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The first indication Buck has that something is wrong is Eddie's voice over the radio. “Got something weird on the third floor, Cap. Some kind of plant.”
Buck is already on edge. They all are, even Eddie. No one wants to be back in a lab that could be hiding anything.
“Put your mask on,” Chimney orders. “Stay away from it.”
There's a pause before the static returns. It clicks on, and Eddie says, “Might be too late for that. Already got a face full of pollen.”
Then Hen, adding, “Both of us did.”
Buck is inexplicably furious. If he was Eddie's partner still, this wouldn't have happened. He could have protected him. Hen doesn't know Eddie like he does. She wouldn't lay down her life for him. Give him everything. Not like Buck would.
There's lease paperwork sitting in his email, waiting for his signature. Buck doesn't think about that. He can't.
Eddie might get sick. Buck can take care of him if he does. He knows how to be there for Eddie as he heals, as he turns his anger and pain inward and chews holes in his own sense of self. So different than Buck’s crabby refusal to accept any help, always lashing out at the people who care for him. Eddie doesn’t lash out. The only person he wants to hurt is himself. Buck hates standing there watching him take shots at himself. But if Eddie needs him, he’ll be there. Eddie doesn’t even need to ask.
Eddie is young, strong, healthy. Whatever is in those spores can’t be that bad, surely. Buck can’t let himself think that way. Eddie is going to be okay. The alternative—well, Buck can’t think about the alternative, but he can’t think about anything else either.
What if Eddie dies? People do that sometimes, even ones Buck started to think may be immortal. Buck will have to take over his lease again. He didn't think it could get worse than the last time he did that.
Chimney extracts them all. He's testy on the radio when he tells Linda they need a hazardous response team. Buck doesn't care. He's waiting for his first glimpse of Eddie.
It should be comforting. Eddie walks out on his own two feet, helmet off and tucked under one arm, joking casually with Hen. It isn't. Buck's on him in a flash, one hand twisted in the front of Eddie's turnouts and the other reaching for his face.
Eddie is gorgeous. The most beautiful man Buck has ever seen. And Buck lives in LA, so that's a real compliment. This is all objective fact, not Buck’s personal opinion. It’s normal he’s noticed this. It’s normal. He’s normal. Eddie’s hair is mussed from the helmet, sticking up oddly. His eyes are bright and alert—maybe too bright? Buck yanks his glove off and presses the back of his hand to Eddie's forehead. Warm. Buck doesn’t usually touch Eddie. It’s not for any particular reason. Eddie touches him all the time. Buck just—doesn’t. He wants to now, though. Eddie is magnetized, pulling Buck in towards him, too powerful to resist.
“We have thermometers,” Hen points out. “Or using your lips is more accurate than a sweaty hand.” Her voice is odd. Buck can’t put a finger on it. He’s never heard that tone from Hen, that’s all.
She has a point. It isn’t a kiss, not really, not if Buck is using his lips as a thermometer. This is medicinal. It means nothing. Buck grabs Eddie's chin and tilts his head. Eddie goes easily. Too pliantly. Eddie putting up with mothering without even a complaint isn't like him. When Buck presses a kiss to Eddie's forehead, Buck knows instantly. Eddie is flushed and fever-warm.
When he pulls back, Eddie smiles. Eddie smiling pulls at the scar on his lip. It's old, much older than their friendship. He fell on the stairs as a kid. Didn't tell anyone for hours. Buck can never have those early years with Eddie. He needs to be a part of every single one Eddie has left to make up for the loss of the ones before they met. Buck should have been there for Eddie, at his side, for every minute of his life. How can Eddie forgive Buck his absence in those formative years?
Eddie laughs. “I'm not dying, Buck.” His voice is husky. Low in his throat. Buck shivers, an involuntary response.
“Buckley!” Chimney yells. “Back it up. We need to quarantine them.”
“Promise?” Buck whispers.
“Promise.”
“So, he's dying?” Buck spits. He knows he's being inappropriate, that he's a huge man and he can't loom over this doctor and scare her. But if Eddie is dying, then—well, all the rules go right out the window. She's going to need to fix him, stat.
“I didn't say that.” Dr. Bellis crosses her arms, unimpressed by his tantrum. “If you'll step back and listen to what I'm saying, I'll explain what's happening in Mr. Diaz’s system to you.”
Buck doesn't understand most of her explanation. He walks away knowing that Eddie's nervous system has been messed up by the plant. That Eddie needs physical contact and release, or else it'll be too much for his body. They don't know what too much looks like. A heart attack, maybe.
Buck doesn't tell anyone he kissed Eddie. That he's feeling overly warm and flushed every time he remembers how Eddie's skin felt under his lips.
So, if Eddie doesn't come, he's going to die. Buck can't lose someone else. Not Eddie. That makes what he has to do easy. It’s lucky he never deletes numbers from his phone.
“I'm engaged, actually,” Ana says. “I'm really sorry to hear about—um, that. But I don't think it would be within the boundaries of my relationship to, uh, help.”
“I went back to the nunnery,” Marisol informs him. “Well, we don't actually live in nunneries. It's 2025. But I'm no longer a sexual being. It's better for everyone.”
“Do you masturbate to Jesus?”
“Goodbye, Buck.”
So all two of Eddie’s ex-girlfriends are a wash. Buck starts googling sex workers. It can't be that hard to hire one, right? He'd been easy to hire, back in the day, whenever he needed gas money or a place to sleep. And now he has the magic of social media and OnlyFans at his fingertips.
From where he's sitting in the hospital waiting room, he's got a pretty good view of the hallway. He sees Karen lead Hen out, towards the doors. They're holding hands. Hen is stalking Karen like a woman possessed while Karen tries to get them both out of the hospital still dressed. Hen’s got her hands all over Karen, groping her in a way Buck’s never seen her do. Buck swallows.
He needs to hurry. He can't let Eddie die. But Eddie doesn't have anyone ready for a weekend full of sex. He doesn't have a dozen numbers in his phone the way Buck still does, a roster of women who’d pick up the phone if he needed some lifesaving sex. And a few men now, too, from the weeks between the ill-advised hookup with his ex and Bobby dying. Buck had been slipping into bad habits. Eddie's bad habits look very different than Buck's. He doesn't have anyone to call.
“Any luck?” Chimney asks. Buck's head shoots up. He'd forgotten their captain was even here. “Actually, don't tell me.”
“Y-yeah,” Buck stutters. “I'm not going to let him—” He catches sight of Ravi, hovering awkwardly behind Chimney. “Ravi, you're pan.”
“No,” Ravi says instantly. “Well, yes, but I'm saying no. I'm not consenting. Find someone else.”
“Eddie’s straight anyway,” Buck reminds them, miserable. It was only an idea.
“Maybe Eddie would prefer to have a big gay weekend over dying,” Chimney says. “Just an idea.”
Buck's big. Sex with him would be gay. It’s not a weekend, but you can’t have everything. Maybe Chimney is onto something.
“If I'm—with Eddie. Doing, um, him. Who's going to watch Chris?”
Chimney claps Buck on the shoulder. “Don't say I never did nothin’ for ya.”
Buck would respond, but his hands are shaking. He can't think about anything but Eddie, probably confused and scared in his hospital bed. Buck has been so selfish out here, leaving Eddie all alone. He needs to get to him.
“Buck?” Chimney asks.
Buck pushes past him, not caring when Chimney has to stumble to stay on his feet. “I need—Eddie.” He says Eddie’s name again, rolling the syllables around in his mouth. Tasting them. Eddie.
Eddie has apparently also heard the thing about release, because Buck walks into his hospital room to find him with his head thrown back, palming himself through the hospital gown. It’s thin and does nothing to hide the size of his erection. Buck’s pretty sure he can make out every detail of Eddie’s cockhead from where it’s straining against the thin fabric. Buck needs Eddie, a visceral and deep desire that crashes over him like a wave. He doesn’t want to find Eddie some random woman who won’t appreciate him. He wants to map every inch of Eddie’s skin himself; draw it out and write here there be dragons so no other explorers will follow in his path.
“Ed-die?” Buck doesn’t mean for his voice to break midway through. It’s just that he thinks his brain broke, is all.
Eddie tilts his head just enough to see Buck. “You done calling my exes or do you need to run to the cemetery now?”
Buck pauses. “I could call—if you want, Kim. I could call.”
Eddie pats the bed next to him. His other hand, the one not patting and inviting Buck to come closer, is on his dick still. Holding it tightly at the base like he was so close to orgasm when Buck came through the door that he needs to stave it off now.
He sits gingerly next to Eddie. They’re both big men. Eddie’s body takes up most of the bed, not leaving much room for Buck’s ass. They’re lucky it’s not Eddie’s ass. That wouldn’t fit. Buck’s eyes trail down, but Eddie is lying on his ass. Buck can’t get a view of it. He could roll Eddie over and then the hospital gown would probably twist with him and leave his ass completely exposed.
But Buck has boundaries. He’s a good boy. He does not touch Eddie, not even a little bit.
“Do you really think I would want you to call the woman I ruined my life over?” Eddie asks. He sounds hurt. “I’m not chasing a ghost anymore, Buck.”
“I don’t want you to die.”
“Hey.” Eddie catches his hand and brings it to his chest. “I’m not going to die. Feel that? My heart’s fine.”
“But—”
Eddie’s voice goes stern. “You’re not going to let me die. Are you?”
Buck’s hand trembles. But with Eddie there to hold him steady, that’s okay. They’ll be okay. “No,” Buck whispers. “I won’t let you die, Eddie.”
“Then take me home.”
Eddie and Buck live together. Buck’s not sure he ever appreciated that enough before. He’s been all dramatic about it, all I need to move out and give you your own space. Insisting, no, Eddie, we can’t share a bed. Why? Because you might have cooties, I don’t know.
Eddie doesn’t have cooties. Eddie has a raging hard on shoved back into his uniform pants because he couldn’t leave the hospital in just his gown, no matter how much Buck would’ve enjoyed the view. He’s also got a stunned look on his face, like he’s already sex drunk when Buck hasn’t even touched him yet.
Buck’s good at sex. He’s not sure that fact is going to matter much to Eddie, who looks like a single brush against his cock could set him off. He’s stopped touching it. He’s got one hand clinging to the edge of his seat and the other on the door handle. He can’t touch himself. Buck likes it. Likes Eddie being powerless to his own pleasure.
Which is an objectively bad thing, Buck reminds himself. Eddie is essentially drugged right now. Sure, it’s not rat fever that’s going to kill him, but it’s still awful and an invasion of his bodily autonomy or something. Buck isn’t totally sure what bodily autonomy is, but he can find out.
“Stop thinking so hard,” Eddie orders.
“What’s bodily autonomy?”
“I have it. Stop worrying, Buck. I want this. Anything you have to do for me, it's okay. I want it.”
What was Buck thinking, asking this man? His sex-ed talk with Chris was mostly a discussion of why it’s a great idea to use condoms, because even if you like the results of your failure to do so a decade and change on, that’s still not a terribly good thing to invite into your life. Buck had to cover things like how to tell if a woman is faking an orgasm. Does Eddie even know how to tell? Buck didn't talk to him about faking orgasms.
“Do you know what a faked orgasm looks like?” Buck asks. He pulls into the driveway.
“You’re not going to have to fake it.” Eddie hauls himself out of the car. His bulge is truly egregious. Who lets him walk around with a dick that big all the time? That can’t be legal.
Buck scrambles to follow him once he realizes that Eddie has set his course for the front door and isn’t slowing down to wait. Plus, he can’t be trusted with a view of his ass right now. If Buck thought Eddie’s tented pants were bad, his butt is endlessly worse. If Eddie bends down, Buck’s going to have an issue with pitching a tent in his own pants. He’s already half hard and their uniform slacks really do not leave him room to grow.
He isn’t far behind Eddie, but apparently he’s given him enough of a lead to rip his clothes off. When Buck makes it through the door, Eddie’s shirt hits him in the face. Buck tries to complain, but when he pulls it away, he gets a view of miles of golden skin. Eddie’s back is a work of art. The way he’s bending over, slipping his pants and briefs over his ass, gives Buck a view of the long, shifting lines of his body. His muscles working and moving under the skin, hinting at the strength Buck knows Eddie is hiding. And from there, tapering down to his narrow waist. It would be a perfect place for Buck to rest his hands. For him to hold onto Eddie gently, caressing the skin. Then his hips, a slow curve outward.
Eddie has to know what he’s doing. This is not an accidental striptease. His ass is in the air as he works his pants down, tempting Buck. Tempting the neighbors, too, if Buck doesn’t get this door shut in the next three seconds. Unfortunately, his brain and body are no longer connected. He can’t do anything but groan at the sight.
Eddie hears. He glances over his shoulder and smirks. “All right there, Buck?”
And, yeah. That’s not going to stand. He slams the door shut and lunges for Eddie.
Buck grabs. He isn’t even aiming for anything in particular, aside from Eddie’s miles of smooth skin. He latches onto Eddie’s hip with one hand. The other lands high on Eddie’s waist, almost at his rib cage. Eddie stills under his hands.
Since becoming a firefighter, Buck has mostly dated people he can pick up. He can lift Eddie, he knows, but he won’t now. Buck’s only lifted Eddie when he’s dying, and Eddie isn’t dying now. He’s on fire under Buck’s hands, burning up. Buck’s hand tenses involuntarily on him, thumb pressing against his spine. Eddie shivers.
“Buck.”
“I can still get someone else,” Buck offers. He’s fully hard now. He has to angle his hips so Eddie won’t feel Buck’s cock pressing into his ass. “Tell me and I will, Eddie.”
“I trust you.” Eddie slumps into him, suddenly going boneless. Buck has to scramble to support him. He definitely forgets to keep his dick to himself. “Only you. Buck, please.”
Eddie’s back is pressed against Buck’s front. He’s still wearing his uniform. The sharp point of his badge is pressing into Eddie’s shoulder, leaving small red marks. Indents, ones Buck put there. He wonders if Eddie can even feel it, can comprehend the rough material of his uniform, or if he’s so consumed by his hunger that he’s lost to any physical sensation that isn’t pleasure.
Buck’s still got a tight grip on Eddie’s hip. He lets his thumb drift down and rubs it over the start of the swell of Eddie’s ass. Then he pulls away from the heat of Eddie’s body and slaps it, hard and fast. Eddie’s hips jerk forward. His ass jiggles, inviting more.
He doesn’t say anything, but he keens. Buck shouldn’t do this. But Eddie is getting sicker. He’s far too hot—and not just appearance-wise, for once. The dude is burning up. His face is pale. A bead of sweat is snaking down his temple. And his dick is taking the brunt of it, so desperate for relief it’s nearly purple. It seems bigger still, if that’s even possible.
Buck’s throat is dry. Swallowing is no relief. “Bed,” he says. This could take some time to run through Eddie’s system, he’d been warned. He wants Eddie as comfortable as he can get.
Buck is used to the myriad of physical discomforts that follow good sex. They’re worth it. Bruises, cuts, bite marks, aches and pains in places he didn’t even know existed. But he doesn’t want Eddie to carry this experience with him. He doesn’t want Eddie wincing when he sits down for days, knowing that Buck split him open. That Buck couldn’t protect him and then perversely saved him when Eddie was already too fucked up to know what he was begging for.
Eddie is walking away again, hips swaying. It’s an invitation. Buck takes him up on it.
Buck and Eddie’s bed—or, more accurately, Buck then Eddie’s bed because they don’t share it, they trade off—is neatly made. A symptom of it being Eddie’s week. Buck will haphazardly draw the sheets and comforter up, and that’s only because all of their clothes are mixed in the closet and drawers, so he has to get dressed with a shirtless Eddie eyeing the bed and going, “Who the hell slept in here, a dog? What do you do, paw at the covers and then turn around three times? How do you mess them up that bad?”
Eddie rips the comforter off and shoves it to the bottom of the bed. So much for his neatly tucked corners and military precision. “Buck.”
Has he forgotten every other word in the English language? Already reduced to begging for Buck to give him relief?
Buck’s worried about Eddie’s heart. On a normal day, he would draw this out, make Eddie suffer and beg as Buck took him closer and closer to his peak but never let him cross the threshold. Not today, though. Buck shoves him. Eddie bounces back onto the bed. Before he’s even gotten his bearings, Buck is on his knees, pulling Eddie’s legs apart to make space for himself.
“Do you think the effects are sexually transmitted?” Buck asks.
Eddie looks down at him. His eyes are dilated, almost black from the size of his pupils. Another side effect. “Nah,” he says, unconvincingly.
Buck doesn’t care. He wants to be right there with Eddie. Either both of them go down, or neither does. He wraps his lips around Eddie’s cock and sucks.
Eddie is truly on a hair-trigger, because that’s enough to have his dick twitching in Buck’s mouth. He’s right on the edge. Buck can let him come, can draw the orgasm and the first dose of poison out of him. He relaxes his tongue and takes Eddie in deeper. It’s been months since he did this, but sucking dick is like riding a bike. He’s not going to forget how to take one all the way down, not stopping until Eddie’s dick brushes the back of his throat.
Eddie’s braced himself, his hands behind him on the bed to hold himself up and his head thrown back. Buck wishes he were watching. He wants Eddie’s eyes on him. He hollows his cheeks and sucks, demanding Eddie’s attention.
Eddie doesn’t look at him, but it’s almost as good, because Eddie’s hips jerk and he comes, spurting down Buck’s throat. Fast and messy, loose not because Eddie wants to be but because he’s forced. Still, though, this is for Buck. Buck will have this memory of Eddie’s dick, hot and heavy on his tongue. An intimate part of him, one so few people have seen. And now Buck is a part of that small number. No one can take this away from Buck. He’ll live the rest of his life as someone who knows what it feels like to have sex with Eddie Diaz.
Eddie is shaking. Somehow, miraculously, he's half hard again just moments after Buck pulls off.
“Please,” he begs. Eddie reaches for him, his hand unsteady in his desperation. Buck meets him halfway, slipping his head under Eddie's grasping hand. Eddie pets his hair for a moment and slurs, “Good.” Then he trails his hand down Buck's face and sticks two fingers in his mouth. “Let me fuck you.”
What's Buck going to say to that? No?
He sucks Eddie's digits for a moment, rolling them around in his mouth. He pulls off with a pop, leaving them slick. Buck wants Eddie to finger him, but Eddie doesn't look capable of even finding Buck's asshole, let alone opening him up for his cock.
He preps himself fast and efficiently with lube from the nightstand that they've been quietly sharing for over a month without acknowledging it, ever since Buck got desperate from not getting off and spent about three hours in the room one of his bed nights without thinking about Eddie’s presence in the house. When he'd emerged, Eddie was on the couch with a bottle of beer, blushing furiously. Then Eddie had quietly taken the bed–and Buck's lube.
This is a one-time thing. Buck can't let himself want more. But he's worried now that he's gotten a taste. What if he can't ever let Eddie go?
Buck skips rolling a condom over Eddie's dick, partially because neither of them ever bought any. But mostly because he can't stand the idea of a barrier between them. What had the doctor said? Eddie needs touch. Buck can give him that.
He positions Eddie, getting him on his back on the bed with a pillow under his head. It’s easy to straddle Eddie. Buck has long legs. Eddie doesn’t fight him at all. His hands roam Buck’s skin, exploring and making Buck shiver. But he lets Buck be in charge without protest.
Eddie gets impatient as Buck is lining up. He bucks his hips, dick sliding between Buck’s ass cheeks. Buck hisses at the sensation. Eddie does it again, pleased with himself. Buck has seen that shit-eating grin on so many occasions that it feels out of place now when Eddie is spread out naked, his body at Buck’s mercy. Or maybe Eddie is truly the one in charge and Buck is at his mercy. He’s got a hand on Buck’s thigh, holding too tightly. But Buck would never begrudge Eddie for holding onto him. That’s all he’s ever wanted Eddie to do.
Buck lets Eddie use his body. Eddie needs him. He speeds up until he’s properly thrusting against Buck’s body. The sound is beautiful, the squelch of lube and come and sweat as Eddie slides against him, the thick and heady scent of their combined arousal filling the room. Buck wants to bottle it. Forget Eddie’s date night cologne. He wants Eddie to smell like this all the time.
Eddie comes and collapses back onto the sheets, too unsteady to even hold himself up. He's still hard, dick red and aching, his come dripping from it.
“Look at you,” Buck whispers, reverent. “Look at you, Eddie.”
Eddie writhes under him, lost to the spell of the pollen and his fever. He reaches for Buck endlessly, wanting skin pressed against skin. Craving it. Demanding it.
Buck isn't gentle with himself when he sinks onto Eddie's dick. Eddie needs him. The stretch is perfect, Eddie so big and hard that he fills Buck. Buck didn't know he was empty. And after being filled so perfectly by Eddie, how will he go back to living a life where he can't have this?
He pushes the thought aside. He's basically Eddie's doctor right now, administering medicine to the man he has pinned under his weight.
Buck has the stamina and the leg strength to ride Eddie hard. He's merciless, bouncing up and down on Eddie's dick at a relentless, punishing pace. Eddie moans, grappling to get his hands on Buck's skin. He reels Buck in as best he can until they're chest to chest, Buck slowing his pace to account for this new angle.
Eddie's skin is so hot. His chest hair drags across Buck's nipples, a hint of friction that makes Buck long for more. But this is Eddie's freaky sex thing, not Buck's. He needs to focus on Eddie's pleasure. He can come back to nipples later.
He's close. Buck has only seen Eddie come twice, but he already has his expression leading up to it memorized. His eyes close of their own accord. His hair is fanned out around his head, a halo. His mouth drifts open, giving Buck a hint of those sharp canines and his pink tongue.
Buck wrings Eddie's orgasm out of him, riding him and clenching down strategically. Eddie comes in hot, thick bursts that fill Buck's ass. He can feel the come dripping out of him. It'll mat down Eddie's pubic hair, drip onto his thighs and mark them. Buck wants to see.
But he's hard, too. His cock, still untouched, is trapped between their bodies. He rocks against Eddie, chasing the heat of him. Eddie's eyes are still closed. He's got a grip on Buck's hips now. Not hard. He's simply holding on, grounding himself. And grounding Buck. Maybe Eddie knows that Buck needs this just as much, even when he's half out of his mind.
Buck doesn't have plant pollen coursing through his veins, keeping him ready to go. If he comes now, he'll have to wait to get it up again. Admittedly, his refractory period is comparatively short, at least next to the small section of the male population he’s had the opportunity to examine. But Buck isn't ready to come yet. He lifts himself off of Eddie's dick and finally lets it spring free, still hard.
He eyes it. “I could get used to this.”
Eddie doesn't respond. Another reminder, and one Buck sorely needs, that he's not in his right mind. Eddie's got a hand on himself, jacking off. His grip is tight, his strokes uncoordinated. Buck hates to see Eddie treated that way by anyone, even himself.
He pins Eddie down. Eddie doesn't fight. He blinks up at Buck, his eyes half-lidded, still dazed with pleasure. Buck's got a hand on each of Eddie’s arms, holding him still, and his knees are bracketing Eddie's hips. Eddie can't go far, but he tries anyway, thrusting up into nothing.
“I've got you,” Buck says. “Let me take care of you.”
He takes Eddie's cock into his mouth again. Eddie doesn't thrust. He lets Buck help him. Buck swirls his tongue around Eddie’s length. He tastes like lube and come, heady evidence of their hours spent together.
If Eddie gives Buck the opportunity, he'll learn this dick better than any he's ever known. Better than his own. As he traces the vein with his tongue, he tries it on like a benediction. Begs, silently, for Eddie to know what Buck needs. Please, let Eddie give him his cock forever and ever, amen. Eddie's attention is the blessing, his perfect body the only thing that could entice Buck into visiting a church. He'd learn to worship for this man.
Eddie doesn't ask him to. He comes down Buck's throat, gentle splashes. Far less come than he'd had at the beginning of this. Buck needs to take care of him.
He pulls off and kisses Eddie's groin, right next to the base of his dick. Then he kisses his hip, and the inside of his thigh, because he's down there anyway and they're both lovely. Buck likes every part of Eddie.
He knew that, sort of, before this. But not as much as he knows it now. He's been trying his best to ignore everyone thinking he was in love with Eddie. He hasn't let himself look. Certainly hasn't let himself touch. And he's been planning on moving out, even when Eddie pouted about it whenever Buck mentioned going to showings. Even if he hasn’t told Eddie that he found a place and he’s one signature away from calling it home. Not that it would be home like this is home. But it would be a place to hide away.
Buck slips away from Eddie and pads out of the room. He's in love with Eddie. And he's signed up to fuck him through however many orgasms his body demands. When it's over, when Eddie is back to himself, he may never want to see Buck again.
Eddie wouldn't do that. Eddie is kind. But it might never be the same between them. Eddie may never be able to look at Buck without reliving this violation. Buck has used Eddie's body mercilessly, demanded so much from him that he's flagging now. While Buck is rock hard and studying the contents of their shared fridge, Eddie is senseless, going mad with a lust he can't control.
Absently, Buck washes his hands and starts putting together a sandwich for Eddie. He’ll need some meat to get through this—and no, not Buck’s, some actual protein.
There's only one thing Buck can think of that might make this a little bit better for him. Redeem him slightly, if that's even possible. He lets his hand drift down to his own cock, still flushed and hard.
He can’t let Eddie get him off. Coming on Eddie—or, fuck, and Buck has to squeeze the base of his dick when he thinks of this, in Eddie’s perfect ass—that’s going to have to be off-limits.
But Buck isn't going to survive however much more sex Eddie's body requires, not without getting off at least once. He'll defile Eddie's kitchen, get himself off joylessly, and then get back to it.
This is practically a job, if he thinks about it. Buck is a firefighter and a trained EMT. He helps people. Eddie needs medical help. That's all this is.
He usually likes to get himself off slowly. Sex, for Buck, has always been a treat. Even when he was at his lowest, a different woman every night and sometimes more than that (okay, fine, often more than that), he'd enjoyed sex. It feels good. Buck likes feeling good. It isn't complicated.
Well, it shouldn't be complicated.
With Eddie's dried come on his thighs and a half-made sandwich in front of him, Buck is willing to admit it may be a little bit complicated.
He has to focus. If Buck comes now, he can probably get through the rest of the night without losing control. Maybe Eddie will wake up cured. A man can dream.
He sinks into the pleasure of it, into the feeling of his hand moving gently along his shaft, aided by the precome he's leaking liberally. For Buck, touch has always been paramount. He craves the feeling of skin on skin, of the way his palm feels as it skates along the delicate length of his cock.
He doesn't want to rush this. He doesn't let himself imagine Eddie's hand on him, because that's a bridge too far, but he does think of Eddie. Of the way he looked, spread out and desperate for Buck. The way he couldn't wait even a minute for Buck to be ready. Eddie's deep brown eyes, clouded with the haze of lust, his mouth drifting open, his attention wholly focused on Buck of all people. He doesn't know what he did to deserve Eddie looking at him like that, but it's one of the greatest gifts he's ever been given.
Buck's been on edge for hours. So close to coming, yet never letting himself tip over. He can feel himself approaching crescendo now, his abs contracting and his balls tightening.
The sensation dies, abruptly, when he hears footsteps. Eddie pads into the kitchen and sidles right up to Buck, pressing himself as close as he can get. Eddie's chest blankets Buck's back, his dick nestled perfectly between Buck's ass cheeks. It's obvious what Eddie wants from the way his erection presses insistently against Buck's hole.
Buck tries to back them up so he can bend over the counter, his own orgasm forgotten, but Eddie doesn't move.
“You weren't there,” Eddie complains, the first coherent words he's managed in a long time. Of course Eddie can find his senses long enough to complain. He loves whining.
“I was making you food.”
“You were getting yourself off.” One of Eddie's hands snakes around Buck and trails down, brushing along his stomach on the way to his groin. “Without me.”
“I do that, you know. All the time.”
Eddie’s hand lands on his dick. “Not this weekend.” He kisses Buck's jaw, open-mouthed and warm, and hooks his head over Buck's shoulder so he can see what he's doing. Apparently, Eddie has decided on their next activity and Buck doesn't get a say.
Buck doesn't argue, though. He tries not to think about what that says about him.
Eddie is going to hate him.
Buck already hates himself. At least they'll still have something in common, even once Eddie can't stand the sight of him for violating him this way.
Eddie figures out the mechanics of hand jobs in a stunning, glorious display. He pumps Buck's dick, his grip tighter than Buck's usual, but perfect because it's Eddie. He isn't doing anything that Buck could do for himself, but it's worlds better. Eddie doesn’t stop, not even when Buck is reduced to a whimpering mess, letting Eddie and the kitchen counter support most of his weight. Buck roars past what he’d earlier thought was the height of his arousal and is seconds from shaking apart when Eddie finally pauses at the head of Buck's cock. Buck whines and tries to thrust into Eddie's hand, but Eddie doesn't let him. He traces the head with his thumb. “This is the same color as your birthmark,” Eddie whispers.
Buck comes. He coats Eddie's hand and the lip of the counter, but he misses the sandwich, thank god. It's what he's needed for so long, the jaw dropping gift of release. He'd been carrying so much tension unknowingly but it's gone, now, as he slumps bonelessly back and lets Eddie fully take his weight.
“You're beautiful when you come.” Eddie doesn't let Buck go. He twists his hips and comes, again, into the cleft of Buck's ass.
What if he's hard forever and he and Buck are ceaselessly trapped like this, in a fun house mirrored version of Buck's untouchable desire. To always have Eddie, but never in the way he wants. Eddie's body, but not his heart or his mind. Not the parts Buck loves the best.
Eddie's body is nothing to scoff at, to be clear. Buck absolutely loves his body. Just not as much as he loves Eddie. He'd still love Eddie even if his body died and they had to upload his mind into a Hildy coffee maker and Buck had to acquire a thirty-cups-a-day habit to talk to Eddie as much as he'd like. He'd love Eddie even like this, as a walking sex addict with occasional bouts of lucidity. But if Buck gets a choice, he'd rather the whole package. Mind, body, and heart.
“Go get some rest,” Buck murmurs, shrugging away from Eddie before they get stuck together. He ignores the come running down his leg. That belongs to Eddie. He isn't going to wipe it off.
Eddie doesn't go. He's soft for a change, his cock hanging between his legs. It's still impressive, even like this. Thicker than Buck's but not as long. Nestled in a base of dark hair a few shades darker than the hair on Eddie's head. His balls large even after Buck has drained them so many times. He doesn't make any moves towards the hallway, so Buck sits him down at the table with a glass of water while he focuses on the food again.
“You should eat,” Eddie says. He's watching Buck's hands like a hawk. “You need to eat.”
Buck sighs but sets to making a second sandwich. Spicy mustard for Eddie, mayo for him—“Why do we have a giant tub of mayo?” Chris asked last week. “It's so big. It's bigger than my head.” And Eddie had replied, “It'll make Buck happy.” It was bigger than even Buck’s head and it did make him happy—and lettuce for both of them, although he'd leave it off of Chris’s sandwich if he were here. Buck puts the water on for tea, too. It won't hurt either of them to rehydrate, and his throat is starting to ache. He's probably not done taking a dick down it yet, either.
Buck sits across from Eddie and puts his sandwich in front of him. Eddie doesn't touch it. He stares at Buck.
“Go on,” Buck urges. “You'll need the fuel. Get some protein in there.”
Eddie waits, stubborn. “You eat.”
Annoyed, Buck takes an exaggerated bite. “Hap’y?” he asks around a giant mouthful. Maybe too large. It's a struggle to chew.
Eddie doesn't answer. He takes his own bite, far more reasonably-sized.
After they eat, Eddie is the one who tugs Buck into the bathroom. They shower together, Eddie silent as he washes Buck's body. He's so gentle as he wipes Buck down, extra careful with his abused ass and his cock. Eddie's hands are hotter against Buck's skin than the water, burning him up with a feverish intensity. When they tumble into bed afterwards, their hair still wet and dripping, it's Buck who needs Eddie. Who craves him.
Buck is still loose, so it's easy for Eddie to slip in. But he doesn't thrust. He tucks his nose in against Buck's neck and stays there, cradling Buck's body.
Buck tilts his ass against Eddie's groin, seeking something. Anything. Eddie doesn't give it to him. He’s breathing so evenly, Buck worries that being buried in him is already old news to Eddie. Until he realizes Eddie's arm across his hips is dead weight. Eddie is asleep.
Buck should save his stamina for the morning anyway—unless a night spent as close as two people can be finally satisfies Eddie's body and the pollen in his system. Maybe Buck will wake up in the morning to Eddie shoving him off, thanking him with his eyes averted from Buck's cock, no longer beautiful in the morning light, and they'll never talk about it again. Maybe cockwarming Eddie is the last thing Buck will ever be allowed to do for him.
When he puts it like that, well, shouldn't Buck be allowed to enjoy it?
Buck gets a hand on himself. He's hard, again—Buck has always had a decent refractory period. It's not a surprise. He's got plenty to think about, too. Eddie has given him enough material to fuel Buck’s dreams for years. He's so selfish. It's still not enough.
He experiments with tilting his hips, finding a way to force a slow drag of Eddie's cock on his prostate. Buck drives himself wild, seeking his pleasure on Eddie's body, until he's hot all over. Buck might be the one with the fever, burning up, unable to think of anything but this, the unrelenting pressure of his need for release.
Eddie is still fast asleep, his breath ghosting on Buck's neck. Buck has to be careful not to move his upper body and risk dislodging Eddie. He doesn't want to wake Eddie up, yes, but more importantly, he doesn't want to lose the feeling of Eddie draped along him, his heart beating steadily against Buck's back.
His small jerks, desperately seeking anything Eddie’s body will give him, coupled with a hand on his cock, are enough to send Buck tumbling over the edge into orgasm. His mouth falls open, the sound he makes loud enough that he shoves his own fingers in just to shut himself up. He and Eddie have thoroughly ruined these sheets already, so he pays no attention to how much he comes. Instead, he focuses on Eddie's cock in him, bearing down and clenching around it involuntarily. The pollen is clearly still working on him, because the pressure is enough that Eddie comes too, filling Buck once again.
Buck can't tell when Eddie's orgasm ends, because his cock never softens. Buck keeps fucking back against him, the rhythm of his hips more out of habit than any real desire. Eddie is still hard, though. He could come again. And maybe Eddie will thank Buck, once he's back to himself, for sparing him the memory of some of the sex. Before he kicks Buck out of his life, anyway.
Eddie wouldn't do that. Buck is hard again, imagining what Eddie will probably say to him. He’ll clap his hand on Buck's shoulder after Buck has acted out for a day or a week, being such an unbearable brat that any other friend would toss him aside and tell him not to text again. Not Eddie, though.
Eddie will stand there patiently, as tall and steadfast as a redwood, and eventually Buck will meet his eyes. Eddie's big brown eyes, soft because he's always soft when he looks at Buck but with a touch of amusement because Buck is being ridiculous again to think that Eddie would ever let him leave.
He’ll say something so beautiful that it will transform Buck, make him feel truly worthy of love as he stands there and basks in it. Buck can't even begin to imagine what Eddie would say.
“You're the only person I would ever want to do this with,” Eddie mumbles into his neck.
Yeah, something like that. The sentiment is enough it has Buck coming prematurely, spilling out even more of his seed onto the sheets rather than in Eddie, where it belongs. In his mouth or his ass or between his thighs, Buck doesn't give a shit. He wants to cover Eddie in his come. Let Eddie experience what Buck has been feeling, claimed so thoroughly as come drips out of his ass and down the inside of his leg. Because Eddie is still hard inside of him. And Buck's own dick is thickening up again.
There's something in him that's buzzing, that's saying this isn't right. But Buck is so tired. He's experienced a lot of emotions. Come more times in a row than he has in years. He lets sleep beckon him in.
And he wakes to Eddie fucking him hard, pinning him down on the bed with an arm across Buck's shoulders. Eddie is merciless, slamming into Buck. His balls slap against Buck's skin. He wonders if they'll leave a mark. He could ask Eddie to take a picture for him.
“Wha–?” he asks, sleepy.
Eddie doesn't answer. He just puts more pressure on Buck, until he has to give in and drop his head to the pillow. Until he has to let Eddie use his body as he sees fit. Buck isn't his own person, not right now. He's Eddie's.
He plays Buck’s body like an instrument, with the mastery of someone who has truly studied their art. Buck imagines it: Eddie over a woman’s much smaller body, his sheer size overwhelming her. Eddie can’t have been this rough with any of them. Buck can take anything Eddie throws at him, can take it and beg wordlessly for more, tilting his hips invitingly and moaning when Eddie nails his prostate and sends a jolt of electricity through Buck’s body. Getting struck by lightning hadn’t been as electric as this. And thank god it hadn’t, or Buck would seek out freak thunderstorms just to put himself in their path.
It’s sweat-soaked skin, the glide of Eddie’s body against his, and his brutal, near punishing pace. How could Buck do anything but fold under the pressure? He comes before Eddie does, untouched, tears rolling down his cheeks as his cock spasms.
Eddie bites down on the meat of Buck’s shoulder when he comes. Buck whimpers at the sensation, at the prick of Eddie’s sharp canines. Buck hopes it leaves an indent. He should get it tattooed. Forever carry Eddie and this experience with him, in indelible ink. A way to remind himself, even long after this is done, that he once had it. That Eddie Diaz once chose Buck, out of everyone in the whole world—or everyone in the greater LA area who was willing to fuck him, which is certainly not a small pool.
Eddie laves his tongue over the spot, a silent apology. “Mine.”
For however long the pollen is in him, forcing him. Buck sighs. “Yours,” he agrees as he tries not to tear up at the thought that this will all be over soon. At least Eddie’s heart will be okay.
Eddie kisses the bite marks. “That’ll bruise.”
“Good.”
“Want more?”
Buck can’t answer. He wants more, of course he does. He wants everything. He nods, tentative.
Eddie pulls out of him. It’s a loss, after a night spent full. Buck whines at the sensation. “We could get you a butt plug,” Eddie offers. “So you never have to be empty again.”
Buck whimpers at the idea. And at the we. Eddie seems to take that as enough of an answer, because he gets his hands on Buck’s ass and spreads his cheeks. Is Eddie about to bite his ass? But—no. Eddie’s tongue is even hotter than his hands. He licks tentatively at Buck’s rim, exploring more than anything else.
“I’m good at oral,” Eddie tells Buck’s ass. Buck isn’t sure if he is meant to hear this or not. “I can do this.”
And, it turns out, he can. Eddie always has to be so goddamn competent. He experiments, using Buck as his test subject. He tries out quick, darting licks that never give Buck quite enough pressure. Then he presses his tongue flat along Buck’s hole, getting him sopping wet and messy. He even licks into Buck’s hole a little bit. Buck must be a sight, open and loose from so much fucking. Eddie doesn’t comment. He eats Buck like he’s his last meal and he needs to memorize the experience.
“Eddie, please,” Buck begs eventually. He isn’t even sure what he’s begging for.
Eddie takes it to mean a finger, apparently. His hands are so big, his fingers thick and strong. He explores with it, pulling out over and over again just before he’s grazed Buck’s prostate. Buck whines at the teasing until Eddie relents. He gives Buck three fingers, a big jump up from one, but not a struggle in Buck’s current fucked-out state. He finally gives Buck the stimulation he’s craving.
This is what he needed. To be filled. To have Eddie inside of him again, making sure Buck knows he isn’t alone. How can Buck be insecure with Eddie here, with Eddie as close as anyone has ever been with him? Eddie has seen the worst of Buck and his best. Of course he won’t ever leave. Buck comes with Eddie’s hand on his cock and his fingers in his ass and his name on Buck’s lips.
Eddie is still wringing his orgasm out of him when he bites down again, this time on the back of Buck’s thigh, right where it meets his ass. It’s a place no one else will ever see, but Buck will have to feel it as the bruise heals, as it darkens and then fades again. Buck will know this is here. He won’t be able to forget. Eddie licks it after, once again gentling the sting of his bite with his care.
He drifts to sleep after that, with Eddie’s come—the newest of it—drying on his back and Eddie still mouthing at his thigh. It’s the most at peace Buck has ever felt.
Eddie isn’t done with him yet. Buck doesn’t know how long he managed to sleep when he wakes up to Eddie on his lap. “You with me?” Eddie asks.
It’s instinct for Buck to reply, “Right in front of you.” Wherever Eddie needs him is where he’ll be. By his side. In his house, waiting like a dog at the door for him to return. Wherever Eddie asks him to go. Even in his ass, apparently.
“I want to ride you.”
Buck vaguely remembers lofty ideals about not fucking Eddie, about not coming at all. But that was yesterday Buck, and he had no idea what it felt like to come with Eddie, to be so deeply connected that their bodies vibrated at the same frequency. That guy can suck it. This version of Buck is going to let Eddie put his ass wherever he damn well pleases.
Eddie arranges Buck how he wants him, which is sitting up against the headboard, a pillow behind his back for comfort. Eddie insists on the pillow. He’s always looking out for Buck.
“I prepped myself while you were asleep,” Eddie says. “I think—I think I did it right.”
He settles over Buck’s thighs, staying up on his knees for the moment. Buck runs his hands along Eddie’s sides, touching every inch of his skin while he’s still allowed the privilege.
“You’ll stay with me?” Eddie asks. His voice wobbles.
“As long as you want,” Buck promises. And he will. He’s still scared it won’t be longer than a weekend. Eddie is out of his mind with lust, drunk on an experimental plant created by some scientists who are certainly going to be on the job hunt soon if Buck has any say in it.
“Forever, then.” Eddie sinks down onto Buck’s dick.
Buck could spend years describing how it feels to be inside of Eddie for the first time. It’s the same as when he first rolled his eyes at Eddie and informed him, “Guests don’t do dishes. Bobby said,” and Eddie replied, “Well, you’re not a guest in this house, so get to it.” He, Eddie, and Chris had washed the dinner dishes side-by-side and Buck had grinned like a fool. When they were done, when Chris was headed towards his video games and Buck was wiping down the counter, Eddie had bumped their shoulders together and said, without even looking over at Buck, “I mean it. You aren’t a guest here. This is your home, too.”
Eddie’s ass feels like those words. It feels like Buck is finally home. Like he truly belongs somewhere. And it isn’t free—he has to do the dishes, same as anyone else. He earns his place, but he isn’t just here because he knows how to use a sponge and is decently competent with dish soap. He’s here because this is where Eddie wants him to be.
“There you are,” Eddie murmurs. He catches Buck by the chin, rather than the shoulder he’s always gone for before. “You’ve caught up.”
“I love you.”
“Yeah,” Eddie says. “I noticed.” He kisses Buck, a gentle press of lips that drives Buck wild. How has he never kissed Eddie before? How can he be expected to do anything but this ever again? Eddie kisses like he knows every inch of Buck—because he does. Sure, they’re exploring each other’s mouths for the first time, but that hardly matters. Eddie knows Buck, and he loves him—presumably, anyway. Buck pulls back.
“Jerk,” he accuses.
Eddie’s eyes are alight, dancing with laughter. He kisses Buck’s nose. “I love you too, Evan Buckley.”
“Full name?” Buck asks. He tries to kiss Eddie again, but he pulls away before Buck can manage it. Rude of him to insist on being on top for this. He must have planned it.
“Until you change it,” Eddie says. “I always thought Buck Diaz had a nice ring to it.”
And then he moves, the bastard. He rides Buck in earnest, his cock bobbing hard and red between them. Eddie loves squats, which is clearly evident in the most glorious ass Buck has ever seen. And he’s seen a lot of asses in his day. His thighs never even quiver from the effort as he bounces on Buck’s dick, arching his back, his angle perfect. Buck can’t do anything but sit there and take it.
Eddie gets desperate, making cut-off little noises that send any remaining blood Buck had anywhere else in his body firmly south. Buck is a vehicle for Eddie’s pleasure, his dick a sex toy for Eddie to bounce on.
That doesn’t mean this is bad for Buck. Far from it. He’s struggling to keep his control, because he wants nothing more than to fuck up into Eddie and come in his ass. Mark Eddie as his as thoroughly as Eddie marked Buck. He could do more. There’s a jeweler between here and the station. Buck can have Eddie forever.
The pollen might have made Eddie’s come a renewable resource, but it couldn’t have done this, Buck decides. Because Eddie would never, ever choose to hurt Buck if he had any other option. He’d never offer Buck everything and then take it away. That’s why he’s certain there’s still a document with his name on it in Eddie’s fireproof safe, telling the courts of California and the whole world that he trusts Buck with his son more than anyone else. It’s why he trusts Eddie now, believes Eddie will still mean this tomorrow, and a month from now, and two decades from now. Eddie claimed Buck. That means he’ll never give him up.
Eddie comes first, his hands scrabbling for purchase on Buck’s body, gripping his shoulders as he clenches down on his dick. That’s enough to wring another orgasm out of Buck, shooting into Eddie’s body for the first time ever. The first time of many.
He rests on Buck’s thighs, still trembling from the force of his orgasm. “I love you, Buck.”
Buck kisses him. It’s a long time before either of them come up for air. When Buck finally pulls away, he realizes something his body had only unconsciously noted.
Buck blinks down at Eddie’s dick, amazed. His chest is coated in come, yet Eddie is still hard. “Think the pollen is ever going to wear off?” he asks.
“Maybe this time’s the charm,” Eddie says, and he pushes Buck’s head down towards his crotch. Buck goes willingly. Eagerly, if he’s honest. This is for science, after all, and Buck loves science.
The pollen does wear off, eventually. It takes Buck and Eddie another two hours to notice. It’s only once Eddie comes between Buck’s thighs and doesn’t instantly harden up again when Buck says he loves him that they start to wonder.
Eddie still doesn’t let Buck out of bed. He tugs him close for a nap. “Think we can send those scientists a fruit basket as a thank you?”
“I’ll find the address,” Buck promises. He falls asleep like that, exhausted and finally satiated, so close to Eddie that he can hardly remember where his body ends and Eddie’s begins.