Work Text:
Eddie wakes up the next morning and rolls over in bed and cracks open his eyes, and –
Remembers.
Remembers and remembers and remembers, and when he unlocks his phone, it’s still open to their text thread from last night, a bottom sliver of that last video just visible above the handful of texts that came after it.
And he thinks about it for a minute. He really does, because he’s more clear-headed now than he was last night, so he thinks better of it for maybe thirty seconds. Remembers the inarguable fact that Buck has a boyfriend and that Eddie is – well. Learning some things about himself, maybe, but is very specifically not Buck’s boyfriend, so.
He shouldn’t.
Right?
He should not lay here in his bed in the stark light of morning with the sun filtering in through the leaves of the lemon tree outside his window, birds chirping and dappled sunlight falling over his bed and eyes and face, and he should not lay here with the breeze of the fan playing over his skin, freshly awake to a new day, naked still from the night before.
He should definitely not lay here and watch a video of someone else’s boyfriend licking their own come off their own fingers.
Right? He shouldn’t.
Except.
Okay. So – it is someone else’s boyfriend, but it’s also Buck . Buck, who is… his? Sort of. In a way. Not just his, but they’re each other’s. That’s a true thing that Eddie knows, that he has known for years. Girlfriends (boyfriends?) come and go, but at the end of the day, he and Buck – they belong to each other. They do.
And anyway, even without that – Buck sent him the video. It was for him . It’s his. Theirs.
Which means he’s allowed to watch it.
He is.
Okay.
He scrolls back up, and even just the still frame of it – Buck’s face dimly lit with a flush sitting high on his cheeks, pupils blown and staring directly down the camera, hair still damp from his shower and hand halfway to his mouth with his tongue already out and ready for it – Eddie feels his cock jerk at the memory of that, the way his brain had projected himself into the scene so that in his head it feels like he was there.
Last night, he was there, and that was his hand and his come that Buck was feeding into his own mouth, and he felt the hot, wet slide of Buck’s tongue slipping over his knuckles and the tangled-up damp strands of hair between his fingers, heard the gasp of his breath and that little noise he made, and –
The looped play of the video stops and jumps away on his phone screen, and Eddie feels the beat of his heart stop right along with it for half a second, hand going tight around himself in panic before he realizes it’s just –
Stopping for coffee!!
what do you want
Just Buck texting him, which moved the frame of the video out of view, and – okay.
It’s fine. He’s fine.
He lets out a shaky breath and glances at the time, realizes it’s already 6:45 and he’s late. Running later than he meant to after lingering longer in bed than he usually ever does, which means he’ll have to shower at the station at some point this morning instead of here at home, which means… means going to work, getting in the passenger seat of Buck’s car with the memory of last night still on his skin, sitting there next to him with this still imprinted in his brain, maybe even seeing and talking to other people, all the while –
Americano extra shot?
Get me a croissant too, don’t have time for breakfast
Buck texts back right away, and Eddie’s hand moves down as he reads, fingers wrapping around himself under the thin cover of the sheet.
Why, did something keep you up late last night?
So – they’re doing this? Or they’re acknowledging it. Not pretending it didn’t happen, at least, because if Buck was normal – which. He’s not, ever, but if things were normal, he’d just respond with a thumbs up, would probably get annoying about it when he discovered/remembered that there’s a croissant emoji to go along with it.
This is… different. New. New-ish.
His phone buzzes again.
😇
And he lets out a sharp breath, realizing abruptly that he’s still – his hand is still wrapped around himself, stroking absently as he reads a series of completely innocent texts about coffee and croissants and boring everyday morning logistics.
Same thing that’s keeping me up right now
He gets a message back right away, an exclamation mark reaction and a 🫡, followed by maybe twenty full seconds of typing that results in a text that just says,
Same
And two more photos in quick succession, first of Buck laying sprawled in his bed, high angle so Eddie can see the lower half of his face, mouth open. Down over his chest to his stomach where there’s a splatter of come pooling against the soft outline of his abs, hand wrapped around himself again with his thumb pushing up against the head. And then the next, camera pointed directly down at his lap so Eddie can see the swell of his bulge where he’s gripping himself through his jeans in the driver’s seat of his car.
i think you biohacked me tbh
Two different times, which means – he woke up this morning and did that, took a picture of it… for himself? For Eddie just in case Eddie was up for it? Thinking of him the whole time, maybe, and again now sitting at a stoplight at some point on the map between his apartment and Eddie’s house and the Starbucks drive thru.
Want to see what you’re doing to me?
Because he can tell that he’s getting close already, hand working faster over himself as he lets that spin out in his head, the fact that he’s going to see Buck in person in ten or maybe fifteen minutes, going to sit next to him in the car with Buck wearing those exact jeans, and he’ll know –
YES 😈
but send it to me later so i don’t crash my car lmao
He feels his breath hitch and catch, the thought of that drilling itself down into his psyche. Later. So – later, they’re going to still be doing this. Buck is going to drive here and pick him up, and they’re going to go to work, and then later …
He shifts his weight to get a better angle, breath punching out of his lungs as he tightens his fingers around himself and points his phone camera down, down to where he’s working himself over. Working himself raw, or will be eventually, feels like he’s never going to get the itch of this out from under his skin, like Buck’s crawled inside and made a home for himself in the back of Eddie’s brain, which – that isn’t even new. He’s always there, always, and this isn’t any different, just.
Extra. More. Them. Theirs. His. Buck – his .
He groans as he comes, lets it stretch out longer this time instead of cutting the video off short, lets the camera see how his hips twitch up toward his hand and imagines Buck watching it later and thinks – okay.
Okay, maybe he understands what Buck meant about biohacking, because. He could keep going. If he had the time, he could absolutely keep going, is going to have a hard enough time as it is, sitting next to Buck in the car in a few minutes, side by side at work for the next twenty four hours and unable to scratch that need to touch and taste and feel and –
coffee acquired, eta 5 min
Shit.
He cuts the video off as his heart jumps into his throat, lets out a breath as he drops his phone onto his chest and lets his hand fall away, staring up at the ceiling with his pulse thumping in his ears.
He’s still half hard. He’s still – he could, if he wanted to. Could just stay here, wouldn’t kill them to be ten minutes late. Buck could sit in his car in the driveway and drink his coffee, or let himself in, wander through the house until he found Eddie here in the –
Fuck.
Okay.
No.
He has to get up.
He has to.
He rolls out of bed and leaves his phone laying there on the mattress as he rushes through an abbreviated version of his morning routine, brushing his teeth, running a comb through the wreck of his hair, dabbing on the eye cream that Buck bought for him a few weeks ago after a month of nagging him to start using it because it has SPF in it and we’re not getting any younger and also our job is tough on our skin and !!!
Blindly pulls on clothes and grabs his phone and wallet and keys and thanks the stars/universe/whatever-else-imaginary-thing that he didn’t bother to unpack his duffel after their last shift a few days ago, and through it all – yeah.
Yeah, obviously it’s still there, and it’s still there when he hears Buck’s tires in the driveway, and it’s there when he glances at himself in the mirror by the front door, and it’s there when he trips out onto the front porch and fumbles with his keys to lock the door behind him, and just –
It’s never like this for him. He’s never like this. Never, literally never, has he ever once in his whole life been like this. Not when he was pent up in the army, not when he was single for years at a time, not when he was a stupid horny teenager figuring out how his dick worked for the first time. Never.
It’s been less than twelve hours, and Buck has a boyfriend, and Eddie is – insane. He feels insane.
“Hey,” Buck says when Eddie opens the passenger side door and slides into the seat. “Wasn’t sure you’d make it out on time. Oversleeping and all.”
Tongue wrapping around his fingers, eyes dilated, that little noise he’d made.
Want you to come on my face . That’s what he’d said. Put me on my knees, I’ll be so good for you . I think about your hands all the time.
“I set an alarm,” Eddie says as he buckles his seatbelt. He’s lying; he didn’t. Was too distracted last night after – that – and then again this morning. “Anyway, you can do anything in ten minutes when you set your mind to it.”
Buck hums, sideways smile with his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth as he nods, glancing down at the cardboard cup and crinkly paper bag waiting in the center console.
“They were out of croissants,” he says. “I got you that lemon cake thing you like instead.”
And Eddie definitely does not miss the way Buck’s eyes linger as he reaches for it to peek inside and break off a corner. Chews and swallows and raises his eyebrows.
“Are you going to start driving?” he asks, feeling the hot beat of his own heart in his chest. “After all that work I did to make it out here on time.”
Buck releases a breath that – he’d been holding it. Eddie didn’t realize until now, not until it was all rushing out of him at once on a laugh, a little shake of his head as he lowers his sunglasses onto his face and shifts into reverse. Waits until they reach the stop sign at the end of Eddie’s block to pick up his phone and thumb through Spotify for a different playlist, putting on the type of middle school pop punk he always blasts when they’re on their way to the beach.
His phone, which – he’d used that phone to film himself shoving his own fingers into his mouth last night, had used it to send Eddie those photos this morning. Twenty minutes ago, that phone and this car and this seat, hard just from the idea of Eddie and gripping himself through his jeans for Eddie to see, and –
Eddie’s eyes drop down to his lap, staring. Staring, because he’s still hard. Visibly, noticeably, legs spread a little wider than normal because of it, and – he’s big. Eddie knew that already. They’ve seen each other in the shower before, in the locker room. Outside of any sort of… sexual context, but still. And he’s heard the jokes – rumors, whatever – Firehose Buckley , stupid. And then last night, but –
Seeing it. Him. Now, in person – in context.
And Eddie doesn’t even date men – he doesn’t fuck men? He doesn’t do anything with men. He has spent the last X years of his life actively and intentionally trying not to do anything with men. Which means… well, until last night it meant he was Not Gay.
Don’t look at it directly, don’t let it flit across your mind, don’t think about it when you’re with your girlfriend and the physical parts are nice (fine?) but you know ( you know, you know, you know ) that there’s something off, something missing, something fundamentally wrong-sized about the whole thing and the way your skin fits on your body and the way her hands feel on your skin and the way your hands feel when they touch her, or when they don’t touch him, or when they want to touch but can’t. Definitely, definitely do not think about it.
But last night, he’d thought about it.
This morning, he thought about it again.
Right now, in this moment, he is thinking about it.
And he feels… new. New, like there’s never going to be a time from now on when he’s not thinking about it, about what it would be like to wrap his hand around another man, to watch the shift of his face, to hear Buck’s breath against his ear, teeth on his skin. To open his mouth and relax his throat and swallow, spread his legs, or go down on his knees, or get Buck down on his knees like he’d said he wanted. Bend over and let the bulk and weight of Buck’s body cover his, split him open. Push Buck’s thighs apart and hitch one of his legs up toward his chest and press inside.
All of it. He wants… literally all of it. Has wanted so much for so long and has denied himself wanting, and just – he can’t anymore. He cannot pretend not to want this, now that he’s one inch over the line toward having it.
You can’t unsee a dick pic, and you can’t unwant to choke on your best friend’s dick.
Or something. Apparently.
Buck shifts in his seat as he drives, spreads his legs a little wider and lets one hand come down to settle in his own lap. Not touching, but – close, and Eddie feels the want rush through him like a wave.
“Your coffee’s there,” Buck says without looking away from the road. He’s talking around one of those little green plastic stir sticks they give you to keep the cups from spilling, has it jammed in his mouth like a toothpick, and Eddie stares at the way he shifts it around with his tongue. “You should drink it before it gets cold.”
Eddie breathes out a laugh. “Oh right, the coffee.” As if they don’t both know exactly what’s happening. “Yeah.”
Buck’s smile twitches, and he laughs too, just a little. Enough that Eddie feels the tension break and shatter like a piece of glass as he reaches for his cup and takes a drink, and – yeah, it’s a little lukewarm. Whatever.
He lets out a breath as he watches Buck’s hand flex in his lap, feels the thrum of want rush through him, and – that’s the thing, isn’t it?
Buck is the one with all the experience. The one who’s fucked a hundred people, the one who – more, actually. Probably a lot more than that, knows how to do this thing that Eddie feels a little lost in already, knows that Eddie’s staring at the hard outline of his dick without even needing to look over to check, but he’s also this – silly and sweet and knows Eddie well enough to know to buy him the lemon cake when they’re out of croissants, and knows yeah, always , he’s going to pick Eddie up for work in the morning, because – he’s Buck.
Which means he’s Eddie’s, ultimately. At the end of the day, Buck belongs to Eddie, and Eddie belongs to him, no matter what else is going on around them. That’s just how it is. Everyone knows that.
Or they should, if they don’t, and if they don’t then… that’s on them.
He waits three hours.
Which – he feels like it should be acknowledged, that level of restraint.
When they get to the station and make their way into the locker room, he feels the slow slide of everything dialing back down to normal, knocking a fist against Ravi’s shoulder and standing next to him while they watch Buck do some ongoing bit that he’s got with Chimney that literally no one else understands. He drops his duffel on the bench, slips his phone out of his pocket and sets it on the shelf, and then –
Catches Buck staring at it.
Like it’s a bomb about to go off, or maybe like he’s a kid who just saw his pile of birthday presents on the dining room table and has been told he’s not allowed to open them until after cake.
And then he remembers –
Right.
Later .
Now could be later.
Buck’s in no danger of running himself off the road, so now – now could definitely be later. He could pick up his phone right now and unlock it right here in front of everyone and send off that video, and Buck’s phone would buzz in his pocket ten feet away, and no one else would know what he’d just done.
He could.
He could.
And he feels it, that rush of power, the same one he’d gotten last night when Buck had – what, held his own come in his mouth and waited for Eddie to give him permission? Said he’d be so good for him and whatever you say , and –
He catches Buck’s eye now as he reaches for his phone, picks it up and thumbs through the home screen and watches the way Buck follows him like a dog after a treat, the way his eyebrows twitch up and his hand reaches for his own phone, and then –
Eddie locks his screen, slides it into his pocket and goes back to doing up the buttons of his uniform shirt, staring down at the floor to hide his smile and not – definitely not taking note of the breath Buck releases and the agitated way he slams his locker door shut before following Hen up to the loft for the morning briefing.
And so he waits three hours, waits through Bobby’s daily task list and the cooking of second breakfast and the call they get sent out on halfway through. Sits across from Buck in the back of the engine with their knees pressed together like they always do and smiles at him with the sun slanting in through the window, smiles at the way Buck’s staring at him, eyes wide like he’s trying to psychically extract the images from Eddie’s brain. Stands shoulder-to-shoulder with him at the scene while they wait to be needed and ultimately climb back into the truck without doing anything. Ride back to the station where Eddie ducks in to finally take that shower he didn’t have time for this morning, and then –
That’s when he sends it.
He sends it, and then he takes his time, one ear on the alarm but still –
He hadn’t let himself think about it last night. He’d tried so, so hard not to think about it when he was in the shower, but now. Now it’s all he can think about – Buck on his knees right here under the spray of the water, drops running in rivulets down his face and collarbones and chest. The way his mouth would drop open, tongue lolling out like it did last night. Waiting. Letting Eddie get a hand in his hair and push it back, pull him around and drag him into position, press inside until he hit the back of his throat, the way Buck’s eyes would prick with tears and the little noise he’d make, the patient way he’d wait when Eddie came, hand coming down to cup his jaw and tell him – okay .
Okay, go ahead, you can swallow. You were good, you were so good, you did so good.
When he gets out of the shower, shuts it off and drops a towel over his shoulders, he feels like all the tension in his body has unwound itself. Been beaten out of him maybe, or maybe it’s just this new thing that’s starting to stretch itself out inside him, because –
They haven’t even done anything. Not really, not yet , but he can feel it building inside him, can tell it’s around the corner, and that’s what his brain sticks on as he picks up his phone from the bathroom counter: not yet . And then he opens it and –
🔥🚒💦
!!!!!!
Eddie 😭
😩😩😩
🥺
💫
🫨🫨🫨🫨🫨
(^^ 5/5 btw)
Did you seriously wait until you left the room to send me this
BOBBY ALMOST SAW IT!!!!!
EDDIE
Actually you know what i should have let him see it! that’s what you deserve, let bobby see your dick
jk
i wouldn’t do that 🥰
Or would i 🤨
no i actually wouldn’t, you can trust me with your dick
your dick pics
or your actual one maybe 😁
😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇
Did you fall in the shower
should i send help
should I COME HELP???
I’m fine
He props the phone against the mirror as he wraps a second towel low around his waist and leans in to poke at a spot on his chin, runs a comb back through his hair. Then it buzzes again, and he glances down.
I’m not!!!!!!!
I feel like i should send you another one too but hens on the couch across from me so it’s not like i can just pull it out ✊😔
Eddie laughs under his breath. Chews on his lip as he considers, heart thumping against his ribs. He glances over his shoulder toward the door, which is unlocked but also – shut. And everyone knows he’s in here, so. Probably fine?
Maybe.
Probably?
Okay.
Well technically you sent me 2 this morning so…
And he tugs the towel down a little – not all the way, just enough to hint. Enough to lead the eye down even though the photo he takes in the mirror is mostly from the waist up, feels a flicker of heat run through him as he sends it off.
Because it’s different, sending a video he took hours ago in his own home, versus now, a photo he’s taking in the moment that Buck’s going to look at and then he’s going to see Buck in a couple minutes right on the other side of this wall, and –
The alarm goes.
Fuck. Fuck.
Shit.
His phone buzzes in his hand again (😵🚨) and he drops it onto the counter with a clatter as he throws his towel off and hops around the room one-legged trying to trip back into his pants and shirt and shoes. Just barely remembers to grab it before he’s falling out the door, hair combed back smooth but still dripping down onto his collar as he jogs toward the truck. The garage doors are already open and the engines are running, ladder already halfway out the gate and sirens whirring to life as he vaults himself into the cab and nearly lands directly in Buck’s lap.
Buck, who has his phone in his hand open to their text thread, the timestamped photo of Eddie standing in the mirror thirty seconds ago with the V of his pelvis on full display. Eddie shifts more fully into his own seat as he tries to catch his breath, feels the hot press of Buck’s arm against his side and the way their thighs line up from hip to knee, one long, unbroken line of contact.
“Impressive dress time,” Buck says, leaning close enough for him to hear over the sirens before they both slide their headsets over their ears. Eddie lets out a breathless laugh and drops his head back against the seat, hanging on tight as they take the corner at the end of the block. “Might have to teach me a thing or two about that.”
And it’s like something about that breaks the last of whatever lingering doubt Eddie’s been feeling, cracks it open in his chest and links it back to this, the fact that it really is just them. He sent that to Buck, and Buck saw it, and Eddie saw that he saw it, and then they rode off to help clear the scene of a freeway accident, and it’s all just –
“What are we thinking for lunch?” Buck asks the group of them once they’re piled back into the back of the engine. It’s only just past noon, but – “Feel like I could eat my weight in mac and cheese.”
He’s got his feet kicked up in the seat next to Hen’s leg, and she rolls her eyes as she pushes them back to the floor. The motion of it shifts him in his seat next to Eddie, slumping him over enough to press up against his side, and Eddie shoulders him away with a huff that makes Buck laugh and complain about being treated like a pinball.
And it’s normal.
Exactly normal, and when they make it back to the station twenty minutes later, Buck trails after Bobby into the kitchen, and Eddie flops onto the couch next to Chimney to watch him flip through channels until they find something they can both tolerate, and when his phone buzzes on the coffee table, he doesn’t think much of it as he reaches for it, and –
Remember when i said I think about your hands all the time??
Tunnel vision brain right now 🥰
Eddie feels a flash of heat ripple through his chest as he shifts where he’s sitting on the couch to half-face the kitchen, and Buck looks – normal? He’s standing at the counter dicing an onion and laughing along to something Bobby’s saying, no indication that he’d even been paying attention to Eddie or anything about him, much less something as small as his hand resting on the back of the couch while he watched the Olympic swimming recap that they’d landed on.
Shouldn’t you be more worried about what your own hands are doing?
He glances back up and watches as Buck pauses his work to look down at his phone where it’s sitting on the edge of the cutting board.
If you whack your finger off because you’re too busy staring at mine I’m not helping you
Buck sets his knife down to pick up his phone, and Eddie looks away, focuses back on the TV with his hand resting against the side of his head, elbow propped on the back of the couch. His phone buzzes again, and –
Good thing we’re literally surrounded by medical professionals who APPARENTLY care more about me than you 🙄
Eddie lets out a quiet laugh and starts to tap out a response, but before he can –
i was going to say i want you to shove your fingers so far down my throat i choke on them
but now I’m mad at you so
🤐
He glances toward the kitchen again, but Buck is back to what he was doing, only pausing long enough to check on his pan on the stove. Eddie adjusts in his seat, casting a look toward Chimney, who’s absorbed in the TV, shifts enough so that his phone is angled away from any possible prying eyes.
That’s okay , he says. I can think of other things for you to choke on
Buck smiles down at his phone, stopping to prop his hip against the edge of the counter as he types, and Eddie watches him do it this time, watches the flush spread over his cheeks as he glances up and meets Eddie’s eye then blinks away. And then Eddie’s phone is buzzing in his hand again.
You think it’s going to help my focus problem now that I’m thinking about you fucking my mouth???????
I’m so good at it too 😌
I’d make you come so hard you forget your own mane
mane*
NAME
omg 🤦♂️
Eddie snorts and Chimney looks over at him, raising his eyebrows in question, since – sure, there’s nothing inherently funny about the running commentary he’s been keeping up about the Americans’ chances in the upcoming race.
“Funny tweet,” he says, holding up his phone. He clears his throat. “Sorry.”
And this is – stupid. It’s so stupid of them to do this here, with everyone else around them. He cannot be sitting here on the couch watching Olympic swimming, half hard in his uniform pants because Buck is sending him stupid texts from the kitchen. It’s just – stupid. It’s stupid.
But it’s also easier than it should be to fall into it, chasing after the giddy little thrill that runs up his spine as he types out,
Sounds like you’re the one forgetting words, and then looks up from his phone to smile innocently at Buck from across the room. Haven’t even gotten my hands on you yet
And he has completely abandoned his cutting board now, leaned back against the opposite counter and nodding along to Bobby’s story even as his thumbs move over the screen of his phone.
what would you do to me if you did?
Eddie sucks in a breath, shifting in his seat, and – he can’t. He’s going to get actually hard sitting here, and then it’s going to be a whole thing, and –
Spread you out on this couch , he says, feeling the hot flush of it creep up and over him. One of a thousand things that have run through his head since this started. Put a mark on your neck where everyone can see
Everyone?
Eddie raises his eyebrows at him from across the room, letting his mouth lift toward a smile. He knows what he’s implying. He knows that Buck knows, watches his face shift with the knowing, the warm flush that spreads over him and down his neck, tries to imagine the way it would taste under his tongue. The way it would feel under his teeth.
He could do it, could find some spot that’s already there. Half-faded and nearly gone and make it his, teeth digging into soft flesh to remind Buck who he belongs to, and Buck would let him.
He would.
He could.
It wouldn’t even be the first time Eddie’s hands spanned out over his ribs, fingers slotting into all the soft divots of him. Shaking and aching for more, dragging down the ridge of his spine.
I’d let you , Buck says. I’d let you do whatever you want to me
And Eddie smiles down at his phone, bites the inside of his cheek as he types out,
I know you would
And then the alarm goes again, and they’re running off toward the engine bay, and Buck’s eyes are locked on him as they ride in the truck, and all Eddie can feel is the thrum of blood under his skin and the way their knees are pressed together between them.
It’s not until they finally finish their shift the following morning that he hits what feels like a breaking point.
He’s exhausted, feels half-dead on his feet as they pack their bags side by side in the locker room, the warm smell of aftershave and shampoo lingering in the air, and there’s something about that. Something comforting about the rhythm of it and the way the conversation carries on around them as their shoulders knock and their arms brush together and Buck’s hand comes to rest between Eddie’s shoulders, just for a breath. Fingers pressing into his skin just like they always do but now with an edge, something extra there beneath the surface.
And Eddie follows him out to the parking lot, slides into the passenger seat and waits while he starts the car and fiddles with his seat controls and plugs his phone in to charge and starts driving and then –
“What,” he says from where he’s slumped against the passenger side window, eyes closed.
He can feel the lure of sleep creeping up over him like a blanket, but he can also feel the lines of weirdness radiating off of Buck like he’s been popped in a microwave.
“Nothing.”
Eddie opens his eyes, squints at him from his seat. “You’re being weird.”
“I’m not,” Buck says, in his being-weird voice. “Just –”
And Eddie sighs, resigned to the fact that they’re apparently having this conversation right now. Whatever version of it they’re going to have, at least. He sits up more fully in his seat and reaches over to fiddle with the volume control on the sound system, turns up the air while he’s at it. Settles in for what will probably be –
Awkward? Bad?
Maybe, even though it’s Buck. Things were never going to be normal for long, he guesses, but it’s not like anything has actually happened yet, so – anyway.
What he’s not expecting Buck to say is,
“I have a date today.” He clears his throat. “Lunch. With Tommy.”
Eddie raises his eyebrows. “I’d be surprised if it was with someone else.”
Buck glances over at him, then back at the road. “I mean – is that okay?”
And Eddie feels something warm creep over him, at the idea that he... “For you to have lunch with Tommy?”
“Yeah…?” Buck says. Stretching it out into a question of his own, and –
Eddie shrugs, tries not to listen to the hammering of his pulse. “My plan is to sleep until at least noon. One, if I’m lucky.”
Buck lets out a breath, slow and almost careful. They’re pulling up outside Eddie’s house, and he’s ready to get to bed, but –
“So you’re going to go to sleep, and I’m going to…”
“Go to lunch with your boyfriend,” Eddie says. He says it a little like – airquotes, boyfriend , even if he doesn’t mean to. He raises his eyebrows. “You know where to find me when you’re done.” A pause, barely there. Enough for the words to travel from his half asleep brain and down into his marrow and back out of his mouth. “Or during.”
And he watches that move through the air between them, watches Buck’s face as he takes it in and processes it, the twitch of his smile and the breath he lets out, and –
“Oh,” he says. Eyes searching Eddie’s face, eyebrows twitching up. “Yeah?”
Eddie makes a quiet noise, nods a little. “Yeah,” he says. He squints out the windshield at the house, then back at Buck. “During is good, if you want.”
“Good,” Buck repeats. "Okay." And the weird vibe is fading, replaced by that same relaxed confidence from yesterday morning, like that bit of reassurance was all he needed, really. “Then I guess… I’ll talk to you later.”
And the thing is – it’s not even real. Right?
Right. It doesn’t even count, because it’s literally just words on a screen. Maybe a picture or two here and there, but those are just pixels, really, and the videos – those are pixels too. Pixels with an audio track, maybe, but – okay, but – that’s all. It’s nothing.
They haven’t even touched each other yet. Not counting the times they touched each other, but – they haven’t. And they haven’t even really talked about it, not – directly. Not in as many words. And so it’s detached, in a way, the fact that they’re doing this. The fact that it’s happening, that Eddie wakes up around half past noon to his phone pinging with a text. Twitches awake and sucks in a breath and gropes around under his pillow until he finds it there.
Do you know what else i think about all the time?
Eddie rolls onto his side and stares at his phone, holds it near his face as he taps out a response.
50/50 shot it’s something insane like manatees
He doesn’t know if Buck is actively with him yet, if he’s texting him under the table or pretending to check Twitter or – not, maybe. Maybe he doesn’t even need to pretend anything, since it’s normal for them to text each other like this. It’s definitely not the first time Eddie’s carried on a conversation with him over the course of a date night, that’s been happening for years. It’s another thing they’ve always done, on top of the pile of things that makes this feel like an extension of who they’ve always been to each other.
Just – more. This, the everyday, and… more.
I was going to say your wrists because i liike the way the bones stick out when you’re really working and the way your veins pop when you’re lifting weights or something
but yeah actually now that you mention it they really are weird??
like did you know they don’t have eyelids so they cant’t blink so instead their eyes kind of work like a camera lens where it dials down and out and stuff
Eddie stares at the collection of messages and feels something warm creeping through his chest. Like – this? Really? This is what’s doing it for you?
Followed immediately by a voice in the back of his head that says... yeah. Obviously, yeah. He would listen to Buck go on about anything, would gladly do it for hours if he could.
And he has a flash of a vision, down on his knees between Buck’s parted thighs, a hand on the back of his head to guide him forward and keep him there, flexing his fingers against the warm backsides of Buck’s knees while he listened to him chatter about something random that got caught in his brain, mouth and throat and all his senses filled up with him, and his voice there carrying Eddie through it while he –
Sorry lol 💪 okay back to the risk thing
Wrist*
Also risk though too i guess 🤪
Okay no. Head in the game Buckley ⛹️♂️ not very sexy of me
Eddie blows out a breath, smiling as he curls further under the duvet, no need to get up at any point soon, no need to perform anything for anyone.
Shut up, my wrists will still be here later
Tell me more about the eye thing
It’s not until later that night that everything shivers back into acute focus.
Buck’s texts tapered off after a couple hours, which means – well, Eddie knows what it means. He’s not an idiot. He knows what day off → lunch date → Buck disappearing halfway through a conversation means , but there’s something weirdly satisfying in it too, like – Buck can do whatever he wants, and Tommy can take his time.
That’s fine.
Because it was Eddie who had most of his attention leading up to it. It was Eddie who he’s going to come home to at the end of the night, or tomorrow, or the day after that. It’s Eddie whose phone buzzes while he’s halfway through an episode of some stupid Netflix show he can't even focus on. It's been maybe an hour since Buck last disappeared, and he stops. Pauses the TV and reaches for his phone on the coffee table and reads a message that says –
Couldn’t stop thikning about you
And it’s immediate, the way the blood rushes out of his brain and down. He leans back into the couch and takes a swig of the beer at his elbow, feels the way the world dials down to this:
While you were fucking him?
He stares at the unsent message on his phone, heart pounding in his ears.
He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. It’s too far, too – direct? It’s just been pictures and talking about hands and maybe a couple videos, but this – this is specific. It’s crossing another line, one of a dozen lines between the fact that they’re friends and the fact that they’re… this. Whatever this is.
But they are this. They’ve always been this. They’re always going to be this, and so… he sends it, and Buck responds immediately.
he was fucking me actually 😇
All i could think about was your stupid wrists
and your stupid hands
And how much I want you inside me
Eddie presses the heel of his hand against himself through his sweats, letting that image spread itself out in his mind, Buck opened up for him, legs hitched up around his waist or folded forward onto the bed with his back arched, and which would be better? Both, probably – he’d take him any way he could have him, he thinks. Feels suddenly so desperate for it he’s willing to –
Are you still with him?
And this is –
Not.
He should not.
He’s in the shower
He shouldn’t, because this is the exact way it blows up in their faces, but – who cares, really? Who cares if it blows up in their faces, because even if it does, they’ll still… at the end of the day, they’ll still have each other, so –
Show me
And he’s not really sure what he’s expecting, or even exactly what he’s asking for, but he feels the hot thrum of anticipation beating against the back of his skull as he waits for Buck to respond, pictures him lying there in the bed in his loft with Tommy downstairs in the shower, but what he’s maybe not thinking he’ll get is –
Another photo, the lower half of Buck's body sprawled out in an unfamiliar bed – Tommy’s bed – a mouth-shaped bruise on the cut of his hip and another near the base of his cock, fresh and dark against his skin, and another of Buck leaned back against the pillows, half propped on the headboard with his hair a wreck, making a stupid face. There’s another bruise there, halfway back on his jaw near his ear where Eddie had imagined himself sinking his own teeth in, the aftermath of the kind of sex Eddie’s never really cared about having with any of his girlfriends but that he now feels itching under the surface of his skin, a raw and flaming sense of possessiveness surging through him, so strong it actually surprises him a little.
Because he can tell – this just happened. It just happened, recently enough that Eddie can still see the faint red outline of fingernails raked over Buck’s skin.
And he wants his hands there. He can picture himself, fingers digging into the meat of his sides, dragging him in closer, spreading him out, claiming him. Can taste the skin under his tongue and –
I would have taken you into the shower with me
Hands sliding over hot, slippery skin, mouthing down his neck and pressing him up against the tile wall, twining his fingers through damp strands of hair, hips lining up to grind and roll together.
Or not take a shower at all
What’s the point when we’re just going to do it all over again?
Because when they do eventually do this, there’s no way it’s only happening once. He can tell already, can feel the edge of how desperate they’ll be for each other when everything finally cracks.
He watches Buck type, the bubble of it cycling and disappearing on his screen.
You have to get me clean first if you want to make a mess
obviously
Unless 🤨 is that a thing for you?
And – well. He hadn’t really… thought about it? But now that he does, now that it’s out there.
What, fucking you when you were just with someone else? If you’d let me
There’s a pause, just long enough for him to lean back further on the couch, hand rubbing absently at himself over his pants, and then –
😳😳😳
!!!! i meant just like… mess in general
I should have known you’re a freak omg
And – oh. Okay. That’s. Maybe? Also good, but Eddie feels his face heat as he stares at the screen, trying to figure out how to respond, because – he didn’t really realize that that was like. A thing? Or that it was a thing for him, but it apparently is, but if Buck’s not into it – if he’s not…
But then his phone is buzzing again, and when he opens the message, it’s a voice note.
A voice note.
Buck’s voice, presumably, talking out loud about – this? What.
His heart is racing, pulse pounding in his ears as his thumb hovers over the play button, but he takes a deep breath and –
“Please don’t get in your head about that, oh my god ,” Buck’s voice says all in a rush, half-hushed like he’s trying to avoid being overheard, which – he is. He literally is. Eddie hears the shift of sheets on the other end and a breathy laugh, and – “I can’t believe you went from zero to ‘I want to lick another man’s come out of your ass’ in ten seconds flat. I’m going to suck your dick until you can’t stand up anymore.” The sound of him letting out an enormous breath, and another laugh, giddy and a little muffled. “Holy shit, Eddie.”
And it clicks off, and Eddie lets out a breath, heart racing. He stares at the message on his screen for maybe three full minutes. It takes him exactly that long to decide that he’s crazy, that he shouldn’t, that he doesn’t care, and that he ultimately wants to send his best friend a text that says,
Come over
And he doesn’t even know where it comes from? Because it’s another line that he’s just flown past, and then talking about it will be another, and – if they’re on a collision course, they must be heading downhill, picking up speed, because it’s like they’re flashing through it now, and the only possible thing for them to head for is –
🥰
give me 15 min
He hears the key in the lock after just ten have passed.
He’s been pacing the living room for the past five, trying to decide if he’s gone insane or made a horrible mistake or done something he’s going to regret and definitely can’t take back, but then the door opens, and he stops, because… Buck is there.
Keys in hand, hair still an absolute mess, mark still sharp on his jaw. And they’re staring at each other, and they’re staring, and staring, and –
Three steps.
That’s all it takes.
Three steps across the room, and his hands are pushing back through a knot of curls, fingers slotting in on either side of Buck’s face and wrapping around the back of his neck to haul him down into a kiss that sends Eddie stumbling backwards toward the couch, Buck’s tongue pushing past his lips as his hands come up to grapple at Eddie’s waist, pushing his shirt up to dig his fingers into his sides.
They only make it halfway before their feet get tangled up, and then they’re falling into each other on the floor, Buck’s weight pinning him to the carpet and punching the air out of his lungs as the kiss turns messy with laughter. Eddie feels a surge in his chest as their teeth click, letting his hands wander down to ruck up the back of Buck’s shirt, and it’s like –
He can feel it, feel the way his head is spinning with it, the surge of it in his chest, the gasp that rattles out of him when their hips line up, but it’s also this. The fact that it’s him, the fact that Buck is here , and he’s his, and the way the sweat-tacky skin of his chest sticks to Eddie’s when they separate long enough to tear their shirts off over their heads and then come surging back together.
“This is so stupid,” he says around another laugh, words muffled against Buck’s lips. “So –”
But he gets lost in it again, in the fingers ripping at the waistband of his sweatpants to tug them down as Buck breaks the kiss and folds himself down. Mouth dropping open as he goes, teeth scraping over the jumping muscles of Eddie’s abdomen, pressing Eddie’s legs apart as he hunches forward and swallows him whole, throat flexing and tongue hot against the underside of his cock, lips stretched around him and eyes wide open and locked on Eddie’s face as he goes, and –
“Fuck,” Eddie gasps, hands flying down to hold his head, one sliding around to cradle the back of his skull. “I’m – I –”
And then there’s a hand coming up to circle the base of his cock, squeezing tight as Buck pulls off and grins at him, a string of spit connecting him back.
“Told you,” he says. He lets his tongue go flat against his teeth, eyes flashing as he taps the head of Eddie’s cock against his lips. “Forgot your own name.”
Eddie huffs out another laugh, drags his hand around the side of Buck’s face to press his thumb against the corner of his mouth, letting him draw it in to bite down against his knuckle. Buck’s hand leaves his cock and reaches up to wrap loose around his wrist, pressing against the lines of bone and sinew as he pulls two of Eddie’s fingers into his mouth instead, and – it's better than it was in his head. Having him here, real, feeling the heat of his mouth. It's better.
Buck sits back on his heels, enough to draw Eddie along with him until he's tipping onto his back, Eddie crawling over him, fingers shaking a little as he pulls at Buck’s zipper with his free hand.
And he – he doesn’t know. He doesn't know if this is new, or if it’s always been there, or if he’s always known it, or if it’s some secret that’s lived in the back of his mind his entire life, but what he does know is this: Buck is here and under him, laying on the floor of his living room because they were so ready to tear into each other that they didn’t even make it to the couch. He’s on his back and arching up, and he’s got Eddie’s fingers pulled so far into his mouth that Eddie’s not sure how he isn’t choking on them, is firm and soft and hard all at once, and he belongs to Eddie.
Ultimately, at the end of the day, he belongs to Eddie.
There’s that bruise, too, the one on his hip. Eddie’s eyes focus there, and it’s like a hook in his chest drawing him down, mouth closing around the spot to draw the blood to the surface, making it darker, tongue running over the heat of his skin in the same place Tommy did less than an hour before.
Buck lets out another laugh as he does, letting Eddie’s hand drop from his mouth as his head arches back, fingers tangling in Eddie’s hair.
“That’s really a thing for you, isn’t it?” Buck asks, voice breathy and dissolving into a groan. Eddie lets their eyes meet as he moves on to the next spot. “You want to make me yours? Is that it?”
Eddie smiles against his skin, teeth digging in just enough to make him gasp. “You're already mine.”
And Buck’s face goes soft at that, letting out a breath as he nods, fingers flexing in Eddie’s hair to pull him up toward a kiss, tilting his chin up to lick into his mouth.
“Want you to fuck me,” he says. His legs fall open further as he talks, letting Eddie nudge in closer. “I’m – I know we shouldn’t, but –”
Eddie’s spit-slick fingers trail down until they brush up against the place where Buck is still loose and open, his skin sticky with lube, and something about that sends a wave rushing through Eddie, straight through to the core of him as Buck hitches his hips up and hooks an ankle around his back to urge him forward.
“I don’t care,” Eddie says. The head of his cock drags over Buck’s entrance, and he feels Buck’s hand flex on the back of his neck. “If we should or not. Do you care?”
“We shouldn’t,” Buck says again, lips brushing Eddie’s as he speaks. The air is hot between them where their foreheads press together, and Eddie’s hands shake where they run over his sides. “But I don’t care either.”
“Yeah?” Eddie asks. Their lips catch, and he gets pulled into the kiss, head spinning as he feels himself bump up against his entrance again. “You want me to finish what he started?”
The sound Buck makes at that is low, a punched-out groan climbing up from his chest as Eddie grips himself tight and presses in, slow at first and then all at once until he bottoms out, and Buck is so tight around him his eyes go a little unfocused with it, breath trembling as he lets Buck draw one of his hands back up to his mouth, tongue slipping between his fingers.
“Move,” Buck says. “Eddie, please.”
He bites down on one of Eddie’s knuckles, and Eddie shifts his hand to hook two fingers in his mouth as he moves his hips, pulling out far enough to thrust back in.
“So good,” he says, using his free hand to wind his fingers around Buck’s wrist and draw it up over his head, pinning it there. “Feel so –”
Buck is whining under him, back arching up off the floor, knees pressing into his sides. Eddie’s mouth moves over his jaw and back to the spot Tommy left there, teeth latching on as he feels his body drawing up, getting closer and closer as he presses into him.
“Harder,” Buck gasps. “Come on.”
And it’s like – everything. Everything. Buck and his hands and the way his tongue slips between Eddie’s knuckles. The heat of his body and the way his skin feels under Eddie’s hands. The fact that he’s his , that he’s here and they’re doing this and they’re this desperate for each other, like a shattering of something that’s built up and up and up until –
This.
He pulls out, so close to the edge he thinks he’s going to cry, and the noise Buck makes under him is broken, hand yanking free of Eddie’s hold to dig into his shoulder instead, clawing, aching, and Eddie swallows it with a kiss, panting into his mouth as he tries to bring himself back to the center.
“Turn over,” he says after a beat. He laughs, overwhelmed and drawn out. “Can’t fuck you any harder like this, but –”
“Yeah,” Buck says, eyes falling shut like he’s trying to remember how to move his own body. “Okay, yeah, yeah, yeah, just –”
And Eddie – he’s not sure what comes over him, but his hand wraps around Buck’s hip, lifts him bodily and turns him onto his front as he tilts back on his knees, spreads him apart with one hand and stares down at the open, pink rim of him, and –
He spits. Lets it drop down to the base of Buck’s spine and drags a finger through it to smear it down and in, listens to the broken groan that Buck lets out as he does, the way his face is turned half to the side so Eddie can just see his eyes, the way his mouth is hanging open, drool pooling against his tongue.
And he can’t do anything else other than what he does, pressing back in and driving into him so deep that Buck rocks forward with it, fingers gripping tight against his hip, and –
He’s never fucked someone like this before, like he can’t stop, like everything in him is pushing toward this. Him, Buck underneath him and letting out an unbroken string of his name around groans that feel pulled straight from his core.
He gets a hand around Buck and jerks him in time, letting instinct take over as he feels himself reach the edge, like a rushing out of everything that’s built up inside him, the hot slide of it as he keeps fucking him through it and the ripple of Buck’s body around his and the cry he lets out as he comes.
When he pulls out, he keeps him there, watches the way his hole flexes in the absence of him and the way his come drips out, and Eddie feels mesmerized by it, fingers sliding over his skin to push it back inside, listening to the hitch of Buck’s breath as he does and the way his rugburned shoulders twist as he twitches away and flops down on his side then rolls to his back, hand splayed low on his stomach as he stares up at Eddie.
He lets out a breathless laugh as Eddie collapses next to him. They lay there, catching their breath, staring up at the living room ceiling until Buck turns his head to let Eddie pull him into a kiss. Eyes flashing, teeth clicking together through a smile, biting sharp at his lip.
“I can’t believe we just did that,” he says when Eddie lets him go. “That was –”
“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Stupid.”
“Fun,” Buck says. He laughs again. “And stupid.”
Eddie laughs too, lets out a groan as he rolls onto his back, neck pillowed against one of Buck’s biceps. He could lay here for an hour, probably. More, if it meant they got to do this again, or keep doing it, or never stop.
"How did you even get over here so fast?" he asks. Tommy's house is at least ten minutes away. More.
Buck's hand lands in his hair, tugging at the roots of it.
"A dozen broken traffic laws," he says, and Eddie hums, letting his eyes fall shut. "I don't know, I told him something came up."
And Eddie snorts out a laugh, even though – it's a little mean. He knows. He doesn't care. He really, really doesn't, because Buck is here with him in his house and belongs to him.
“Is this what they mean about ruining the friendship?” he asks after a moment. "Because we should've done it years ago."
Buck tugs at his hair again, then lets him go. Eddie opens his eyes.
“I don’t know," Buck says. "But I think I’m going to ruin the rug if we don’t move soon.”
A smile twitches at the edges of his mouth, and Eddie – he has to kiss him again. He has to.
“Next time,” Eddie says, muffled against his lips. “We can try to make it to the couch next time.”
Next time, and next time, and next time.