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It’s a wonderful summer morning in the Munsons’ new trailer, and Eddie lies motionless, pretending to still be asleep, peeking through his eyelashes at the beautiful sight in front of him.
This was the first night that Steve stayed over. They’d been together for several weeks, but only yesterday Eddie finally had the guts to introduce his boyfriend to his uncle. So there’d be no awkwardness, no trying to explain why Steve was sleeping over in his room in case he bumped into Wayne in the morning. They had a nice dinner together, and Wayne immediately adored Steve, and told them both he’d see them tomorrow before leaving for his shift. Just like that, like it was obvious that Steve would stay the night.
And so he did. And he woke up before Eddie, and was still here, leaning against Eddie’s desk, quietly flipping through a Watchmen comic, occasionally sipping on a mug of coffee he must have made himself earlier. Barefoot, tousled bed hair sticking in all directions, wearing Eddie’s black boxers with white stripes and a black Judas Priest T-shirt. The bright morning sun piercing through the blinds lights him up like some sort of beautiful angel.
Old, single Eddie would find that metaphor ridiculously lame. New Eddie, one that somehow managed to score the most gorgeous boy in town, doesn’t give a fuck. That’s his boyfriend, standing in his room, wearing his clothes, and Eddie’s gonna secretly drink in the sight like the shameless creep he is.
Of course, Eddie couldn’t keep this up forever; he’s always been a restless guy, it’s impressive he’s lain still for this long already. His legs ultimately betray him, shifting under the blanket and eager to be stretched, and Steve looks up at the sound of ruffling sheets, a warm smile immediately adorning his pretty face.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he greets Eddie, closing the comic in his hands and putting it aside.
“Hmm. Morning, Stevie.” Eddie yawns, stretching out his joints. He sits up and rubs at his eyes so he can look at Steve again without a lens of sleepy blur. The urge to drag him back into bed and kiss him is unbearable; but he should probably do something about his morning breath first. And his bladder, for that matter. With a groan, Eddie hops out of bed.
“Bathroom, be right back,” he announces, quietly opening the door and slipping out.
Not that he needs to be super quiet and literally tiptoe around the space like in their old trailer. They now have two bedrooms; both Eddie’s room and the main area are smaller, but Eddie’s happy with that trade-off if it means Wayne can sleep peacefully after his shift.
When he gets back in the room, Steve’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, still drinking his coffee. Eddie immediately plops down next to him and takes his face in his hands, pressing a slow, soft kiss to his lips, drawing back with a joyful grin.
“Hi, handsome.”
“Hi,” Steve replies, sounding happy and comfortable here, in Eddie’s bed. In his clothes. What the fuck is Eddie’s life. “Coffee?” He offers, raising his mug, and Eddie takes it, already knowing it will be disgusting, sinfully black and almost sugarless.
He takes a sip anyway, just for the sake of sharing a mug with Steve. Something so ridiculously domestic it makes him all giddy inside. He glances at his watch; it’s almost 10 am. And Steve’s still here, which means…
“You free today?”
“Yeah,” Steve replies, yawning as he lays back, stretches with a content groan. “Rob’s on shift with Kieth, so… I’m all yours for the day.”
The idea of it is making Eddie nearly vibrate out of his skin with enthusiasm. Having Steve all to himself for a whole day, in his room. Wearing, he cannot stress this enough, Eddie’s T-shirt and Eddie’s boxers.
“Black’s a good color on you,” he says, letting his gaze drag down Steve’s body in appreciation. “You should wear it more often.”
“Just black in general?” Steve tilts his head, his tone teasing. He fiddles with the bottom of the shirt, exposing a bit of his belly. “Or do you mean your clothes?”
Perceptive bastard. Eddie ducks his head, feeling his cheeks warm up. He looks back up quickly; he keeps forgetting he doesn’t need to hide his reactions from Steve anymore. He can flirt and blush openly and let Steve see it all, because Steve likes it. Teasing him and making him all flustered.
And being a huge frigging dork; that’s another thing Eddie’s still getting used to. Like now, when Steve suddenly hops off the bed, reaches for Eddie’s guitar that’s leaning against the dresser and throws the strap across his back.
It’s a testament to how far Eddie’s gone on him that he just lets him. Steve’s probably the only person that’s allowed to touch it. To his credit, he’s very gentle with it.
“Do I look like a proper metalhead now?” Steve asks, striking a goofy pose with the Warlock in his hands.
Eddie laughs, then winces as he looks at Steve’s left hand and shakes his head. Steve never minds him just saying what he truly thinks in the moment, so he does.
“Uh. Not with that chord… not even a chord, really, that’s just noise. Sorry, babe.”
Steve is confused for a moment, then glances at the haphazard positioning of his fingers. He runs the thumb of his right hand across the strings a couple of times.
As expected, it’s a cacophony. At least it’s unplugged, so not a loud cacophony.
“You can tell how it would sound just by looking?” Steve asks, eyebrows raised.
“Duh, how d’you think I’d play without knowing what sound each fret makes?” Eddie replies, swallowing the last mouthful of (ugh, bitter) coffee before setting the mug on the night stand.
“Oh.” Steve smiles sheepishly, and the mattress dips beside Eddie as he lowers himself back down on the bed. “Yeah, I guess it makes sense, it’s just all a bit like sorcery to me. I’ve never played an instrument.”
“It’s just a matter of practice,” Eddie explains humbly, although he’s delighted Steve thinks something he can do is akin to magic. “Like reading. You see words on paper and you know how they sound, music is the same.”
“Okay then,” Steve chuckles, shifting closer with the guitar still in his hands. “Show me how to make a chord that sounds nice.”
Eddie’s surprised by the request, and immediately excited.
“You want me to teach you guitar?”
“I mean,” Steve shakes his head, “I doubt I’ll actually be able to play, at least show me how to look cool with it.”
“Oh come on, that’s nonsense,” Eddie disagrees, already scrambling to move behind Steve’s back. “Anyone can play beginner stuff.” He reaches for Steve’s left hand, wrapping his own around it gently. “Relax your fingers, I’m gonna place them.” Steve obeys easily, letting Eddie arrange his fingers into a simple A minor chord. “Press a little harder or it’s gonna sound all janky. Yeah, good, make sure your other fingers don’t touch any strings, too. Now try it.”
Steve strums a few times, rather clumsily, but the grin on his face is bright and happy.
“That does sound better!”
Eddie shows him a few more simple chords after that, and then Steve starts moving his fingers on his own, placing them randomly and wincing when the resulting sound isn’t good, or humming appreciatively when it sounds okay.
The moment is wonderfully intimate, with Steve practically sitting between Eddie’s thighs, bare legs pressing and bumping together. He’s warm and firm against Eddie’s chest, and he smells so fucking good, and he keeps glancing up at Eddie, smiling, their faces inches apart. As hard as Eddie tries to focus on the impromptu lesson, his dick has a mind of its own.
Steve’s bound to notice, eventually; but the anticipation of it doesn’t fill Eddie with shame or fear. Not like that fateful evening on Steve’s couch a few weeks ago that nearly drove Eddie into a state of panic, back when he’d assumed their physical closeness was purely platonic for Steve. (Thankfully, it wasn’t, and minutes later Eddie was getting pressed into the cushions with Steve’s tongue devouring his mouth.)
“Sorry, I have no idea what I’m doing,” Steve finally chuckles, dropping his hands from the guitar and looking over his shoulder at Eddie, who laughs.
“No, you’ve got the right idea, actually. This is exactly what I did when I got my hands on my first acoustic. Just trial and error. When I finally bought a guidebook, turned out I’d already figured out some actual chords, just didn’t know what they were called.”
He didn’t mean it in a way of bragging, and winces at the end when he realizes how it sounded, but Steve only chuckles and grabs his wrists to tug them towards the Warlock.
“Okay, come on then, genius, I know you wanna show off. Play me something.”
Eddie certainly doesn’t mind showing off. It’s a little tricky, with Steve squished between him and the guitar; and he’s a little nervous with how closely Steve’s watching his hands, but Eddie still nails the melodic solo of Master of Puppets. At this point, he could probably shred through the whole song in his sleep, but that part seems most appropriate to play unplugged.
“Impressive. No wonder you’ve got such talented fingers,” Steve whispers huskily right in his ear, making Eddie nearly mess up the final section, feeling the blush creep up his neck.
That’s the last straw for Eddie. He’s done pretending he’s not horny as hell, so he deliberately shifts his hips and presses his crotch right against Steve’s lower back.
“Oh wow,” Steve lifts his eyebrows, his smile taking a shape of pure mischief. “You really like music, huh.”
“Shut up,” Eddie laughs, releasing the guitar and dropping his forehead to Steve’s back. He wraps his arms around Steve’s middle and squeezes him, sighing. “I like you.” He rests his chin on Steve’s shoulder, lands a kiss on his cheek, then moves his lips down Steve’s neck. “I like you in my clothes. I like you in my arms. You drive me crazy, you know.”
“Oh, I know,” Steve replies with a confidence that would likely be annoying, if he didn’t sound a little breathless. He rolls his hips back, drawing a helpless groan out of Eddie. “You gonna do anything about it?”
“Put my sweetheart down and I’ll consider it.”
“I thought I was your sweetheart.” Steve pretends to pout, already taking off the guitar strap and carefully setting the Warlock down to the floor, leaning against the bed.
“You both are, don’t make me choose.” Eddie bites his lip in excitement when without the guitar in Steve’s lap, it’s revealed that he’s equally hard, his boxers tenting at the front. “Come here, my new sweetheart,” he emphasizes with a grin, shifting so he can lean back against the wall and pulling Steve flush to his chest again.
He’s momentarily overwhelmed, unable to decide what to do first; in all their previous intimate encounters, Steve would usually take the lead, being the more experienced of them (even if his experience only came from sleeping with girls). Luckily, Steve helps out this time too, gently taking Eddie’s hands and guiding them underneath his own shirt.
Don’t overthink it, Eddie tells himself, deciding to switch off his anxious brain and just focus on the sensations. The rise and fall of Steve’s chest, the warmth of Steve’s skin and the tickle of soft hair at his fingertips. His fingers brush Steve’s nipples, and his boyfriend throws his head back against Eddie’s shoulder and moans, before biting on his lip to muffle the sound, aware they’re not alone in the trailer.
“Fuck, Stevie,” Eddie mutters, latching onto the boy’s exposed neck, nipping and licking up towards his jaw.
He knows by now how much Steve likes his nipples toyed with, so he focuses on that, tracing slow circles around them, flicking at them like guitar strings, occasionally pinching, all his efforts drawing more gasps and muffled groans out of his boyfriend. The way he’s able to do that; to make Steve fall apart in his arms, roll his hips in a silent plea to have his cock touched, look at him with hooded eyes like he’s something wonderful… Now that’s real magic.
“Eddie,” Steve quietly whines, reaching for Eddie’s neck to pull him into a deep, messy kiss. “Fuck. Fuck, you drive me crazy too.”
“You’re a goddamn wet dream, baby,” Eddie tells him, watching the way Steve’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of red. “So beautiful, I’m the luckiest guy on Earth.”
“Please, Eddie,” Steve pleads, grasping at Eddie’s hands underneath his shirt and very insistently tugging them downwards. “Touch me.”
Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice. He kisses Steve’s neck again and then tugs the waistband of his boxers down, revealing his hard cock, big and gorgeous, shiny with precome at the tip. Steve’s hands grasp his shins and squeeze when Eddie’s fingers wrap around his dick; he’s biting his lip again, trying to be quiet.
Eddie wishes they were alone. He wishes he could hear every little noise Steve is trying to muffle.
Jerking Steve off is always the easiest thing. No need to think at all, he just does what he’d usually do to himself, just perhaps with more enthusiasm. He uses both hands, his right to rhythmically stroke the smooth thick shaft, his left for extra stimulation, alternating between playing with Steve’s balls and thumbing at the head, spreading the precome from his slit down his cock. He teases the sensitive tip until Steve gasps and whimpers, his grip on Eddie’s legs almost painfully tight; then he switches it up, reaching between Steve’s thighs again. He gently massages the perineum in slow circles, never going further down, not until they’ve discussed it, just giving his boyfriend a sensational preview of what else could be on the table.
God, he hopes Steve asks him to finger him someday. Just the idea of it makes Eddie’s dick twitch, his boxers get even wetter. He would make it so fucking good for Steve, maybe suck his cock at the same time and then keep going, make him come again with just his fingers when he’s already softened. Eddie kisses Steve to keep his own mouth occupied, stop himself from babbling all of that out loud.
Steve keeps shifting and squirming against him, steadily rolling his hips back into Eddie’s own aching cock, and so despite all his efforts, Eddie knows he’ll be the first to come. As usual. He was super embarrassed about it the first few times; doesn’t even care anymore, Steve keeps assuring him it’s really hot. Sure enough, it only takes a few more seconds of shamelessly humping the small of Steve’s back before the hot coil of arousal in his belly unravels, and he spills inside his boxers, pressing his mouth into Steve’s shoulder to somewhat contain the groan that rips out of his chest.
The rhythm of his hand on Steve’s cock stutters, slows down momentarily; but instead of complaining, Steve just turns to look at him with wide eyes, his mouth falling open as he watches Eddie, who’s panting against his neck and still rolling his hips through the pleasant aftershocks.
“Oh my god. Really?” Steve asks in disbelief, sounding amazed, ending on a tiny giggle. “I didn’t even… do anything.”
“I don’t need much, sweetheart,” Eddie laughs, resuming his efforts to bring Steve over the edge with him; Steve shuts his eyes again, biting on his lip as his hips rock into Eddie’s fist. “You’re doing plenty, just letting me touch you. I could probably come just from watching you,” he admits, completely shameless in his post-orgasmic brain haze.
Steve moans again, his cock twitching in Eddie’s grasp. Words, Eddie’s learnt, affect Steve almost as much as physical touch. He likes being wanted, and likes being told just how much he’s wanted. Eddie wonders, even if he’d probably never find it appropriate to ask, whether any of the girls Steve’s been with ever spoke to him this way. Eddie likes to imagine that maybe he’s the first. Maybe being exceptionally horny and obsessed with Steve is his secret superpower.
He can feel when it’s almost over for Steve; he always grows quieter when he’s close, just gasping for air, hips desperately bucking as he chases his release. Eddie’s free hand moves just in time to cover the tip of his cock, hot spurts of come hitting his palm while Steve trembles against him, then lets out a perfectly content sigh and sinks back, melts into him, breathing heavily.
“Like I said, really fucking talented fingers,” he whispers breathlessly, opening his eyes and grinning up at Eddie, who blushes and laughs giddily, wiping his hand on Steve’s (already dirty anyway) boxers before snapping their waistband back in place.
Steve turns around in his arms and nuzzles at Eddie’s neck like a big happy cat before kissing him; and Eddie would happily make out with him like that for hours, soiled boxers be damned, if Steve’s stomach didn’t suddenly growl, making him pull back with an awkward laugh.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Eddie smiles; he’s never been much of a breakfast person, unlike Steve, but he’ll happily make whatever his boyfriend desires. “Breakfast?”
“We should probably shower first,” Steve winces, pointedly looking down at their underwear.
“Excellent idea. Water saving mode?” Eddie asks, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, just to hear Steve laugh again.
But Steve takes him up on the offer, grabbing his hand and dragging him off the bed to follow him into the bathroom.
They definitely don’t end up saving any water this way. They make out in the tiny stall that barely fits them, bumping bottles off the shelf and giggling and shushing each other, until the shower spray starts running cold and forces them to get out.
Later on, while Eddie’s brewing some fresh coffee and making scrambled eggs and bacon, Steve sits at the kitchen counter — in his own jeans, but still wearing Eddie’s T-shirt — and tentatively asks if Eddie could teach him to play for real. As if Eddie could refuse.
“I’d be happy to, sweetheart,” he promises, grinning happily. This is going to be a truly awesome day.