Work Text:
The faire is Chim’s idea.
He gets it in his head that it would be the ultimate team bonding experience.
“The 118 back in action,” Buck agrees. “And closer than ever before.”
“I’ll say,” Hen says, eyeing where Buck leans heavily into her side, an arm around her neck. “It’s been, what, 18 hours since we’ve seen each other?”
“18 hours too long for Buck, I’ll bet,” Eddie says. Buck tosses a piece of straw at him playfully.
They make their way through security. It’s been unseasonably rainy and Eddie has to skip and hop over dirty puddles. Hen and Buck head through one line and out of sight, while Eddie gets stuck behind Chim as security meticulously zip ties the hidden daggers in his cane, pipe, and boot. He’s in full Dickensian regalia, a blue and silver brocade vest over a button-up shirt with a black tailcoat, matching silk top hat, and accessories. Eddie can’t imagine how much the whole get-up cost him.
“So you’re really into this sort of thing, huh?” Eddie asks once they make it through to the others. Chim grins and gives a little twirl, coattails flapping.
“Oh, you bet. Maddie and I went last year dressed as Wesley and Buttercup.”
“I thought Maddie wasn’t one for costumes,” Hen says.
“She isn’t, normally,” Chim admits. “But I dangled Jee as the R.O.U.S. like a carrot.” Hen and Eddie nod in understanding, sagely accepting that it’d take nerves of steel to withstand that, but Buck frowns.
“Who?” he says. Chim groans.
“You’re hopeless, Buck. Besides, it’s the ren faire! Dressing up is part of the experience.”
“People really go all out, don’t they?” Buck asks, eyeing a teenager who passes them wearing a 2-foot diameter hat decorated to look like an inky black toadstool.
“Isn’t that the whole point?” Hen says. Her outfit isn’t quite as ostentatious as Chim’s, but her embossed leather vest, knee-high brown and red boots, and golden elf ears are clearly well-made.
“Exactly!” Chim says triumphantly. “It’s about the pageantry.”
Privately, Eddie agrees. He jumps at any opportunity to dress up, but it’s not as if his closet is overflowing with renaissance faire-ready garb. Hen and Karen were nice enough to lend him a v-necked, Mr. Darcy-esque blouse, and with the hem tucked into a pair of high-waisted leather pants he thinks he fits the part, even if his sneakers are sadly off-theme.
Minus the shoes, the outfit weirdly reminds him of his ballroom dancing days, donning fitted trousers and open-collared shirts – velvet-trimmed if he was lucky, unadorned if he was not. It was comfortable and practical for dancing, but Eddie secretly envied the girls for their flounced, bejeweled dresses, dyed in parrot-vivid colors rather than Eddie’s more boring black and white. The only thing they shared in common was shellacking their hair to their skulls to keep it in place.
Eddie would ask his mom to add a little more flair to his costumes – a ruffle, some embroidered trim, maybe a few Swarovski crystals – but Helena always declined.
“If you want to win, Eddie,” she said briskly, fusing the hairspray to his scalp with a dryer in the bathroom of a Houston Hyatt, “you need to let the girls shine. This is what the boys have always worn.” Eventually, Eddie quit competitive dancing and left the fitted but plain costumes behind. It’s a little funny that he’s wearing almost the same uniform today.
Buck’s outfit is even less impressive than Eddie’s. He was excited to come, but also somewhat lacking in the wardrobe department and too big and broad for anything borrowed to fit him. He opted for his usual pants and t-shirt, but with what Hen referred to as a pirate’s sash, red and woven, wrapped around his hips. He keeps eyeing the swords they pass as if tempted to add to his ensemble.
“Buck, no,” Eddie warns as Buck swings a greataxe with a look of awe on his face. “You’ll be paying that off for the next three years.”
“Do you think they’d let us use these at work?” Buck wonders aloud.
“I’d support that,” Chim says. “Way more glamorous.”
“Buck, you already have more fun destroying things than I think the department would like,” Hen says.
“What can I say?” Buck grins. “I love my job.” He grabs a rapier with an elegant, sweeping hilt and strikes a dramatic pose.
“Okay, Captain Morgan,” Eddie whistles.
“Pirates are kind of like the firefighters of the open seas,” Buck says matter-of-factly. Chim snaps his fingers and points at him in agreement. Hen snorts.
“I don’t think that’s true,” she says.
“If we were on the open seas,” Eddie muses, “wouldn’t all the water mean there’s no need for firefighters?”
“Not necessarily!” Buck says cheerfully. “Did you know that 2022 had the highest recorded number of ship fires in the past 10 years? On a ship, you’re trapped in an enclosed space. The smoke inhalation is the real danger. Even if you do manage to get outside for some breathable air, there isn’t anywhere you can go. And if you tried to put it out using water, then you’ve got water inside the ship instead of outside, in which case you’re definitely going to sink.” Eddie watches Buck infodump with a fond smile on his face.
“You researched this after the cruise ship disaster, didn’t you?” he asks. Buck shrugs nonchalantly.
“I like to be prepared.”
Chim makes a beeline for the first stall selling alcohol, he and Hen opting for mulled wine while Buck grabs an IPA. Eddie ponders the menu for a moment, initially opening his mouth to ask for a beer as well before his eye catches on a cranberry cider on the menu.
Why not? Eddie likes sweet. He’s choosing juice and whatnot.
“When the kids are away,” Chim says, “the adults will play. First-time ren faire attendees take note: drinking is half the fun.”
The kids are away. It’s one of those rare days off where their schedules happen to align with each other, meaning they didn’t have to wrangle babysitters in order to make a 118 trip.
Christopher has been a real social butterfly since coming home. It seems like he’s catching up with a friend or going to a concert every other week these days. It still feels like Eddie’s lost a limb, having Christopher out of his sight for longer than ten minutes, but he’s glad that his son has slotted back into life in L.A. so quickly.
Eddie can’t quite say the same for himself. He’s happy – Eddie sometimes can’t quite believe how happy – but it’s been an adjustment. He can see his son growing up before his eyes, turning into a young man, and Eddie feels like he’s going through that same stage of development at 34. It’s a lot to handle, but he’s learning to embrace the changes.
Realizing he’s gay was a big one. It explains a lot about his life up to this point. It’s like he’s finally been gifted the missing puzzle piece that makes the picture come together. Eddie feels like he’s still getting to know himself, but maybe for the first time, the uncertainty about the path ahead doesn’t really bother him. He’s ready to meet the challenges as they come.
Dating Buck has also been a change.
Eddie’s used to relationships feeling suffocating and exhausting – with hindsight, now he knows why – but things with Buck have been so easy. They still talk and laugh and bicker like they always have, but now their inside jokes are punctuated by handholds instead of fist bumps and their post-fight reconciliations are punctuated by sex marathons instead of movie marathons.
At least they feel like marathons to Eddie. He’s never had so much sex in his life – and yeah, maybe there was a reason for that. Either way, every day he’s newly grateful that this is his life, that he gets to receive so much joy and do it with ease.
Maybe Eddie shouldn’t be surprised. He and Buck have always been in sync, at least once Buck stopped feeling the need to mark his territory. They always know exactly how much they can tease, how far a joke can go, how much pressure to apply to make each other better. And even when one of them crosses a line, they can always find their way back. Eddie’s never felt so safe with another person.
Christopher is the only one they’ve told so far. Eddie refused to enter into a relationship without being completely honest and transparent with his son. Eddie workshopped a whole speech with Buck, ready to tell Christopher how much he loved him and that he never wanted to do anything that would make him uncomfortable, but Christopher was incredibly mature about it.
“Okay, dad,” he said. “Thanks for telling me. Can I hang out with Marcus this weekend?” Eddie couldn’t hold himself back from giving his son a big bear hug. Christopher groaned and protested as Eddie kissed the top of his head with a mwah!
“God, I love you, kid. How did I get so lucky?”
With the most important person in his life aware and accepting, Eddie feels like he’s floating on air. He’ll tell everyone else in his own time.
For today, Eddie’s happy to enjoy himself.
“Actually,” Buck is saying in response to Chim, “Hen and I have already been to the faire.”
“I know,” Chim says. “And neglected to invite me or Eddie along.” Eddie raises both hands defensively.
“Hey, I’m not mad about it.” Truth be told, he hadn’t spent as much time with Buck as usual that year, still getting used to being back at the 118. There was some weirdness between them after Eddie got back – maybe Buck was still smarting from Eddie’s decision to leave, maybe Eddie wasn’t sure where he stood after coming back with his tail between his legs – either way, with everything going on around them, they were like two ships passing in the night. Until the lightning strike happened and Eddie became Buck’s safe space again, renaissance faires seemed to be out of the question.
“Either way, now’s the perfect opportunity!” Chim insists. “It’s good to keep up our rapport outside of work hours.” Hen looks incredulous.
“I don’t think our rapport is in any danger of losing its potency,” she says.
“You’re angling for that promotion, aren’t you?” Eddie asks Chim.
“I can’t deny that the captain’s helmet would look dashing against my facial features.”
“Isn’t it basically the same as a regular helmet?” Buck asks, confused.
“Not the point.”
“And you’re forgetting it could be me wearing that helmet,” Hen adds. She and Chim have been playfully bickering about it for the past few weeks, despite Hen telling anyone and everyone that she doesn’t want the position. At this point, Eddie isn’t sure if she’s changed her mind or just enjoys keeping Chim on his toes.
“In your dreams, Wilson,” Chim counters. “That title is as good as mine.”
“You have competition to worry about,” Hen says. “At least me, if not–” She gestures toward Buck and Eddie.
“Oh, no way. This is between you two,” Eddie says. “May the best paramedic win.”
“Yeah, count me out,” Buck adds, accepting the turkey leg from the seller with a smile and taking an enormous bite. Eddie busies himself with grabbing a stack of napkins while Hen and Chim look at Buck as if he’s grown another head.
“Eddie I buy, but you, not care about being captain?” Hen asks.
“Yeah, what gives?” Chim says. “Normally you’d be extolling the virtues of the Buckley method by now.”
“Oh, I’m not going up for that,” Buck answers. He strolls toward the neighboring jewelry stall while Hen and Chim stare at him blankly.
It’s something Buck and Eddie talked about – even though their relationship is private for the time being, eventually they’ll want to tell people and that means paperwork. More importantly, it means if they want to keep working together for the foreseeable future, no promotions just yet.
“I’m not interested,” Buck elaborates, shrugging.
“Not that I’m not thrilled to be spared from the tyranny of Clipboard Buck,” Chimney says, “but why?”
“Yeah, weren’t you gunning hard for it a few years ago?” Hen asks, suspicious.
“I changed my mind,” Buck says. “There are other things more important to me right now than being captain.” Eddie has to turn away from the group to hide his smile, pretending to focus very intently on a pegboard of delicate silver necklaces.
“Okay,” Hen says uncertainly. “I guess congrats on the self-actualization.”
“Or maybe not,” Chim interjects. “Is this where we find out you’ve joined a cult?”
Buck tells them about the history of cults in the American West as they head to the first joust of the day, Chim insisting that it’ll be less crowded than the later ones on the schedule. Eddie winces as he settles on the bleachers, shifting to try and find a comfortable position. He bumps shoulders with Buck when he catches sight of the smirk on his face.
“Buck…” he warns.
“I didn’t say anything,” Buck says, but the nonchalant way his eyes flit around the field is belied by how he presses the entire side of his leg, hip to ankle, against Eddie’s.
Eddie’s bones still feel like Jell-O from this morning. Buck woke him with a languid kiss, pulling Eddie’s lower lip between his teeth.
“Morning,” Buck said, his voice still gravelly from sleep.
“Morning,” Eddie said. Buck pressed his lips to the crease between his brows as Eddie yawned and stretched. “What time is it?”
“7:30,” Buck mumbled, already leaving a trail of kisses down Eddie’s chest.
“I thought we weren’t leaving until 9:00,” Eddie said.
“We aren’t,” Buck agreed. “I just thought we could make better use of our time than sleeping.” He looked at Eddie with one eyebrow cocked.
“Oh, you did, did you?” Eddie said. Buck shrugged.
“I’m open to alternate suggestions,” he said, leaning back on his haunches to remove his shirt. Eddie shivered.
“I’ll let you know,” Eddie said, then spent the next hour whimpering as Buck fucked into him from behind, one arm acting as Eddie’s pillow and the other intertwining their fingers. They were out the door by 9:07, the passenger seat in Buck’s car lovingly cushioned by a pillow.
“Your highness,” Buck said, gesturing for Eddie to climb in with a flourish. “Your carriage awaits.” Eddie knew his face had to be bright red, but he secretly enjoyed having Buck fawn over him. It made Eddie flustered, but it felt safe to have Buck act like that in private, with just the two of them to witness it.
Even now, the simple act of Buck maintaining innocuous physical contact while they watch the joust is enough to make Eddie’s heart sing. They aren’t quite ready to make things public, but Eddie already knows once they’re in the privacy of the car he’ll be holding Buck’s hand the whole way home.
The joust ends with their pair of knights winning. Eddie’s mood is high, his blood pumping as they leave the tourney grounds. Hen is itching to check out some of the sellers. Karen has tasked her with replacing a bodice chiller that was left in the freezer until it rusted. Eddie helps her pick out one stamped with a pewter rose on top.
“Thanks, Eddie,” Hen says, pressing a soft hand to his inner elbow.
Afterward, Chim directs the group toward a vendor with a variety of knit garments. Ever since the pregnancy, Maddie has complained of feeling cold while she breastfeeds. Chim wants to get her a poncho that’ll keep her warm, but still allow her to feed the baby. Eddie finds one hidden behind a row of navy blue scarves. It’s made of soft merino wool, dyed in blended shades of coffee, cream, and pumpkin.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Chim says with a smile. “Maddie’ll love it.”
They pass a stall with a variety of hats – pirate tricorns, baker’s caps, Victorian top hats – and Chim stops to model a Steampunk monstrosity, decked out in gears and chains and leather patches, while Hen and Buck go for pirate hats trimmed with colorfully dyed ostrich feathers.
“Good morrow, traveler. Wouldst thou like to try something on?” the salesperson asks jovially. Eddie shakes his head.
“Oh, no, I’m with them,” Eddie says. He knows he doesn’t have the cash right now for something like this.
“He definitely does,” Hen interrupts. “Come on, Eddie, try something.” She passes him a multicolored jester’s cap hung with jingling silver bells. Buck places it on his head and gravity pulls it into a jaunty tilt. Buck flicks at one of the bells to hear it ring.
“I don’t think that one’s for him,” Chim says doubtfully. “I think Buck is more the fool.”
“Ha, ha,” Buck says. “What about this one?” He replaces the jester’s cap with a blue wizard’s hat, tall and velvet and spattered with golden stars. It sags under its own weight, the point dipping flaccidly. When Eddie catches his reflection in the mirror he bursts into laughter.
“I look like Mickey Mouse.”
“Okay, fine,” Buck says. He disappears around the corner, presumably looking for an even sillier hat for Eddie to try, Hen and Chim in tow.
Eddie is left alone with a wall of hats. He lets his eyes wander over each one, studying the variety of shapes, colors, and decorations. He sees wide-brimmed leather hats, floppy cotton hats, woolen witch hats, and satiny headbands trimmed with pearls. But what catches his eye is in the top row – one of those Medieval princess hats, wrapped in iridescent pink silk and dressed with a delicate white veil. Eddie stretches up onto his tiptoes to grab it.
It’s the same sort of shape as the wizard’s hat, but the color palette is all different, a family of pale pinks, diaphanous whites, and shimmering golds. And where the wizard’s hat was floppy and plush, this one has fabric stretched taut over a stiff frame, giving it an upright conical shape. It’s a nice weight in his hand, the veil fluttering as Eddie moves it.
Peeking through the rows of hats, Eddie can see that the others are still preoccupied on the other side of the store. He lifts the hat and places it on top of his head, securing the chin strap and tossing the veil over his shoulder.
The hat is lovely. The pink is paler than that now coloring his cheeks, but it still complements them nicely, making his face look rosy and healthy. The chin strap is made of the same gauzy white fabric as the veil and drapes under his face in delicate folds. The gold trim on the base and crystals studded throughout make it sparkle in the overhead lights. Even the fabric on it has a slight shimmer, not a single tone of pink but woven with brilliant white.
More than that, Eddie feels – well, he feels pretty wearing it. “Princess hat” really is the best way to describe it. He gazes at his reflection in the mirror, turning this way and that to admire the details and let the veil dance behind him, gossamer-light. His breath catches in his throat.
“I see milord has taken an interest in one of our hennins,” the salesperson says, taking him by surprise. “The hat base is made of stiff buckram to give it structure, so you don’t have to worry about it getting crushed.”
“Oh, I wasn’t–” Eddie begins, ready to take the hat off, but at that moment the others materialize on his side of the store.
“Oh, wow, Eddie.”
“Looking good!”
“That’s actually really beautiful.”
As much as they were teasing him over silly hats before, there’s no judgment in the others’ voices. Their wolf whistles and comments are entirely genuine. It’s not at all surprising – the 118 are possibly the most open, accepting people Eddie has ever known – but it still warms his heart to have them compliment him. He feels himself relax.
“That one looks so nice on you,” Hen says, as easily as if she were complimenting a new pair of pants or a nice tie.
“Do you think you’ll get it?” Chim asks, just as earnest.
“Oh!” Eddie says. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” Buck frowns. “Do you like it?”
Yes, Eddie should say. It could be so easy. But he does have a legitimate reason not to buy it. He’s been working hard recently to let himself have nice things, but he still wants to be responsible with his money. He has a kid to take care of and an impulsive dual cross country move to pay off. He looks at the price tag – $140 – and decides there are cheaper ways to treat himself.
“It’s really not in my budget right now,” he says. “But it is beautiful.” Chim nods sympathetically.
“Been there. That’s the classic renaissance faire conundrum.”
“There’s always next year, right?” Hen says with a reassuring squeeze to his forearm. “Let’s take a business card so we know which shop to come back to.”
“Right,” Eddie says, a little wistful. It’s silly, but part of him feels like even if he comes back later and manages to find the same style of hat, he’s losing something in declining to get a piece of art that, even for a moment, felt so transformative. Maybe the magic will be gone. He sighs and reaches up to place the hat back on its stand, letting the smooth, cool fabric of the veil brush across the back of his hand one more time. When he turns, Hen and Chim have continued walking but Buck is still there, looking at him intently. Eddie taps Buck’s wrist with his fingers twice as he passes.
“Let’s go,” he says.
It seems as if the rest of the day becomes a test of Eddie’s financial fortitude. No matter who he’s with – Buck, Hen, Chim, or the whole group – it’s as if weak resolve against pretty things is written on his forehead because every seller goes straight to him rather than one of the others. One shop tries to sell him on a silver crescent moon necklace. He’s able to talk himself out of that one easily, hooking one thumb in the chain of his St. Christopher medallion.
“I’ve got my jewelry, thanks.”
Another notices the way Eddie’s squinting into the sun – having unfortunately forgotten his sunglasses today – and tries to bargain with him for a parasol. They’re all beautiful – lace or painted paper or sequined fabric – and Eddie has to tear himself away from the very persistent owner.
The group has reconvened late in the afternoon and are in line for corn on the cob when Eddie and Hen’s conversation on the merits of mayonnaise on corn is interrupted.
“Rose?”
Eddie whips his head around to see a vendor with the faire, dressed in colorful patchwork clothing and carrying a straw basket filled with red flowers.
“Does milord have a lady he’d like to court?” the flower seller asks with a curious look toward Hen.
“I have a lady of my own,” Hen says. “No, thanks.” The seller turns back to Eddie.
“Then for yourself?” she presses. “A beautiful flower for a beautiful flower?” Hen and Chim cackle at that.
“He matches it color-wise at least,” Chim says, with a nod to Eddie’s blush.
“I’m good, thanks,” Eddie says.
“I’ll take one,” Buck interrupts, passing the seller a crisp $5 bill and carefully picking a rose with blood-red, velveteen petals and glossy green leaves.
“For my lady,” he says, presenting the flower to Eddie with a flourish. Eddie’s face grows hot. This isn’t too dissimilar from how Buck behaved before they were together – he’s always been flirty and teasing with Eddie – so it’s not nervousness about the possibility of the others finding out about their relationship that’s making Eddie flustered.
He’s inordinately pleased and would rather not examine that.
“Careful,” Hen warns. “Soon Buck’ll be calling us all lords and ladies during work hours.”
“It’s fun!” Buck says. He buys two more roses and presents them to Hen and Chim with the same “for my lady” and bow. Buck is just as over-the-top silly with them, but Eddie still has that blissful feeling bubbling up in his belly.
Hen and Chim head to the fire whip show while Buck and Eddie beg off, Buck saying there’s a stall he absolutely has to show Eddie. He leads Eddie toward the edge of the grounds, past booths and stages, back near the jousting area. It’s quiet now with no jousts scheduled, everyone off at other shows or shopping.
Buck stops at the edge of the clearing and puts his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. Eddie watches a bee trail lazily around Buck’s head, landing on one of his curls and flitting its iridescent wings. He has to smile at the sight.
“So what is it?”
“Hmm?” Buck asks distractedly.
“What’d you want to show me?” Eddie says, amused now.
“Oh!” Buck says. “I got you something.” He presents Eddie with a black plastic bag, looking for all the world like a dog offering up a tennis ball. Buck’s been carrying it most of the day, Eddie realizes, but he had figured it was something Buck got for himself.
“Is this a one-month anniversary gift?” Eddie asks.
“You could say that,” Buck says. “Look inside.” Eddie opens the bag and is met with wispy white fabric blooming from a pink cone.
“You didn’t…” Eddie says, but already he’s touching the hat, letting his fingers run through the slippery veil.
“A-and that’s not all,” Buck says, beaming with pride. “You gotta look underneath it.”
There’s a nest of white fabric below. When Eddie pulls it out of the bag, it unfurls to reveal it’s a long shirt with elbow-length, ruffled sleeves. Eddie isn’t an expert on renaissance faire garb, but the ruffles and gathers make it obvious this is a woman’s shirt. He shifts on his feet, pleased but embarrassed.
“There’s more!” Buck says excitedly. Underneath, Eddie sees a tightly wound ball of fabric. He unrolls it to find a pair of long socks, cream-colored and embroidered at the ankle with purple-pink flowers. A paper tag is stitched into the seam with a watercolor sketch of the same flowers.
Lilac, it reads. Rebirth, renewal, new beginnings.
Next to it is a corset, laced in the front with a golden cord and made with tie-on shoulder straps. The fabric is upholstery-tough, tapestry-like, covered in wide, romantic blossoms in shades of rose and lavender, all over an off-white background. Eddie can feel long, stiff bones in the garment, there to shape him finely. He’s a little lightheaded with his own eagerness.
The last thing in the bag is a skirt, floor-length with an elasticated waist. It’s a similar shade to the lilacs, slubbed here and there with fibers in a darker pink color.
“It’s one size fits all so I was a little worried about the fit,” Buck explains, “but I told the seller your waist measurement and she said the elastic will be plenty comfortable.”
Eddie doesn’t even think to question why Buck knows his waist measurement. Instead, he starts doing mental math to try and figure out exactly how many dollars’ worth of clothing are in this bag.
“Buck, how much did you spend?”
“I told you my credit score was terrible,” Buck says. “I wanted to get you something nice. And, well, one something turned into another something turned into another something and by that point I figured I might as well complete the outfit.”
“No shoes?” Eddie jokes. He backpedals when he catches sight of the stricken look on Buck’s face. “Buck, I’m kidding.”
“Okay, good,” Buck says with a laugh. “Those can be next, if you want. I just didn’t want to risk getting anything if it wouldn’t fit perfectly. Comfortable shoes are the most important part of an outfit! If they don’t fit just right it can cause bunions, plantar fasciitis, or back pain.”
“I know,” Eddie says, amused. “You told me last time we took Chris to WSS for back-to-school shopping.”
“Anyway,” Buck says, shy now, “you’ve been working so hard lately and I know you get stressed about money sometimes. I wanted to be able to give you something that you could just accept, you know? Without having to think about it.” He toes at a piece of gravel on the ground, hands in his pockets. Eddie can’t believe he’s real.
He pulls Buck into a hug, the sides of their faces touching and their hearts aligned. He rubs his free hand up and down Buck’s back and his whole body warms at the pleased sigh Buck does in his ear. They stand like that for a long moment, letting the balmy breeze wash over them and the sparse number of families chatter in the distance, unconcerned, before Eddie pulls back.
“Glad you like it,” Buck says. “I, uh… I’m gonna use the bathroom, but I’ll be right back and we can go meet Hen and Chim, okay?”
“Yeah,” Eddie says distractedly, still feeling all fuzzy inside. He continues looking through his bag of new things while Buck is gone – his lovely, beautiful things from his lovely, beautiful, financially irresponsible boyfriend. He loses himself in thought until Buck comes bounding back up, happy energy radiating off him.
“That might be the cleanest porta potty I’ve ever used,” Buck muses. “It must be the rain keeping everyone away from them.”
Buck is right. The ground around the triplet of porta potties is sodden and flooded, creating a labyrinth of puddles a good ten to fifteen feet in each direction. It looks as though no one’s been using these all day.
“Actually,” Eddie says slowly, a lightbulb forming, “I think I’ll use it, too.”
“Okay,” Buck says, “I’ll wait for you. Do you want me to hold your bag?”
“Nope, I’ve got it.”
Eddie can feel his heart thumping a club beat in his chest as he closes the door behind himself and starts to strip. He carefully folds his borrowed shirt and pushes it to the bottom of the bag, the pants soon joining after he peels them off his legs. Eddie very carefully stands on top of his sneakers so as not to touch the floor of the porta potty with his bare feet, although he feels a little silly for that when he thinks about what he’s planning on doing in here.
The shirt goes on first. The fabric is light and cool, probably cotton, with elastic at the neckline and around the biceps. When he pulls it on, it slides off his shoulders fluidly, exposing his shoulders and collarbone. It hangs down past his knees, looking very boudoir-esque with its sweeping drapes and tightly ruffled sleeves. The hem brushes against his bare legs and Eddie feels a thrumming somewhere deep in his belly – anticipation, perhaps, or else excitement.
Eddie rolls the stockings up his calves. They come up to his mid-thigh, the band at the top snug against his hamstrings. The embroidered lilacs hug the side of his ankle. Eddie’s loath to cover even a portion of them with his shoes, so he abandons all sense of propriety and kicks them over to the wall.
Eddie debates whether to put the corset or skirt on next. He’s seen enough people today wearing their corsets on the outside that eventually he reaches for the skirt to start. Whichever salesperson Buck talked to was correct – it fits like a dream, elastic hugging his waist comfortably. Even at his height, it almost skims the ground.
The corset is the scariest part. Eddie probably spends a good five minutes trying to figure out how to tie it, eventually deciding to mimic the crisscross pattern of his shoelaces. He starts at the bottom, threading the cord through each hole carefully. Tying the bow at the top feels somehow final, as if he’s crossed some intangible threshold. He places a palm across his breast to soothe the jackrabbiting of his heart.
By the time he’s finished, Eddie’s convinced fifteen minutes had to have passed. Thank God Buck has the attention span of a gnat and is probably already preoccupied reading some obscure Wikipedia article on his phone. Peeking through the crack, Eddie can see that Buck appears to be doing just that, staring at his phone screen with a look of intense concentration.
Maybe he can ask Buck what he was reading, later.
He saves the hat for last, sweeping his hair back and setting it in place. The chin strap feels just as silky and luxurious as before – maybe even more so, now that he’s putting it on in such an unromantic setting.
Eddie catches his reflection in the small square of mirrored glass mounted on the wall. The sun shining through the blue plastic of the john neutralizes the warm color of his hat, making it look more gray than pink, but Eddie still feels that pleased buzz from before. More than just looking attractive or put together, he looks happy.
“Buck!” he calls.
“Yeah?” comes Buck’s voice from just outside. Through the narrow gap by the door, Eddie can see the side of his face. “You good?”
“Actually, can you come in?” Eddie says, his mouth dry. “I, uh – I need help with something.”
“Sure,” Buck says, sounding concerned now. “You okay?”
“Yep. The door’s unlocked, come on in.” Eddie feels almost giddy as he watches Buck open the door and freeze when he catches sight of Eddie. Buck blinks very hard three times, but makes no move, either to step further in or back out.
“Come on, you’re letting all the bugs in,” Eddie says, grabbing the front of Buck’s shirt and yanking so the door can slam closed behind him. They’re cast once again in that soft blue light. With the door closed, Eddie’s breathing sounds so much louder.
“Oh,” Buck says eventually. “D-does it, uh, does it fit okay?”
“It does,” Eddie says. “You did a great job picking these. Thanks, Buck.” His stomach flutters at the bashful way Buck tilts his head down.
“Wow, Eddie,” Buck breathes. “You look…” He trails off, gaze wandering up and down Eddie’s body like he doesn’t know where to focus first.
“Good, I hope,” Eddie says.
“That’s a given.” Buck leans forward, raising one hand tentatively as if afraid to touch before he drops it, clenching his fingers into a fist momentarily. “Can you breathe in that?”
“Yeah, actually,” Eddie laughs. He always figured corsets would be painful from what he saw in movies growing up and he supposes if he tightened it further it would quickly stop being comfortable, but as it’s laced now he feels like he’s getting a firm hug. It’s as if his torso is wrapped in a weighted blanket.
It does shift the way he breathes. Eddie is used to pulling slow, deep breaths from his diaphragm, but with the pressure around his midsection, he instead takes shorter, more shallow ones. It has the unintentional side effect of making his chest heave like a heroine in a bodice ripper. Buck’s eyes are glued to Eddie’s newfound cleavage, his lips parted.
“My eyes are up here,” Eddie says, a little gleeful. Buck’s gaze snaps to Eddie’s, a delighted grin slowly forming on his face.
Eddie pushes him back against the door and slides the lock into place. There’s a muffled thud as Buck’s head makes contact with the door. It’s one of those larger portable toilets, but still a tight fit for two people. Eddie happily encroaches on Buck’s space, letting his hand slip beneath the hem of Buck’s t-shirt to graze the softness of his stomach. He feels it jump beneath his palm and trails a meandering path down the coarse strip of hair leading toward Buck’s waistband.
Eddie shivers when he feels an answering touch on his waist. The sensation is muted through the corset fabric, but leaves a tingling sensation on his skin.
“Now?” Buck laughs. “I didn’t think you’d be into that kind of thing.”
“I wanted to say thank you,” Eddie says, the tips of his ears hot.
“I didn’t do it for that,” Buck says seriously. “I–I could tell you wanted the hat and then I saw so many other cool things today that I thought you might like–”
“Buck,” Eddie interrupts. “I know. I just figured… no one’s around, you know? Who knows when we might get to try something like this again?” And who knows when Eddie will work up the courage to try something like this again? He feels emboldened today, brave. He wants to do something a little crazy.
“Well,” Buck says, eyes flashing, “your wish is my command.” He wraps a hand around the back of Eddie’s neck, the nail on his middle finger scraping lightly at Eddie’s hairline. Eddie closes his eyes and sighs.
“If we’re gonna do this,” Buck says, “you’re gonna have to keep the volume down. Do you think you can do that for me?”
“Hey,” Eddie protests weakly, “you’re just as loud as I am.”
“But I have excellent self-control,” Buck says proudly. Eddie snorts.
“Yeah, okay.”
“I’ve been keeping my hands to myself all day, haven’t I?” Buck says. His words are accompanied by a slow slide of his palms up Eddie’s thighs, rucking up Eddie’s skirt to his hips. Buck groans when he meets bare flesh, realizing that Eddie’s gone commando under the skirt.
“You’re going to kill me,” he says, kneading into Eddie’s ass.
“What happened to self-control?” Eddie’s snarky quip dies a pathetic death in his throat when Buck spins him around and guides his head down and against the opposite wall. Buck’s broad hand presses onto the back of Eddie’s neck, fingers woven into his hair, before it departs, trusting that Eddie will stay where he’s been put. Eddie is thankful that the toilet seat is mercifully closed.
“Not a whole lot of room in here,” Buck says, “but we’ll make do.” The plastic floor creaks as Buck kneels behind him. Eddie’s heart slams against the bars of its enclosure like a rabid animal as Buck slides his hands up and down the back of Eddie’s thighs, moving the skirt out of the way agonizingly slowly. He can feel his legs start to tremble.
“Buck–” he begs.
“I know, baby,” he says, voice dripping with sympathy. “Just let me enjoy this a little.” He presses his lips to the divot just below Eddie’s right ass cheek, making a seal with his mouth and sucking hard. Eddie feels the gooseflesh rise on his skin.
“God,” he chokes. Buck laughs behind him, a rush of air against Eddie’s hole, hot and damp, that makes him squirm. A full-body shudder goes through him. He always gets that hazy anticipation in the moments before Buck baptizes him with his mouth, like the exhale before pulling a trigger.
It’s just as good as it always is. Buck presses his tongue into Eddie’s body and suddenly there’s no room for the air in his lungs, for the blood flow in his hands and feet. It all gets forced out of him in a single, shaky breath, happily making space for whatever Buck sees fit to give him.
Buck eats ass like he eats everything else – sloppy, passionate, with single-minded determination. It reminds Eddie of the way Buck devours wings when they do comfort food nights at the firehouse, pulling at the skin with his teeth and sucking the grease from each of his fingers with a wet pop. He sinks his teeth into Eddie’s flesh and salivates over his cleft, flattening his tongue and dragging it vertically to catch every drop of the mixture of drool and sweat on Eddie’s skin.
Buck loses himself in it every time, emerging with his eyes fogged over, mouth red and slick. Eddie can’t see Buck right now, but he can picture the dreamy expression that must be on his face. Eddie’s sure he doesn’t look much better.
The human tongue is a muscle and Buck exercises it well. He grips Eddie’s ass cheeks with both hands, spreading him wide to get a better view. Eddie can feel the cool air on his hole as Buck sits back for a moment, breathing heavily. Eddie clenches instinctively under Buck’s gaze.
“Fuck,” Buck moans. There’s a rush of cool air as he stands, shimmying to try and retrieve something from his pants pocket. Eddie drops his head down to rest on the ledge, letting his heart rate return to something resembling normalcy.
He hears the quiet snick of a flip-top bottle opening and peeks over his shoulder to see Buck squirting lube onto his fingers from a travel-sized container.
“Someone was optimistic.”
“The guy at the security checkpoint certainly thought so,” Buck says. Eddie breaks down into hysterical giggles at the thought of some stern employee judging Buck for his pocket lube. Buck shushes him, but he’s smiling, too.
That’s the other great thing about sex with Buck, that laughing through it only makes it better. Eddie’s never experienced that before.
“Checking in,” Buck says with a gentle squeeze to Eddie’s hip. He’s always doing that, making sure Eddie’s enjoying himself.
“Yeah,” Eddie says, a lump in his throat – the good kind, for once. “I’m ready.”
Buck inserts a finger, stout and thick, the fingers on his other hand splayed wide across Eddie’s lower back like he’s staking a claim. Eddie arches his back, reveling in it.
“Come on, Buck,” he grits out.
Buck moves it in and out slowly, frustratingly slow. Eddie wiggles a bit to try and speed things up, but Buck holds him in place with a firm hand and clucks his tongue.
“Hurry up,” Eddie complains. Buck always takes forever fingering him open or eating him out, too enamored with whatever mysteries he encounters venturing into Eddie’s asshole. Sometimes Eddie thinks Buck would climb inside him and live there permanently if he could. He doesn’t dislike the idea.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Buck says, though he’s adding a second finger, scissoring with a slick, rhythmic sound.
“I’m still loose from this morning,” Eddie insists. “Please.”
“Eddie…” Buck whines, dropping his head to hit the edge of the seat with a thunk.
“Sorry,” Eddie says, unapologetic. He shifts again and Buck kisses each of his dimples of Venus.
“Funny, I don’t think you are,” Buck says and adds a third finger. It goes in as easy as the first two, a welcome pressure inside of Eddie’s body. “God, you are loose.”
“Exactly,” Eddie pants, turning to look at Buck indignantly. “So what’s the hold up?” Buck thrusts his fingers a little harder, grinning wickedly at Eddie’s moan, before pulling them out. Eddie gasps at the feeling of emptiness.
“If my lady commands,” Buck says with a slight bow. Eddie can feel his face heat at the comment. Buck helps Eddie stand with gentle hands, tilting his chin up to capture his mouth in a bruising kiss. Eddie tries to follow when Buck pulls away, but Buck halts him with a hand on his chest.
“Slow your roll. I don’t want you overexerting yourself, that’s my job.” With that, Buck places his hands under Eddie’s ass and taps twice, a signal for Eddie to jump into his arms. Eddie does so willingly, settling easily in Buck’s grip, Buck’s hard cock nestled between his cheeks. Buck spins 180 degrees to press Eddie against the closed door, the plastic warm from the sun even through Eddie’s clothes.
“There we go,” Buck says. “Make yourself comfortable.” He reaches down to let the head of his cock brush against Eddie’s rim, rubbing up and down to spread the lube, saliva, and precum. Eddie holds his breath in anticipation.
The press, when it comes, knocks the wind out of him. He lets his head fall back to hit the door, the hat going askew at the motion. Gravity is Eddie’s friend, the magnetic force of the Earth pulling him down onto Buck’s cock with a sense of finality. He blinks hard, his eyes watering at the sensation, as Buck peppers his face and neck with kisses. Eddie is not small by any means, but Buck’s holding him up against the door without breaking a sweat. His hands are spread wide where they’re braced under Eddie’s thighs, fingers pressing firm into the skin. Eddie’s heart skips a beat at the thought that soon they’ll be marked with pretty purple splotches, a perfect match for his outfit. Eddie locks his ankles together behind Buck’s back.
“Okay,” he says shakily. “Go ahead.” Buck starts fucking him slow, careful to let Eddie adjust to the stretch. It’s a lovely burn, just as it always is. Eddie would never say it out loud, but he feels the most himself in these moments.
“I can hear you thinking,” Buck pants. “Tell me what you want, Eddie.”
Eddie feels nervous, like he’s about to bare his soul to Buck, but they’re already having sex in public. He’s already planning on spending the rest of his life with Buck. In for a penny, in for a pound.
“What you said earlier,” he says vaguely, “more of that.”
“You’re gonna have to be more specific,” Buck laughs on another thrust. Eddie swallows hard to steel himself.
“The my lady thing,” he says. “I liked it.” Buck grins toothily.
“Glad to hear it. Well, you are dressed like a princess. It only makes sense. Princess Eddie. Consider me your loyal servant.”
“Yeah,” Eddie says, overwhelmed.
“You look so pretty,” Buck murmurs. Eddie whines and Buck chuckles, not unkindly.
“You like me calling you pretty? It’s true. You’re the prettiest girl here.”
“Buck–”
“Shh, shh, shh,” Buck says. “God, you’re beautiful.” Eddie’s breath is punched out of him. Buck tightens his grip, hitching Eddie higher up in his grasp. His cock slides out for a second and Eddie cries out.
“Put it back, Buck, please,” he says, frustrated. He hates feeling empty like this, hates the terrifying feeling of loss. He flails his hand wildly, but over Buck’s arms, the angle is too awkward for him to put Buck back inside him.
“Yes, your highness,” Buck obeys. He taps the head of his cock against Eddie’s hole three, four times before sliding back in. “There we go. Nice and easy.” He fucks in sharp and sweet.
Eddie is on the precipice of orgasm when he hears voices coming from outside. Buck stops thrusting reluctantly, adjusting his hold as the voices grow closer. He’s gritting his teeth, clearly restraining himself.
“Hey, these don’t have a line!” someone yells. It’s a deep voice, but with the lazy, slurred speech of a young man. Drunk, most likely.
“But the puddles, bro,” says another guy, petulant.
Yes, Eddie thinks testily, the puddles, bro. Go find another toilet and let me have sex with my boyfriend in peace.
“Just do it, Dylan,” a third man says with a groan. “We’re not gonna find another empty one.”
“Fine,” the second guy – Dylan? – says, sounding much closer now. Eddie can just barely see the silhouette of a monk’s robe through the sliver by the door. It rattles as he tries to open it, then realizes it’s locked.
“Oops,” he says drunkenly. “Didn’t know somebody was in there.”
“Are you dumb?” one of his friends calls. “The thing is red.”
“Sorry,” Dylan says. Buck’s still lost somewhere inside his head, probably concentrating on not moaning out loud.
“No worries,” Eddie says for him. He sees the shadow retreat and hears the stall next to them open and then close. Eddie is briefly annoyed that he didn’t take the far toilet. There’s a drawn-out, quiet moment before the stream of urine starts.
Buck is still holding Eddie up, but his arms begin to tremble. Eddie has a feeling it’s from the mental effort of maintaining a grip on his arousal rather than the physical effort of supporting Eddie. He reaches up a hand to the side of Buck’s face, waiting until Buck looks up at him.
“You’re doing great,” he mouths. Buck bites his lip.
The splashing sound stops and then there’s a creak. Dylan must’ve sat down. Eddie sighs in frustration at the thought that it might be awhile before they’re alone again. This’ll teach him to try new things. Next time he can wait to satisfy his urges until they’re home, alone, behind a locked door.
Eddie starts to hear weird musical noises and sound effects coming from next door and scrunches his nose. Buck drops his head down to Eddie’s shoulder and shakes with silent laughter.
“What is it?” Eddie whispers, frowning.
“He’s scrolling through TikTok,” Buck wheezes. “Oh, my God.”
“Jesus Christ,” Eddie huffs under his breath. “Can people not go five minutes without their phones? In the bathroom, seriously?”
“Oh, please,” Buck says. “I know you watch cat videos in the can.”
“That’s different!” Eddie protests. “Those are… wholesome.”
“And TikTok isn’t?”
“Based on the vocabulary it’s giving my son, no, it isn’t.” Buck chuckles again.
“You’re adorable,” he says. He presses a soft kiss to Eddie’s temple, his jaw, the crinkle on the shell of his ear. He dips to Eddie’s collarbone, nosing at the seam of the shirt to suck a bruise on where the swell of his chest crests the top of the corset. He yanks at the ties of the corset with his teeth to loosen it, letting Eddie spill out over it.
“Good thing we’re alone,” he says, “or we’d be looking at indecent exposure charges.”
“Buck…” Eddie warns. Buck hums distractedly as he noses into Eddie’s armpit. He inhales deeply, nestling into the patch of hair, before licking. Eddie twitches, involuntarily tightening over Buck’s still-hard dick. Buck swears under his breath and fucks into Eddie in one smooth, driving motion.
“Shit, Buck,” Eddie hisses, “he’s still in there.”
“So?” Buck says with a shrug and another deep thrust, the tendons in his forearms flexing. “He’s busy.”
“I thought–” Eddie gasps, “had to be quiet.”
“I am being quiet,” Buck insists, pressing all the way into Eddie before rotating his hips with a low moan. Thank God their neighbor is uncouth enough to play videos at full volume in public or he might have heard. But there are gaps in the audio, now and then, Eddie thinks. He still could hear something. Part of Eddie is mortified at the thought of being caught, but another part of him is excited. What if this random stranger knows Eddie and Buck are having sex in here? What if he knows Eddie is getting fucked in a dress? What if he knows Eddie is enjoying it? This guy should be so lucky.
Buck hitches Eddie’s legs over his arms, the angle changing to let him push his cock that much deeper inside. Eddie stifles a groan at the unrelenting pressure against his prostate, curling his toes and burying his fingers in Buck’s hair. Buck delivers a hard thrust that has Eddie holding on for dear life, yanking at tufts of Buck’s hair until the skin of his scalp goes ghostly white from the strain.
“Careful,” Buck murmurs with a wince, “unless you want me going bald.”
“I’d still – oh, fuck – like you if you were bald.”
“Yeah?” Buck pants. “That’s good.”
“You’re good,” Eddie says stupidly, but Buck must like it anyway, if the whimper he lets out is any indication. It’s just barely covered by the pop song pitched up to chipmunk speed coming from Dylan’s phone.
“So good to me,” Eddie says. “Always, Buck. I’d like you if you were anything.”
He’s babbling now, speaking under his breath. Buck captures his mouth in a messy kiss, desperate and wanting. Eddie isn’t sure if Buck is still chasing some last-ditch attempt to keep quiet for the guy next to them or if he wants to preserve these words for a later moment, when it can be a private thing shared between just the two of them. Either way, he acquiesces, licking into Buck’s mouth wantonly.
The spin of the toilet paper roll rattles nearby and Buck slows to a sweet press, just as hard and deep as before but unhurried. His hips continue pistoning as the door bangs shut and their temporary guest retreats through the puddles with increasingly faint splashing sounds. He may have heard something. He may have heard everything. At the moment, Eddie is finding it difficult to care.
“Buck,” he finally says, louder, willing to take the risk that someone is still within earshot. “Fuck me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Buck fucks into him like he was born to it, like it’s his life’s purpose. Eddie can feel one of his stockings sliding down to his ankle, his chest heaving over the undone corset. The point of his hat taps against the door rhythmically as Buck’s cock sheaths and unsheathes. Eddie feels messy, unkempt.
“God, you have to wear this again,” Buck says. “The princess thing is really doing it for me.”
“Does that–” Eddie groans, “make you the prince?” Buck groans, pleased.
“I’m here to rescue you,” he says, panting heavily in Eddie’s ear. “I’ll steal you away.”
You already have, Eddie thinks, hysterically. All he can say is, “Yes, yes, Buck, yes.”
“You’ll be my wife,” Buck continues, emboldened by Eddie’s moans. “Fuck, Eddie, you’re so tight. I want to make you my wife.”
I was, I am, I will be.
“Buck–”
“What is it, baby?” Buck asks, shifting Eddie’s weight to one arm so he can wrap a hand around Eddie’s cock. Eddie whimpers as Buck jerks him hard and fast – almost too dry, perfect.
“God, yes,” Eddie says. “I want – oh, fuck.”
“What do you want? You gotta tell me or I won’t know.”
“Make me your wife,” Eddie says, his face on fire. “Get me pregnant.”
“You got it,” Buck says, gasping, with a twist of his wrist that makes Eddie see stars.
“Do you promise?”
“I do.”
Eddie’s orgasm hits him like a freight train. His whole body flashes hot and his vision goes white with it, spinning into maddening rapture. Buck holds him through it, murmuring in his ear, though Eddie’s so far gone Buck might as well be speaking another language. Eddie’s heartbeat pounds in his ears, blood rushing. He twitches in the wake of it, watching with half-lidded eyes as Buck lifts his hand where he caught Eddie’s release and cleans it with his tongue. He wipes the remainder on his pants, careful to keep Eddie’s clothes dry and out of the way.
“Checking in,” Buck says as he brushes at the tears on Eddie’s cheeks.
“Good,” Eddie says, tilting his head to kiss Buck’s fingers. “More than good.”
“You sure?”
“Definitely,” Eddie says with a wiggle. “Come on, I still need you to finish if we want it to take.” Buck stares at him, slack-jawed and blinking.
“Um… like a baby?” he asks.
“Well, yeah. You promised me.” Eddie feels powerful at the hungry moan that pulls out of Buck.
“God, Eddie,” Buck keens, fucking into Eddie with abandon. Eddie’s got that post-climax raw nerve twitchiness, but it makes it all the better. He squirms on Buck’s dick, oversensitive. He’s mesmerized by the flexing of Buck’s arms, his back, the tensing of his jaw.
Eddie has the sudden thought that this can be his life, forever, if he wishes it. He knows Buck cares about him, would do anything for him, whether it’s buying him something ridiculously expensive on a whim or saving his life on an L.A. street. Buck, as he often does, is offering his love and his life on a silver platter. All Eddie has to do is let himself accept it.
“I’d like that,” Eddie admits quietly, limbs loose and sore as the aftershocks start to fade, “being your wife. You take such good care of me, Buck.” Buck ducks his head into Eddie’s neck with a sob.
“Eddie, please,” he moans. His rhythm is sloppy and uncoordinated, his birthmark an angry red. Eddie can tell he’s getting close. He grabs Buck’s face with both hands and leans in close.
“I love you,” he says. Buck stiffens and comes inside him with a desperate whine. He keeps pumping long after the rush of hot cum has abated, rocking into Eddie in stuttering motions. Eddie presses their foreheads together, letting Buck come down from his orgasm.
“Did you–” Buck says, still gasping for air. “Are you sure?”
“Of course, Buck,” Eddie says. He brushes one of Buck’s curls away from his face.
“Me, too!” Buck blurts. “I mean, I love you. God, I love you, Eddie. So much.”
“I kinda figured,” Eddie says, though truthfully, whenever he’s reminded of how Buck feels for him it’s like he’s learning it for the first time. Eddie hopes desperately that the feeling will never fade. It’s the sweetest surprise he can imagine.
Buck stares at him, mouth agape, love shining wetly in his eyes. His soft cock is still inside Eddie. Eddie clenches down on it and is rewarded when Buck tightens his grip with a hiss.
“Marry me,” Buck says abruptly. “Like actually.”
“Right now?” Eddie laughs, glancing around at their surroundings. “Not sure this is the venue I would’ve picked.”
“Here, at the station, at a church, I don’t care where. This can be your wedding dress,” he says, indicating the hiked up skirt and half-unlaced corset. Eddie’s stomach does a flip.
“White’s more traditional,” he says.
“Who cares? You can wear whatever color you want,” Buck insists. “It’s our wedding.”
“Yeah,” Eddie says thoughtfully. He’s still on that learning curve, but it gets a little easier every day to choose for himself. Eddie doesn’t know if he’s riding high from his orgasm, from his love confession, or the simple act of being, but he feels his heart soar.
“I’m glad you agree,” Buck says. “It’d be a little embarrassing if we already had to divorce over irreconcilable differences before we’re even married.”
“Haven’t we already done that?” Eddie jokes. Buck’s chuckle is splendid enough that it makes up for the hollow feeling of his cock leaving Eddie’s body.
“I suppose you’re right,” Buck says.
“Once we’re married,” Eddie says, “that won’t be a problem anymore.” Buck swallows thickly.
“Do you need help changing back?” he asks. “I don’t know how to lace this thing up, but I’m sure I can undo it just fine.”
“No, I want to wear it out,” Eddie says. He yanks at the corset cord to tighten it again, reaching down to adjust his stockings before stepping back into his discarded sneakers. Buck’s answering smile is winsome, crooked, dimples on display.
“That’s a relief. I’d hate to think I spent all that money for nothing.”
It’s not until he opens the door and raises his foot to step outside that Eddie remembers the puddle. In his fitted pants it wasn’t a problem, but he doesn’t want to trail his pretty new skirt through muddy water. He could lift up the hem, but he pauses long enough that Buck notices. Unsurprisingly, Buck immediately picks up on his apprehension.
“Don’t worry, I gotcha,” Buck says, slipping one arm behind Eddie’s knees and lifting him into a bridal carry. Eddie wraps his arms around Buck’s neck and leans his head on his shoulder, secure in the knowledge that Buck won’t drop him.
“This is how I’m gonna carry you over the threshold when we get married,” Buck says. The words come out easily, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is.
“I can’t wait.”