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Steve’s never considered himself religious.
His parents would disagree, noting with an untasteful rigidity the hundreds of times they dragged him to church: Sundays (morning and night, thank you very much) with the occasional Wednesday thrown in. Little Stevie would sit in the pews, a perfect picture of piety, and gaze unblinking at the pastor.
Of course, they were blissfully unaware that he was really staring at the pastor’s son. But, what they don’t know won’t hurt them, right?
Steve’s tried praying before. A last-ditch effort when he’d given up on any other way to save his friends from the unrelenting tendrils of death. He’d sit on his knees nightly with his hands clasped in front of him, hoping beyond hope for a miracle. They made it out alive by the literal skin of their teeth, but Steve doesn’t think the man in the clouds had anything to do with that.
Regardless, Steve’s never thought himself a religious man. If God is real, he has a lot to apologize for. Allowing the town to be taken over by the wicked hand of the underworld warrants one hell of an explanation.
All things considered, he’s never really had a reason to believe in the Big Man Upstairs.
That is, until he met Eddie Munson.
Eddie. A fiery, spirited soul who wears his heart on his sleeve, lets his love infect all those who go near him. His moonlit eyes train knowingly on Steve in a way that makes him feel like he’s being turned inside out. A mop of hair drapes delicately over his shoulders, curly in a miskept way. Eddie, with his slim waist and dark ink and alluring personality.
Steve had never seen anyone so beautiful.
Their friendship was slow to start. Tentative, protective of their own, puppies with their tails tucked. It took a few weeks for them to sniff each other out, ears down, eyes squinted, before the scent of familiarity overtook them and they started to play. Claws retracted, tails wagging.
The party saw through them long before they saw into each other. Every accidental shoulder brush, a hand lingering on a knee for a second too long, was noted with intense scrutiny. Their flirting was obvious to everyone except them.
The night Eddie kissed Steve the first time, all careful and cautious with a gentle hand to his chin, Steve reconsidered his position on theology. It felt like he was being sucked into the ocean and spit out a better man, a spiritual bubble bath that washed him clean of any and all inadequacies. It was divine intervention, he was sure of it.
In that moment, Steve thought he might believe in God after all.
—
Now, as Eddie burrows into Steve’s side where they sit on the couch, he’s sure of it. There’s no other explanation for how he was blessed with not only the mere presence, but the intense adoration of the man next to him. No one is simply that lucky.
A movie starts on the TV in front of them. It’s a tradition, one they began before they started dating and, as such, refuse to break. Friday night movies, until the end of time.
It’s Steve’s turn to pick, although, if he’s being honest, he’s got more important things on his mind. One in particular, really.
See, Steve has a bit of a problem. More than a problem—Eddie calls it an obsession. Likes to tease him for it, say he needs a doctor, someone to knock some sense back into that concussed head of his.
Steve, on the other hand, couldn’t disagree more. It’s not a problem, he argues, negotiating his way into yet another fill: it’s devotion. Simply pure and utter reverence to what is, by far, the most heavenly thing on this plane of existence. In any and all of them, really.
If it’s an addiction, then so be it. Steve doesn’t want to live in a world where he can’t have what he so carnally craves. He needs it more than he needs oxygen and, quite frankly, he doesn’t care how that sounds. His blood stings relentlessly with the burning rush of desire, and nothing soothes the ache quite like this.
They get about ten minutes into the movie before it becomes unbearable. To Steve’s credit, that’s nine minutes longer than he usually lasts. Eddie’s head on Steve’s chest is branding a mark into his flesh, nerves alight with passion and anticipation. Steve circles his thumb where it lays on Eddie’s hip, rucking his shirt up just barely so he can graze the soft skin underneath.
Eddie’s hair tickles Steve’s nose as he nuzzles further into him, making himself a home like a bird in a nest. Steve takes a deep breath, steadies himself, and slowly pushes his thumb under the waistband of Eddie’s sweatpants.
He hears a sharp inhale, feels goosebumps prickle underneath his finger, and smirks.
Checkmate.
“Mmm,” Eddie grumbles, peeking over at Steve. “Wanna watch the movie.”
“Not doing anything, baby boy.” Steve wraps his hand around Eddie’s jaw, turning him back to face the TV. “Watch.”
Eddie huffs like he doesn’t believe him, but trains his eyes on the screen nevertheless.
Steve lets his thumb stay in place for a few minutes, allowing the illusion that he’s really not doing anything to cement in Eddie’s mind.
They both know it’s a lie.
After a few moments of quiet, Steve’s mind humming with the static sound emanating from the television, his finger picks up again. Swirling slow, delicious circles on Eddie’s skin.
He traces the pad of his finger across Eddie’s hipbone, studying the curve of it with practiced ease. The feeling is familiar, but strikes flames on his flesh regardless. He hears Eddie swear under his breath, a faint noise, but he picks up on it like a dog on a scent.
Steve might be an addict, but his boyfriend is the unrelenting dealer.
When Eddie doesn’t protest, Steve trails his hand further into his sweatpants, fingers dancing along the inseam of his briefs. Eddie shudders, just barely, imperceptible if it weren’t for Steve’s keen sense for his boyfriend’s pleasure.
Someone in the movie yells, and Steve feels Eddie’s leg tense up under his gentle touch. He immediately soothes a hand over his thigh, calming him. A deep breath fills Eddie’s chest where he’s laying against Steve.
“You liking the movie so far, sweetheart?” Steve asks, all mocking innocence as his pointer finger runs higher along the inside of Eddie’s thigh.
He can hear the eye roll in Eddie’s voice when he answers. “Oh, yeah, really great one, Stevie. Loving the—” his sarcastic quip is cut off when Steve cups him between his legs, pressing a hard palm against his mound. “Fuck.”
“Yeah?” Steve teases, tightening his grip, capturing that sweet warmth. “I can tell, you seem super into it.”
“Fuck you,” Eddie breathes, voice picking up. “That is so not fair.”
“M’ not doing anything, love,” Steve repeats, and he’s sort of right. He’s not doing anything, per se. Simply cupping Eddie’s pussy through his boxers, feeling his boyfriend throb gently against his palm as he succumbs to the unrelenting need that is Steve Harrington.
“Yeah. Whatever.” Eddie’s tone is playful, slightly strained, as Steve moves his hand up and down, just barely, just feeling him. Relishing in the damp heat that sits on his skin, picturing with pornographic perfection the heavenly sight of Eddie soaking through his briefs.
Steve acknowledges that his obsession with his boyfriend’s pussy isn’t normal. It’s just that he really, truly, cannot bring himself to care. He craves it, his very being aching with need every minute he’s not exactly where he wants to be. It’s a hunger that will never be sated.
It’s just that…Steve’s never been with anyone like Eddie. He understands that genitalia are of little importance in the grand scheme of things, and that's not really what it is. It’s just Eddie. Eddie’s pussy, Eddie’s clit, Eddie’s cum, Eddie’s shameless moans.
Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.
Steve fucking aches for him.
And, honestly? Fuck God, fuck church, fuck praying. Steve couldn’t give less of a shit about any of that. Being neck-deep between Eddie’s thighs, though, that sweet slick trailing down his chin, is religious observance like nothing else.
Steve is certainly a master at that.
He’s devout in his worship, intense in his certainty. Eddie likes to make fun of him, but they both know he adores being cherished so openly. It’s all a part of their game, a prolonged back-and-forth that doesn’t always start the same but always ends it; with Steve on his knees in front of Eddie, lips red and wet and puffy, satisfied but never satiated.
But, it’s all about the journey, so Steve lets Eddie pretend like he doesn’t know where this is headed, like he isn’t spreading his legs wider to allow for easier access.
Like he doesn’t want it just as bad.
Eddie adjusts slightly under Steve’s unwavering hand, pressure building steadily in his gut. Steve feels Eddie place his head on his shoulder, still pretending to be interested in the movie. He’s a good boy, listening to Steve’s demand.
The thought lights Steve on fire.
He presses his hand even harder on Eddie, heel digging right above his clit. The man whimpers softly, struggling to be quiet as though he could make his enjoyment indiscernible if he tried hard enough. He never succeeds, but Steve lets him have that.
Steve keeps his hand there like that, just for a second, before releasing the pressure, opting instead to press a purposeful finger to Eddie’s dick. His body responds immediately, bucking up into that steady strength, chasing that unyielding pleasure.
“You still watching, baby?” Steve asks, because he’s an asshole.
Eddie groans, moving his head so he can throw it back against the couch. “Fuck, fuck, this is so not fair, so not fucking fair, Steve.”
“Yeah,” Steve coos, pressing his finger a little harder, rubbing hypnotic circles around his clit. “I know, baby. Feels good though, doesn’t it?”
Eddie whines, the noise building from deep within him, and that’s when Steve knows he’s won.
He smirks at this mutual understanding, dragging his finger downward to capture some of that delectable wetness soaking through the fabric. He moans when he feels it, sticky and sweet and so fucking warm. It’s always a heady realization when he feels the empirical evidence of Eddie’s lust.
“Oh, you’re so fucking wet, sweetheart. Feel how wet you are?” Steve asks.
Eddie rests his head on Steve’s shoulder again, looking down at where his hand is tenting under his sweats. “Yeah,” he whispers. “God.”
“My sweet little prince,” Steve murmurs, turning to press a kiss to Eddie’s lips. It starts chaste, soft, but is quickly fueled by the fire stirring deep within them.
Eddie brings his hands to wrap around Steve’s neck, thumbs circling his cheekbones. He breathes heavily into the kiss, panting with the carnality of his desire. Steve darts his tongue out slightly, rubbing along Eddie’s lip: a question.
Eddie answers by opening his mouth wider, graciously accepting anything Steve offers. Steve bites his lip, running his tongue over it in apology before biting it again, pulling it into his mouth. A fuzzy feeling settles between Eddie’s eyes.
Steve pulls away after a moment, drawing a whine from the back of Eddie’s throat. He shushes him quietly, using his free hand to press a finger to his kiss-bitten lips. “Don’t be like that. Watch the movie,” he demands.
Eddie rolls his eyes once more, cheeks ruddy with the sudden tension suspended between them. Probably too desperate at this point to risk it, he bites back a snarky comment and turns to face the screen. Steve smiles wickedly.
The movie isn’t particularly entertaining, but Steve didn’t pick it with the intention of actually watching it. Feeling the poor boy next to him twitch at the slightest movement of his finger—now that’s something Steve can focus on.
He moves his pointer finger in slow circles, teasing Eddie’s cock with the faintest of touches. Eddie’s always been sensitive, particularly so after he started hormones. Just the feeling of his jeans rubbing against him the right way is enough to have him panting, cheeks flushed, riding his own leg with an uncontrollable need.
Steve knows this, and he definitely doesn’t take advantage of it.
Eddie sighs, sinking down into the couch and spreading his legs subtly, trying to get more of that delightful friction. Steve rewards him with another finger pressing harder into his clit.
Steve feels him twitch again and—really? He turns to look at Eddie, whose head is once again leaned back on the couch, panting quietly. The sight fills him with frenzied lust.
“Really, baby?” Steve muses. “This doing it for you?”
Eddie gasps, opening his eyes to look at Steve, and Jesus Christ. His dark brown irises are nearly black with lust, glossy and teary-eyed like they’ve been at this for hours. His lips are redder than before—he must have been biting them—and Steve wants to fucking. Like. Inhale him.
Eddie nods rapidly. “Mmm, mhm. Please, don’t stop, Stevie.”
Whatever Steve had planned is so far out the fucking window, he can’t even bring himself to care where it went. Honestly, this isn’t far off from what he wanted. And, really, who says they’re anywhere close to done?
Steve knows that this is how Eddie likes it. These soft, sensual touches. Slowly getting him there, letting him enjoy every minute of those euphoric swells, peaking and diving in intoxicating succession. Picking out each and every nerve in his body and personally lighting them on fire, one by one.
He’s careful with it, wants to keep Eddie cresting the edge of pleasure for as long as he can. Wants to watch him throw his head back, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut as he feels that insurmountable wave threaten to crash over him. Wants to suspend him in perfect nirvana for the rest of time.
Steve feels his fingers dampen with the intensity of Eddie’s desperation, and it’s so fucking hot that he feels dizzy. “You’re so wet for me, little prince. Feel good?”
Eddie nods, leaning over to watch Steve jerk him off, just barely. His hand moves slowly under his sweatpants, almost teasing, just enough pressure to make Eddie’s skin sing. “So good, baby, what the fuck.”
“Think you can cum for me like this?” Steve asks, pinching his dick between his fingers.
Eddie moans loud in his ear, the sound sending shivers down his spine. “Jesus Christ, yeah, yes, oh my god.”
Steve’s using all four fingers now, just rubbing Eddie’s clit with the pressure of his hand. His briefs get impossibly wetter, slick aiding to the smooth glide across his pussy. Eddie keens next to him, head lolling around like he can’t figure out what to do with himself.
He uses his free hand to grab Eddie’s jaw, forcing him to look back at the screen. “Watch,” he commands, repeating himself. “Watch it while I make you cum. Don’t look away.”
Eddie’s throat bobs as he nearly chokes on a swallow. He wants to look at Steve, his fingers, his pussy, wants to look at anything other than this stupid movie.
But, and he’d never admit this: it’s so fucking hot this way.
Both of them watching the movie, pretending like Steve’s not touching him, like Eddie’s not whining and panting and begging to cum. The mere thought brings Eddie that much closer, stirring that familiar heat in his groin, spreading into his stomach and threatening to overtake him.
Steve’s eyes are locked on the screen too, fingers moving leisurely like he’s not seconds away from making his boyfriend cum all over his hand. He clears his throat, works his jaw, and presses harder.
“Oh, fuck, Steve, fuck, fuck—”
Steve quickens his movements, just slightly, and feels the indistinguishable sensation of Eddie clenching and releasing around himself. “Oh my god, fuck, baby—ahh—oh my god, fucking—cumming— ” he shouts.
Eddie moans loudly, panting around his orgasm, legs shaking and squeezing shut to trap Steve’s hand there. His stomach convulses with the intensity of it, holding tight onto Steve’s thigh as he rides it through.
“There we go, angel, that’s a good boy,” Steve says smoothly, rubbing him a bit slower but not stopping. “Cum for me, that’s it.”
“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie pants, thighs trembling. “Oh my god.”
“Yeah. S’ a good movie, right?” he teases.
Eddie can’t bring himself to make a sarcastic comment in response, too overwhelmed by the pleasure continuing to wring his nerves out. The ecstasy morphs into something else, something daunting, as Steve’s relentless fingers persist.
“Oh god, Stevie, fuck, too—too sensitive,” he whines, finally looking down at where Steve’s hand is still moving under his pants.
“Is it?” Steve teases. He pauses for a second, and Eddie starts to sigh in relief, before Steve makes three distinct moves in quick succession.
First, he shoves Eddie’s sweatpants and briefs to his ankles, effectively trapping him. Second, he throws one of Eddie’s legs over his lap, spreading him impossibly wider. Third, and most notably, he shoves two wet fingers into Eddie’s oversensitive cunt.
Eddie screams, mind going white at the overwhelming sensation. “Oh my god, Steve, Jesus Christ—”
Steve says nothing, just curls his fingers to that heavenly spot and digs in relentlessly. His hand slaps deliciously against Eddie’s pussy, filling the room with sinful sounds that have his mouth watering.
“Hear that?” Steve asks. “Listen to how fucking wet you are. Got my hand all messy. Desperate little thing, aren’t you?”
Eddie mewls, nerves alight with overstimulation. “Oh my god, oh my god.”
“Answer me.”
Eddie looks to Steve, meeting his eyes with a pliant lack of resistance. “Y-yeah,” he says. “Desperate. Always. Always, for you.”
Steve hums, satisfied, and continues bullying his fingers inside his boyfriend. He hits that bundle of nerves with unwavering precision, lighting Eddie’s body on fire with every thrust.
“St-eve,” Eddie cries, and they both know it’s a warning.
“Yeah,” he urges. “Go on, angel. You can do it. Make a fucking mess for me.”
The permission is all Eddie needs. He throws his head back on a scream, vocal cords aching with the intensity of it, and squirts all over Steve’s hand, his pants, the table in front of them.
Steve doesn’t stop, pumping his fingers in and out and forcing more slick out of him with every thrust. The noise it makes is filthy, wet sloshing sounds that match Eddie’s moans in volume and depravity. The fabric bunched around Eddie’s ankles darken with the liquid, a bit of it pooling on the glass table they’re perched upon.
“Stevie…fuck…holy shit…oh my god,” Eddie pants, sounding utterly exhausted. Steve rubs against that spot a few more times before slowly pulling his fingers out, bringing them up to his lips.
He makes sure Eddie’s watching him as he sucks them into his mouth, tongue curling as he licks them clean. After a moment, he brings them to Eddie’s lips, rubbing them against his open mouth before slowly, indulgently, pressing in.
Eddie wraps his lips around the digits obediently, closing his eyes and breathing out a whimper as he tastes the combination of himself and his boyfriend. Steve has to grip himself through his pants to stop himself from cumming.
“Yeah, baby,” Steve whispers, mesmerized by the picture in front of him. “You taste so fucking good, don’t you?”
Eddie nods around his fingers, moaning through his nose. Steve moves the hand on his cock to Eddie’s hair, gripping the curls at the base of his neck. He pulls sharply, annunciating his words as he speaks. “Answer me when I talk to you, prince. Tell me how much you like tasting yourself.”
Steve fucks his fingers into Eddie’s mouth, just slightly, just to show that he can. Eddie sputters a bit in surprise, eyes rolling back with that delicious merging of pain and pleasure. He looks at Steve inquisitively, but the man simply raises his eyebrows.
Cheeks burning with humiliation, Eddie opens his mouth around Steve’s fingers in a pathetic attempt to talk. “L-love it. Love when you feed me my cum.” His words are pitifully muffled, and the sound only serves to stir that coiled heat in his gut yet again.
A wicked smile paints Steve’s face as he watches his baby try and fail to form a coherent sentence. The sense of power pangs delightfully in his chest, spreading its wings proudly.
“Good boy,” Steve praises, rubbing his digits along Eddie’s tongue, feeling every taste bud with divine intention. “Such a good boy for me, my sweet baby. All mine, aren’t you?”
Eddie nods, sucking Steve’s fingers harder in response. “All yours,” he mumbles.
Steve stares down at his boyfriend with this intoxicated, almost devout look in his eyes. Like it’s his first time seeing Eddie all over again. He’s overwhelmed, then, with an intense, overpowering feeling of love. It starts in his chest, this bone-deep ache that mimics the beat of his own heart, and travels down his body like blood through arteries, mooring him to the Earth.
Like gravity, Eddie grounds him.
Steve pulls his fingers out, opting instead to caress them slowly down Eddie’s flushed cheek. “My pretty boy,” he muses. “M’ so in love with you.”
Eddie’s eyes shine, glistening with tears of overstimulation and affection. “I’m so in love with you, Stevie. Thank you.”
Steve trails his finger down Eddie’s chest, dipping under the collar of his shirt before crawling back up to trace his jaw. He gets on his knees in front of Eddie, wrapping his damp legs around his shoulders. Eddie’s ankles instinctually dig into his shoulder blades, drawing him in closer.
“Think you can take more, my prince? You gonna let me make you cum again?” Steve asks, a picture of innocence as he presses a chaste kiss to Eddie’s slick thigh.
“Fuck,” he sighs, cheeks ruddy as he watches Steve nestle himself in between his legs, settling in like it’s his home. The sight makes his mouth water, cock throbbing despite himself. “I’m so sensitive, oh my god, I don’t know—”
“Please?” Steve interrupts. “I’ll make it so good, baby, I promise. Always make it good for you,” he says in between kisses. Eddie’s thigh twitches in response, pushing toward and pulling away from it like he can’t decide whether or not he wants it.
Eddie lets out a breathy sigh, voice cracking, and meets Steve’s eyes. He’s got this pleading look, like a puppy begging for food. Like he hasn’t eaten in fucking months .
“God,” Eddie whines, throwing his head back against the couch. “You’re fucking—you know I can’t say no to you.”
“I know,” Steve responds, a cheeky grin on his face. “Just need you to say yes.”
Steve’s staring at him as he speaks, calculated eyes betraying his authoritarian attitude just slightly. Just enough so Eddie can understand the meaning behind his words, behind his intention: You can say no. Anytime, for any reason. I’ll love you no matter what.
Eddie cards a hand through Steve’s hair, the motion soothing them both. Steve closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, pushing his head against the warm hand, nearly purring. A finger taps on his scalp once, a question, and Steve nods slightly.
“Fine,” Eddie breathes. “Okay. Yeah.”
He settles back against the couch, slouching slightly, and wraps his legs tighter around Steve’s frame. The man smiles wickedly, looking something like a villain straight out of a horror movie. Like he’d commit crimes to be able to sit where he is right now, face inches away from where he wants to be most.
Eddie thinks, with a breathy chuckle, that he absolutely would.
The thought definitely does not turn him on.
Steve presses another kiss to Eddie’s right thigh, then to the left, lips trailing closer and closer to that captivating, thick heat. His legs are dripping with slick and cum, this delicious wetness serving only to entice Steve more, pull him in like a spell.
The sweet kisses turn into nipping bites quickly, painting Eddie’s skin with delicious marks of devotion. Purple hickeys line his thighs, bite marks spelling out Steve’s name, imprinting both Eddie’s flesh and his soul. He’s covered, looks like a damn mosaic, but that’s exactly how he likes it.
Eddie’s always liked a bit of pain with his pleasure.
Steve wraps his arms under Eddie’s knees, placing his hands on his thighs, and yanks . Eddie goes down with a yelp, back resting against the seat of the couch, hair splayed against the cushion. Steve’s immediate in his adoration—wasting no time before diving into that addictive center.
When his lips press against Eddie’s cock, wet and hot and still fucking hard, Steve sighs happily. Finally, finally where he wants to be.
Steve swears he could spend eternity like this. Sitting between his boyfriend’s legs, breathing him in like oxygen. If there is a Heaven, Steve hopes it’s this.
Eddie’s pubic hair tickles Steve’s nose, beautiful coarse curls that he begs Eddie not to shave off. Steve fucking loves his hair, loves anything and everything that comes from Eddie’s body. Anything that his cells put effort into creating, anything that has the pleasure of using Eddie’s body as a source of sustenance, a source of existence, is worth Steve’s adoration and more.
Closing his eyes, finding his way home, Steve wraps his lips around Eddie’s cock. He fucking screams, overstimulated and pulsing immediately in Steve’s mouth.
“Oh god,” Eddie moans, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, baby, that feels so good, oh my god.”
Steve doesn’t respond, just hums happily against Eddie, and the feeling buzzes through him like electricity.
Eddie can tell, can feel in his bones by the way Steve sinks steadily against him, tongue moving lazily against his aching cock, that this isn’t anywhere near over. When Steve gets like this, craves every corporeal part of Eddie that he can get his hands on, he’s insatiable. Like a beast in heat, completely untamable.
Eddie loves it, loves being adored and cherished and fucking worshipped , but holy shit, he’s sensitive. His pussy aches with the leftover feeling of being full, his clit is throbbing in this delicious way that blends the line between painful and pleasurable, and his blood is stinging with pure arousal.
But, Steve loves it, and he’d be a damn liar if he said he didn’t love it just as much.
So he sighs despite himself, caught in the trance of his boyfriend licking needy circles around his cock, and sinks into the pleasure. Overstimulation nips at his skin, leaves goosebumps in its wake. That sinful swirl of too much and not enough is so overwhelming that it burns. Eddie’s stomach heaves as it works through the intensity of it, battling that explosive purgatory with a fervor that leaves him trembling.
Eddie watches as Steve hollows his cheeks, sucks his cock with a powerful pressure that makes his legs shake. The sight is almost too much for him in his oversensitive state, but nothing, absolutely nothing, could pry his eyes away.
Except, of course, his boyfriend.
“Watch the movie,” Steve demands once more, lips brushing against the sensitive head of Eddie’s cock as he speaks.
“St-eve,” Eddie whines in response, tightening his grip on Steve’s hair petulantly. “Wanna—ah—wanna watch you. Please?”
Eddie feels the distinct sharpness of teeth against his pussy and he screams . A gentle bite to his cock, disguised behind a smile. Just a nip—a tease. A threat, a promise.
A tongue laves over him in apology. Then another bite, barely there. Another.
Eddie can barely breathe.
“Stevie,” he cries. “Baby, baby, oh my god, fuck, fuck, s’ so much—”
“Too much?” Steve asks, lifting his head up slightly.
“No,” Eddie responds immediately. “No, never, fuck.”
Steve smiles and dives back in, muttering “good” under his breath.
He licks at Eddie’s cock a few more times, flattening his tongue and letting it pulse against him. The tip of his tongue swirls around the head of his clit, exploring, mapping familiar territory with new experiences.
Steve breaks away for a moment, breathing hot on Eddie’s pussy as he lowers himself slightly, bringing his lips directly over Eddie’s sensitive, stretched out hole.
“You wanna watch me, my love?” Steve asks, sickly sweet.
Eddie nods rapidly. “Please, please, wanna so bad.”
Steve brings one hand to Eddie’s lips, spreading him open with two fingers, watching in awe as his hole throbs around the sudden attention.
“Alright,” he agrees. “Watch me then, prince. Don’t you dare look away.”
Steve doesn’t allow Eddie to respond before he shoves a wet finger inside him, immediately nudging it against that spot that has him seeing white. He meets his thrusts with a tongue circling his clit, lips creating that delightful pressure around him.
One of Steve’s favorite things about this, about Eddie, is that he’s loud. When they’re in his trailer, it’s a bit of a problem—pillows and fingers and tongues can’t shut him up no matter how hard they try. But when they’re in Steve’s nearly-empty home, the walls echo with evidence of Eddie’s ecstasy and the sound is nearly hallucinatory. Steve swears he hears Eddie’s moans in the reverberation of silence.
Eddie screams at the overwhelming sensations building underneath his skin. Relentless pressure against his g-spot, a soft tongue licking intricately around his cock, thick lips trapping his clit within them. He’s teetering along that precarious edge that separates him from post-orgasmic bliss and pre-orgasmic nirvana.
Steve wants to taste him forever. Wants to live here, on his knees, wants to die trying to please Eddie. Wants to spend his last breath making his boyfriend feel good, knows it won’t be wasted that way.
Steve might not believe in God, but he knows that Eddie was made with divine intent. Created with determined hands to be pleasured, to spend eternity suspended in nirvanic bliss. Exists for Steve to do just this—spread him apart on his tongue, find that carnal source of pleasure within him and pull until it unravels in finality in his mouth.
A shiver wracks through Eddie’s body as Steve adds a second finger, filling him up the way he so desperately craves. Eddie wishes it were Steve’s cock, but he recognizes this flame lit within his boyfriend: this is about Eddie. So he enjoys what he so graciously gets, reveling in those delicious sparks of pleasure that lick up his spine.
“Baby,” Eddie breathes, voice cracking as he speaks. “Feels so good, you’re so fucking good at that, oh my god.”
Steve just smiles against him, using his free hand to tap once on Eddie’s thigh: a reminder. Eddie remembers himself and trains his eyes on his boyfriend once more, fighting back a moan as he watches the reverent way Steve takes him apart from the inside out. The grip on his hair tightens, which only fuels the fire in Steve’s veins.
Eddie feels a wave of adoration wash over him with a jarring heat, bubbling up like lava, spilling out of every orifice. Like he doesn’t know how to properly express his love for his boyfriend, he starts babbling in the hopes that he’ll be able to quell the fire that burns deep within him.
“So lucky,” he murmurs, drunk on the feeling of Steve licking at him incessantly. “So lucky to have you, sweetheart, I love you so fucking much.”
Steve hums once more, a delicious rumbling that reverberates through Eddie’s core. His fingers quicken in pace, curling in such a way that he hits that electrifying spot inside Eddie with every thrust. Eddie screams with the intensity of the feeling, both of the feverish pleasure wringing his nerves out and of the overwhelming endearment that curls in his core.
Eddie just keeps talking, seemingly unable to stop himself as he builds steadily toward that rapturous peak once more. “—Perfect, s’ perfect, god, you’re everything to me, Stevie, never gonna let you go. Never loved anyone like I love you, oh my god, Jesus fuck—”
Teeth graze Eddie’s clit once more in an uncontrollable smile, and the lingering bite of it is enough to send him over the edge, gushing around Steve’s lips as the beginnings of an orgasm lick at his bowels.
“Fuck, baby, gonna cum, gonna—can I cum? Please?” There’s an almost wild edge to his voice, cracking slightly as he pleads desperately for release.
Steve speaks around Eddie’s clit, relishing in the slick squelching of his fingers as he fucks them into his hole. “Yeah, baby boy, cum for me, cum all over my face, just let go.”
Eddie can’t help the noises he makes as he squirts all over Steve’s fingers, his face, clenching and releasing in rhythmic bliss, cock throbbing in Steve’s mouth with every pulse. The combination is heady, a swirling intoxication of pleasure that leaves him feeling weightless and pliant almost immediately.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh my god, Steve, Jesus Chr—oh my god,” Eddie shouts, fingers gripping Steve’s hair so tight his knuckles blanch. He rides the waves of his orgasm on Steve’s face, using his lips to ensure every last drop of ecstasy is wrung out of him. Steve just laps it up happily, licking and sucking and slurping like it’s the last time he’ll ever get a taste.
And, honestly? Maybe Eddie’s right. Maybe this is an obsession. The way Eddie’s cum spills in wet waves across Steve’s tongue, painting his taste buds with the bitter aura of his boyfriend is a drug like no other. That repetitive pulsing, like his own personal heartbeat, created by and for Steve. The sweet sounds Eddie makes as he moans through it, little grunts and heavy breaths as he gasps for air.
Yeah. Steve’s obsessed.
And it wouldn’t be a problem, really, if he could just keep going. Stay on his knees and eat Eddie out forever. Fuck oversensitivity, just let the man have what he wants.
With a raspy scream and an even tighter fist in his hair, Steve is reminded that such dreams are unfortunately meant to be just that—dreams.
“Stevie,” Eddie pants, thighs twitching around his boyfriend’s face. “Steve, please, you gotta—need a break.”
Steve’s lips stop moving, then, just pressing delicately along the warm line of Eddie’s pussy. He takes a second to sit with it, the slick glide of his cum along his chin, the faint fluttering of orgasmic aftershocks, the way Eddie’s chest heaves with every whimpered breath.
Steve presses a sweet kiss to Eddie’s clit, a temporary goodbye.
He gently lifts Eddie’s legs off his shoulders, setting them down slowly. Eddie’s practically melted into the couch, limbs liquified in his blissful state. Steve just smiles at his boyfriend, knees creaking as he stands and stretches.
“Lemme pull your pants up, darling,” Steve says, throat aching as he realizes just how fucked up his voice is. He can taste Eddie in every word he speaks and relishes in it, thinks he’d recite fucking Leviticus if it meant getting to savor it even more.
“Nah,” Eddie says, breathless. “Just c’mere.”
Eddie’s eyes are red-rimmed and hazy, unshed tears of pure overstimulation tattooing his irises. His cheeks are flushed a delectable shade of red, a stark contrast from his otherwise pale skin. His soaked sweatpants are pooled at his ankles, legs still spread, pussy pink and sparkling and deliciously inviting.
Steve couldn’t deny him if he wanted to.
He crawls on the couch next to Eddie, shifting his boyfriend to lay in a more comfortable position. They cuddle together, Steve on his back and Eddie pressed warmly against his chest, legs tangled up like vines.
Eddie’s chest is still heaving slightly with the intensity of his orgasm, Steve’s in tandem as he catches his breath. They sit with each other, with the moment, with their love and adoration.
“I love you,” Steve says first. He trails a large hand up Eddie’s back, tracing the notches of his sweaty spine.
“I love you, Stevie,” Eddie responds, closing his eyes and humming a tune to the beat of his boyfriend’s heart.
“Love your pussy, too.”
Eddie swats his chest, teasing. “Yeah, I can fuckin’ tell.”
They break into matching sets of giggles, snorting quietly as they come down from their laughter. It’s easy this way, Eddie and Steve. Light and airy, love like sunshine through filtered blinds.
Steve’s hand traces along Eddie’s back, Eddie’s coming up to rub circles on Steve’s hip. Gentle touches, inextinguishable love like flames on their fingertips. They lay like that, breathing each other in, until the movie ends. And then, just because they can, they stay there until the sun goes down.
It’s reverent, Steve thinks.
It’s religious.
—
When Steve opens his eyes hours later, mind foggy with newly awakened confusion, he’s reminded of something he heard in a sermon years ago.
“Your love for God will outlast both blindness and death.”
Steve might not believe in God, but he believes in this:
His love for Eddie is stronger than corporeal construction.
His devotion will be rewritten into a new Bible, dedicated to every last beat of Eddie’s heart, every intention that keeps him alive.
People will pray not to God, but to Steve’s sacred veneration.
It will outlast death.