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The monofin mermaid tail was something that Steve has gotten very used to in the past few years. Was Merman Performer on his list of hypothetical jobs for when he graduated high school? No. Did it pay surprisingly well and was it satisfying to be the center of everyone's attention when he swam? Fuck yeah.
It also didn't hurt that Eddie was into the whole...merman thing. More than once he'd surprised Steve in their own backyard nearly Olympic sized pool (financed mostly by Eddie’s burgeoning music career) dressed in a shitty pirate costume, come to seduce the lone merman.
Steve liked that too, despite the terrible pirate accent Eddie insisted on. But, to be fair, Steve liked most of the absurd, terrible, demeaning, or painful things Eddie did to him.
That was why he had agreed to...whatever this was.
So far, it was the two of them on the pool deck with a vibrator buzzing weakly—distractingly—in Steve’s speedo and a fat plug spearing open his asshole as he struggled into his monofin tail. Steve had decided on his practice tail, which was old and worn in some spots, and which he didn't wear for shows anymore, but it still fit like it was “tail-or made for him,” as Eddie was fond of saying.
It wasn’t easy to put on his tail on a good day, and on any other day, really, he wouldn’t be fighting an erection and shaky hands.
Eddie was near salivating, which was gratifying, but also bode ill for Steve. A hungry Eddie was an Eddie who bit. Steve was not entirely sure what the scenario that Eddie had dreamed up was, but he was fine with it as long as he got to keep ogling Eddie. Eddie, who was dressed in dress shoes and black slacks and a white button up, sleeves rolled up his muscular forearms, looking like a million bucks, and Steve was only human.
Or, you know, merman.
“Still feeling brave enough for this?” Eddie asked, his hard gaze betraying the barely concealed threat, and Steve shivered. “The time to back out is now.”
“Fuck you.” Finally, Steve struggled the tail over his hips, and sat panting on the pool deck. The silicone was snug on him by design, but now pulled all the way up over his hips, it pressed on the plug and his cock and the fucking vibrator in a way that was impossible to ignore.
The snugness also meant the half-chub he'd been sporting had no room to grow into the full erection that Steve thought the situation really called for. Eddie cleared his throat, and Steve immediately turned to look at him—and his breath caught.
Eddie was standing impossibly straight, face blank and hardened, slowly slipping on a Rolex that Steve didn't even know he had. Maybe a fauxlex, then, but even so. His expression was shuttered, drawn and flat, and his eyes sparked with cruelty. Eddie looked the picture of cold, casual wealth, instantly and completely in character.
He had seen that expression before on a number of his father's business associates, usually aimed at expensive art or attractive waitresses. A ripple of apprehension ran through Steve and he shuddered.
There was tension in Eddie’s jaw, venom in his voice when he said, “You know, I figured when I bought a mermaid, it would stay in the pool I fucking put it in. You’re a display piece, you stupid fucking fish.”
Steve was struck dumb and motionless between Eddie’s expression and tone. The scene was immediately clear: Eddie, a wealthy collector; Steve, the collected. He knew he should say something, actually contribute to the scene he’s supposedly participating in—or maybe not? Did merpeople speak in Eddieland? Steve opened his mouth, but before he got a chance to speak, Eddie grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged hard.
“I’m talking to you, shark bait.” Steve was prepared to blame the vibrator for the way he reacted to the term shark bait, rather than try to unravel that now. Or ever. He opened his mouth again, but Eddie pulled harder, yanking Steve up and off his ass, and it fucking hurt.
In ‘83, Steve hadn’t know dick about fighting or self defense, but he had learned a lot the hard way. Unable to stand in his tail to take the pressure off of his scalp, Steve grabbed Eddie’s hand with both of his and took some of the weight off of his hair and onto his arms. As soon as he had done so (because of course Eddie knew what he was going to do), Eddie turned and started dragging Steve by his hair towards the deep end of the pool.
Steve knew Eddie was strong (amps didn't move themselves and Eddie hadn't always had a crew) but it never ceased to impress him just how strong Eddie was, especially when it was being used against him.
“The entire reason for having this pool built was to have a nice spot for you to splash around where I could watch you. I own you, in case you forgot! And if I put you in the fucking pool, I expect you to stay there.”
The pool deck was cement and snagged against Steve’s tail as he was dragged. Cement was hell on a silicone tail, and Steve was glad he had picked his least necessary tail. He couldn’t help but flinch every time the tail caught, imagining if it were his real scales instead of silicone, and wondering how much pain it would cause. That would be good motivation, probably, but it felt too abstract. Roleplay was always more a means to an end than a calling.
Besides, between the pain on his scalp and the strain on his arms as he tried to hold himself up, Steve was already sinking fast into the floaty place where too much thinking was hard.
Finally they reached the narrow, deep end of the pool, and Eddie dropped his hold on Steve’s hair, and Steve’s hands slipped down Eddie’s wrist. He slumped, falling hard on the plug and yelping. For a frantic moment Steve’s tail felt constraining, more like bondage gear than niche swimwear, and he lashed out, managing to nail Eddie in the shin with his tail—something he was certain he would immediately regret.
Everything was still for a moment, and then Eddie growled. “Touch me again, and you’re spending the night at the bottom of the pool with an anchor tied to your tail, you goddamn waste of oxygen.”
The threat was obviously non-literal, but Steve felt a pang of panic nonetheless, and an answering pang in his cock. It turned out after an adolescence of life or death filled situations, he sort of got off on fear. And shit, he really was at a startling disadvantage on land, wasn’t he? Steve put his hands up in surrender, fingers beginning to tremble, and dick harder than ever.
“Put your fucking hands behind your back.” Steve froze, suddenly entirely unable to move. “A little late to pretend you don’t understand me, shark bait. Hands. Behind. Your back.”
Steve complied, breaking out in goosebumps as Eddie dragged his wrists close together and wrapped them in chain. It was wide linked and heavy feeling, and Steve’s stomach clenched in horny anticipation, squeezing tight around the plug. And fuck, he could feel his cock begin to drip precum, there was no way that wasn’t going to be a bitch to clean out of the tail.
Eddie had asked him before he had agreed to this scene if he could swim without using his arms, and sure, Steve had assumed Eddie meant tied in front of him, but he could probably swim with them tied in back, too. A lot of mermaid performance, it turned out, was swimming with your arms vaguely at your sides, all abs and legs.
So he wasn’t worried. The click of a padlock and the surprising weight it added to his arms also didn’t worry him too much. Lifeguard training had been a lot of swimming while holding weights. Steve was sure it would be hard, but that was sort of the fun part. He could feel Eddie’s breath against the back of his neck and shivered. It wasn’t cold, but suddenly Steve’s relative nudity felt vulnerable.
The chain came back, wrapping one, two, three turns around his forearms, then secured with another lock, and another three times around his elbows, finishing with another lock. Steve took a deep breath to try and to calm his frazzled nerves and his aching cock. It wasn’t tight like the single-glove Eddie had bought him that had brought his elbows near to touching, but it was heavy and pulled his shoulders in slightly.
He didn’t think it bowed his back enough to affect his swimming, but then again he hadn’t ever tried, had he?
He liked things like this, though; overkill bondage, like he really was some sort of mystical sea creature who needed heavy duty chains and three locks to keep secure, instead of just an unusually strong swimmer. Cock hard enough to cut steel, Steve tried to center himself and tried not to hump the air. Fuck, he was so impossibly turned on that even the air against his skin had him shuddering. Steve heard himself moan, and wished he could take it back immediately.
“Harlot,” Eddie said, barely controlling his face as he stalked back in front of Steve. He pressed one shiny shoe onto Steve’s groin, crushing Steve’s cock into the vibrator. Despite the weak vibrations, the pressure—painful, but so, so good—had Steve moaning again, body undulating as he tried to hump Eddie’s foot. “You think you can distract me with your body? You have to be punished first. So here’s your task, my little minnow: you want out of my pool so badly? Get yourself back out.”
Eddie removed the foot and Steve groaned, instantly missing it. He considered saying something, because to hell with considering if merpeople could talk or not, Steve wanted to argue his case for why he really deserved to hump Eddie’s foot to completion before anything took a watery turn.
He didn’t manage. As soon as Steve opened his mouth, Eddie’s foot was under his ass, flipping him over. Steve hadn’t realized how close he was to the edge of the pool, until he had done a half turn and realized there was nothing under him. He gasped, a desperate plea of a breath, and tumbled into the water.
The fall was maybe two feet (if that), but Steve hit the surface hard, knocking the air from his lungs. He flailed, much like a fish out of water, twisting and turning as he sunk down further beneath the surface. The chain wrapped around his arms felt even heavier now, as if it was dropping him down to the bottom like an anchor.
He managed to arrest his progress downwards, but already felt needy for air. He hadn’t taken a breath before he had been pushed, and he needed to find his way to the surface again quickly. Steve had spent several days of practice anticipating what this might be like, but the reality of it was beyond the scenes his imagination had dreamt up.
He tensed his abs, and kicked his feet, and nearly inhaled a lung full of water as he was hit with the reality of swimming like this. The motion rocked his cock against the vibrator and had him squeezing down hard on the plug, and Steve was almost dizzy with want. He wrestled his arms back and forth, looking for some leeway, but he was bound, hand and foot essentially.
There was nowhere to go but up.
It took him almost to the end of his breath to break the surface, gasping, and then he slipped back down almost immediately, unable to tread water with neither his hands or feet free. He was sweating already, body boiling in the cool water, and as he propelled himself upwards again, he caught a glimpse of Eddie, staring at him with a pleased sort of smirk.
There was nothing to be done but swim. The only shot that Steve had at getting back out of the pool by himself was the stairs at the other end, and that seemed miles away—and then, when he got there, he would still have to figure out how best to get himself out.
He pushed his head back out of the water, stealing a sip of air before he plunged back down below, bobbing up and down as he tried to dolphin himself across the pool. Damn past Steve and his need for a training length pool. Every stroke had him squeezing the plug, milking it, and every squeeze sent shivers running up his spine, make his cock even more insistently hard in his speedo, still too compressed to even rise properly.
Once or twice, he caught Eddie’s voice as he broke the surface, but between his own desperate panting, and the way his blood was pounding in his ears, Steve couldn’t make out any words, just the terrible, cruel tone of voice that Eddie used when he wanted to bring Steve to a crying orgasm.
The buildup of acid in his muscles was more than Steve had expected, and his abs and legs ached something fierce. If he stopped, though, he would sink and no doubt need rescue, and Steve was as stubborn as he was kind of into peril.
And that was the mindfuck of it all. Of course he had to keep swimming to like, survive, but that wasn't why he wanted to. He wanted to keep going because Eddie wanted him to, and he wanted Eddie to be proud of him. He wanted Eddie to be impressed at how long Steve had lasted and how he had suffered and toiled for Eddie, and then he wanted to cum his brains out and then maybe suck Eddie off. And if Eddie wanted to praise, or embarrass him (and what the fuck was up with shark bait, they were definitely going to need to talk about that because of…reasons), Steve was game.
Finally, after endless minutes of exhausting swimming, Steve could see the stairs leading out of the pool. He almost sobbed in relief, finding a second wave of energy to push his abs harder, to get there faster. His cock was straining in its silicone confines, which was making it harder and harder to focus on swimming, when instead Eddie could be fucking him. On land.
Steve squeezed his eyes shut as he pushed through the last few yards. His chin hit the stairs before he managed to open his eyes and he barely stopped himself from smashing headlong into them and no doubt concussing himself. Using his chin as an anchor, he managed to grip the edge of the stair, and oh fuck, his head was out of the water. He had done it, Steve Harrington, professional merman, was safely on the steps of his pool. He sagged against the scratchy non-slip tape and panted heavily, almost dizzy with relief and air, and hey, if he was humping the stairs a little bit, that was his own business. A shadow crossed his vision, and there was Eddie, looming over him, a wicked grin on his lips.
Eddie slid his hands neatly into his pockets. “Taking a little break there, shark bait?” Steve could tell his expression had to be dumbfounded before Eddie even started laughing. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I could have sworn I said you needed to get out of the pool. And you’re so sharp, guppy, the stairs do lead out of the pool. Now get yourself up.”
Desperate tears clouded Steve’s eyes before he could stop himself. Sniffling them back, he looked up into Eddie’s face, and knew for a fact that Eddie wouldn’t blame him if he gave up, but like hell was he going to. Steeling himself, Steve swung his knees up onto the closest stair, abs and ass clenching tight. He nearly lost his balance at the wave of overstimulated jitters running through him and he moaned, miserable.
Balancing through the continued strain on his stomach, Steve stretched his neck and fell blindly forward. He managed to catch a step rather than smash his trachea on it (would wonders never cease), and then repeated the stupid, painful motion. Every time he fell forward, Steve’s heart thudded deafeningly with fear, and every time all that he ended up with was the bang of his chin against the steps reverberating through his teeth and the rough press of the tape against his throat.
Once his head was over the ledge onto the cement pool deck, he only had to wriggle the rest of himself onto the ground. Easier said than done, Steve realized, as the cement abraded his nipples like sandpaper. He squeezed his abs tight to pull his legs out of the water and slumped forward, scraping his chest all the while. There was a chance he had done some yelling, but he deserved a little yell.
He had done it, though; he was out.
Steve looked up through his soaked bangs at Eddie, who was still at least two yards away and wasn't moving towards him at all. No congratulations, no running over to sweep him off his…tail—just a placid expression and a haughty raised eyebrow.
“You wanted to be on land so badly, little mermaid. I wouldn't want you to miss out on a god damn moment. You can wriggle your ass over to me, or you can wait until I feel like it’s been long enough to unchain you. And I’m not feeling charitable.”
A sob bubbled up through Steve’s lips before he could stop it, and let his head fall back down to smack onto the pool deck. He half wanted Eddie to walk towards him, to give him an out—but mostly he wanted to prove himself. This was the problem that Steve always had with roleplay, anyway. Sure, he could fake it with the best of them, say what he knew Eddie wanted him to say, but he couldn’t actually get in the head of a character.
That was especially true now, aching and sweaty and tired, and so, so, so fucking horny. His nipples were aching already, his ass sore, his shoulders were throbbing, and he had so many feet to go. He took a deep breath, banged his head on the ground one more time, then gritted his jaw against the strain and indignity, and tried again to understand roleplay.
If—if—if he—okay, if he was a merman, like a real merman, who had been swimming in the ocean his whole life, with miles and miles of space and probably merfriends and a merfamily, and then had been captured by some rich fuckwit human and confined to a tiny pool—well large, but tiny compared to the ocean, anyway—then he wouldn’t give up when he was tired, or hurting, or horny. He would keep going until he escaped.
And maybe try to bite off a finger or two, if he got the chance.
Steeling himself once more, Steve raised his head and glared at Eddie, the full force of his bitterness, of his confinement, of his hatred of this man, and watched with glee as Eddie’s eyes widened, and he took a hesitant step back. Then Eddie smirked, all bravado, but there was uncertainty there, and that was all Steve needed.
He began the slow, painful, humiliating task of inchworming his way across the deck. The cement was hell on his whole torso and especially his nipples, and every time his hips hit the ground,a jolt went through his cock, but that was just another indignity that he was forced to endure. It was like Eddie had told him time and time again: the biggest thing a character needed was motivation.
Steve had motivation in spades right now.
The trek took long minutes, but he kept his gaze icy and fixed on Eddie. The closer he got, the more Eddie looked flushed, and the less he could hide the tenting in his nice black slacks. Steve wasn't sure if Eddie was horny for his comeuppance or to watch Steve debase himself more, but Steve felt sure he’d get his, too.
When he was close enough that it was hard to strain his neck enough to actually see Eddie, Eddie sprang into action, closing the gap between them in a few short steps, and tipping Steve’s head to look up at him anyway with the toe of his boot.
“Very good. Does my guppy want a treat?” Eddie’s voice was very slightly hoarse, a little tense, but Steve could see right through him. Eddie was a mess, as pent up and turned on as Steve was, but his cock wasn't trapped under a layer of Lycra and silicone. Maybe that was to Steve's advantage. He didn’t deign to answer Eddie, and instead of Eddie removing the option of a reward if Steve didn’t stop bratting, like he might normally, Eddie rushed on ahead. “Regardless, I’m going to give you one, because it’s what I want. And mine are the desires that matter, aren’t they?”
Eddie lowered his foot and stepped lightly to Steve’s side, kicking him over and onto his back with just enough bite that Steve winced. Steve couldn’t help the pained noise he made at the collision of the base of the plug with the pool deck. His asshole was sore and no doubt bruised, and as his weight came to rest on his bound arms, Steve let out a growl. Eddie laughed, and Steve had to swallow another answering growl and funneled it into a whimper.
The fucking indignity of it all. He could feel the rage bubbling up in his chest, the throbbing in his nipples, his cock, only fanning the flames.
But shit, his shoulders hurt in this position. He would bear it, though; Steve knew better than to throw away the advantage of being a mewling little thing in pain. He arched his back, removing the pressure of his body weight from his forearms, and hopefully making himself look more enticing.
It seemed to be working. Eddie was clearly making a concerted effort to keep his character on and not just collapse on Steve and engage in some quick and dirty dry humping. Eddie lifted a foot, bringing down his heel on Steve’s crotch, and mashing his dick down onto the vibrator.
The pressure on his cock was excruciating, and Steve reacted with a cry, pushing off his bound hands, so that he was hovering half off the ground, in the most agonizing bridge of his life. Eddie had given him an opening, and he was going to take it.
“Aw, shark bait, do you wanna cum for me? You may act tough, but—”
Eddie didn’t get to finish because all at once, Steve forced himself to sitting and dove at Eddie’s fly, biting down hard on Eddie’s junk. Eddie screeched, grabbing for a handhold of Steve’s hair and tugging, but Steve was content to stay where he was and bite a little more. Finally working through the pain, Eddie remembered the vulnerable bits of Steve’s anatomy that he had a foot on, and stomped.
Steve let go of his mouthful, grinning horribly at Eddie.
Not letting go of his hair Eddie smacked him across the face, once and again, and again. Held in place by his hair, Steve’s head didn’t swing with the hit which made his cheeks burn more, but he had earned that. It felt good.
“You little fucking bitch! I try to be good to you, to take care of you, and this is the thanks I get?” Eddie dropped his hair and Steve slid back to the ground, nearly dazed with how close he was to cumming as much from sheer satisfaction as the pain.
Shit, no wonder Eddie liked roleplay so much.
Eddie stormed around him, stomping some of the pain off, and Steve waited smugly, flexing his hips up and down in little circles until he could almost convince himself he was getting fucked. With immense effort, Steve managed to wipe the satisfaction off of his face, instead looking at Eddie with what he hoped was coming off as fear and trepidation.
Approaching him, Eddie scoffed. “Remorseful now, are you?” Steve turned the side of his face that felt hotter and more throbbing towards Eddie, hoping it would read as submission; look how you’ve laid me low, look how tempting I am. “Remembered how much worse I can make your life if I want to? Maybe I should give you a little more of a reminder before you decide if you want to be good or not.”
He straddled Steve’s waist and leaned forward, and it took everything in Steve to keep from moaning when he felt the wetness from his own mouth on the fly Eddie’s pants. The weight of Eddie pushed him harder on his bound arms, and Steve was going to have to get Eddie off of him fast if he didn’t want to risk a premature end to their scene.
And god, did he not. No, not until he had Eddie crying.
Eddie reached both hands down to Steve’s torso, and scratched up and down, catching Steve’s inflamed nipples on every pass. Steve hissed in pain, and that emboldened Eddie, who snagged both nipples and squeezed. The noise that exited Steve’s mouth sounded vaguely inhuman, which felt apt.
He wasn’t human, and he wasn’t going to let Eddie win.
Steve’s eyes were watering, which could only help his case. Innocent, he thought, harmless.
“Aww,” said Eddie, sneering and brimming with braggadocio, “does it hurt?” Clearly he trusted Steve was actually in too much pain to retaliate, because he leaned forward, licking a line through Steve’s tears nearly all the way to his eye, and seemed to forget that Steve had teeth.
Unbothered, unsuspecting, Eddie rolled his hips on Steve’s stomach, cock rising quickly to the occasion. Slowly, Steve turned his face towards Eddie’s and nuzzled him lightly on the jaw. “How sweet, shark bait. Maybe I won’t leave you out to dry just yet.”
Eddie’s tone had gone softer, sultry almost. Not anywhere near romantic, but maybe fond. Like a collector might be of their favorite piece. Despite the change in tone, Eddie had yet to let up at all with his fingers, and Steve decided to risk his own attack, turning his face into Eddie’s neck. He paused for a long moment to see if he had telegraphed his move, and when Eddie didn’t react at all, Steve bit.
Hard.
“FUCK!” Eddie’s voice was so loud it made Steve’s ears ring, and Steve’s lips involuntarily formed a smile around the chunk of flesh he was gripping. Eddie’s fingers on his nipples twisted, but Steve was not about to be dislodged that easily. He sunk his teeth in harder, and rode out the waves of pain, each throbbing pulse of his nipples going straight to his dick. And the sounds Eddie was making! A symphony of harsh breaths and soft keening whines that Steve was not going to forget any time soon.
Eddie’s thighs were trembling at Steve’s sides, and that fact that he was making Eddie come apart at the seams was almost aphrodisiacal to Steve. He flexed his hips, pushing his firm abs into Eddie’s cock. Eddie tried to scramble away, but now Steve had him fixed, trapped in place as surely as Steve was but unlike Eddie Steve didn’t need accessories to keep Eddie where he wanted him.
At last, Eddie released Steve’s nipples, and the ache was warm and intense and Steve moaned into Eddie’s throat. Eddie’s hands made their way to Steve’s neck, pressing and tugging, putting pressure on Steve's airway, but who needed air? Steve was living on satisfaction. The agony of his own body was a distant second to the pleasure of making Eddie falter.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” A sharp sob broke through the haze of Steve’s contentment. If Eddie was that far down, it wouldn’t take much to make him cum, and Steve wanted to do that, wanted to make him. He wanted the knowledge that he could turn the tables on his captor, that he could win.
They had done that kind of play before, the kind where they fought and bit and clawed, and whoever ended up on top was on top, but the visceral feeling of a need for revenge—to humiliate Eddie the way he was humiliated, a wild and free thing set loose in someone’s pool—that was new.
Not releasing the grip his teeth had on Eddie’s neck, Steve took the tip of his tongue and carefully dragged it along Eddie’s skin. Eddie immediately broke out in goosebumps. He shuddered once, and then again, and then he was cumming, wet and warmth seeping through his pants and onto Steve’s stomach.
His orgasm seemed to drag on as Eddie shouted hoarsely, and Steve could feel it through his neck, and fuck, was that hot. Eddie’s hands fell away from Steve’s trachea, but Steve couldn’t see what he was doing with them, which was less satisfying. He wanted to be able to see Eddie, not just feel him.
Eddie froze suddenly, and gently, Steve unhooked his teeth from Eddie’s neck. Groaning, Eddie shifted his weight backwards, landing heavily with his ass on Steve’s vibrating cock. All at once, the satisfaction that had felt like enough before, now only felt like foreplay, and he was slammed back into his body: the pain in his arms, his legs, his cheeks, his nipples; the fatigue in his muscles, the tingles beginning to set in in his fingers; the aching of his ass, his cock.
Steve took one, last smug look at Eddie who was panting, red cheeked and sweaty, with his hair mussed and Steve’s toothmarks still indented into his skin, and found himself humping firmly against Eddie’s ass once, twice, and then he was cumming.
The relief of endorphins after that ordeal was immense, and Steve almost succumbed to the blankness battering his brain for admission, when suddenly the vibrator still buzzing away at his cock reasserted itself.
He whined in discomfort, but it didn’t snap Eddie out of his stupor. Steve was still part way down, and the overstimulation was just proof of that; he may have won the battle, but Eddie was winning the war. Steve licked his very dry lips and managed a soft, “Eddie,” which seemed to get through to him.
Eddie’s eyes widened almost comically with realization. “Vibrator! Fuck, right, hold on, hold on, hold on…” Eddie skittered off of him, and began inexpertly rolling the tail and speedo down, until Steve’s cock was free and Eddie was able to grab the bullet and twist it off. The air on Steve’s cock and thighs was cool after being stuck in silicone so long, and he shuddered weakly at the sensation. He had had too many sensations in the past…however long. “Okay, let me know when you’re ready to sit up, and we’ll get your arms undone, okay?”
Steve made a noise that was vaguely affirmative, and Eddie chuckled at him.
“How you doing, pretty boy?”
Still trying to catch his breath, Steve managed a woozy smile at Eddie.
Eddie laughed again, still shaking fingers coming up to press on the lurid bite mark on his neck, already red and white and soon to be purple, too. “You got me good,” he said with a whistle.
Yeah, yeah he fucking did.
“Fuck that was hot!”
Steve laughed, too, still sounding hoarse and breathless. “Rematch?”
Eddie pulled him up, off of his arms and onto Eddie’s lap, holding him in place with a hand in his hair, and kissed him thoroughly. Steve's knees bent under him, legs bound together, toes pointed uncomfortably, and ass still stuffed. He had won, but he was still trapped, still bound and at Eddie’s mercy. He moaned into the kiss, skin suddenly puckered and too, too hot.
Eddie drew back with a hard grin, grip in Steve’s hair still anchoring him in place. “Are you sure, shark bait? Maybe next time I’ll lock those teeth away, now that I’ve seen how sharp they are. Do you think you could swim with a gag in?” Steve shuddered, terrified and turned on in equal measure. “Or maybe I should tie you up on the deck, since you wanted out so badly. See how you do after a few hours of direct heat. You’ve already blown your best shot of getting through this in one piece, which was not making me your enemy. Now we just gotta see how mean I’m feeling.”
Eddie gestured at the bite on his neck, which was already turning purple. “I’ll give you a hint.” He leaned close enough that his breath across Steve’s ear made Steve shiver. When Eddie spoke next, his voice was pitched low and dangerous, a threat and a promise and Steve’s next wet dream. “I’m going to destroy you, guppy. Get ready.”