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"Why do you do that?" asks Eddie.
"Do what?" replies Buck.
It's a sweltering hot day today, and someone's been kind enough to distribute popsicles to everyone at the firehouse. Twenty minutes later, the icy treat long since savoured and gone, Buck still has the stick sticking out his mouth while he's prepping for lunch. Rolling it around from one corner of his lips to the next, and turning it over again and again with his tongue — a thing to fiddle with. And Buck had barely noticed its exitence in his mouth. That is until Eddie's pointed question.
"I don't know. It's just something I keep in my mouth."
From the couch, Chimney chokes on his coffee.
"Yeah, yeah. Very funny," Buck turns to roll his eyes pointedly, but when he turns back Eddie's standing quite a bit closer than before.
Close enough that Eddie can reach out and hold the protruding bit of stick between his fingers, and — almost unkindly — steal it from lips with a quick tug.
"Hey!"
Eddie heeds him no mind. Both of them look down at the extracted object. It's a little damp with spit, and the end that had just been tucked cosily in Buck's cheek is chewed up all the way down, fraying into long splintering pieces.
"I don't think you're supposed to eat these Buck."
Buck flushes a little, under the sudden scrutiny. "I-I mean, I'm careful not to swallow the splinters and stuff. Although there was that time one got stuck … in my cheek … for a week."
"Buck."
"Okay. Fine. That one I was mostly done with anyways."
Eddie opens his mouth, and then closes it. Instead, he claps Buck on the shoulder and moves away to pour himself a glass of iced tea. That's that. Buck gets started chopping potatoes. He needs three cups diced.
Missing the feeling of the stick, Buck gnaws on his tongue, just a bit.
Eddie brings up the popsicle-chewing thing exactly one week later. It's afternoon at Eddie's, and they've been lazing about on the couch watching an action film that Eddie's picked out. It turns out to be a rather boring one, because the two of them start conversing over it halfway through.
"You know," says Eddie. "You really do like chewing things. It's not just that time last week. I catch you doing it all the time."
"What? No. I don't?" Buck bumps Eddie's shoulder with his own. "What do you mean 'all the time'?"
"Just now when you we were having grapes, you ended up holding one in your cheek, passing it back and forth."
"…No I didn't."
"Like a chipmunk. If chipmunks grew to six foot two."
Buck humphs, and leans back into the couch, eyes drifting back to whatever lacklustre bloodshed was playing on-screen. They both watch a sword detach someone's head from body. At least presumably that was the intention — the sword looked to be minimum a metre away from the person tumbling headless to their knees.
"So what if I just sort of, maybe, like it?"
"Like what," Eddie's eyes flicker back to his.
"Just the feeling of things sitting in my mouth … Or having something to play with in there. I don't know. It's kinda weird, right? I don't usually think about it, but now that you've been asking I've started noticing it more, too."
"Sounds like you have an oral fixation."
Buck startles, like he'd been hit. "Wait- Wait, but it's not sexual, Eddie. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like oral sex but I'm not fixated on it — I mean while giving head I've never really stopped to savour the —"
"Okay, stop!" Eddie grabs Buck by the arm, physically having to jolt Buck out of it. "It doesn't have to be sexual, Buck. It's just a term for all people who like having something to chew or otherwise toy with things in their mouth. I actually first heard about it in a child-rearing book — plenty of toddlers love mouthing things."
"Oh."
"So, it's not a big deal. Maybe you should look it up."
The moment Eddie's out the loft, Buck boots up his laptop and dips his toes into researching this. It's about half-an-hour in, while he's nodding along to an article finally on how it might present in adults that he notices the hoodie strings he'd been swirling around his mouth. His eyes follow the string of darkened the fabric, gone damp with spit.
Okay. So, Yeah. Eddie is right. Buck informs the man himself the following day, and is met by a nod and a smile and a 'glad you're figuring stuff out about yourself'. And that was that.
"I got something for you. You don't have to like it."
They've just gotten back to Eddie's after the morning school run, keys still jangling on the hook by the door.
It's not like Eddie to doubt his gift-giving abilities. With much sincerity, Buck looks into Eddie's eyes and says: "If it's a gift from you, I'm sure it'll be great. I'll cherish it."
Eddie huffs a laugh — rude, in Buck's opinion — and shakes his head. "No, no. That's not what I mean." Then he disappears into his bedroom, telling Buck to wait here.
As he's coming back, Eddie holds something hidden in his palm. He reveals it with a flourish. It's an odd, a sort of long stick made of silicone, but there's a pattern of ridges carved all the way around it. It's coloured a sunny yellow.
"Is that a chew toy?" asks Buck.
"Yes." Eddie drops it into Buck's open hand.
"Aren't these things for dogs?"
"No. Well yes, dogs also have chew toys, but this one-" Eddie wiggles it in the air. "-is designed for humans."
Oh. Buck turns the toy in his hands, feeling out the grooves. It's sort of thick, solid. Imagining how it might feel nestled up between his teeth, saliva begins pooling in his mouth. He swallows wetly.
"Yeah, so feel free to give it a whirl next time you want to-" Eddie stops talking midway through. In silence, he watches Buck pop the thing into his mouth right then and there.
It's pretty sturdy, as far as Buck can tell — he chews experimentally, with his back teeth, along the length of it. On one side, and then after a little manoeuvring, on the other side. There's a little bit of give, but it's not so ductile that it collapses like a gummy bear. The ends of it are a little thicker, something like a smooth cylindrical cap, and Buck pulls the thing almost completely out of his mouth, letting the extra width tug at the circle of his lips.
Eddie makes a sound, maybe a cough, and it brings Buck out of the spell of intrigue. They stare at each other, as Buck brings it back into his mouth with just his lips and teeth like it's a long piece of celery, and both his hands are busy.
Only when it's tucked back in there, poking slightly against his cheek, does Eddie start to speak. He says "Do you like it?", but it sounds a little like Eddie's got a frog stuck in his throat.
Buck gives him a confused look that Eddie doesn't seem to catch. Then, Buck thinks for a minute before he goes: "It's a lotta fun — I think my brain finds it fun? I don't know, it just feels really good, Eddie. It's like firm, you know? A little stiff — solid. You know…"
It's pretty long too, at least the span of his hand. Curiosity spurrs him to secure the end of it between his fingers and feed as much of toy into his mouth as possible. Partway through this exercise, it bumps into his soft-palate, making him gag a little. Nothing he can't handle, though it knocks a soft 'umf' as he redirects it downwards. Then he pushes it further, right up past the field of tastebuds at the back of his tongue, until it pokes softly at the walls of his throat and—
"Okay. Buck, that's great!" Eddie says, a great deal louder than before, and it stops Buck in his tracks. "I believe you."
With his mouth still full, Buck says, "Yeah, thanks Eddie. You're always so considerate of me."
It's when Eddie smiles that Buck notes that Eddie's cheeks glow with a lot more red than before. Strange, it doesn't seem like it's that hot in the room right now.
Before Buck can open his mouth to comment, Eddie says, "Alright. That's what I wanted you to come in for, and I — um — I have something to attend — to deal — I have to go."
"Oh, okay! We still good for bowling on Saturday?" He's being actively ushered out the open door.
"Yup!"
The door clicks shut.
'Wow', Buck thinks to himself. 'I'm so lucky to have a friend like Eddie.'
Buck started bringing the chew toy with him everywhere. Actually, he'd bought a few more oral stimulation toys (as they're more formally called) over the next weeks. Some chewable necklaces, some rings, but none of them had been as good of a fit, felt as comfortable in his jaws as the one Eddie had got him. It's sweet, that Eddie had picked out something perfect — something Buck didn't even know he had wanted at the time. Oh and, Eddie had been so supportive. Such an avid listener, while Buck prattled at length about the mouthfeel of whichever variety of toy he currently was testing out.
Although, on occasion, he'd find Eddie with the look of a wide-eyed deer caught off-guard. It's usually when he comes up behind Eddie with something between his lips. Well, Buck supposes that a grown man with an oversized chewable stick can be a little jarring. Buck doesn't think much of it.
It just made it easier to focus on whatever he was doing, having something to grind his teeth into as he answered emails, or did the laundry. It's a calm, repetitive motion, something to keep the mind relaxed and half-occupied as he went about completing mundane tasks. It also would help him wind-down for the evenings. If he got the angle and pressure right, it would skate over his tongue in such a way that his brain would simmer with static — in a good way. It's like those ASMR massages or the like, where the sensations skip past your frontal lobe and sink right down your spinal cord.
After a little while, he felt confident enough to start taking it into work as well. He didn't typically feel the need to use it at the firehouse in view of everyone else. It's not that he thought there would be judgement for using a stim toy — well, some part of him would be a little hurt by a passing snide remark — but it was a personal thing. Something about the feeling made him feel good, but vulnerable. Like a fruit stripped of its protective skin, tender and fleshy. So he used it while alone, so that he wouldn't be watched. Such as now, alone in the bunk-room with the lights off.
Oh, right. Eddie's here, too. Alone; or alone with Eddie. Same difference.
His hand scrabbles around in his bag for the toy — it's kept in a drawstring pouch when it's taken out. Huh. It's not in its usual place, in the side pocket. More feeling around. It's not in the main pocket either. Oh. Buck must've left it at home today.
That's … okay. He zips up the bag and sits upright in the bunk bed, hands fiddling on his lap. He doesn't need to have it in his mouth to get some sleep. It's not a nightly thing, at home or anything. But today, he'd spent the first several hours of the shift in anticipation, picturing the peace awaiting his near future — and the disappointment sweeps all that off course. So, he's maybe a little anxious or keyed-up now that the pressure valve he needs sits at home, most likely in the cup on his bathroom he uses to rinse his mouth with.
It's okay. He'll get through it.
He hears Eddie shift in the bunk above him. Soon enough, the silhouette of Eddie's head peeks into view, upside down beside the ladder.
"Could hear you rustling about the whole time. What's up?"
Buck shrugs and says, "Nothing"
No need to see to know that Eddie's just rolled his eyes. There's a soft clanking sound as Eddie descends from the top Bunk and scoots in next to Buck, letting their knees knock together. "Come on. I want to know. What's wrong?"
"It's nothing."
A second of judgemental silence passes.
"Alright fine, I've just realised that I left the stim toy I wanted at home." Buck presses his hand into his face. "I'm feeling on edge." Buck pouts. "It's silly, I know."
"It's not silly. It was a part of your routine."
He scoffs, "Well I don't know if it's that serious. I mean I can't be a grown man who needs a pacifier to pass out. That'd be … lame."
"I don't think it'd be-"
"Okay, ugh, it's silly, but I really wanted to use it — it's the one you gave me. I-I know I have another — but it's not the same, you know?"
"Listen-"
He's working himself into a frenzy now. "I was preparing myself for this one and-and I amped myself up too much thinking about it on the way back from the call, so it's really my own fault that now-"
"Oh, would you just…!" Eddie reaches up and grabs Buck by the jaw, suffocating the words in his throat.
It's a gift that they're shrouded in darkness. Buck's not sure of the expression he's wearing.
"This work?" Eddie breathes.
It doesn't seem real, but fingers trail to Buck's bottom lip.
"Uh," says Buck, intelligently, before his mouth falls open.
Tentatively, two fingers trace along the sensitive skin of his lips, waiting for Buck's breath to hitch before venture inwards. Eddie's fingers taste a little of sweat. They glide along his tongue so that Buck knows the feel of rough callused skin against it. Eddie's fingers tickle the back of his tongue, pads gently pressing to feel his muscles jump. He stifles a groan, spluttering when Eddie pushes further.
Following instinct, his lips wrap around the base of them, allowing Buck to suckle lightly. His lips tingle where they make contact; in fact, his whole body tingles.
Buck swallows around the digits, the whole flat of his tongue pressing into the intrusion as he does so. God. It's a delight. Then, Eddie clamps the wet muscle between his nails and Buck lets loose a raspy whimper.
Eddie laughs. "Did you hear what I said?"
'What did you say?' Blood rushes to his face. It's said clumsily, his mouth squirming with wiggling digits.
"You can chew, if you'd like. But be gentle."
Without hesitation, Buck rolls Eddie's forefinger between rows of teeth. Of course it's more workable than silicone, bouncier, the feeling of flesh. He gnaws mildly, shivering when Eddie tickles his cheeks with the end of his nail.
"You want more?"
Locked in by Eddie's hands, Buck grunts out an affirmative.
More does come, his lips stretching out to accommodate all of Eddie's hand. He moans again, an ache building in the muscle of his jaw, as it drops ever wider. Fingers push against the lining of his cheek, the roof of his mouth, and testing the resilience of his throat — that makes Buck just about retch, trying to jerk away. Drool is pulled from him, dribbling down to his chin.
He tries to swallow. He can't. It just makes the gagging worse. As a reflex, his jaws clench down on Eddie's hand, and for that, Eddie thrusts further in with one cruel movement.
Instinct kicks in. Buck gurgles, hands closing around Eddie's arm trying desperately to dislodge the violation. Nothing budges, his head still firmly pinned between the hand on his jaw, and the one jamming it open.
"It's okay," Eddie says. "Give in to it."
Buck lets out a shrill noise of alarm — or he would have, if Eddie wasn't pinning his tongue down. As it stands, Buck begins to pant, open mouthed and hoarse, straining to keep it together.
Eddie draws his hand from Buck to a chorus of Buck's dejected whimpering: "Eddie— No, no, no."
"Shh, it's okay, honey. Let's just get you adjusted, " coos Eddie, ignoring the way Buck chases his hand with his lips.
Dragged by the jaw downwards, Buck's forced prone on Eddie's lap. His neck brushes against Eddie's pants, Adam's apple bobbing against fabric. Buck yelps as he's hauled by the hair, further up and over, until his ass sticks up, and his groin presses urgent into Eddie's thigh.
All the heat rushes to him, in an instant — a compressed spring let free. His head lolls forwards until it hits the mattress, forehead sweat sticking the cotton sheets.
Eddie gropes the globe of an asscheek, and Buck dissolves into Eddie. Barely any friction can reach him, needing to pass through two sets of sturdy LAFD attire, but Buck's so high strung it doesn't matter. Just the pressure of Eddie upon him, caressing him, is enough to set him off, teeth digging into the sheets to keep from falling apart.
"Hold your tongue out"
Buck complies, pushing it out as far as he can. A hum later, Eddie leans in and flicks the soft end of it. Buck flinches hard, follows up with a soft whimper. Fuck, it's not that it hurts all that much, but the shock startles him each time. A ledge he keeps tripping over, no matter how brightly flashing the signs might be.
The nail of Eddie's thumb strokes up the underside. It's like being catalogued, a slimy fish at a market, weighed and graded for purchase. Buck whines grow steadily higher, hips snapping fast and faster in the chase. His head rings, damp of spit wet on his cheek, and either lightheadedness or lust dots his vision with black.
" Mm— Ngh" is all he can manage with his tongue still obediently poking out.
"What was that, Buck?"
"I need to come," words churned to garbled mumbling. "Please, Eddie let me come."
Eddie grinds his leg up mashing it into the stiff length of Buck's erection. Buck whines and whines and each muscle in his body tenses — trying to stave the incoming orgasm. Eddie strokes his hair and Buck's a soft thing at heart. Stirred by soft attention, tears well up again.
"Okay, Buck. Come." Eddie laughs but its not teasing. No, it's life-giving, like sunshine.
He's thrown toppling over the edge. Buck lets loose a low drenched noise eaten up by cotton and foam. Hips stutter rhythmless, driving again and again courting the burn of friction. Movement lights sparks in the back of his eyes and his hands ball up into fists, nails digging into palm. He's losing himself, but it'd be okay, turning to ash — so long as Eddie's there to stoke the flame.
At some point, the hands on him had shifted to working the stiffness along Buck's jaw. It's sore, achy, and feels so good that he whimpers weakly, spent. Buck even makes the effort of peeling his face off the bed to give Eddie better access. Soon, regular sensation returns to him. Buck flushes when he stretches a leg and groans from how soaked his boxers are.
"Showers, yeah?"
Buck murmurs his assent, words still a little out of reach.
They stumble over to the stalls, Buck avoiding all eye contact. All of a sudden he's a little timid, mouth dry, tracing the ghost of Eddie on his teeth.
He lets himself be stripped and then follows Eddie into the same stall. It's not very roomy. Makes it hard to avoid Eddie's eyes.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Eddie runs a washcloth over Buck's chest.
Hot water feels nice, but Buck wishes it were scalding. "It-it turned me on. It's weird. I felt kinda …"
'Vulnerable' is what he doesn't say. Eddie hears it all the same.
Buck's bundled into a big bear hug. He sniffs and buries his cheek into Eddie's neck. They stay like that, listening to the water trickle until it starts to turn cold.
Once dry, Eddie says, "Well, you've been driving me fucking insane for weeks. What does that make me?"
Buck lets out a giggle. "That why your eyes bugged out of your head when I was deepthroating the—"
Eddie's towel hits him square in the face.