kissing him like he’s never kissed anyone before in his life. Which he hasn’t because this is Hawkins, Indiana and he’s not trying to get beat up by kissing straight boys so it would, in fact, be his first kiss. And then he sees Steve pushing him away and almost falling off the car in his haste to get away from Eddie and everything falling apart, the entire group leaving him behind because he’s…built wrong. He’s a deviant just like they all said. He’s not just gay, he’s the kind of person who likes to look at magazines where one guy ties another guy up and spanks him. He’s everything his dad said and more.
Not just a fairy - a freak.
So he doesn’t kiss Steve Harrington even though it nearly kills him to make a joke out of it instead.
“You are definitely not driving us home, lightweight.”
Dragging one of his hands through his hair, Steve looks up at Eddie with a self deprecating smile that Eddie has learned to hate, “Sorry, I don’t…um, yeah,” He climbs gingerly down of Eddie’s lap with no idea that Eddie is dying a little inside to let him go, “Not usually me getting in your personal space. Bet that was weird for you.” He laughs but it’s all deflection. Eddie can almost hear him calling himself stupid and it nearly makes him reach out and pull Steve back.
But the moment’s gone and Steve is sliding into the driver’s seat, rifling through the box of cassettes that Eddie brought with him because Steve’s music sucks, “I’m gonna change the cassette, any requests?”
Sept 22nd, 1986
“What the fuck is vanilla sex?”
This man is going to be the death of Eddie. He knows it.
He has no one to blame though because he’s the one who teased Steve about only having vanilla sex. Like Eddie has any sex at all but hey, he really loves to read. He’s ready for it when it happens. Eventually.
“Harrington, what you have is vanilla sex. Just a nice girl and a nice boy, in bed or the backseat of his car, no one gets hurt, everyone has a mediocre orgasm and then goes home. Vanilla.” Eddie informs him. With his gleaned information from books because, once again, no personal experience here. “The most adventurous you get is probably doggy style and she hates that you call it that.”
“Fuck you, man.” Steve huffs a laugh. “I’m great at sex.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t. Just that it’s very nice, Sunday afternoon, boring sex.”
Steve throws a piece of popcorn at Eddie, it falls short, “What are you into? Like whips and chains?”
One eyebrow raised, he stares at Steve silently.
Steve sits up, almost knocking the bowl of popcorn to the ground, “Wait really?”
And see, Eddie knows for a fact that he’s blushing because he’s never admitted this to anyone, ever. Because everyone knows that people like that are weird, freaky. But. He and Steve have shared so much, it feels like he could share this and maybe not be judged. Just like, a little of it. Not all of it. Not who he’d be fucking like that. Or that he hasn’t yet.
The room is dark because they just put the movie in though so Steve can’t see his blush, and Eddie knows that, too. He slips into one of his personas, becomes the confident, unapologetic freak. Because it’ll help him brush it off if Steve is grossed out by him.
“Yup. Well, not chains. Ropes, restraints, whips sure, spanking. Do you know what a sadist is?” Steve shakes his head, eyes wide, mouth a little open. It’s too pretty a picture and Eddie needs to adjust his half hard cock but he doesn’t want to draw attention to it. “Someone who gets off on hurting people.” Steve flinches and oh no, “But - only people who like to be hurt. And only in ways that they consent to.”
It looks like Steve is contemplating that and Eddie can barely fucking breathe. He shouldn’t have said anything, he should have just left that part of himself in the dark. He’s gonna lose everything because Steve thinks he’s disgusting now. Fuck. Fuck.
When Steve speaks, his voice trembles a little, even though he tries to hide it, “Like, you punch them and…and get off on that?”
Russians. Torture. Eddie remembers the nonchalant way Steve had brushed past his part in the story and how later, Robin had set Eddie straight about what Steve had actually endured. About the beating Steve had taken to protect her. About the beating he’d taken from Billy to protect the kids.
“No.” The thought of punching Steve like that makes him recoil. “No, man. Like, I would tie y-someone to a chair or a bed and like, slap their thighs while they begged to come or bend them over something and use a paddle or a crop on their ass until they cried. All with permission and they can call stop anytime they want. There’s a bunch of safety measures.”
Steve squirms a little bit and that's interesting enough but then he lets out a breathy, “Oh-h.”
Yup, Eddie is full fucking hard now because it sounds like Steve is curious and Eddie can not handle that.
“How’d you learn all that stuff? I don’t remember them teaching us that in Sex Ed.” Steve recovers quickly, teasing gently.
“Yeah, the only thing they taught us in Sex Ed was ‘don’t have sex until you’re married.’” Eddie rolls his eyes. What did they expect people to do? Stop back by during their bachelor party and ask for the update. Dumb hicks.
“So, where did you?”
“I don’t know, man. Magazines. Books. Movies.”
“There’s no way you learned how to tie someone up and spank them from a Playboy magazine that you bought at Melvald’s, man.”
You are correct Steve, that is not where that information could be found.
“No, and I didn’t rent porn from Family fucking Video either.” Eddie laughs at the image. There’s not even a curtained off adult section at Family Video like there is at stores in bigger cities. “Indy man, there’s adult only stores - they call them bookstores but there’s a helluva lot more than books there.”
The popcorn bowl hits the table with a small thunk as Steve puts it down forcefully. “What? How did I not know this? I want to go to one. Can we?”
Someone please fucking save him from Steve fucking Harrington.
“Steve, look. I’m sorry I made fun of your vanilla sex but you don’t want to go to a sex store in Indy. They’re…not just for straight people.” He’d have no idea how to be gay if it wasn’t for sex stores in Indy. The anonymity meant he could buy skin mags with guys in them instead of “Men’s physique” magazines like he did when he was thirteen and his dad had found one under his bed and tried to ‘beat the fag out of him.’ Plus he could buy good lube and even the one single vibrator he’d been brave enough to buy. Which, RIP, had also gone down with the damn trailer. Fucking Vecna.
Suddenly Steve stiffens up, shoulders bracing in that way he does before he swings his nail bat at a charging monster, “Why would I think that a sex store was just for straight people? Gay people have sex, too. Is that a problem?”
Snorting a huff of disbelief, “No Steve, that’s not a problem for me .” Oh shit, oh fuck.
Instantly Steve curls in on himself, “I’m not like that anymore, man.”
“What? Oh no, I didn’t mean it was a problem for you.” Fuck. “Just, no one is a bigot here, right? Great. I guess we’re going to Indy tomorrow.”
No big deal, right?
September 23rd, 1986
Wrong.
First of all, no one goes into a sex store with another person unless they were having sex with said person. So two guys in a sex shop look very much like they are fucking.
“What is this for?”
“Harrington, stop waving stuff in my face and asking what its for.” Eddie whisper shouts, pulling the crop out of Steve’s hand and hanging it back up. “It’s a riding crop, it’s for hitting people with.”
Breathe, Eddie. Be cool.
“Does it hurt?” Steve reaches back out for the crop but Eddie slaps his hand away.
“I wouldn’t know. I’m not on that end of it.” Rolling his eyes and nudging Steve further down the aisle.
Snorting, Steve trails his fingers along the line of paddles in all different sizes. Then he looks over his shoulder and asks, “Where do you find people who like what you like?”
Eddie’s in far too deep to admit his lack of experience at this point. And he can’t mention that his bandana is basically a gay flag. Not that it had ever helped him in Hawkins. And the few times he’d come to Indy, he usually tucked it away because he was a damn coward. What if the wrong person saw him?
“Look at you two. Like the gay version of Grease.”
They both spin toward the voice but somehow Steve manages to put himself just in front of Eddie. If it weren’t so dangerous, he’d probably fucking swoon right here.
“Excuse me?” Steve asks, bracing his feet in that familiar way and somehow tucking Eddie further behind him.
Swoon. Eddie will fucking swoon. Especially since he’s sure now that they aren’t in any danger. The voice belongs to a drag queen in a bouffant red wig and skin tight lime green pants. She was smiling at them.
“Ohhhhhh and the good boy protects the bad boy? My gay heart can’t handle this.” Putting one hand with its long hot pink fingernails over one breast and giving it a little squeeze. “I’m Cherry. And you two are so adorable that I kind of want to eat you.”
Her gaze travels from Steve’s perfect hair all the way down to his clean white sneakers and then up Eddie’s ripped jeans to wear he was holding his breath. She must see the truth of their situation then because she gives an almost imperceptible nod before looking back at Steve.
“We’re not-he’s not-I mean-” Steve stammers but she waves a hand at him.
“No, honey. You don’t have to tell me or out yourselves. You just looked so comfortable together that I assumed. And the clash of preppy polo versus leather and ripped jeans caught my curiosity.” Grinning wryly, she confides, “I mean, what red blooded American gay hasn’t wished for a Danny Zuko of their very own?”
Bless her for not outing Eddie by saying Sandra Dee.
Leaning back, she pulls something off of the rack next to her and then reaches for something on the other side of Steve. “These are good for beginners.” She puts what looks like a simple leather paddle and fur lined leather cuffs into Steve’s arms but looks at Eddie, “You understand safe words and aftercare, baby?”
Eddie’s cheeks have to be fire engine red but he nods, “Yes ma’am.”
She nods back, seemingly satisfied with that answer. When she turns back to Steve she gives him another assessing glance before saying, “Don’t let him skimp on the aftercare. Big strong guys like you think they don’t need it but you’re usually touch starved. Let him take care of you. You deserve it.”
Steve is blushing. Where Eddie’s standing, he can see that the red flush actually goes all the way into his collar. Because she assumed they were a couple? Or is it something else?
He must have missed the part where Steve had agreed because Cherry is giving Steve’s arm a squeeze and sauntering away.
“Are these ones you like?”
“Harrington.” Eddie hisses because what the actual fuck? “Oh my god.”
“What?” Steve is so damn earnest like he has no idea why that’s not a question Eddie would want to answer. “You lost everything to the UpsideDown. You need new stuff, right?”
Closing his eyes, Eddie counts to ten. He opens them to see Steve still standing there expectantly so he closes them and counts to ten again. When he opens them Steve is gone. But apparently just to the register. Oh good lord. No. Eddie can’t handle this. It’s too much. After a long face palm, he walks outside.
“How did you know you liked hurting people during sex?” Steve asks once they’re back on the road.
Jesus.
“Harrington. Why are we always talking about my sex life?” Eddie says, deflecting like a fucking champ.
“Because it’s apparently not as vanilla as mine.” He counters. “If I press on my bruises - does that mean I like pain?”
Laughing a little wildly, Eddie says, “Do you press on them and jerk off?”
Silence.
Eddie looks over and Steve’s neck is flushed pink again.
Oh.
Oh.
Well.
Adjusting himself in the seat so he’s sitting with his back against the door and can see all of Steve’s reactions, Eddie says, “Well, well, well. Harrington. I guess you’re not so vanilla after all.”
“Shut up.” He says without heat, keeping his eyes trained resolutely on the road even though Eddie wouldn’t be able to see through his Ray Bans anyway.
Twirling a lock of his hair around his finger, Eddie says, “No, no I don't think I will. You’ve been in my business about this since yesterday so now it’s your turn.” He watches Steve’s Adams apple bob as he swallows and fuck, he would wreck this man.
“I don’t know. It feels like I’ve been beaten up so many times that my body must like it now.” His knuckles are almost white on the steering wheel and Eddie knows he isn’t going to like where this is going. “Or maybe it’s …I don’t know. Something else. Sometimes it feels like,” his voice drops to a whisper, “like there’s something wrong with me. Like I’m made wrong.”
Fuck.
Fuck, does Eddie know exactly how that feels.
“Pull over.” He says firmly. Waiting until the gravel crunches under the tires and Steve puts the car in park, looking down at where he’s let his hands fall into his lap. Eddie reaches over to pull one of his hands across the middle console. “Harrington. Steve, take off your damn sunglasses and look at me.”
He can see the corner of Steve’s eye crinkle as he presses them shut for a moment before sliding his glasses off and turning to look at Eddie.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s not because you got hurt. It’s not because of anything. It’s how your body and mind are wired. And there’s nothing wrong with it.” Eddie brings Steve’s warm hand up to his mouth and kisses a knuckle, ignoring the thrill that shivers up his spine. “You’re not bad or wrong or whatever else society has told you. They’re the fucked up ones. Acting like we aren’t all at least a little freaky. They just pretend they aren’t.”
Steve’s not actually meeting his eyes, letting his gaze follow their hands instead. But his expression is guarded and it’s honestly fucking heartbreaking to see him like this, blaming his kinks on his suffering because society is too fucked up to just let people live their lives.
“Hey, Cherry said ‘safewords and aftercare.’ You ever heard of either of those when the world was teaching you about vanilla sex?” He cradles Steve’s hand in both of his, swiping his thumb across Steve’s knuckles in what he hopes is a comforting way.
“No. I don’t actually know what that means.” Steve admits.
Well. Here the fuck he goes. The gay guy who’s never had sex giving a lesson in safe kinky sex to the playboy of Hawkins High. What is his life?
“Okay, so, kinky sex often pushes boundaries and everyone’s level of what they like or what they feel safe with is different. So people who agree to have that kind of sex together have rules.”
“Rules?” Steve’s eyebrows come together but he finally meets Eddie’s eyes again.
“Hey, there you are.” His thumb swipes across Steve’s knuckles again. “Yeah, rules. Like …I don’t know…sports.”
Steve laughs softly, “Pretty sure they aren’t the same types of rules.”
“Not that I know anything about balls in laundry baskets but I do know the rules of kinky sex. Safewords are for when you want it to stop. It’s an emergency word for immediate stop.”
Steve brightens and he grins, “Like a timeout for when the coach needs to talk to the players!”
Oh dear god. It is like sports. Gross.
“Sure, exactly like that. And aftercare is because it’s really intense and can make people have a lot of feelings. It’s taxing for your body - both emotionally and physically. Especially for a sub.”
“What’s a sub?”
Fucking A. Why?
“A sub, or a submissive is someone who likes to submit all of the control to someone else. A dom or a dominant. There’s lots of different ways to do it and there’s no right or wrong way - as long as everyone agrees. And just because someone likes to have sex that way, doesn’t mean they’re that way in real life. I like to cause pain and be in control during sex so I’m the dominant one but in real life, you know I don’t really like telling people what to do or think.”
Steve nods, looking like he’s mulling everything over.
“But what is aftercare? Like what kinds of things do you do for your …sub?”
“Lots of stuff,” Not that Eddie has ever had the opportunity but he’s read plenty and he knows exactly what types of aftercare he’ll eventually provide someone. Cleaning them up - which he refuses to say because there would be a whole string of questions with that - snacks, water but mainly, “Reassure them with physical touch - like cuddling.”
At the same time, they both seemed to realize that Eddie is still cradling Steve’s hand, still gently brushing his thumb over Steve’s knuckles.
“Cherry was right about me being touch starved.” Steve admits, “My parents-” His voice cracks but he clears it and seems to steel himself, “Anyway, I like that you’re so tactile with everyone. With me.”
Holy mother of -
This man is trying to break him. He’s everything Eddie has ever wanted in a partner except Eddie is the wrong gender. The answer should be no, Eddie should back out of this and protect his poor stupid little heart. But he’s not going to. He doesn’t know why he wasted time trying to convince himself elsewise.
“Good. I’ll step it up then. Can’t have you starving, can we?”
Steve squeezes his hand, smiles warmly.
What has he done?
September 27th,1986
So. Aftercare. At least he’s getting practice in, right?
In the three days since the trip to Indy and venturing through the sex shop, Eddie’s only gone home for a few hours every day while Steve is at work. He always feels weird being in Steve’s house alone. Like if someone caught him, he’d get arrested or something. Even though he and Robin both have keys. But going home means he gets to lay on his bed and question his fucking life choices. Like what the fuck possessed him to take Steve to a sex shop in the first place and why the fuck he’s now taken it as his personal responsibility to make sure that Steve gets aftercare for the last three…or maybe twenty…years of his damn life.
And Wayne’s little smiles are not helping.
“How’s Steve doing?” Wayne asks from where he’s frying up dinner for breakfast for himself. Eddie feels bad because they haven’t shared meals in a week but he knows that he and Steve will eat after his shift tonight and Wayne swears he’s just glad to save money on feeding Eddie’s bottomless pit of a stomach.
“He’s fine, you old codger.” Eddie rolls his eyes as he lifts himself onto the counter to watch Wayne cook. Might as well get the teasing and the third degree over with.
“That’s good. Good. You guys watching a lot of good movies lately?” The smiles that plays around his mouth is both smug and indulgent. Wayne loves Steve. What’s not to?
“Har har.” Eddie rubs the smooth unblemished counter and thinks about how he used to sit on the trailer counter, tracing the gouges that he’d made when he was fourteen and wanted to make Wayne a father’s day dinner but didn’t know what a cutting board was. Or how to make the stew Wayne had bought ingredients for. It had been terrible but Wayne had eaten it anyway. And the next day he’d come home with the same ingredients and they’d made it the right way together. Eddie was still a disaster in the kitchen but at least he uses a cutting board now.
“I’m being serious. He works at a video store.”
“We aren’t dating Wayne. He doesn’t like guys. He’s just my best friend. Like Robin.” Steve is definitely not like Robin. Eddie does not and will not ever want to lick any part of Robin. Steve, on the other hand, doesn’t have a single inch of skin that isn’t lickable.
And Eddie would know. Since he’d decided to put an effort into aftercaring Steve, he’d touched so much of that skin. He was driving himself crazy putting his hand on Steve’s arm or pressing their legs together on the couch. Just this morning as Steve was making breakfast, Eddie had come up behind him and leaned against his back, rubbing his forehead into the back of Steve’s neck.
Sure, Steve fucking loved it. He was like a kid with a puppy. He was still awkward and unsure but whenever Eddie touched him, he was all in. He wasn’t very good at initiating it but they’d get there and then Eddie would die. He would throw himself into the quarry. Because at least when he initiated, he was prepared. He would not be prepared if Steve came up behind him and put his arms around him. He might fucking jizz in his pants if he’s being honest.
Especially since it felt too weird to jerk off in Steve’s shower and when he was home he was visiting with Wayne so he’d gone three days without jerking off and that had to be some kind of record. He was a kinky queer in small town America, he was used to jerking off pretty regularly.
Wayne grunts his disagreement but goes back to pushing his eggs on the plate with his bacon and scooping a spoonful of the potatoes onto the plate as well.
“Oh, he wants to know if you want to watch some sportsball thing tomorrow since you have it off. I think he said something about pirate nets and how big his tv is. And not to bring anything because he’s making food. The cool kids and I are playing D&D in the den and I think he’s hoping to have someone to talk to. Do some sort of male bonding with.” He wasn’t gonna let it show but Eddie was hoping Wayne would accept. He liked that the kids had kind of adopted him. Besides Joyce and Hopper, Wayne was the only parental figure who knew about the Upside Down. It tickled him that his uncle had suddenly found himself a part of this weird little family, even if it was as an honorary member.
Shaking his head, Wayne scoffed, “Boy, I swear. Pirates vs. the Mets game. Baseball.” Oh yeah, baseball. The only thing Eddie liked about baseball was how hot Steve looked holding a nail bat. “Yeah, I’ll come over and watch it with my future son-in-law.”
“Shut the fuck up with that. One - that’s illegal. And two - it’s not like that. Don’t embarrass me or I’ll hide your new mugs.” He cocked one eyebrow and tried to look menacing but Wayne knew him too well.
“It’s funny how you don’t have time to do your laundry but you’ve got enough time to hide all my mugs.” Wayne says over his cup.
“Speaking of, I’m going to just take my laundry to Steve’s to wash.” Eddie admits as he slips off the counter and heads down the hallway.
“Let me know when you guys are officially dating so I can give him the shovel talk,” Wayne calls after him.
“Never gonna happen!” Eddie shouts back as he slips into his room to bag up his piles of laundry.
*
“When is the last time you did laundry?” Steve scoffs, bringing in the third trash bag full of dirty band T-shirts and ripped jeans.
“Listen Harrington, we don’t all have a washer and dryer in our houses. Some of us have to take it all down to the laundromat and I haven’t had time.” Plucking the bag out of Steve’s hands, he tips it into the washer without separating anything. “I’ve been here with you.”
“I can’t watch this. It’s horrifying.” Steve shakes his head like he’s seen something gruesome. And with Eddie’s laundry, maybe he has. He’s definitely been lazy enough to use his own shirt to clean cum off of himself. Steve probably keeps a box of tissues by the bed. Rich people. Good thing Steve’s already left or Eddie might have asked. He’ll just check next time he’s in Steve’s room.
Back in the kitchen, Steve looks like he’s making enough food for an army. “What’s all this for?” Eddie asks, dipping a pinky into some sort of dip and popping it into his mouth, “Yum.”
“Hey, gross. You just touched your dirty clothes. Wash your hands or use a spoon, animal.” Steve’s cheeks are red though and he’s not looking at Eddie. “It’s for tomorrow, it’s just some dips and stuff. No big deal.”
“You’re so bossy, Harrington.” Eddie says as he turns on the sink, thinking about they’re conversation in the car about submitting during sex but not in real life.
Steve ignores that, “I’m just about done here, let me put it all away and we can start dinner.”
Eddie really loves cooking with Steve. He’s really patient but not patronizing. Tells Eddie why this spice or that spice makes something better. Let’s him taste along the way. It’s always so domestic, moving around each other in the kitchen. And after months of doing it, Eddie is comfortable enough not to need constant supervision so they both just work alongside each other.
Tonight Steve’s got him eating salmon. Which he thought would be disgusting because - fish, gross. But he actually loves it. They’ve made it a few times and Steve’s prepping Eddie’s favorite sidedish with it. Asparagus. Which - who would have thought? Not Eddie. And he can never tell Wayne. He’ll think Eddie’s been taken over by a body snatcher.
“Step back for a minute so I can put the fish in,” Steve tells him as he opens the oven door to pull out the preheating cast iron skillet. And that’s a thing Eddie knows now. That cast iron skillets should be preheated in the oven if you want crispy skin. There’s a sizzle as both pieces of fish get plopped down. Steve closes the oven and goes to stick his finger in the pan of lemon sauce that Eddie has been reducing like Steve taught him.
Eddie smacks the back of his hand with the still clean wooden spoon. “That’s boiling hot, you animal. ” Throwing the insult back at Steve as he turns back to his pan and starts to stir the just bubbling sauce. He doesn’t miss Steve’s quick intake of breath at the slap of the flat back of the spoon on his skin but he ignores it. Mainly because he’s not sure what the fuck he would say about it. Sorry, I didn’t mean to turn you on. No.
“You’re good at that.” Steve says, leaning over Eddie’s shoulder. They’re close to the same height but Eddie slouches pretty much constantly so it always feels like Steve's got a little height on him.
Swallowing, Eddie does what anyone would do, he assumes Steve’s talking about the sauce and not the pain delivery. “I should be, I’ve made it three times now and it doesn’t have that many ingredients. Speaking of which, can you hand me the pepper? It’s almost time to add it.”
And he needed Steve not to stand so fucking close to him. Jesus.
After dinner, which they always eat at the dining table with napkins and real glasses because that’s just a thing that rich people do for every meal apparently, Eddie goes to change his laundry over. When he returns, Steve has already finished most of the clean up in the kitchen. His shoulders are bunched almost to his ears when Eddie picks up a drying towel and starts drying the dishes he’s washing.
“You look tense, everything okay?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Long day. Robin’s been having issues with her parents and you know how she likes to talk out every detail.” Like Steve doesn’t love Robin’s constant chatter. There must be more. Eddie waits. “And my parents left a message on the machine saying they were staying in Chicago until after the new year. Said I could come up for Christmas , if I wanted.”
Ah. There it is.
“I’m glad.” Eddie states, finishing the last of the dishes and moving the stack of dry plates to the cabinet like he fucking lives here. He practically does. “If they knew how incredible you were, they would monopolize your time. More for the Party and Wayne. That man can’t wait to watch sports with someone. Plus, Wayne always works Christmas at the plant for the triple holiday pay so you can spend it with me.”
“Munson, you’re kinda great. You know that?”
“I’m aware.” He tugs on Steve’s hand, “Now, you promised me a movie that I would actually like.”
The Evil Dead.
Steve rented one of Eddie’s all time favorite horror movies to watch even though he’s not the biggest fan of horror. It’s a good thing Eddie’s already in love or this would do it and he really doesn’t want Evil Dead to be the reason he’s in love.
“Come here, sit on the floor. Your shoulders are a mess and I’ve got guitar player fingers.” Eddie wriggles his long fingered hands at Steve who makes a face but sits down between Eddie’s socked feet with his back to the couch. The trailers are playing as Eddie presses his thumbs into the tensed muscles of Steve’s shoulders.
He rolls his thumbs on both sides before moving both hands to the right to tuck one under the collar of Steve’s blue striped polo. Everytime he adjusts, the collar gets caught on his wrist but he keeps going because he can feel Steve relaxing.
Steve sits up, reaches back and pulls the shirt over his head without saying anything. The opening sequence of the movie is starting and luckily Eddie has seen it before because he’d have no idea what's happening. His thumbs and fingertips press and push, kneading the tight muscles in first one naked shoulder then the other. Meeting again in the middle to push up along his neck. Getting lost in the motions and the movie, Eddie sort of watches himself from far away as he massages Steve’s shoulders and upper arms, down his back and up along the back of his neck. Spurred by the contented little sounds that Steve is making and the way his shoulders have relaxed and the way he sort of melts into where Eddie’s legs are bracketing him.
His fingers are getting tired but there is no way that Eddie’s stopping, ever maybe. He slides first one hand up through the back of Steve’s hair, then the other. Fingers splayed through the soft strands, he squeezes gently as his fingers massage Steve’s scalp. The sun has gone down since they started the movie and the lights aren’t on so the only light is from the TV and Eddie had turned the volume down a little so even with the horror happening on screen, it’s pretty cozy. Maybe Steve has fallen asleep because he feels so pliant. Like if Eddie moved his legs, he’d slide to the floor. He squeezes his legs on either side of Steve experimentally.
Steve moans.
It’s small, almost a grunt, involuntary but it goes right to Eddie’s dick. Eddie’s dick which has been paying attention to everything that’s happening. Eddie’s dick which unlike Eddie, unlike Steve, is fully awake and ready to party. Eddie lets out a low breath.
“Stevie, you okay?”
“Feel’ good” Steve slurs, “Don’ stop.” One of his hands curls around Eddie’s ankle like he’s grounding himself.
When he drags his hands through Steve’s hair this time, Eddie uses his nails. Steve whimpers, rolling his hips up and clutching Eddie’s ankle.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
Steve is drifting. The kind of drifting a sub does. Or so he’s read because, once again, Eddie is completely inexperienced.
He knows enough though to know that he needs to get them both out of this without crossing any more lines. “Can you lay your head here for me, Stevie?” Eddie pats his thigh right above his knee. Steve nods and lays his head down, Eddie pets his hair, being careful not to use his nails this time. “Good boy, you can hold onto my leg however you need to.” Arms wrap around his leg. “You can close your eyes if you want. You don’t have to watch the movie.” Not that Eddie cares about the movie either at this point but it’s a good reason for him to stay still and let Steve come back to himself when he’s ready.
God, he feels almost sick to his stomach. It was an accident, totally unintentional but he should have been more careful. Even a stranger in a sex shop had seen how much Steve needed human contact and he’d already been upset tonight. Not that Eddie had any fucking clue what he was doing really. This looked like every description of subspace he’d ever read though and maybe he should have realized what he was doing earlier. Fuck. He owes Steve a huge apology.
Twenty minutes late, Steve lifts his head, shaking it a little before wiping his arm across his mouth and looking down at Eddie’s leg, “Fuck man, I’m so sorry.” He turns to look at Eddie but it’s too dark for Eddie to see his face with the tv light behind him. “I must have fallen asleep. I drooled on your leg.”
“I don’t think that’s what happened. Can you come up here and sit?” Eddie admits softly, not touching Steve.
Steve shook his head again as though to knock something loose, “Yeah man, sorry.” He groans as he gets up and wiggles feeling back into his legs, sitting sideways on the couch to face Eddie about a foot away.
“So, I owe you an apology.” Eddie starts.
Steve’s brows come together but Eddie cuts him off.
“You were stressed out and a massage is always going to ride the line of pain and pleasure. I wasn’t thinking.” He’s self conscious, guilty because maybe if he were actually experienced, he’d have known better. Biting the bullet, he admits, “I should have known better and I didn’t because I know what I like and I’ve done a lot of reading on the subject, like a lot, but I don’t actually have practical experience.”
“My brain is still a little foggy. What are we talking about?” Steve seems to realize he’s shirtless in that moment and leans off the couch to retrieve his polo from the floor, slipping it over his head. His eyes seem clearer now.
“You were in subspace. That place that subs sort of sink into when their brain is in the good place that lets go of control.” He can see the moment that Steve realizes what he’s talking about and goes a little red. Thank god he put his polo back on or Eddie would finally have the answer to how deep that blush spreads. And he should probably live without that information, thank you very much.
“I liked it. I feel great. Better than I’ve felt in a long time.” He stops and thinks, then, “There wasn’t any sex though. You just played with my hair and rubbed my shoulders.” God he’s so fucking cute. Eddie can’t stand it sometimes. Stop. Focus.
“Yeah, there’s actually a lot of that type of kink that never results in sex. Because that space where your brain lets go is better than just an orgasm. I mean, from what I’ve read at least.” Eddie twists the rings on his fingers, pulling one leg up and tucking it under his knee.
“What you’ve read.” Steve hums. “Wait, you said something about not having an experience with it. Didn’t you?”
Huffing out a breath, Eddie says, “Okay. Here we go. Full confession. Well mostly. A man has to have some secrets.” Like the one that matters. I like guys. Dudes. You. I like you, Steve. Sigh, if only. “I know what I like. I’ve known for a long time. I’ve read a lot of books and magazines but Hawkins is a small town, I couldn’t do that here. And the few times I went to Indy, I was too nervous.”
“You mean you’ve only had vanilla sex too?”
Eddie grimaces and his face must give away the game because he takes a pillow to it.
“You’re a virgin! All that shit you gave me!” Steve’s laughing though as he pulls the pillow back and swings it at Eddie again. “You absolute asshole.”
Eddie grabs his own pillow to smack Steve back with it but Steve launches himself at Eddie while his arms are up. They roll onto the floor where Steve easily manhandles Eddie onto his back and straddles his stomach. The half of his fantasies that don’t start on the hood of Steve’s car, start like this. Eddie wills himself not to get a boner.
“Harrington, I think you’ve got our positions backward.” He smirks, makes a joke. Tries to distract from how his breathing is ragged and his nipples are hard under the thin cotton of his shirt.
“Oh, real funny Munson.” Steve says as he rolls his eyes but then he gets somber, serious, “You could have trusted me with that. Anyone can have sex, it doesn’t make you special or different. Sometimes it makes you stupid because you wish you hadn’t had it. I wouldn’t have judged you.”
Squirming, Eddie nods, not trusting his voice just yet.
“Okay, I’m gonna let you up and we’re gonna call a truce. If you tell me some outlandish lie again though, you’re getting more than just a pillow to the face next time.” He climbs off of Eddie, pushing a hand through his hair where it’s flopped forward.
“Deal.” Eddie agrees. Wondering if maybe he could tell Steve the other big secret. He feels like he could. But then Steve might treat him differently. No more touching, no more sleepovers - even though he sleeps in the guest room - no more late night talks on the hood. No more making dinner together and movies on the couch. And he really loves the camaraderie of those. Maybe he’ll tell him, just not right now.
September 28th, 1986
“You have an unfair amount of energy for this early in the morning, Harrington.” Eddie grumbles into his sugar with a side of coffee and a splash of milk.
“Why don’t you just drink a glass of chocolate milk? It would probably be less sugar than that.” Steve taps his spoon against the rim of Eddie’s coffee mug.
Eddie snatches it back, in case Steve tries to replace it with something healthy. “Buy Yoo-hoos and I will. Until then, I need the caffeine to wake me up.”
It never does actually wake him up though. He thinks that’s probably coffee bean propaganda. But it’s warm and sweet and that’s enough. “What’s on the agenda this morning?” He yawns and stretches, rubbing his eyes.
When he opens them, Steve is staring at him with a soft smile. The kind of smile that Eddie wishes was real. Well. That it meant to Steve what it means to Eddie.
“You’re gonna finish washing your clothes. And fold them.” Eddie sputters in protest. “And fold them,” Steve says with his hands on his hips. “And I’m going to clean up, prep the burgers for the grill, and then get ready.”
“No breakfast?” Eddie whines.
Steve drops a box of Lucky Charms in front of him. “Don’t eat all the marshmallows.” Eddie grins. Steve lifts an eye brow and Eddie frowns.
“Spoilsport.”
Eddie does not eat all the marshmallows out of the box. But he puts serious thought into how pissed Steve would actually be or if he’d think it was funny. He decides on funny but since Eddie is the only one who eats them, he’d be stuck without marshmallows and fuck that.
When he gets into the living room, Steve has dumped three loads of Eddie’s laundry on the couch. “There’s another in the dryer and one still in the washer. No, I didn’t separate them before I washed them. I was too afraid of what I would find.”
Eddie chuckles. “Smart man.” Then he remembers, “Hey do you-” Whoa, do not ask this man if he keeps tissues by his bed for jerking off. What the fuck Eddie?
From where he’s dusting off the TV, Steve turns, “Hmmm? Do I what?”
“Nothing.” Eddie says, busying himself folding a pair of jeans, cheeks pink.
“Are you..? You are! You’re blushing.” Steve grins, giving the TV a final flourish with the feather duster before he saunters over. “And what pray tell makes Eddie Munson blush?”
“You sure you wanna know that, big boy?” Eddie goes on the offensive, leaning in close to Steve’s cheek. “If something makes me blush, imagine what it’ll do to you.” He snaps his teeth in a mock bite, Steve jumps. Laughing nervously and pushing him back as he scoots past to head into the kitchen.
“Whatever, Munson. Fold your damn clothes.”
Eddie cackles.
Finally after what feels like a lifetime, Eddie puts the last folded T-shirt on the stack. A dark blue Led Zep that’s been dirty since the day after he bought it at a thrift store back after the trailer apocalypse. RIP literally every piece of his clothing except the ones he’d had on his back that had been sacrificed to the hospital shears anyway. He’s just sprawled back on the couch when a pile of laundry lands right on top of him. It’s warm though so he just snuggles in.
“Last load, get to folding because you still need to put this shit in your room before everyone gets here.” Steve says, standing next to the couch with his hands in their usual position on his hips like a scolding house wife. It’s adorable.
Wait. His room?
Sitting up, Eddie pulls a lock of his hair across his face, “ My room? Harrington, do we live together and I didn’t know it?” He flutters his eyelashes.
Steve rolls his eyes, “You’re the only person who’s ever used that room for more than one night. It’s yours. Don’t make it weird.” But he’s blushing again and he scoots into the kitchen before Eddie can unearth himself from his laundry.
Pushing his clothes to the floor, Eddie follows Steve into the ridiculously spotless kitchen where he’s still finding things to clean.
It’s gotta be trauma related, the cleaning. He’s never seen another twenty year old clean as much as Steve does. Therefore, it must be stopped. Eddie’s on a mission.
“Steve, whatever that counter did to you, I’m sure it’s sorry.” Eddie teases, leaning over to snatch the sponge out of Steve’s hand.
“I’m almost done. Give it back, Munson.” Steve makes a grab for it but Eddie dances away.
“Whoa there, you may be strong, but I’m quick. All those years of running away.” He skirts around the table as Steve lunges for him.
“There’s not a lot of places to run,” Steve says, faking left then right as Eddie mirrors him on the other side of the table.
And it’s true, Eddie didn’t think this through. But he’s not really trying to escape, just get Steve out of his own head. He darts to the left but spins back and rushes toward the peninsula counter, jumping and sliding on one hip over it and back into the kitchen area.
Behind him there’s a crack and then a burst of pain on the back of his thigh, just a small spot but he yelps and spins to find Steve with a twisted up towel held tight between his two hands, ready to snap it at Eddie again.
“Oh you’re in for it now, Harrington.” Eddie darts to the far end of the island, grabbing his own towel and spinning it before pulling it taut between his fists. He backs out further into the open space of the kitchen, goading Steve into following him, which of course he does. Man never met a fight he didn’t want to meet head on.
Steve flicks his towel, the snap pops a few inches away from his thigh as Eddie skips backward. He lunges forward while Steve is still retwisting his towel and flicks his own, the pop as it connects with Steve’s thigh is almost as great as the grunt of pleasure he breathes out. “Ohhhhh Stevie, you liked that didn’t you?”
“Just as much as you liked giving it, I’m sure.” Steve taunts after he pulls in a shaky breath and returns the snap, just barely missing Eddie’s hip as he twists away from it.
All the dancing around has maneuvered them so Steve’s got his back to the entry from the living room and Eddie’s got his back to the dining area, “I’ll never-Oh shit, hey Robin!” He looks over Steve’s shoulder surprised and straightening up.
Steve pivots on his heel to greet Robin who’s not there of course, isn’t even due for several hours and Eddie flicks his towel, smacking him right in the ass with it. His beautiful, perfect ass that Eddie has dreamed about slapping many, many times. The sound of the towel connecting with his ass through the thin material of his sweats resonates in the kitchen. Broken only but Steve’s startled yelp and resulting whimper.
There’s a moment. A long, drawn out moment when there’s nothing but the echo of the smack and the moan spurred by Eddie’s heartbeat thundering in his ear. That and the bat teeth scars telling him to run, run, run.
Then Steve looks over his shoulder at Eddie with wide eyes and a shocked expression.
Run, run, run. The scars scream at him. Evidence of what devastation waits when he chooses to take a stand.
Taking two steps over to the counter, Steve puts his hands flat on the tiled surface, bracing himself and looks over his shoulder at Eddie, “Do it again.” His eyes are half lidded and he looks determined in a way that only a man who’s not used to asking for what he needs is. Like it’s taken all of his courage to ask for this thing he thinks he shouldn’t. “Please?”
Eddie spins the towel again and flicks it, hitting the other cheek this time. Steve grunts, clenching his teeth, his body jerks forward but he doesn’t lose his position. He nods for Eddie to go again. Eddie can’t believe this is fucking happening. In his sweats, his dick is filling out, tenting with interest.
He flicks the towel again, this time hitting Steve just above the waistband of his sweats and just below the hem of his shirt. The bared skin blooms pink instantly.
“Oh fuck.” Steve swears, knees buckling for a second before he catches himself and straightens up, Eddie’s there immediately, hands resting lightly on Steve’s hips as he dips to kiss the red skin where the towel had hit its mark.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He mumbles as he stands back up, burying his forehead into the smooth skin of Steve’s nape.
“Don’t be. I liked it. Is that-Is this…okay? For you?”
“What? Yes. Of course. I want to. I mean. Fuck.” Oh god they are in dangerous territory. Eddie’s not totally sure what’s happening but he wants this and it sounds like Steve wants it too. They should talk. He knows they should. But he just can’t. Not after watching Steve’s skin blossom for him. “Can you take your shirt off?” He asks instead of the hundred other safety questions he thinks he probably should.
Where they’re pressed together still, Eddie feels Steve’s intake of breath before he’s pulling the soft cotton shirt over his head to drop it on the counter. Eddie can’t resist dropping a kiss to one of the moles on Steve’s shoulder. He kind of loves them. Wants to draw hearts around them and kiss every single one. Later hopefully. For now, he pulls back, twisting the towel up again.
“Count them out for me. Can you handle ten more?”
Swallowing, Steve nods.
“Words, Stevie. You gotta use words so I know you’re okay.”
“I can handle ten. I’ll say stop if that changes.”
How’d Eddie get so fucking lucky? “Good boy,” he praises in the low, rich tone he uses when he voices dragons in his campaigns. Steve shivers, pressing against the counter for a few moments. Eddie’s dick gives an answering twitch where it’s hard as a damn rock in his pants.
He flicks the towel at Steve’s naked back.
Steve cries out when it lands, panting, “One.”
“That’s good, so good for me.” Eddie praises, loving the way Steve kind of shudders at the praise.
Snap!
“Two.”
Snap!
“Three, oh god.” Steve moans, rolling his shoulders.
There are four little flowers of pink on his back, counting that first one. “You’re so beautiful. So perfect.”
Snap! Snap!
“Fuck, fuck. Four, Five.” Steve is grinding his hips against the counter.
Eddie grabs his hips and jerks them back, “No. You can come untouched or you wait until afterward.”
Holy shit, he can’t believe he just said that.
But it works for Steve because he’s already reacting. Whining, Steve nods frantically, “Yes, Eddie. Sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll be good. Fuck, please.”
“Shhhh, you are good. I’m only gonna do four more. You already had one and I want your bruises to be symmetrical tomorrow.” Eddie kisses all six of the dark pink slightly raised welts, backing up to finish the job.
Snap!
“Six!”
Snap! “Seven!” Steve sobs, tears spilling over his cheeks, “Don’t stop.”
Snap! “Eight!”
“One more baby, you’re doing so good. So pretty, sweetheart.” Eddie coos.
Snap! “Nine!” Steve starts to shake where he’s still bent over the counter, Eddie grabs him from behind, taking his weight. One of his hands dips just below the waist of Steve’s sweats, the skin there is sticky with precum.
“Can I jerk you off?” He hears himself say as the world just kind of detaches and becomes a problem for later. Right now it’s just him and Steve and Eddie’s desire to take care of him.
“Yeah, yes, please.” Steve begs, laying his head back on Eddie’s shoulder and his arms on top of Eddie’s arms.
Eddie doesn’t waste any time, his hand dips lower to find Steve’s leaking cock, rubbing his palm all over the seeping tip to collect the droplets before taking the shaft in hand and jacking him off in time with Steve’s own pants. “You’re so wet. You cry so pretty for me. Next time I’ll strip you bare and spank you until you beg me to stop.” Moaning, Steve thrusts up into his hand, chasing it. “Would you like that?”
With the arm across Steve’s chest, Eddie pinches his nipple hard. When Steve cries out, thrusting faster up into his hand, he says, “I asked you a question, sweetheart. You want me to spank your bare ass until you beg?”
“Yes, please, yes. Oh god, Eddie, fuck, I’m close.” The hand around Steve’s cock speeds up and when Eddie feels the vein on the underside begin to pulse, he bites down on Steve’s naked shoulder. Not hard enough to break skin but it’ll leave a bruise and Steve cries out, coming into Eddie’s hand and his own pants. The aftershocks roll through him until he finally shudders and goes limp in Eddie’s arms.
Which, sure, Eddie was expecting but Steve is not fucking light. He lowers them both to the tiles, curling Steve into his lap. With nothing else to do with it, he pulls his sticky hand out of Steve’s sweats and grabs his discarded towel, using it to wipe his hand off before doing as best he can with Steve’s pants and jizz situation. Nestling Steve’s face into the side of his neck, Eddie runs his hands up and down Steve’s back and the exposed arm, occasionally tucking him in closer to Eddie’s warmth.
It’s probably only about five minutes before Steve comes back into focus. Stiffening when he realizes their position. Eddie loosens his hold, “Am I okay to keep holding you like this?” Steve nods. “Words, baby.” Then grimaces at the pet name but Steve seems to relax at it.
“Yeah. I like it.” Steve whispers against Eddie’s throat.
They are pretty close in size. Steve’s a little taller, his muscle is the swimmer and runner kind. But Eddie’s muscles are lean, more like a gymnast. Light on his feet. Nimble. From an outside perspective they probably look ridiculous sitting like this but Eddie gives zero fucks about what other people think and there’s no one to see them anyway. He cradles Steve, soothing him with soft strokes on his naked back and featherlight kisses on the top of his head.
“I should probably tell you, before this gets super weird-or more weird, I guess.” He takes a long breath, “I’m gay. And this doesn’t mean that you are or need to-” Eddie is saying when Steve scrambles halfway out of his lap. And fuck. He did ruin it. He ruined everything.
“You’re gay?!” Steve starts laughing and Eddie’s expression is probably dead on because he’s offended and hurt when Steve suddenly sobers. “No, don’t look like that. I’m laughing because we could have been doing this for months. Me too.” He smiles that dopey smile and Eddie is reminded of the night when Steve had crawled into his lap on the car and the opportunity he seems to have missed there. He’s gonna kiss him now-”Well, bisexual actually. I like both.”
“Steve. This is fascinating, really. But I’ve now whipped the guy I like and given him a hand job but I still haven’t had my first kiss. Stop talking and come here.” Eddie demands in that low voice.
Steve’s eyes flutter and he starts to lean in but then, “Wait, no!” He stands, dragging Eddie with him, grimacing when the situation in his pants must make itself known. “It’s your first kiss. I want it to be perfect. Come with me.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just drags Eddie along to the stairs and up into his room where he herds Eddie past the plaid nightmare and into the adjoining bathroom.
“Will you…take a shower with me?” Steve asks boldly. This is a man who’s not self conscious about his body. It’s a little nerve wracking for Eddie who’s always had to worry about locker rooms. He couldn’t look anywhere lest he be noticed looking too long at someone and risk getting beaten up. Not that he would look. He's not stupid. The idea of being naked and vulnerable in front of his bullies was always pretty terrifying. Now, he’s covered in bat bites that make him hesitate. But. Steve has them too and Steve’s seen him shirtless at the lake and the pool and even in the hospital when they were still open wounds.
Eddie thinks maybe the bond they share is enough that Steve would never care what he looks like anyway. That on some level they already care too much for that sort of thing to even matter.
Yanking off his shirt, Eddie decides to just strip as quickly as possible so he doesn’t have to dwell on it. He’s not wearing any jewelry since he hasn’t showered and gotten dressed yet. It’s still all in the clean ashtray by the guest bed. He shucks his sweats as he watches Steve shuck both his sweats and boxers, standing naked and unashamed. Admittedly, Eddie’s just had Steve’s dick in his hand so Steve doesn’t have much left to hide but still. No shame on the man at all. Steve steps into the shower stall that Eddie would swear is the same size as the entire bathroom back at his old trailer.
Leaving his boxers on the floor, Eddie follows him in. Steve is already under the spray, face upturned to the cascading water.
“Wow.” He says reverently, trailing his fingertips across one of the higher purpling bruises. There are five on each side of Steve’s spine, like little purple and pink flowers. Eddie touches each, the warm skin under his fingers shivers delicately. He kisses the eleventh one, the bite mark shaped bruise on Steve’s shoulder.
Turning in his arms, Steve presses his wet naked body against Eddie’s still dry one. Eddie crowds him against the wall, cupping Steve’s jaw in one hand and his hip in the other. They’re sharing breath and the water on Steve’s body is dampening Eddie’s skin everywhere they touch. Where their hips are slotted together, the velvety skin of Eddie’s hard cock is rubbing against Steve’s slowly hardening one. Eddie pants against Steve’s lips, Steve groans into his mouth and then they’re kissing.
It’s everything he hoped it would be. Hot and wet and sweet somehow even though it’s aggressive, too. Steve sucks his lower lip into his mouth and then licks into it. Not to be outdone, Eddie sucks on the tongue in his mouth, feeling Steve’s dick twitch and leak against him as Steve groans helplessly. He chases Steve back into his own mouth, licking and sucking, bruising Steve’s lips as he takes what he wants. Steve makes a soft whining noise that goes straight to Eddie’s dick.
Pulling back, Steve kisses along Eddie’s jawline, rubbing his face in the slight stubble he finds there. “I want to suck your dick. Can I?” One of his hands slips between them, wrapping his calloused fingers around Eddie’s dick.
Eddie shuts his eyes and wills himself to not cum on the spot. Can Steve suck his dick? “Yes. please , fuck. Yes.”
Steve switches their positions easily, trailing kisses from Eddie’s jaw down his throat, across his collarbone and then dips down to suck on one of Eddie’s nipples, pinching the other for symmetry. He lowers himself to the tiles, knees not making a sound as he settles gracefully down on them. Splayed fingers grasp Eddie’s thighs and he looks down to see Steve staring up at him sheepishly. “I’ve never done this before. It might not be good.”
“Harrington, you’re about to put your mouth on my dick. In what world is that ever anything less than spectacular?” Eddie scoffs.
Steve slaps his thigh, “Don’t call me Harrington when your dick is this close to my face.”
“What would you prefer? Sweetheart? Baby? Sugar? Honey? Dar-ngh-“ he loses his grasp on language as a concept when Steve takes the entire head between his lips and slurps . It’s so wet. So hot. So perfect.
All Eddie can do is stare as Steve’s lips stretch around his cock as it disappears between them. He gets about halfway down the shaft before he gags a little and fuck, that’s hot.
“Jesus Christ.” Eddie moans, curling his hands into fists and pressing them back against the tile.
Popping off, Steve smirks up at him, insisting, “Steve.” Then he bobs back down, taking Eddie’s cock as far as he can again, swirling his tongue and sucking. “Or sweetheart,” He pulls back before going back in to suckle on the head, digging his tongue into the slit, dragging a slutty sounding whine from Eddie’s throat, “Or baby,” Steve jacks him off several times before licking a stripe from base to tip, “Sugar and Honey seem a little too much, even for you.”
“Are you tryin’ to kill me?” Eddie moans, hips arching off the tiles as he chases Steve fist.
There’s a wicked gleam in Steve’s eye as he stares up at Eddie, “Possibly.” And wet heat envelops Eddie again. This time Steve feels like he’s a speeding train and Eddie’s just trying not to get run over, he whispers encouragement, calling Steve baby and sweetheart, telling him how good he is just to watch that little shiver run through him.
Eddie’s getting close when Steve pulls one of Eddie’s hands off the wall and places it on the side of his head. He tugs gently, almost coming when Steve moans around his mouthful of cock.
“I’m close, baby.” Eddie warns, tugging again on Steve’s hair. Instead of pulling off though, Steve moves his hand from the base of Eddie’s dick over to his hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. With nothing to obstruct his path now, he takes all of Eddie into his mouth, the breath from his nose tickling the dark curly hair at the base. The moment that the tip of Eddie’s dick touches the back of Steve’s throat, he’s done for. Eddie comes hard and fast, trying desperately not to fuck into Steve’s throat and hurt him but barely able to control the urge to thrust and claim and mark him as his own. To make him cry. Jesus, that’s exactly what Eddie wants. To make Steve cry while his mouth is stuffed full of Eddie’s dick. What is wrong with him?
HIs legs are like jelly but Steve’s got his face buried in Eddie’s hip, his breath hot and panting against Eddie’s skin so he stays standing. He pets Steve’s hair, murmurs praise, wonders if they’re doing this very right or very wrong.
When Steve speaks, his voice is hoarse and gravelly. It makes Eddie almost growl with satisfaction, “Can I…?” He clears his throat but doesn’t elaborate.
“Can you what, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, still running his fingers through Steve’s hair where his head is bent and his face is still hidden in the crease of Eddie’s thigh at the hip. “Use your words.” He knows that’s important and when they’re done here, they’re going to have a lot of backtracking to start doing this the safe way.
“Can I-I, um, jerk off?” Steve stammers, still without lifting his head. “And will you keep petting my hair?”
Jesus Fucking Christ. “Yes, yeah. Fuck.” He pets Steve’s hair, grasping and pulling at the end. Steve moans and nuzzles Eddie’s skin. The sound of skin on skin as he starts to jerk off echoes off the tiles. “That’s it baby. You’re so good for me. Looked so good with my dick in your mouth. So pretty.” Steve’s moans are getting lost against Eddie’s thigh as he presses his face into it, holding onto it with his free hand as he kneels between Eddie’s feet.
The sight is almost too much for Eddie, his dick is trying valiantly to rise to what it thinks is definitely an occasion. Steve is on his knees, jerking off at Eddie’s feet like some kind of supplicant, moaning into his thigh like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
Suddenly Eddie needs to see his face. The hand petting Steve’s hair pulls hard, angling Steve’s face up. “Let me see that pretty face of yours.” He hears himself say. Steve’s mouth is open around a moan, lips wet and swollen, his eyes are red rimmed like he’s been crying, cheeks flushed with effort and when he looks up at Eddie, he keens low and long, the sound of him jerking off gets faster, almost sounds painful. A shiver runs up Eddie’s spine. “Yeah, baby, just like that. Come on. Come for me.”
“Eddie! Fuck!” Steve shouts, hips arching up, head pressing back into Eddie’s palm where it cups to steady him. He jerks himself through the convulsions and into softness, whining quietly as he continues stripping his soft red cock until Eddie sinks to the floor and pulls his hands off of it, pulling Steve against his naked chest.
“Jesus Christ, that was so fucking hot.” Eddie swears, kissing Steve everywhere that he can reach, cheeks, eyelids, forehead, lips, ears. Steve hums contentedly, slipping his arms around Eddie’s neck to pull him into a long kiss.
When they eventually get around to showering, the water is freezing.
A few hours later, when Wayne shows up to watch the ballgame, he takes one look at Eddie and grins a huge, smug grin. “Come on, son,” he says to Steve, clapping him on the back, “Let’s go have a beer and a chat while we barbeque some burgers.”