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Eddie needs a new couch. Specifically, one that would actually allow someone to get a good night’s rest sleeping on it.
Fuck that.
He needs a new bed. A California King. Better yet, two twins that can each go in a corner, like children forced to share a bedroom or those creepy couples on 1950s sitcoms. There’s not a lot of space in here though, so maybe bunks would be preferable? They already sleep on them at work, and he knows he could bully Buck into taking the top, even if they both sleep on the bottom at the station (it makes it easier to whisper to one another in the dark, and for Buck to shake him awake if the nightmares get too loud).
The point of the matter is that he cannot keep sharing a bed with Buck.
The roommates thing is great. Honestly, there's nothing Eddie likes better than carpooling to work with Buck and sharing the responsibility of chauffeuring Christopher to all of his various activities and events. It’s been years since he’s had someone to cook dinner for him and he likes that in turn he gets to fold Buck’s laundry and marvel at the tinyness of the shorts he wears to the gym. He feels more content than he has in years, maybe even ever. It’s all of the best things he used to enjoy about sharing a house with Shannon for the short time they actually lived together.
The only downside to it all is the bed sharing.
Except, that’s not it exactly.
Sleeping in the same bed with Buck is really nice. It’s soothing to have another warm body beside him. There’s something comforting about cohabitating with someone else during a nightly routine, brushing their teeth together at the sink, making a face at the toothpaste foam dripping down Buck’s chin (seriously, he looks rabid by the midpoint of the process). Eddie’s heart feels so full when they check on Chris one last time together before they head to bed themselves. He doesn’t even mind Buck’s chainsaw snoring.
Truthfully, the issue is the inconvenient boners.
For the last week, Eddie has woken up (every single night since he and Buck decided they could no longer take turns sleeping on the couch, and were in fact two grown men capable of platonically sharing a bed) spooned up behind Buck with his cock rock hard in his shorts.
It’s mortifying, and wrong, and a miracle that Buck hasn’t caught him yet.
Worse, it’s bound to keep happening because he can’t even find an opportunity to get himself off. He’s sharing a bed and bedroom with his best friend. He spends 24 hour shifts at work. At home there’s always someone waiting to use the shower after him. He’s about to lose his goddamn mind.
So, really, it’s practically routine at this point when he wakes up a little after three in the morning on the first day of a forty-eight off and finds himself fully hard, pressed up against Buck’s back. Thankfully, he’s snoring which means that he has no idea that Eddie is practically defiling him in his sleep.
It’s insane, honestly. Eddie went years without feeling this out of control. He’d bedded down with the guys in his unit, huddled in tents while on maneuvers with no issue. Ana never really stayed over, but he’d certainly shared a bed with Shannon and Marisol, and neither situation had him waking up like this. He’s never even been one for inconvenient boners when awake, much less asleep.
Besides, refusing to share a bed with Buck would only make things weirder. Best friends can sleep next to each other just fine. It’s the guys who get awkward boners for absolutely no reason after spooning said best friend that can’t.
Eddie is careful as he extracts himself, pulls the arm he had thrown over Buck’s waist back gently, and then holds his breath as he painstakingly scoots over until he’s practically hanging off the mattress on his own side of the bed.
Through it all, Buck keeps breathing even and deep, completely unaware of the fact that Eddie is so frustrated he might cry.
Fuck his dick, honestly.
Theoretically, now would actually be a pretty ideal time to go get himself off in the bathroom. Everyone else is sleeping. It probably wouldn’t take more than a few strokes of his hand before it would all be over.
Though, that feels like rewarding his dick’s bad behavior. It feels like admitting defeat… or maybe even something else he’d rather not name. Buck’s sleepy noises and warm shower gel scent bookending something illicit would make the whole thing feel dirty.
No, jerking off is not the answer here.
Instead, he rolls over to face the wall, careful to make sure his traitorious dick gets no friction as he shuts his eyes and tries to focus on forcing the ball of heat in his gut to simmer out.
Of course, sleep doesn’t come easy. His body is keyed up, and he struggles not to squirm. Buck’s presence beside him is driving him insane and comforting him in confusingly equal measure, especially when his snoring stutters as he rolls over to face Eddie’s side of the bed.
When it becomes apparent that staring at the wall isn’t helping anything, Eddie rolls back over, too, face to face with Buck’s sleeping form. In the dim light of early morning, he can make out the gentle slope of his nose, and the soft rise and fall of his chest. As always, knowing Buck is safe and content here next to him settles something deep in his chest that he doesn’t let himself think too hard about.
He curses his dick for ruining this good thing. Sharing a bed with Buck shouldn’t be this difficult.
The last thing he remembers before sleep finally claims him again is wishing his dick would stop causing problems, and a warm tingling in his gut.
—
The only thing nicer than falling asleep next to Buck, is waking up next to him in the soft golden light that streams in between the slats of the blinds. It’s a rare Saturday off, which means there’s no alarm. Chris has plans this afternoon and a sleepover tonight, but they’ve got nothing else going on until then. Eddie can’t remember the last time he got to sleep in like this.
His mind is still in that hazy place between sleep and wake, and almost unconsciously he finds himself scooting closer to the warmth of the body beside him.
However, as his brain comes fully back online, he realizes that he’s nestled up against Buck’s back again—par for the course—except something is different this time.
He’s not hard. Arguably, that’s ideal, but something isn’t right. There’s still that heat low in his gut, that little twist of desire, but he’s not tenting out the front of his shorts. In fact, he feels weird. Not in a way he can describe. He just feels wrong.
Buck begins to stir, rolling so he’s laying on his back. “Time s’it?” He questions, words slurring together as he rubs at his eyes. He’s seemingly unconcerned with how close Eddie is lying to him.
“Almost eight-thirty,” Eddie answers dutifully, voice coming out steady despite the unease slowly working itself through his veins.
He tries to keep still, take some sort of inventory of his body, but he can feel every inch of Buck beside him, close enough to touch. The heat that rolls off of him is frankly impressive for someone who’s always so cold, and every muscle moves fluidly– distractingly. The hair on Eddie’s arms is standing on end, reaching toward Buck like it got tired of waiting for Eddie to do it of his own volition.
“Mhm,” Buck hums, nuzzling further into his pillow. He reminds Eddie a bit of a pleased cat. “Gotta make Chris his cinnamon rolls this morning.”
“You spoil him,” Eddie accuses, but it’s mostly fond. Of course, he loves the way Buck loves Christopher. No one else really does it like he does– respectfully, gently, protective in a way that leaves plenty of room for Chris to grow and be himself.
“You, too,” Buck says, finally moving to sit up, and Eddie’s about to agree, because truthfully he has been spoiling Chris a bit more than usual since he got back from Texas, when Buck continues, “Don’t act like you’re not gonna eat at least three.” And it’s then that he realizes Buck is talking about spoiling him.
There’s something weird that happens in his belly with that realization and he’s glad Buck’s sitting on the edge of his side of the bed and can’t see Eddie’s face right now. He’s not sure what’s going on there, only that his cheeks are hot and he feels all out of whack. Surely, one look and Buck would be able to see it.
“Will you start the coffee?” Buck requests, moving to dig through the drawers on the dresser that have been designated as his. “I know you pretend to hate the Hildy, but the pots you make always taste better.”
Eddie does not pretend to hate Hildy. Hildy is an evil robot whom Buck allowed to infiltrate their loving, (mostly) perfect home. He invited her inside for god’s sake. The cutesy name isn’t fooling him. Even if the coffee is pretty good, and Buck is right, it is even better when he makes it (one of the first culinary skills he successfully mastered).
“Yeah, sure,” he agrees, moving to stand up.
Buck’s scratching lazily at his stomach as he pulls out a pair of sweatpants, and Eddie doesn’t let his eyes linger. “Just gonna,” he gestures vaguely towards the door, not bothering to change himself. “Bathroom,” he finally says eloquently, because he has the sudden urge to palm his weirdly soft dick, and that’s not really appropriate behavior with his best friend in the same room.
Buck makes a sound of acknowledgement and Eddie slips out the door and down the hallway. Now that he’s up and walking he feels even weirder—like his center of gravity is off, and also like his briefs are wet where they’re stuck to the skin between his thighs.
Oh god. Did he cum in his pants like a pathetic horny teenager?
He can’t slam the bathroom door shut behind himself fast enough. One hand fiddles with the lock and the other slides down into his underwear, and for an earth shattering moment he’s pretty sure his heart stops. Eddie’s a grown man in his thirties, so getting a hand around his dick is second nature at this point, and today there’s… nothing there. It’s like his dick has disappeared.
But that’s not possible. Body parts don’t just vanish into thin air.
His pulse thunders in his own ears, drowning everything out, and it feels a little like the room might be starting to spin around him as stars prick at his vision. It’s been awhile, but this is a textbook lead-up to a panic attack for him. He forces himself to breathe deeply, hand still comically shoved down the front of his shorts.
It’s then it hits him, that he’s not just missing his cock. No, he’s wet, and when he slides his hand down a little further he’s hit with the weirdest sense of déjà vu. It’s like the first time he slid his hand into Shannon’s panties, cupping her and kissing the gasp from her mouth, fingers sliding into the wetness gathered there.
There’s really only one thing he can do at this point. He shoves down his underwear and shorts in one go, revealing that his cock is in fact gone. His eyes dart up to the mirror, like the reflection there might be any different.
It’s his face staring back at him, eyes wide and full of fear, twin scars on each shoulder—the same as always. Everything is normal until he gets to his waist. There’s still the same trail of hair from his navel down into what used to be the short trimmed hair at the base of his cock, but now covers his mound. He can see the way he’s pink and glistening.
He’s got— it’s a pussy. Undoubtedly.
His knees feel like they might buckle. There’s no way. This can’t be happening. He’s hallucinating. Apparently if you go too long without getting off you’ll start seeing genitalia that’s not really there.
There’s panic sweat gathering on the nape of his neck and he stumbles forward so that he can turn on the tap and splash some cold water on his overheated face. When he looks down again, nothing has changed. It’s still there.
There’s still anxiety and fear swirling, bubbling around in his stomach, but he pushes those feelings down, doesn’t let himself acknowledge them. Screaming or crying won’t fix this, it’ll only potentially wake Christopher.
Instead, he does what he does best: systemically locking everything down until his brain is forced into soldier mode. It’s crucial that he takes this one step at a time. He’s clinical as he uses toilet paper to wipe at the wetness gathered on his thighs. Once that’s done, he tosses his soiled briefs into the hamper (making sure to shove them all the way down to the bottom) and pulls his sleep shorts back on. He washes his hands thoroughly, and refuses to meet his own eye in the mirror. Deep breaths now, eyes open and staring into the distance as if there’s more to see than the pale blue bathroom wall.
His mind is made up. He’ll just ignore it. This is probably only some nightmare anyway, so he’s going to go out there and start the coffee, eat three cinnamon rolls, and decidedly not tell Buck that he’s woken up with a pussy.
Mostly because he knows he would sound insane, but also because he’s pretty sure he’s never actually said that word out loud to Buck before. He’s not usually that crass. Even if Buck has been known to let it slip on the rare occasion he gets drunk enough to tell Eddie about his sexcapades. (“She was so wet, Eds,” slurred around the mouth of a bottle. “It was like her pussy was sucking me in, swear to god.” Eddie didn’t mind it, even if it did make him a little jealous— of Buck, of course.)
He’s the master at ignoring his problems and sometimes he even gets lucky and they don’t blow up in his face.
It’s just that ignoring this one is fucking sticky. Literally. He figured after he cleaned up in the bathroom, he’d be set while he waited for this to work itself out. Like morning wood. Except it’s nothing like that, because he takes a step into the kitchen and Buck is standing there shirtless with his sweats hanging low on his hips as he peers down into the oven, his back one long, smooth curve. His tattoos are on full display, and he’s shimmying to whatever music is playing on his phone, completely off rhythm. “Oh, there you are!” Buck greets, twisting Eddie’s way to grin at him, bright as the fucking sun like it hasn’t been less than fifteen minutes since they woke up together.
Eddie’s new equipment pulses.
He makes his way to the coffee maker on unsteady legs, frustrated to find that his hands are shaking even harder as Buck chatters away about the Twitter drama he’s already found time to scroll through this morning. On autopilot, he loads beans into the hopper, checks the water level, tosses a mug under the spout, and presses start. It’s a fucking miracle when the smell of fresh coffee fills the kitchen alongside the cinnamon and sugar.
By the time Buck’s pulling the rolls out of the oven, Eddie has a situation on his hands. Without the briefs, the sensation is even more pronounced, a slick shifting between his legs when he walks. Even the few steps to the table with their coffee mugs leaves him blushing and mortified. How is he supposed to fucking ignore this?
“You alright?” Buck asks, spatula in hand as he works on icing the cinnamon rolls.
“Fine.” Eddie snaps, hoping against hope it makes Buck back off. All it actually does is make Buck’s eyebrows rise, surprised.
“Oh-kay.” He says, drawing out the word. He’s clearly not convinced, but thankfully he doesn’t push it. Eddie’s known to be a little grouchy first thing in the morning anyways.
Vaguely, he wonders if the wet spot on his shorts will be visible when he stands back up, and he can feel his face flush hot at the thought. Worse, Buck has somehow managed to get icing smeared down the side of his hand and instead of washing it off like a normal person, he’s tracing the line of it with his tongue. In what has to be a completely unrelated turn of events, Eddie can feel himself clench down on nothing, the hot, sticky, uncomfortable feeling clinging to his skin.
God, do vaginas just feel like this all the time? Do people just walk around, no reason to be aroused, but still wet and tingling anyway? He should write apology letters, maybe rent a billboard.
Buck sets the plate of freshly-iced rolls on the table, knocking Eddie out of his thoughts when he calls out to tell Chris breakfast is ready. Crutches clack against the wood floors as he makes his way to the kitchen and plops down next to Buck, grumbling when Buck ruffles his hair. It’s a whole new kind of torture, watching his best friend dole out the breakfast he happily made for them, razzing Christopher about his bedhead.
Eddie tries to stay calm, he really does. He picks at his food, presses his thighs together tightly, but that only makes it worse. Now he can feel the squelch of wetness between them and a warm pressure against his clit so forbidden and intense he nearly chokes. Then, as if on cue from a demon specifically intent on ruining Eddie’s life, Buck, still shirtless and messing around with Chris without a care in the world, moans loud and exaggerated around the first bite of his cinnamon roll.
Eddie is only a man—a man who hasn’t had an orgasm in two weeks and is now dealing with what has to be the most insane practical joke ever doled out by God. Fuck, maybe he should have been going to mass when Abuela asked him along. No, that’s insane, there’s no mystical vagina-giving–
Fuck.
He tries to swallow down the panic, force the desire out of his throat with it. Say something, anything to redirect whatever the hell is happening right now. Nothing comes to mind except the sound of Buck’s moan and the memory of his warm skin against Eddie’s, so he does the only thing he can, which happens to be gasping a hideously pitiful, “Buck.”
Buck looks up, startled, his mouth still full. “Yeah?”
Helplessly, Eddie just gestures at him as the furrow in Buck’s brows deepens. “Everything okay, Dad?” Chris asks.
Eddie softens, like he always does at Christopher’s voice. With a sigh he hopes is cleansing and a shake that’s meant to rid himself of those unwanted thoughts, he answers, “Yeah. Sorry, bud. Didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
Chris seems to accept this easily enough, and even though Buck is still watching him carefully, Eddie makes it through the rest of breakfast without incident. He even eats a little bit of it. By the time Chris is passing Buck dishes to put in the sink, Eddie’s nervous system is– well, not calm, but something less than activated beyond the point of return.
Watching the two of them slowly brings his brain back online, the comfortable domesticity of the scene, the warm feeling Eddie gets in his chest as Buck tells Chris to go get ready or he’s going to be late to his robotics club meet-up. Christopher rolls his eyes, and Buck places one large palm on the kid’s head and gently turns it side to side like a joystick until Chris groans to hide a laugh and takes off for his bedroom. It’s the casual contact, the intimacy that neither of them have to think about before they reach for each other that gets Eddie.
Maybe he just needs Buck to touch him. Not like that. Just… whenever Eddie gets overwhelmed, Buck tends to notice. He knocks their shoulders together or sits close enough on the couch to press their knees together. It always slows Eddie’s heart rate better than any other anxiety coping mechanism he learned in therapy. Maybe now, if he just walked into Buck’s arms, he’d feel his breath even out, the frantic beating of his heart settle down.
Buck startles a little when Eddie wraps both arms around him, but he recovers easily, forearm clasping over Eddie’s back as his other arm winds around Eddie’s waist. He claps Eddie on the back a few times, like they usually do, but Eddie doesn’t let go. He’s not ready yet. He leans in, buries his nose in Buck’s bare shoulder and breathes him in deep. He smells like the shower gel they share and the fancy shampoo they absolutely do not ($32 a bottle is an abomination and Eddie won’t be caught dead signing off on that). Cinnamon and icing and sleep.
It’s not helping at all. Eddie’s pulse thrums wildly in his veins, his chest starts to heave. It’s not panic. It’s so, so much worse.
The skin of Buck’s neck is warm and Eddie’s face seems to stick to it, unwilling to move an inch. Buck’s chest is so broad and big and encompassing against Eddie’s, and his every breath shoves it closer, closer, closer. Buck shifts, and one thick, muscled thigh brushes lightly against Eddie’s hip, and holy shit, is having a pussy making him like men?
That has to be it. It has to be. Biological switcheroo has to apply to multiple functions, right? Bodies that like men would obviously be obsessed with Buck. Besides, it doesn’t matter, because none of this is actually happening and Eddie will wake up tomorrow with everything back to normal.
He wrenches himself back all at once, and prays to god he’s imagining the rush of arousal soaking his pussy.
Now with space between them, Buck looks at him quizzically again, but he doesn’t seem confused anymore. No, now his expression is almost calculated. Wholly terrifying. Clipboard-y. “Why don’t I take Chris to his club. You can, uh, stay here and re-relax a bit, huh? You said you didn’t sleep well.”
Eddie’s nodding before he realizes it, the possibility of alone time more of a miracle right now than usual. “Sure, sure. Yeah. Thanks.”
Buck says something back, but Eddie’s already taking off down the hall, where he stops to lean against the wall, taking in the coolness of the plaster against his sweaty back. This time, his lungs cooperate, letting him measure every breath until it starts to feel normal. He’s ready to shut himself away in the shower and spend the rest of his precious time with an empty house trying to figure out what the hell he’s going to have to do to put a stop to all this gross, humiliating wanting. And get rid of the pussy, of course. First, though, he stops by Christopher’s room, knocking on the doorjamb to get his attention. “Buck said he’s gonna drive you today. That okay with you?”
Predictably, Chris lights up before he remembers to school his expression into carefully crafted teenage nonchalance. He shrugs, sliding his tablet into his backpack. “Sure. His music is better.”
“Right.” Eddie allows, bending to plant a kiss on his son’s head. “Milo’s mom is still picking you up after so you can spend the night?”
Chris nods his agreement. Content with that, Eddie steps back into the hallway, “Be safe. Love you, mijo.” Chris waves him off, but he mutters his own love back.
With all of that squared away, now Eddie can focus. He needs to get himself under control. Turn himself off, so that he can function like an actual human being again.
That leads him to the coldest shower known to man.
As if it’s mocking him, the first movement of his hand is to try to palm himself. Except, there’s nothing to palm, not really. Though, it seems like the bare contact is enough, because it has Eddie doubling over, the frigid spray hitting his upper back.
“Shit.” he curses, taking control of his breath again and straightening up.
Ignoring it isn’t going as well as he’d hoped, apparently, because Eddie’s cunt is throbbing after just a light brush of his hand. Okay, alright. So this is insane, right? Maybe it’s just a dream, and Eddie needs to play along to get out of it. He’s probably safe in bed right now, flat on his back and snoring, – not nearly as loud as Buck is– dead to the world.
The front door slams, and Eddie nearly brains himself on the shower curtain rod when he flinches and starts to slip. That would be the perfect ending to this weird, pussy-growing, Buck-obsessed dream, wouldn’t it? Eddie, somehow sporting a new sex organ, dead in the tub-shower combo, leaving Buck and Chris to throw the most humiliating funeral known to man.
Shivery panic races up his spine, and since Plan A (ignoring it) is only making everything worse, it must be time for Plan B (getting himself off).
This time, Eddie has some idea of what to expect as he snakes one hand down his stomach to the thatch of hair between his legs. This is similar enough to feel safe, grounding enough to let his fingers slip down a bit further, touch feather-soft as it grazes soft lips, his swollen clit. The zing that it sends through his core isn’t unlike the one he gets when he’s hard, swiping his thumb over the head of his cock, but it’s much more intense.
Maybe if this is real, an orgasm will be like some kind of factory reset? He cums once and then goes to sleep and when he wakes up his dick is back and good as new. That seems like a totally reasonable conclusion to this nightmare scenario.
Right?
Right.
Tentatively, he braces a hand on the shower wall, the opposite foot on the edge of the tub, trying to reorient his mental map backwards. His middle finger charts a careful path, spreading his lips and pressing gently inside. This Eddie has nothing to compare to. It feels foreign, even if it’s his own hand he’s clenching around, a little pleasurable, a lot vulnerable.
He’s not as wet as he was when he woke up, but enough that he can drag the slick up to his clit, easing the slide in careful circles over it. It’s so much more than when he’s sliding a hand over his cock, more than when he’s teasing his slit or even thrusting inside someone else’s wet heat. He tries a little more pressure, broadens his motions, and this time the shiver has nothing to do with panic.
It does, however, make the knee of his supporting leg buckle under the weight of warm, tingling pleasure. His skin has heated enough that the cold water isn’t quite so offensive, but it’s certainly not serving the purpose he originally intended. Eddie thinks for a second, torn, but in a burst of action flips the water off and yanks the shower curtain back.
The thing is, if it were someone else he was touching, he wouldn’t be making them stand in a cold shower. He’d be making them comfortable first. He’d lay them down in bed, make sure they had room to spread out, to enjoy his touch.
If he’s going to do this, he should at least do it right.
Since the bedroom sharing started, Eddie hasn’t once used the lock on the door. His room is now their room and the last thing he wants is for Buck to feel like a guest or that he doesn’t belong. The unlocked bedroom door has been a symbol of that…. until right this very moment. After he’s toweled off as quickly as humanly possible, he can’t get the lock clicked into place fast enough.
He’ll feel bad about it later, but for now there’s relief in knowing he can’t be barged in on if Buck makes it back early. Immediately, Eddie tosses the towel, lying down on the bed and arranging the pillows behind him into something resembling comfortable. He can’t think about it, he just has to get started, reaching down between his legs and brushing over his pussy with much less fear than before.
This time, he’s expecting the sparking sensation, the way every nerve seems raw already with his now-dry fingers trying to find some sort of rhythm. He dips down further, finding his entrance and the slick that’s still there so that he can make the slide over his clit smooth and comfortable. It still feels a bit uneven, in comparison to what he’s used to. Some angles make his body sing, while others feel like nothing more than prodding.
Eddie thinks about what Shannon used to like, what used to work when he was on the other side of this. He tries using the back of a finger, the smooth skin between his knuckles. He tries snaking the other hand down too and filling himself up while he works his clit. He turns over on his knees, getting desperate now. Hadn’t he read something once about how it’s difficult for people with vaginas to orgasm on their backs?
Whatever reading Eddie might have patted himself on the back for in the past doesn’t seem to be serving him now.
He works his fingers faster, harder. Slower, softer. In rhythm and outside of it. Nothing but a glimpse of what it might feel like to cum this way for his troubles. He’s starting to panic again, sweating from the effort and the fear that he won’t be able to fix anything this way beads up on his neck and chest.
He needs something more.
He reaches up to try pinching a nipple, and of fucking course that’s when the front door opens, creaking loud as hell because Eddie still hadn’t picked up any WD-40 from the hardware store (no, it has nothing to do with Marisol, thanks). Eddie could cry. His clit pulses mournfully as he wrenches his hand away. Truly, embarrassingly, there are pathetic, frustrated tears prickling along his waterline.
There’s no way he can get off now. Even though his body is still throbbing, all he can think about is Buck just down the hall. There’s nothing to do now, except angrily dig out boxers and a pair of jeans. The worst part is he has no one to blame but himself.
It feels like a failure, like some kind of crueler cosmic joke that he’s so horny he feels like he might die, but he can’t even manage to get himself off. Worse, it starts him spiraling. If he can’t make himself orgasm, were all of the women he’s ever been with faking it? What if he’s not as competent in bed as he’s always prided himself on?
Everything about this morning has left him off kilter. All of the frustration and aggravation and misery brewing together until there’s a proverbial storm cloud over his head as he leaves the bedroom.
Because he’s not a total animal, and mostly because he’s afraid Buck will smell it on him, he stops to wash his hands before wandering into the living room. Buck is by the door, pulling the clothes out of both of their duffels. They have a bad tendency to leave them there when they get home from work and they’re supposed to be catching up on laundry and chores today.
“Oh, hey,” Buck sounds surprised when he turns to see him. “You’re finished?”
“Finished?” Eddie’s cheeks flush, wondering if it’s somehow written all over his face what he’s been up to.
“Uh n-napping? Thought you might’ve been napping since you were tired earlier,” Buck answers after a beat too long.
“Oh, yeah. I couldn’t sleep,” he answers, rubbing a bit awkwardly at the back of his neck. He couldn’t something, so it’s not a total lie. “Want me to start the laundry and you can clean the shower?”
“Sure, yeah. I-I can do that,” Buck agrees, carefully transferring his armful of clothes over to Eddie. Their forearms brush and Eddie has to actually suppress a shiver. This must be what it feels like to go insane.
“Okay, great,” Eddie forces himself to be normal. Normal smile. Normal tone. Just normal normal normal.
Normally, Chore days are his favorite. All of the annoying tasks that keep a household running smoothly don’t fall solely on him anymore. Sometimes they even make it a competition. First one to complete their to-do list gets to pick the movie or show they watch while they eat take out as their reward. Today, it’s almost as if Eddie’s awkwardness and unease has rubbed off onto Buck, an uncomfortable silence falling over the house as they work their way down the list.
One thing for sure, It’s going to be a long day.
—
At this point, Eddie’s so beyond frustrated he feels like he might actually vibrate out of his skin.
He’s spent the majority of his day orchestrating ridiculous rituals so he and Buck aren’t in the same room. That can only last so long, and before he can figure out a way out of it, he finds himself tucked as far into his corner of the couch as possible with a half eaten carton of Thai on the coffee table in front of him and an empty beer bottle in hand.
Buck is beside him, relaxed and laughing at whatever movie he’d put on a half hour ago. He took a shower earlier and afterwards he’d put on the most threadbare grey sweatpants known to man and an oversized t-shirt that he’d cut the sleeves off of himself. It’s a look that should just be comfortable and casual, but Eddie can’t stop staring at the bulge of his dick through the fabric. Buck’s not even hard, but the fabric drapes and pulls just right to give him an eyeful.
It’s not something he’d usually give a second thought to, but tonight he can’t stop his gaze from drifting there. At first he’d tried to justify to himself that he’s jealous. His own dick is missing and Buck doesn’t know how lucky he is. However, he has to admit, now he’s curious. He feels… empty in a way he can’t quite explain. His traitorous brain is intent on reminding him that Buck has something that might help with that.
“Are you okay?” Buck asks when Eddie squirms again. Out of the two of them, Buck is normally the one who can’t sit still and even though he’s squished into his corner of the couch, Buck is still easily able to knock his knee into Eddie’s own. It’s meant to be reassuring, Eddie wants to scream about it a little.
“Yeah, m’fine,” he lies, because what else is there to do? Tell Buck he’s thinking about what it might be like to sit on cock? That absolutely cannot happen. “Gonna grab another beer. You want one?” He doesn’t wait on Buck to answer before he’s heading towards the kitchen. They just need a little space. The proximity and his horniness are fucking with his head.
Buck doesn’t answer, but he does follow Eddie because apparently he’s set on tormenting him today. Lovely.
“Look, you’ve been weird all day. Have I done something?” Buck demands, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter by the sink. His biceps bulge. Eddie’s heart rate kicks up embarrassingly. “If I did, just tell me, please.”
Eddie shakes his head, at a loss for words, afraid that if he opens his mouth he’ll tell Buck that what he’s done all day long is make Eddie want him. Being nearby. Smelling amazing. Looking big and strong and bitable and and and. It’s too risky. He pops the cap on his beer and makes himself take a long drag.
“Is it-“ Buck starts, then seems to stop himself short. His face creases a little, that worried dip appearing between his brows, shoulders hunching as if to make himself smaller. “Did I overstay my welcome? I know you said I didn’t need to rush to find a new place, but I know I can be a lot.”
The way Buck says the words cracks Eddie’s heart open right in his chest. The only thing worse than this whole mortifying ordeal is the fact his weirdness has made Buck self conscious, that he feels like he’s the problem.
“Buck,” his voice breaks a little. There’s only one thing to do at this point. He has to make it right. He can’t let Buck blame himself. “Just—“ Eddie blows out a breath, tries to reset. “Maybe it would be easier if I just showed you.” There’s no way he can get the words out.
Buck’s brow furrows adorably, and Eddie feels himself throb in response.
God, he’s so fucking ruined already.
It might be the most mortifying thing he’s ever done, but it’s still somehow better than having to actually, verbally confess to Buck that he wished his own fucking dick away— and, worse, why. He backs up a bit, like creating distance between them will somehow make this easier, until his ass hits the lip of the table. Nowhere else to run, nowhere else to hide.
“Eddie—“ Buck tries, and the fear in his voice saps up any desire to stall. Buck needs him to just get this over with.
Eddie’s fingers find the button on his jeans, thumb swirling over it once to feel the grounding grooves there, never taking his eyes off Buck’s. A flick of his wrist, and the button is undone, zipper peeling apart next. Before Eddie can even manage to shove the fabric down, Buck is—
Holy shit, Buck is dropping to his knees in front of him.
“What are you—“ Eddie chokes out, caught on the trusting, earnest glint in his blue eyes as Buck reaches a hand out, offering.
“S’okay, Eddie, I can h—“
Eddie won’t ever know what he was planning to say, because at that moment his hands inexplicably gain some agency of their own and shove the fabric off his hips. Everything slows down then, a crawl of thick, hazy seconds like fog settling around them. Buck’s mouth is open, his eyes darting between Eddie’s face and the space between his hips, and his hands are still reaching, still offering.
“Oh my god.”
A flood of relief crashes over Eddie’s head, loosening his tongue and letting his shoulders drop for the first time all day. He should have just started here, telling Buck everything so they could figure this out together. He already feels better, spilling his guts and his secrets just like he always does when Buck’s the one asking.
“It just— it-it just happened. I just woke up and it was—”
Buck is nodding like a bobblehead, blinking so much he’s making Eddie’s eyes water in sympathy. He looks as if he’s agreeing, as if this is a totally normal thing to happen. No questions necessary on his end.
“This is insane,” Eddie finally says, because Buck seems frozen, eyes locked between his legs. “I mean, this has to be some kind of nightmare, right?”
Except Buck is looking on like this is anything but a nightmare to him. There’s a heat to his gaze that makes Eddie shudder, makes him squeeze his thighs together for some kind of relief.
All Buck’s concern, his unquestioning commitment to climbing into this insanity with Eddie is not helping. It only makes Eddie feel safer, and the way Buck had seemingly been ready to offer up whatever help Eddie wanted made it so much harder not to ask for it.
“It’s been–” Eddie’s pretty sure his face has never been this hot, it’s got to be laughably pink. “It’s been wet all day and I– God, Buck, it’s throbbing. That can’t be normal, right?”
He laughs then, a little hysterically, because in no way is anything about this normal.
Yet, Buck looks almost relieved, like Eddie’s just given him a vital piece of the puzzle. “Oh.” He says on an exhale. “That’s kind of– I mean, it did seem like you–”
“Like I what?” He demands, starting to panic all over again.
Buck shrugs, purses his lips, worrying the back of his neck with one palm. “I-I kinda thought you just needed to get off.”
Eddie chokes. It shouldn’t be surprising that Buck picked up on it, that had been exactly what Eddie had been thinking about all day and Buck has always been able to read him like an open book. It doesn’t make it any less mortifying to hear it from the source. “I tried–” He admits, words a mumbled breath, speaking startlingly louder when that just makes Buck lean in closer. “I couldn’t make myself,” he pauses, feeling his cheeks go rosy with embarrassment. “Y’know?” Because he can’t make himself say the word ‘cum’ right now. “I thought that would help. Like maybe it would… undo whatever this is.”
Again, Buck nods, way too fast, eyes ridiculously wide. “S-sure, right, uh, that sounds right.” He’s agreeing practically before the words have left Eddie’s mouth. “So, you tried earlier? To get yourself off?” He’s leaning in closer, pupils so blown there’s just a thin ring of blue left when he meets Eddie’s eyes.
Eddie nods, just a sharp jerk of his head. It was bad enough that he couldn’t get himself off and fix this whole mess and now he’s having to admit his failure to Buck as well.
“But you couldn’t make yourself cum?” His cunt throbs just hearing Buck say the word. Some kind of twisted taunt.
“No,” he answers, and the look in Buck’s eyes turns predatory. He feels pinned, heartbeat thundering away, legs threatening to give out beneath him.
“I could help.” The words are eager, punctuated by the way Buck slides forward, still on his knees as he closes the gap between their bodies. “I could get you off. I swear, Eddie. I’ll be so good I promise.” He sounds pleading. Like Eddie would be the one doing him a favor and not the other way around.
Eddie’s the one comically nodding this time. “Fuck, yeah.” Nod. Nod. Nod. “ Please.” It’s exactly what he’s been dreaming about all day, and he didn’t even have to ask. Buck is offering this to him.
Apparently, Buck doesn’t need to hear anything else, he’s pulling at Eddie’s jeans and boxers that have bunched around his knees, big, strong hands working them down and off until he’s completely exposed. He doesn’t get any warning before Buck is standing up, easily lifting him onto the table before dropping back down to his knees, looking for all the world like there’s nowhere he’d rather be.
Eddie’s last brain cell fires at that, and he whips off his shirt, tossing it down in front of Buck on the floor and trying to articulate that he doesn’t want Buck to hurt himself kneeling on the bare tile like that, but all that comes out is “leg.”
Buck’s eyes flare like Eddie’s just said something so filthy he can barely stand it. Still, he shuffles forward obediently until his bad knee is pillowed on Eddie's shirt, and leans in. ”I got you.” He swears, hands warm on Eddie’s inner thighs as he spreads them. He can feel shaky breaths on sensitive skin, Buck’s voice going low and scraped-raw with each murmured promise uttered like he’s in some sort of trance– “I’ll fix it, Eddie, m’gonna take care of you, just relax.” –until his face is buried in Eddie’s pussy.
Of course, Eddie’s done this before, just in reverse. He’s spent plenty of time putting his tongue to work, sucking and licking and trying to be worthy of every woman he’s ever been with. He’s taken pointers and listened to his partner’s body and made sure he was giving as good as he was getting, always.
But this. This is some other experience entirely.
Buck’s mouth is hot on Eddie’s pussy, clever tongue charting a path up one side and down the other, nerves lighting up at each touch like it’s the first time. Eddie supposes it kind of is. He feels it through his whole body, belly twisting with desire, the cradle of his hips tingling and he shifts them to get closer, somehow nothing like it felt getting his dick sucked. The pressure is lighter, the speed he wants much slower, the sensation radiating rather than localized.
Buck’s hand on Eddie’s thigh moves, and that barely-there touch makes the press of Buck’s tongue feel like a livewire. “Fuck,” he groans, head falling back like it’s just too much to hold it up anymore.
It’s unmooring, like Eddie is floating up, up, up, and he needs to grab on to something before he’s gone completely. That something, it turns out, is a fistful of Buck’s curls, grasped tight enough to pull Buck’s head in a little further between Eddie’s thighs, and making Buck moan wantonly. The sound vibrates over Eddie’s pussy, nerves lighting up in places Eddie didn’t know he had them.
Although, he supposes he didn’t before today.
Then, as suddenly as he started, Buck stops, pulling back to look up at Eddie with wide blue eyes. Eddie would protest, but he seems to have lost the power of speech. The only thing in his head is the sight of Buck, on his knees for Eddie, face glistening wet with Eddie’s slick, looking fucking drunk on it. “I-I can take it.” he tells Eddie, seeming to struggle with words a bit himself. “Y-you can pull my hair. S’okay.”
If Eddie could think at all before, he certainly can’t now. He blinks at Buck stupidly, wanting nothing more than to take him up on that. Except– “Do you like it?”
“Eating pussy?” Buck asks, a wry grin pairing adorably with a warm flush. “Yeah. A lot, if you couldn’t tell.”
“No,” Eddie says, finding his footing. “I mean, good, that’s– I’m glad.” Fuck, if he wasn’t so desperate to get Buck’s mouth back on him, Eddie would be praying for the sweet release of death. “I meant: do you like it when I pull your hair?”
“Yes,” Buck hisses through his teeth as Eddie gives a demonstrative tug. “Please.”
It’s all Eddie needs to hear, using his hold to shove Buck back where he belongs, face first into his cunt. For his part, Buck just wraps his lips around Eddie’s clit, moaning like Eddie’s just done him a favor. Eddie’s clit throbs, Buck’s suckling producing an obscene slurping sound, slick covering his nose and starting to drip down his chin.
He’s so fucking filthy and Eddie’s the one who made him that way. No one else on earth could have possibly done this: made Eddie so safe that even something that shouldn’t even be able to happen turns into some sort of gift. They wouldn’t have gotten here for a lot longer if not for this.
This time, as the wave rises, nothing yanks Eddie away from it. This time, Buck’s mouth is soft and warm and insistent, his fingers coming up to dip just inside Eddie’s sopping cunt, sliding in and offering the most perfect stretch, something to clench down on, and Eddie’s fucking gone.
If he thought orgasms with a dick were good, this is something else. Just like the sensations themselves, the release radiates through his whole body, and the feeling doesn’t stop with just one crescendo. Rather, more waves rise up behind it and crash over him too, making his hips twitch up into Buck’s mouth with each one. He’s carefully working Eddie through it, curling his fingers up just right and sucking softly at his clit. By the time he’s finally coming down, Eddie is both supremely exhausted and a thousand times more desperate to get Buck inside him. Especially as he finally pulls back, eyes wide and face messy. If Buck’s fingers felt like that, Eddie can only imagine what that huge fucking thing Buck calls a cock would feel pressing inside Eddie’s silky cunt.
Normally after an orgasm like that, Eddie would be done—ready to pass out and bask in the afterglow. Now, though, despite the fact that his legs still feel like jello, he feels desperate for more. This insatiable ache inside of him never dulling.
It makes him brave. “Need you.” he tells Buck, who looks blitzed out of his mind at this point, eyes glazed over and his thighs splayed wide. Eddie clenches down around nothing when he sees the way Buck’s cock is tenting out his sweatpants, a wet spot forming on the front.
“Eds,” He croaks slowly. “Yes, yeah, whatever you–”
Gently, Eddie nudges him back with a knee, making room for himself to hop down off the table and meet Buck on the floor. Wasting no time, he crawls into Buck’s lap, grinding down on that promising bulge, about ready to tear those sweats off so that there’s nothing between them anymore. In fact, he might just live here, face buried in Buck’s neck and mulling over the idea of setting lips and teeth there.
Now that the urgency has ebbed, his brain has zeroed in on the fact that Buck has eaten him out, but they haven’t kissed. He’s never fucked anyone and not kissed them before. It’s kind of fucking with his head. He thinks he should just do it. They’ve gone this far, might as well take it all the way in every sense of the word.
Buck, however, seems to have other plans in mind. Big, warm, sticky, hands curve around the back of his thighs. Eddie can’t help his undignified yelp as Buck wraps iron-strong arms around him and stands, carting Eddie off like so many spoils of war, and it is not hot. Not at all. Truly. Eddie isn’t basically fucking feral about it at all. Especially not when Buck carries him with ease back towards their bedroom.
The deep-edged whimper that escapes him as Buck tosses him down on the bed doesn’t help his case. It does seem to help Eddie’s aching cunt, though, when Buck immediately wedges his hips between Eddie’s legs. The weight and warmth and breadth of him, makes Eddie clench down on nothing, hyper aware of how empty he feels.
The feeling brings with it the wrongness of not having kissed yet, and Eddie knows he should probably ask permission, but Buck has always kind of been his, and he doesn’t think he’s out of line when he reaches up to wind a palm around the nape of Buck’s neck and tug him down into a searingly gentle first kiss. Buck responds immediately, breathing the sweetest little sigh against Eddie’s lips, like it’s a relief. Its softness is in stark contrast to the heat that flushes through Eddie when he realizes he can taste himself on Buck’s lips.
It’s funny, out of everything that has happened today, he thinks kissing Buck is simultaneously the craziest and least surprising turn of events. Unprecedented and inevitable all at once. Coming home after a long fucking day. Easing into an almost too-hot bath and feeling your body adjust. They were always going to find their way here one day.
Now that he’s gotten a taste of Buck’s mouth, he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop wanting, bone deep and gasping. Separating for even a second feels like too big of a burden to bear, a mortal risk they absolutely shouldn’t take. So when Buck tries to pull away, suggesting that Eddie might be more comfortable on his knees, Eddie shakes his head. “Like this.” He insists, tugging Buck down so he can kiss him again.
Buck’s licking into his mouth, still wearing his stupid fucking sweatpants as Eddie rolls his hips up, trying to get him closer. Nothing but a thin layer of cotton is keeping Buck from being able to press right into him. Would he be able to just slip inside? Will Eddie need to adjust, let Buck in little by little?
He can’t wait another second to find out.
“Get naked,” he demands, reluctantly shoving Buck away so that he can make it happen. The way he pouts when Eddie breaks this kiss would be comical, if Eddie didn’t also feel an immense loss the second there’s space between them.
He thinks there should be some shame in the fact that he’s completely naked—that he’s already cum once—and Buck is still fully dressed. He can’t find it though, there’s just this unrelenting need. An ache in his core that spreads out towards his fingertips, and beyond that, a sense of excitement. Some sort of joy that Eddie hadn’t realized he could feel at the prospect of having sex.
“You’re so pretty,” Buck breathes once he’s pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the floor. His eyes drag from Eddie’s face all the way down, between the splay of his thighs. If possible, Eddie flushes even darker. He can’t see it, but he can feel the heat radiating off of his cheeks.
“C’mon, Buck. Hurry up,” he deflects, refusing to acknowledge the other thing. He nudges Buck with his knee to urge him on.
There’s a wet spot on the front of Buck’s sweatpants, fabric gone dark with the combination of their arousal. It’s obscene, this visual reminder of just how much they want one another. It makes Eddie’s mouth water.
Buck’s fingers hook into the waistband of his sweats and Eddie watches with rapt attention as he works them down until his cock springs free, pink and wet at the tip. Over the years, he’s made a conscious effort not to notice Buck’s dick—in the locker room, in the showers, when they were sharing a space during covid. Now though, he can’t help but wonder at the size of it. It’s bigger than he’s realized, thick enough that he knows it’s going to be a stretch.
Buck’s not graceful as he wrestles his way out of his pants. Eddie’s hopelessly endeared by him.
Like this, completely naked, hard and flushed, Buck looms between his legs, looking massive. Eddie didn’t know this about himself until just now. This roiling desire that kicks up at the thought of Buck’s size, his unapologetic being. It’s instinct the way Eddie’s hand slides down, on autopilot as he goes to palm his cock and instead his fingers slip through his folds. Buck’s eyes are glued to him, watching the way he touches himself.
Eddie’s never really gotten the appeal of jerking off for a partner before, but now, with the way Buck’s looking at him, it might be starting to make sense. He wants to push, see how hot he can make that gaze, how long he could go before Buck loses it altogether and shoves Eddie where he wants him. He gives it a tentative try, saying simply and softly, “Buck.”
That seems to spring him into action, and Buck’s crawling back up, settling in the cradle of Eddie’s hips. “You sure about this?” He asks, always so good about checking in. His care and assurance only make Eddie want him more.
“Yeah,” he breathes. Buck dips down, kissing along his jaw, setting his lips to Eddie’s throat while he’s speaking like he’s enjoying the vibration. He can feel Buck’s cock, hot and silky as it brushes against him where he wants it most. “Yeah, fuck me.”
The noise Buck makes at that can only be described as a growl, clamping his teeth down into the tender skin of Eddie’s neck so hard that it’s sure to leave a mark. He works a hand between them, shifting enough so that he can slip it between his belly and Eddie’s hips, fingers sliding teasingly over his clit. Eddie bucks up into the touch, a pathetic whine leaving his throat.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna take care of you,” Buck says the words softly, pressing a sweet kiss over the mark he’s just made. Despite how turned on he is, Eddie thinks he could melt into the mattress at Buck’s words—mind a mantra of babybabybaby on repeat. The thought of being Buck’s baby makes him feel syrupy and golden. Buck’s going to take care of him, the way he always does.
A second later, Buck has settled back onto his knees, cock in hand. A filthy, pleased little smile spreads on his face as he drags the tip until it’s snugged right against Eddie’s hole, just barely pressing in before he’s dragging it up through the mess of his cunt, tapping the head against his clit. It’s electric, a deliciously achy spark tingling through his core. It’s too much and not enough all at once. Instinctively, he tries to close his legs, but it just cages Buck in more securely between his thighs.
“Just put it in, Buck,” he tries again, voice thankfully coming out more stern than he feels. Truthfully, he thinks he might be able to cum like this, with Buck sliding against him, head of his cock giving the barest bit of friction against his clit. It’s not what he wants though. He wants Buck to finally fuck him.
It’s been such a long day of wanting, he’s almost ready to beg for the privilege.
“You like it,” Buck says matter-of-fact, smirk on his face as he adds, “Can feel you getting wetter.”
Eddie blushes at that, fire burning through his veins at the thought that Buck can feel that. It’s not untrue of course, he’s so wet that he can feel it slightly sticky on the insides of his thighs and undoubtedly there’s going to be a wet spot on the bed when this is over. A visual representation of just how badly Eddie’d wanted this.
“Would like it more if you’d actually fuck me,” he says, words going breathy as Buck drags the head back down so it’s just barely pressed against his entrance. The hand that’s not on his cock is grasping at Eddie’s thigh, gripping him so hard the skin dimples. It might even leave fingerprint-shaped bruises—a visual reminder of exactly what they’ve done. “Thought you promised me you were going to be good,” he reminds, relishing the way Buck’s eyes go visibly darker at that.
Thankfully, that seems to be exactly what he needed to say. Buck starts to actually press inside. It’s slow going. Despite how wet Eddie is, Buck’s cock is still thick, and it takes a few rocks of his hips for Eddie’s body to finally open up so he can slide home. They both groan in unison, and Buck urges him to wrap the thigh he’d been holding up around his waist as he ducks back down to kiss him, immediately licking into Eddie’s mouth.
“You alright?” He breathes, pulling back from the kiss so he can mouth at Eddie’s jaw. “S’it feel good?” He’s not just asking to stroke his own ego. It’s genuine curiosity. He wants to make sure Eddie’s enjoying himself.
“Yeah,” he answers truthfully, a hiccupy whine is punched out of him as Buck pulls back so he can give him his first real thrust. “Fuck, feels so full.”
It’s the truth. He’s stuffed full of Buck’s massive cock, splitting him open and dragging just right every single time he rocks his hips. It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before. Every nerve ending in his body feels like a sparkler on the 4th of July, just a delicious hot fizz below his skin.
“Yeah? You like that?” Buck asks, smirk on his face. It’s a ridiculous question. The wet squelch every time he fucks into him and the way Eddie is rolling his own hips down into every thrust should be answer enough. Eddie won’t dignify him with a response. Buck’s smirk gets dirtier. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a size qu– mmph!”
All it takes is a hand in Buck’s curls to drag him up so Eddie can claim his mouth in a kiss. Buck shifts to get a better angle, and somehow that makes his next thrust hit just right. The soft part of his belly drags against Eddie’s swollen clit on every other thrust, and he thinks all the blood in his body might’ve been replaced with magma, warm and thick and molten in his veins.
Everything is slick heat as Buck fucks him into the mattress. The slide of their sweat-damp skin where they’re pressed as closely together as possible makes every touch feel erotic. Buck’s panting into the kiss, and Eddie thinks he can feel the rabbiting of his heart through his chest.
Things he normally wouldn’t think twice about, things about sex that usually don't appeal to him– feel charged, make him clench down like he’s trying to lock Buck inside of him. He can’t get enough, short nails digging into the muscles of Buck’s back as he tries to pull him closer.
“H-how– how does it–” Buck gasps. “What does it feel like?”
Right, this is new. For all Eddie had been freaked the fuck out this morning, being with Buck has dulled all of that. It’s just that he has the sneaking suspicion that it would feel this intense even if he hadn’t gotten to borrow a pussy for the day.
“Insane.” Eddie answers. “So wet— and,” his words break off into a choked out moan as Buck slides a hand around the back of his thigh and uses that grip to tilt his hips up so he can give it to him even deeper. “—and sensitive. Can feel every fucking inch.”
And he’s afraid of what it’ll be like when Buck pulls out, but he doesn’t share that just yet.
Luckily, Buck’s fucking him so good that worry fizzles out almost as quickly as it came, and when he slips a hand between them and brushes his thumb just right over Eddie’s clit, the general silhouette of an orgasm that had loomed on the horizon comes into clear sharp focus as the pleasure builds.
“Might be the best thing I’ve ever felt,” Eddie admits, feeling himself get wetter as Buck keeps that perfect friction right on his clit. “Never felt this good the other way around.”
Buck makes a choked sound at that confession. “Jesus, Eddie.”
Eddie can’t feel self conscious about it. Not when he feels this fucking good. Everything is building in this perfect crescendo. His fingers and toes tingle with it, that same full-body feeling from before.
“Buck, please,” he’s begging, and he should have an ounce of shame about that, but it’s nowhere to be found. He’s not even sure what he’s begging for, it’s already perfect. He feels swollen and achy in the best possible way.
“I’ve got you,” Buck promises, the hand that’s not on his clit runs soothingly down his side. “Wanna make you feel good. Want you to cum for me again,” he urges, voice a gentle balm. He keeps that same even tempo with his hips and fingers, working Eddie’s body until he’s right on the edge.
His whole body feels like a rubber band pulled taut, waiting to be snapped. All it takes is one more thrust that drags just right inside of him before his orgasm crashes over him. He can feel himself clamp down around Buck’s cock. If possible, his second orgasm of the night is even more intense than the first. The noise he makes will be embarrassing later, but for now he can only focus on the way Buck keeps fucking him, dragging out the pleasure so that it feels like it might never end.
There’s a wet spot under his ass, and his thighs are still shaking when he regains brain function, body a boneless heap. He’s panting, sucking in air like maybe he’d cum so hard he’d almost stopped breathing.
“Eddie, fuck, you feel so good,” Buck’s looking at him with awe. “Felt like a fucking vice around my cock.” Even just hearing it makes his cunt throb a little. Everything is so sensitive now, he tugs at Buck’s wrist, making him pull his hand off of his clit. It’s too much now.
Without warning, Buck moves to pull out completely. Eddie whines at the loss, feeling so empty immediately. He can’t imagine the mess between his legs, and he’s tempted to reach down and press a couple of fingers back inside himself to alleviate the ache left behind.
“What’re you doing?” it’s meant to be an inquiry, but it comes out as more of an irritated whine. When he looks between them he can see the way Buck is still rock hard, cock glistening with Eddie’s cum.
“Was gonna,” Buck starts to explain, making a crude jerking off gesture as he leans back onto his knees. “Figured you’d be sore, and my arms were about to give out.” He rolls his shoulders as if to prove his point. Which, fine. He probably does need a break from that position, but Eddie is absolutely not done with him yet.
If they’re doing this, they’re going to do it right, so Buck absolutely has to cum inside him. What a waste if he doesn’t. Besides, Eddie is so not ready for this empty feeling to stick around.
Before Buck can do something insane (like actually wrap a hand around himself and start to jerk off), Eddie nudges him with his knee until he has enough room to roll over so that he’s on his hands and knees. It also has the benefit of getting him out of the wet spot that’s staining the sheets.
“Like this,” he instructs, turning to look over his shoulder so he can see Buck’s stunned face. His eyes are trained on Eddie’s ass. He gives a wiggle of his hips, hoping to entice Buck into moving.
“Eddie, you look–” he sounds genuinely pained, trailing off before finishing that thought. One of his hands comes up so he can slide his fingers between Eddie’s lips, letting his thumb just barely hook into his entrance. “I might cum from the visual alone,” He warns.
“No.” Eddie snaps. “Inside.” Buck’s pressing two fingers inside of him now, making a filthy squelch as he stalls.
That seems to spur him into action at least. He can feel the bed dip right before the heat of Buck’s thighs press up behind his own. Before he presses back inside, Buck taps the fat head of his cock against Eddie’s cunt, making him clench down around nothing. He lets out an amused chuckle before he finally slides back inside.
It steals Eddie’s breath away, he feels shaky, has to drop down onto his elbows instead of his hands. Somehow, despite everything Buck has given him, he still wants more.
“You take it so well,” Buck’s voice is gruff as he leans down so he can whisper the words directly into Eddie’s ear. The words make him shudder, a warm heat spreading from his gut. He wants to take Buck’s cock better than anyone else he’s ever been with.
His thrusts now aren’t as fast. It’s more of a grind, so deep it’s like he can feel Buck’s cock in his throat. Everything inside of him rearranging so that all that’s left is Buck and that delicious liquid gold heat.
He’s never cum three times in a row (he’s never cum more than twice in day with hours in between), and that wasn’t his intention when he demanded Buck keep fucking him, but between Buck’s perfect thrusts, the sounds he makes as he gets close, and the way both of his big hands pet over Eddie’s body, he can feel everything building again.
“Eddie, baby, m’gonna cum,” he warns. And there it is again. Baby. Eddie thinks he can actually feel the way he’s dripping around Buck’s dick at that.
“Yeah,” he encourages, rocking back into each thrust. “Give it to me.”
“Yeah, gonna cum in this perfect fucking pussy,” Buck groans, hips stuttering before he presses in as deep as possible and cums. It surprises Eddie just how much he can feel it. The way Buck’s cock twitches, the way everything feels that much warmer and wetter. Buck’s leaned down, biting at his shoulder as he rocks his hips forward, working himself through his orgasm, fucking his cum that much deeper into Eddie. It’s driving him a little crazy. Dizzily, greedily, he thinks he’d like to get a hand on his clit—that maybe he could cum again himself. As it is, he can’t make his arms work.
Buck’s gone a bit boneless after his orgasm, and Eddie can’t support his own weight anymore, let alone Buck’s mass as well. He slides down onto the mattress, Buck still inside of him and pressed along his back, like an overly eager weighted blanket. He presses a sweet kiss over the bite mark he’d made, hand petting over Eddie’s ribs.
“Y’alright?” The words are a little slurred. “How do you feel?” Buck asks a little more steady, but still breathless.
Oh, right. The whole point of this was figuring out how the hell to get Eddie’s original body back. Somehow, that had gotten lost in the onslaught of pleasure and love and care that Buck had been launching since Eddie confessed. Of course, even as good as that was, he still wants his dick back.
Taking a breath, Eddie takes stock of his body now. Residual pleasure and warm caramel haze has settled in his limbs, his skin tingling wherever Buck’s touch had landed. His pussy certainly got a workout, but it’s not pain that’s taken up residence there– more like accomplishment. It feels like the euphoria of leaving the gym after hitting a new PR. A little sore, but in the best way.
Nothing feels like it’s magically changing. Of course, Eddie supposes, nothing did the first time around either. He should be panicking again, trying to figure out what to try next, but he’s just… not. He feels… content. Like now that Buck is in his corner, he doesn’t need to worry.
Eddie sucks at his teeth, decides honesty has gotten him this far. “Tingly. A little tired.” A pause, then, “Good.” Wonders if he should be embarrassed by how greedy it makes him when he finally adds. “A little like I could cum again. Was close before.”
Buck hums thoughtfully in answer. He’s started to go soft, and Eddie can feel the way the combination of both of them drips out of him when Buck finally pulls out.
“I think we can make that happen.” It’s all the warning Eddie gets before Buck grabs his hips, yanking him up so swiftly Eddie has to scramble to get his knees under himself. Buck pats his ass like Eddie had been following an order. “That’s it.” he praises.
Then, Buck’s on him, lips and tongue and just the barest hint of teeth as he licks into Eddie’s cunt. It sends sparks over Eddie’s skin, on the cusp of overwhelming before Buck’s even reached his clit. All those extra nerves are firing happily, if a little chaotically, as Buck grips Eddie’s hip tightly and slides his tongue up further, clearly dissatisfied with anything less than Eddie’s utter ruination.
As if Eddie’s not already trembling enough, Buck bullies his face deeper, his pointy little nose barely dipping into Eddie’s cunt. Oh god, there’s no way he’ll ever be able to look at Buck’s nose again without getting hard. Er, well, whatever the rush of lust is going to earn him once his body decides on a set of anatomy. Eddie folds his arms, leaning onto them for support.
“God,” Buck moans into Eddie’s cunt. “Why do you taste so fucking good.”
He doesn’t intone it as a question. Instead, like some sort of cosmic wondering. Like of course Eddie would taste good to him, like of course there would never be a reason for that other than the fact that they’re BuckandEddie. Eddie doesn’t point out that it’s the mix of both of them that Buck’s tasting now.
Buck backs off when Eddie’s whining moans start to climb into high-pitched hurt noises, leaving his poor overworked clit alone and instead shoving his tongue into Eddie’s cunt like he plans to get every drop of his own cum back. It’s completely shocking just how much Eddie can feel: the undulating of Buck’s tongue massaging his walls, the slip-slide of their combined cum inside him.
Buck is tireless, no sign of his energy flagging as he takes Eddie apart piece by piece. Sex has never been like this before: unordered, driven only by what feels good. There were times when sex was desperate, overwhelming, or passionate, of course there were, but it was never all those things while also being like this: syrupy and indulgent, safe and settled. That, too, Eddie’s sure, has very little to do with anatomy and very much to do with who they are to each other. How long they’ve been building up this abiding trust.
When that swell starts to build in Eddie’s lower belly again, his hips starting to move of their own accord fucking back onto Buck’s tongue, and his voice getting needier even to his own ears, Buck responds in kind. He slips back down to focus his considerable skills on Eddie’s clit, everything so wet again that there’s no spark of pain at the sweep of Buck’s tongue. Eddie’s already so fucking close, teetering on the precipice like this won’t be his third orgasm of the night, and then that sweet nose pokes at his cunt again, buried there with how close Buck is pressing, and Eddie’s unceremoniously flung over the edge.
The fact that he has gotten acquainted with how orgasms feel in this adjusted body doesn’t seem to matter much, the intensity still bowls him over. He drops his forehead to his folded arms, Buck’s name slipping from his lips over and over again like it’s the only word he knows. Buck gentles him through it, murmuring praise and massaging Eddie’s sides with warm hands as he lets him collapse onto the bed.
Buck twists and drops down next to him, staring up at the ceiling with a goofy smile on his face. “How about now?”
“So fucking good.” Eddie replies, breathless and never having been more forthcoming. His limbs feel like lead. Moving even a muscle seems like an impossible feat.
What’s left of their mess drips onto Eddie’s thighs, sticky but not entirely unwelcome. It’s sort of nice to have a comingling of them, like when they’d inadvertently worked together to soak Buck’s sweats earlier.
And then it occurs to him.
“Oh god.”
“What?” Buck asks, picking his head up a fraction, like moving is an epic feat for him as well.
“You don’t think I could get pregnant, right?”
Buck groans, head dropping back down with a thud. “Fuck, Eddie you can’t just say shit like that, at least give me a few minutes or a Gatorade or something.”
“Buck.” Eddie insists, because this is serious! As much as he loves his son, one unplanned pregnancy is more than enough for a lifetime. This body is unfamiliar enough as it is, the thought of being pregnant, of something growing inside him, something of Buck’s. Something they made together…
Okay, fine, maybe Buck’s reaction was valid.
Anyway, Eddie has bigger fish to fry at the moment. There’s a much more pressing issue at hand.
“When I’m…” he starts, unsure how to phrase this in a way that doesn’t come off desperate and wanting. “If we figure this out, and I’m back to,” he gestures inelegantly between his legs. “Eddie 1.0.”
Buck snorts, but his expression fades into something wretchedly fond when Eddie stumbles out the rest.
“If I’m back to normal, will you still want this?” He looks away, unable to watch it hit Buck’s face when he clarifies, “me?”
“Oh, Eddie.” Buck breathes his name like a prayer, like he always does when Eddie has said something so vulnerable it threatens to crack him down the middle.
Eddie would roll his eyes if he wasn’t so busy melting, even before Buck takes his face in both hands and kisses him so sweetly and thoroughly that they’d both be hard pressed to feel anything other than bone-deep satisfaction. When they part, Buck rests his forehead against Eddie’s, licking his lips like he can’t bear to be away from the taste of Eddie for more than a few seconds at a time. “You get that I’ve been in love with you for years, right? It’s never been about that for me. Kinda part of the whole bisexual thing, right? ‘Hearts, not parts’?”
He grins so wide, Eddie can barely roll his eyes.
For Eddie, it’s never just been about hearts. Not when it came to him, anyway. Being born into a body like his seemed to dictate things from the start. Like being the man of the house even though he was just a kid. Or only being allowed to love people born into the opposite binary. It’s a little mortifying now, to think that the way he’s raised Christopher to think might apply to him, too. That he can love whoever he wants, regardless of the body they may have been born into. That none of that bullshit has ever mattered when it counts.
Eddie’s pretty sure he loves Buck for his heart, but he’s also become startlingly partial to his parts, too. What fucking luck to fall in love with a best friend, who happens to be a great stepdad and wonderful partner all wrapped up into one (his huge cock and soft, bitable belly serve as the cherry on top). How soon after a gay awakening is too soon to propose?
“Never say that to me again, and I love you, too.”
Buck smiles into their next kiss, and Eddie’s not sure how he ever went this long without kissing Buck. He’s going to have to spend the rest of their lives making up for the lost time. Maybe first, though, they figure out how to get Eddie’d dick back. As fun as this has been, he’s partial to it.
Just, perhaps after some sleep. He yawns, yanking Buck closer, who comes easily, nuzzling his stubble against Eddie’s shoulder and sending shivers skittering over his skin.
“I dunno about you, but I’m fucking exhausted. What would you say about a brainstorm in the morning if the whole orgasm factory reset doesn’t work. I think Chim knows a bruja out in Ojai? Maybe we can start there.”
Eddie has roughly a thousand questions on why Chimney would have a connection to someone billing themselves as a bruja in a town almost two hours from them, but he’s too exhausted to do more than lift a brow at the suggestion. “Sure, Buck.” he agrees, drawing Buck’s arm around him just a bit tighter.
“I got you, Eddie.” Buck promises, all earnestness and love. “We’ll get everything figured out together.”
Eddie has plenty of doubts, but that’s never been one of them. He turns his head to press a kiss to Buck’s upper arm and hums an agreement. As sleep overtakes him, the feeling that Buck really does make any set of circumstances okay creeps in, and Eddie’s far too content to cringe about it.
—
Those circumstances are really okay when Eddie wakes in the morning to soft sunlight filtering in the middle blinds, chest pressed to Buck’s broad, warm back, and finds his dick pleasantly hard against Buck’s pert little ass.
Honestly, thank God (or the universe or whatever) for morning wood and bed sharing.