Chapter Text

Steve can't believe he's been stood up. He's getting off these dating apps, they're all frustrating trash. A constant loop of disappointment, where the problem is definitely them, not him. That much he's sure of. He's a fucking catch. He has good profile pictures that look just like him. He's not baiting and switching anybody. He's exactly what he says he is: single, down to fuck, but open to falling in love again if that's in the cards. He's a goddamn good time. He knows that. If he can't even find a reliable hookup using those apps, then he's done, because they're obviously worthless.

Maybe he'll go old school. Hit the bars. See who's out there, in person, face-to-face. 

Ugh. No. That sounds like torture. He doesn't do well with polite smiling and nodding anymore. He's been around Eddie for too long. His bluntness, his brand of constant unfiltered commentary falls out of Steve's mouth far too easily these days.

Maybe he'll just be celibate instead. One or the other. If nobody is willing to put in the bare minimum of effort to fuck him, maybe he won't get fucked. They don't deserve it, even if he does.

And now it's freezing rain. Winter is coming. In more than one way, he suspects. So, he pulls his coat tighter as he walks down the sidewalk towards home. He left his cozy, heated apartment for no goddamn reason. 

It's bullshit.

Steve throws his coat towards the coat rack, but misses. It clatters to the ground, zipper making a loud racket against the hardwood floor.

"And you were supposed to be an athlete?" Eddie says from the couch. He's elbow deep in the bag of chips that Steve just bought yesterday. Perfect.

Steve grumbles. He's had a bad day. A bad week, hell a bad few months. And tonight, being stood up, that was the final straw. Not to mention his wet feet. He toes off his shoes, and peels off his sopping socks. Leaving them lay by his shoes.

He's not dating for the rest of the year. How many weeks are even left in this godforsaken year? Five? Six? He looks at the calendar over the key rack. It's still turned to October with November over halfway gone, which really isn't surprising. Instead, he looks in the bottom corner at the smaller November calendar. Six. Six weeks of celibacy of his choosing might reset whatever bad juju is ruining his life.

It's getting cold, anyway.

He could stay home and hang with Eddie, all roasty toasty inside their apartment, and just forget all about girls and boys and sex until next year. New year, new him.

That's possible. Maybe. 

"Didn't go well?" Eddie probes.

"Didn't go at all," Steve answers, picking up his coat and hanging it up right this time, "He didn't show up."

"Ouch," Eddie says, holding out the bag of chips as Steve crashes onto the couch next to him, reaching in. Tucking his now cold feet under Eddie's warm thigh. It's payback. Usually Eddie's the one touching Steve with his clammy hands and feet, trying to steal his body heat.

Eddie says nothing, just wraps his hand around Steve's ankle and pats him. It's nice, being touched. 

"Did you put that picture of you and Robin back in your profile? I told you not to," Eddie asks, being judgmental. As always. Eddie loves to critique Steve's profile, because he has opinions. Eddie has opinions on everything, though.

Eddie loved examining Steve, 27 in great detail, giving his self-proclaimed expert opinion on each picture, on each line of his bio, when it popped up as a possible match for him as they sat feet away from each other. He cackled, and after he was done telling him to change basically everything but his name, Eddie swiped left.

Maybe Steve should have listened. Then maybe he'd be bent over some dude's ottoman somewhere, and not here, sulking. 

Steve lets his head fall back against the couch cushion. He can't go six weeks without fucking. Well, he could. But he likes being touched too much. Needs it. Craves it, and he's in a fucking desert right now. But he definitely needs no attachments, no distractions, no expectations, at least for a while. That last breakup was a doozy. It was so bad he was pretty sure Eddie was going to start writing break-up songs by osmosis just by having to be around him and his broken heart.

So, yeah. He can go six weeks without dating. Should, honestly. Reset his mojo, or whatever. That's a better plan. More doable. Sex, but no relationship stress. Anonymous sex, even. If he could figure out how to make that happen.

Are glory holes still a thing? He bets Eddie would know.

"And the one in the suit? It makes you look like a finance bro," Eddie adds, still trying to poke holes in his profile.

"I do work in finance," Steve says, eyes squeezed shut.

"And that's a tragedy," Eddie says, "you should come work for me instead."

Steve laughs. 

That'd go well. He hopes there's a big market for lopsided stick figure tattoos, because that's all the artistic ability he's got. 

Steve scrubs his hands over his face. He just wanted to get fucked tonight.

Because, honestly? Steve just wants to get his back blown out once in a while, is that really too much to ask?

"What are you thinking about? Your face is weird," Eddie asks, letting his ankle go, going back to stuffing another handful of chips in his mouth. Biting off more than he can chew, like always.

"Why I'm not getting my back blown out right now," Steve answers, matter of fact, "I'm a catch!"

Eddie inhales, and promptly chokes. 

He chokes so goddamn hard that Steve thinks he might have to intervene before Eddie gets it all coughed up onto the coffee table. Chip fragments and slobber spluttered everywhere. It's gross, but pretty on brand for Eddie. Steve's used to it by now. They've lived together too long, and Eddie will never learn what an appropriate sized bite is.

Choking is an everyday hazard. Steve even bought one of those suction thingies, just in case.

"Well, well…that's a thought," Eddie finally says, voice scratchy, eyes watering. Then squirms, "My back," Eddie complains, and Steve does feel sorry for him. That feeling of a Dorito scraping down your back the wrong way is the worst.

"You gonna live?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. Steve then looks back over at Eddie. "Could have fooled me. You look like you're the one that's been sucking cock real good, or just had your back blown out," Steve teases, taking the chip bag away from him, and eats a few that he doesn't choke on, thank you very much, because he's not a fool like Eddie. 

Eddie's face is flushed red, probably from the choking, but probably also from embarrassment. Eddie doesn't go around getting fucked. Steve knows that, too. Another hazard of too many years living together. He knows Eddie better than he knows himself, sometimes. And there's one thing he's sure about:

Eddie's an exclusive top. Fucker, not fuckee. 

"And that's what you were looking for tonight?" Eddie asks, wiping his cheese-covered hands on his jeans.

"Yeah?" Steve says, like he's an idiot, "What did you think I was after?"

"I don't know!" Eddie says, shrilly, "True love? You're the relationship guy!"

Steve scoffs, "I gave up on that after the last time. Getting fucked though? I didn't realize that was gonna be such an ordeal to line up."

Eddie's nodding along, and Steve doesn't know why he's being so weird. They both bring people home all the time. The walls aren't that thick. Neither one of them are sex shy.

"I'm just in a slump. That's all," Steve finally determines, tossing the bag towards Eddie, now that he thinks Eddie can probably be trusted again. "So, I'm gonna put dating on hold. For six weeks."

"That's actually not a bad idea," Eddie says, and Steve knows he's not exactly been having the best luck either. His drought has been going longer than Steve's. "But you're not gonna get laid for six weeks?" 

Steve scoffs.

"Not likely," he answers, honestly, "but maybe I could find a fuckbuddy for six weeks? No strings. No having to do the date thing. Just sex."

"And where are you gonna find such a person?" Eddie asks, eyebrows disappearing up under his bangs.

"I don't know, I haven't got that far. I just thought this plan up five minutes ago as you puked all over the house."

"I didn't puke! I choked!" Eddie shouts, indignant. 

"Same difference from here. Maybe I'll put an ad on Craigslist," Steve says, just spitballing. "Long-haired freaky people definitely need to apply."

Eddie squawks, "You can't do that! You'll get murdered, or we'll get robbed, or worse — you'll end up with weird perverts!"

Steve just raises an eyebrow, and tilts his head forward, nodding towards Eddie.

Eddie laughs, "But I'm a weird pervert you know! There's a big difference, Steve. You don't know what those other freaks are into. There's some… freaky shit going on out there. Trust me. You're gonna end up chained to some weirdo's radiator."

"Will they fuck me after? Because I'm not saying no yet," Steve teases.

"Steve," Eddie says, "be serious."

And Steve's not trying to get murdered. Of course he needs to find someone trustworthy, and…well, his wheels start turning. Eddie is a weird pervert he knows. He's down to fuck.

He'd blow Steve's back out for sure.

"I don't like that look," Eddie says, and Steve just grins wider. Yes, this is perfect. He should have thought of it sooner.

"You and me. Six weeks. No strings. Just fucking," Steve says, and it's not a question. He's already decided. Eddie just needs to get on board. This is happening.

"You've lost your goddamn mind," Eddie says, shaking his head as his voice gets too high, and just a little squeaky.

"C'mon. It makes sense. I want to get dicked down, and I think you're more than capable of it. I've heard your work through the walls. Your resume seems solid."

Eddie is laughing, but clearly not to yes yet. Steve can get him there. He can make a deal, that's what he's good at. Steve can convince him. Hell, he could make him think it was his idea if he tries hard enough. 

It's perfect. They're friends. Best friends. They both like to fuck, and why not fuck each other? It'd be perfect. Safe. Convenient, even. They live in the same apartment. 

"Just think about it," Steve says, and Eddie nods. "No pressure."

Chapter Text

Eddie's been thinking about it. 

Eddie's not been thinking about anything else, in fact. His cock is constantly threatening to stand at permanent attention at the mere idea of getting the chance to fuck Steve.

His brain, though? Well, that asshole keeps jerking the emergency brake. 

All he's feeling is pressure. In his boxer briefs, definitely. In his heart, too, though.

"Well, tell me again about the benefit package being offered?" Eddie says, body swaying, head tilted to the side as he almost dares Steve to back down. Taunting him. Fake it until you make it. Or some shit. Bravado and cocky swagger to cover up the fact that the basest part of him wants to drop to his knees and grovel along behind Steve, just begging for the opportunity. 

He knows Steve is really out of his league. And it's a little pathetic, because if he's not careful, his meticulously boxed up and shoved down deep stupid crush on Steve Harrington is going to get him in a whole lot of trouble. He's flying far too close to the sun even considering this dumb idea.

Steve apparently isn't fazed by his weirdness. But he never is. 

"Sex. Fucking," he says, waving his hand between the two of them. "I'm single, you're single, we live in this apartment together. We could definitely scratch our itches together."

"How do you know I have itches to scratch?" Eddie asks. 

"Well, you haven't brought anyone home in two months, which is longer than my dry spell, I'll have you know, and I can hear you stripping your dick raw more nights than not."

Eddie blinks at him. He can hear him jacking off? And Eddie isn't getting the same benefit the other way? Well, that's definitely not fair. 

"You can't hear me jacking off," Eddie decides, and instead of arguing, Steve pulls out his phone, presses play, and the muffled sounds of Eddie getting himself off fill the room.

It's not just audio, though. It's a dark, grainy video of what appears to be Steve working his cock through his boxer briefs.

Holy shit. Goddamn. 

"Why'd you record that?" Eddie accuses, but takes a step closer, snatching the phone out of his hand. He can't help himself.

Steve doesn't back down, "You're loud, man. And if you want to offer up a free show through the walls, then I'll get off on it. I didn't think you'd mind. Do you mind?"

Does Eddie mind that Steve almost certainly came while thinking about him? While listening to him? No, no, he doesn't mind, but his brain has turned to goo at the thought. At the sight.

Eddie is speechless, for maybe the first time in his twenty-eight years of life. Steve gets off on listening to him come?

Apparently, Steve's not done trying to kill him. 

"Now, if you'd like to help me get off in person, I'm all in. If not, no sweat off my cock."

Eddie is absolutely certain that's not the saying. 

"Let me think about it," Eddie squeaks out, and Steve nods, like there is in fact, no sweat off his cock.

"And we're agreeing we're not telling anyone?" Eddie asks the next evening.

"We're not telling anyone," Steve confirms. 

Good. That's good. He doesn't want Buckley, or god forbid, Gareth, judging what they've decided to do.

They've been negotiating all day. Every so often, Eddie will throw out another question. Steve doesn't seem bothered in the least bit. Taking every question in stride.

"How many nights a week?" Eddie asks, and Steve just laughs.

"How many nights are you horny?" Steve asks.

"All of them, usually," Eddie says, and isn't even embarrassed. He has a high libido. Sue him.

"Then, I don't think there's a limit? Once a week? Twice a day? Whatever you're down for, er, up for, then I'm willing to match your energy, dude."

"Cool. That's cool."

Eddie feels anything but cool looking at Steve sitting at the kitchen counter, in a t-shirt with an extremely stretched out neck. The day is almost gone, he still hasn't showered yet, and his hair is sticking up all over the place.

And Eddie wants to fuck him. This him, just as much as the put together Steve he has seen getting ready before dates. Maybe more.

Eddie's doing this. Eddie is so doing this, and he'll just suffer the consequences later. It's gonna be a mess. A big, ol' messy mess of his own making. Oh well. That's Future Eddie's problem.

"Deal," Eddie agrees, bringing his hand up to his mouth, spitting in his palm. 

Then, he holds it out to Steve. 

"Gross," Steve says.

"Oh, that's gross, but you want me to…" Eddie trails off, reaching over and making the motion as if he's air honking Steve's tits. 

"Yes, that's specifically what I asked for," Steve snarks, batting Eddie's hand back, moving to shake it. Eddie pulls his hand away, wagging his finger.

Steve rolls his eyes, spits in his own hand, and then they shake. The deal done. 

Eddie knows he's grinning like he's a weirdo. Well, he is one, and that's not gonna change because they've agreed to do this together.

They are quiet for a long moment, then Eddie can't help himself.

"We starting now?" Eddie blurts out, and Steve clinks his spoon down into his bowl.

"Let me shower," Steve says with a grin, pushing up off the bar stool. 

"I knew it. You're big," Eddie says, and Steve looks down at his own dick, like he wasn't aware of this fact. 

"I guess," Steve says, and Eddie wants to throttle him. He guesses? Steve Harrington gets all the luck. The looks. The money. The cock.

Eddie wonders what it's like being the universe's chosen one.

Life really isn't fair.

"Well, don't be shy. Show me what you've got," Steve says, and fuck. Eddie damn well will. It's just. Well.

"I've got a ladder," Eddie says, fingers hooked under the waistband of his boxers.

"A ladder?" Steve asks.

Eddie feels his face heating, then lifts his fingers to graze the industrial piercing through his ear, "Kinda like this bar. But several, along my dick. Underneath."

Steve's eyes are wide, like he's failing to comprehend what Eddie's saying. He is still speaking English, right? Maybe he's just gotta show him. Or, maybe he's just horrified, and this is a dealbreaker. 

He strips down, and Steve's staring. Really staring.

But not at his cock.

No, his eyes are focused off to the right.

"What?" Eddie asks, looking down at his body, trying to determine what's so goddamn fascinating that it's drawing attention away from his ornate cock.

"You have tattoos I've never seen," Steve comments, fingers carefully, delicately, moving across his skin. Across his art. "I don't know why I never considered that."

Eddie feels exposed, like he's being scrutinized. He's used to being looked at. He likes being looked at, and hell, it comes with the territory of moving from having tattoos to being tattooed. He's been in the later category for a while now. People stare. That's fine.

But usually, everybody can see what's right out in the open.

What Steve's looking at? Well. Not everybody gets to see those, not even Steve before this, apparently, and they live together. He's surely seen him in all manner of undress.

"Hazard of the job," Eddie teases, not sure how to deal with his eyes boring into his skin. "Gotta practice on someone and the easiest someone to convince is yourself."

Steve's thumb brushes against Eddie's side, and goosebumps skate across Eddie's skin, every fine hair on his body standing on end as Steve turns him to see the full piece that wraps around his hip.

"How'd you reach?" Steve asks, eyes studying the tattoo closely.

Eddie's staring down at Steve. Steve's staring down at Eddie's tattoo.

"Gareth did it."

"Oh. It's really good."

It is. One of his best, better than some of his own work. Especially better than the ones he did on himself while he was still learning. Which would chap his ass if he wasn't so proud of the kid, and happy it's him that it was done on. He's proud of Gareth, the tattoo, and the shop they've built together. It's been fun, and he never imagined in his whole life that his day job would be something he found fun every damn day.

"Yeah. Better artist than he is a drummer," Eddie laughs. But it's true. They could never have made a living as musicians, no matter how much they love it. But their tattoo shop? Fuck. It's really something special. "He's talented. Don't tell him that, though. His ego doesn't need stroking," Eddie teases. Unfortunately, Gareth knows he's good, and that means it's everybody's problem.

Finally, Steve's eyes slide from his hip, to his cock. What Eddie was trying to show him in the first place.

"Did he do your dick?" 

Eddie chuckles, "Absolutely not."

It's not a stupid question, Gareth does lots of piercings. He's good at it. Just. You know, not Eddie's cock. There's a line, and that's it. 

He did both sets of hoops in Eddie's ears, his septum, the industrial. His nipples, too. 

Oh, and his eyebrow. Which also didn't last, long term. It took too long to heal, and Eddie got impatient, and removed it. Gareth has more titanium in his face than Eddie does, and just has more patience than Eddie's ever gonna have to keep getting pierced. 

His dick, though? That, Eddie likes. The look, the feel. All of it. 

Steve's still just holding his hips, looking up at him from where he's seated on the edge of the bed. Maybe he's having second thoughts. 

"You ever been with someone with piercings like this?" Eddie asks, and Steve shakes his head. 

"Okay. You might like it. You might hate it. You might not notice it at all. They can always come out for sex if you're not a fan. Or, if you don't want to try it, I can go ahead and remov—"

"Absolutely not. Get your bedazzled cock in me. Let's do this thing," Steve says, and Eddie tosses his head back, laughing.

Steve Harrington. Always jumping in with both feet. 

Oh, Eddie's definitely gonna be in trouble here. Big trouble.

Usually Eddie wouldn't just get right into the main event, but Steve had hiked his leg up and said he got ready in the shower and that he was ready to find out what being fucked by a pierced dick feels like, and well, Eddie wasn't about to pussyfoot around. If Steve needed fucked, well, Eddie was gonna fuck him.

But, goddamn. Now that he's doing it, It's weird. It's so fucking weird. 

It's not just weird. It's bad.

Eddie's trying to find a rhythm, but it's like he's totally forgotten how to fuck. Steve's just laying under him, and that's not helping. Is Steve a bad fucking lay? There's no goddamn way. Is Eddie a bad lay? That cannot be true either. He knows better. 

He has the thought that perhaps they just have no sexual chemistry with each other, and hates that. That can't be true. He doesn't want it to be true, because it'll be a bucket of ice water thrown all over this crush he's been nursing. 

The fantasy, ruined.

He can't let this stand.

"Time out," Eddie says, even doing the signal for it with his hands. "Why's this so bad?"

"I don't know! But this is not being dicked down. This will not blow out my back. If you pierce your damn dick, Eddie, you better know how to use it. I swear to god."

Eddie laughs, and feels a little more at ease. He rubs Steve's thigh, and they need to course correct before this is their takeaway from this experience. "We need a beer. Or three. Or a little toke. Something. Let's stop. Regroup. Then try again. We can do better than this."

Steve nods, and Eddie tilts his hips backwards, slipping out of him, tugging off the condom.

He tosses it towards the trash, makes it, and celebrates. It's the little things.

Then he looks back at Steve, "God, I hope we can do better than this." 

They sit on the couch, both in their boxers, two more shots of tequila on the coffee table. 

"When did you pierce your dick? And how did you keep from telling me?" Steve asks earnestly. 

Fair question. They've known each other a long time now. And Eddie's not shy. He likes to talk. It would have came up. 

"In college, during that semester you spent abroad with Robin. I'd have told you if you were here, but by the time you were home it was healed and it felt weird to announce it, after the fact."

Eddie's cock is soft as he pulls it out of the top of his boxers. Lifting it, so Steve can see. 

"I did one and three, and let those heal, and went back in for two and four. That was a long few months. You guys were gone. I couldn't fuck. I couldn't even jerk it."

Steve laughs. 

"There's room for more, but I stopped at four. I decided I'd rather heal these up and get on with the actual fucking than get more hardware."

Steve smiles, reaching out and stroking the barbells with his thumb. Moving the delicate, soft skin up and down. Manipulating the jewelry, carefully. Curious.

Eddie can see him working out how they're done, how they're attached to his cock. Steve's curious about things. They have that in common. Even if they go about it in different ways. 

"How bad did it hurt?" 

"Not as much as you'd think. It's just a little bit of thin skin. I've had tattoos that hurt way worse. Hell, my nipples hurt worse."

"I like it. It's very you," Steve says and it's the best compliment he's ever gotten. 

And Eddie tucks his cock away again, as Steve leans forward, grabbing the next two shots off the coffee table. 

This time, Steve snakes his hand out and catches Eddie's wrist. He licks the inside of it, keeping eye contact with him the entire time he does it.

Eddie shifts on the couch, squirming.

Some salt is sprinkled on, then Steve licks him again, slams back his shot and bites down on the lime wedge. 

Eddie doesn't have time to react, Steve's sliding onto his lap, the lime still pinched between his teeth. He pulls it away, dropping it back onto the coffee table with a thump, and then closes his mouth over Eddie's. Lips sliding along Eddie's, before his tongue seeks entrance.

His mouth tastes like tequila, and lime, and Eddie grips at his hips, kissing him back. This is more like it. More what he had in mind when he was envisioning living out his fantasies.

Some of that Harrington charm is finally poking its head out. Thank god. Eddie couldn't withstand six weeks of awkwardness.

That would be a way to quash this crush, though. 

Steve's grinding down on him, hips moving in circles. 

Eventually, Steve slides off him, flopping onto the couch, thighs touching. 

His hand is covering his crotch, but then he starts working himself through his boxers, before lifting his hips, and yanking his boxers down. 

Eddie's still impressed, and still wants to get his mouth on Steve. Maybe that's where they should've started. He's about to say so, when Steve speaks:

"Let me see you," Steve demands, and Eddie minds him, as if he's been given a direct order. 

He pulls off his underwear, tossing them aside, and Steve burrows closer to him on the couch. Shoulder to shoulder. Steve's gripping his own cock, working himself at an easy pace.

Eddie follows Steve's lead. Jacking himself slowly, eyes trained on Steve's hand doing the same thing to himself. It feels sort of basic, sort of juvenile, almost. Something that should have happened between them in high school, or in college, not now.

But it's happening now, and Eddie's enjoying every minute of it.

It doesn't take either of them that long to catch back up, to rush forward towards the finish line, building up momentum that had been non-existent in the bedroom. 

Steve's breath is already hitching, and Eddie watches as he aims his cock towards Eddie's bare thigh as he pushes himself closer and closer to the edge. 

When he comes, it hits Eddie's thigh. Warm, wet, and Eddie doesn't miss a stroke on his own cock as he watches. Just slips his fingers through the mess Steve's made on his thigh, and slides it over the head of his own cock.

Steve groans beside him, still squeezing his softening cock, and Eddie chases him over the edge, coming all over his own hand, dripping down into his pubes. 

He slumps back into the couch cushions, breathing heavy, still feeling Steve's eyes on him. 

Eddie turns and looks, smiling. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all. He liked Steve's eyes on him. Not to mention, he's pretty sure he hasn't come that hard in, well, maybe ever. Especially not while jerking himself off.

If that was that good, he's regained the confidence that they'll figure it all out. They just had cold feet, a false case of bad sex chemistry, that's all.

"We just had performance anxiety," Eddie declares. 

"More like the yips," Steve says, stretching his hands over his head, hairy chest heaving upwards. 

"The what now?" Eddie asks. 

"The yips. When you suddenly lose a skill you've mastered. Like your golf swing. Or no longer being able to throw a strike in baseball."

"The yips," Eddie repeats, testing the concept in his mind. 

Steve nods, "We were just nervous and psyched ourselves out. We'll be fine now. I'm sure of it." 

Well, if Steve's sure, then Eddie's sure, too.

The goddamn yips. Fuck 'em.

Chapter Text

Steve's phone vibrates, shaking his nightstand. He picks it up and sees it's from Eddie.

Eddie: u up?

Steve laughs, and he's sure Eddie can hear him through their shared wall. Their apartment is nice, but the walls are still pretty thin. 

Both of them could probably afford to live alone at this point, if they really wanted to, but they like being roommates. At least Steve does. It's nice to have someone to come home to at night. 

He clicks on the camera app, watching it come to life on his screen.

If Eddie's gonna give him that kind of opening, he's gonna take it. He pushes his comforter off of his lap, and snaps a picture of his hand covering his boxer-clad crotch.

Steve: Halfway.

Then, he sends the picture.

He expects Eddie to burst into the room in seconds, instead, his phone buzzes again.

Eddie: good wanna show you something

And that's when the video call pops up on Steve's screen. He swipes to accept, and Eddie's already got the phone camera pointed at his cock, jacking off. Steve can see his fist catching, rubbing along the metal barbells as he twists his wrist, and imagines it must feel good. If it didn't, nobody would keep them in their cock, surely.

"Welcome to the live show, Harrington. I thought if you got off on listening, you might get off on seeing," Eddie says off-screen through the tinny microphone, and fuck yes, Steve will do just that.

Maybe it's safer to ease into this thing they're doing through the screen. Steve wants Eddie to fuck him, but he doesn't want a repeat performance of the other night. That was bad. Bad, bad. And he knows they can do better.

They just need to get more comfortable with the idea of having sex together. Get out of their own heads. It's a big change in their relationship, for sure.

Steve strokes his own cock in tandem with Eddie's movements on the tiny screen, letting him set the pace. The noises Eddie makes are fucking hot, and Steve can't wait until Eddie's got him bent over, breathing down his neck, making those noises just for him, all up close and personal.

Eddie must have been close when he sent the first message, because he's already coming, thick, white ropes landing on his fist that he's got wrapped around himself, and Steve groans. He looks so good. 

"Fuck, that's pretty," Steve says, continuing to work his own dick, eyes glued to Eddie's wet and flushed cockhead, his come splattered hand.

Steve's orgasm hits him like a freight train, and he lets loose. Moaning loud, from deep in his chest. Not keeping quiet like he usually would. This time, he hopes Eddie can hear him.

Eddie chuckles through the phone, "That I heard in surround sound through the wall, big boy."

Steve laughs, flipping the phone around to his face, "That was good, Ed. Thank you. Nice audible you called."

"I don't know what that means, but you're welcome."

Eddie winks at him, and then the call is disconnected.

Steve lays there, still breathing hard, grinning like a goddamn fool.

"You're doing what?" Robin asks, her voice getting high and thin, and Steve can already tell she doesn't approve. She's really staring him down across their usual table at the wine bar down the street from her apartment.

He knew she wouldn't approve of this. He should've kept it under wraps, like he promised he would. It's just too hard to keep secrets from her. She always knows when he's withholding information. It's better to spill his guts willingly, than have her expertly extract it a piece at a time.

"It's a secret. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but you're not any—"

" Gee, thanks."

"—one, so just keep your mouth shut."

"Who am I gonna tell? Eddie? He already knows, apparently. I can't believe you two. This is gonna be a mess. A big mess, trust me. And then I'll say I told you so when it blows up in your face."

"It won't, but fine. You can gloat if it does."

"Oh, I will, you can bet on that."

Steve slumps into the booth, and Robin is still just staring at him.

"What? Say it."

"Well? At least tell me something. What's it like? Is he a weirdo? I bet he's a weirdo."

And he smiles, leaning forward again, knowing that he's at least drummed up some interest.

He's in the middle of telling her about the yips when his phone buzzes on the table, vibrating with a text message. He ignores it. If he touches his phone he loses and has to pay the whole tab. 

They continue talking, and then, it buzzes with another.

And a third.

A fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth in quick succession. His phone is dancing, begging to not be ignored.

Robin raises an eyebrow. Fuck it. He was gonna pay the bill anyway, and it might be an emergency. 

It's not an emergency. It's Eddie. 

Correction: It's Eddie, spiraling.

Steve scrolls up to the initial message, and it's a picture of Eddie's cock, hard and slightly blurry as he jacks himself off. Light catching titanium. Steve angles the screen to his chest, making sure nobody else in the dark bar can see what he's seeing.

Fucking hell.

He doesn't want to look away, but it's everything that came after the picture that needs attention.

Eddie: Steve?

Eddie: i shouldn't have sent that

Eddie: fuck 

Eddie: you're mad

Eddie: shit. this was a secret. did Buckley see that?? 

Eddie: don't show Buckley my cock!

Eddie: i'll throw myself off a cliff on the seashore if she saw

Steve laughs, Eddie's so fucking dramatic. Robin is staring at him.

"What?" he asks.

"What? What? You know what. You're grinning like a fool. He's being a weirdo, right? Called it."

Steve smiles, and swipes his finger across the keyboard. Of course he's being a weirdo. Eddie's always a weirdo.

Steve: Did you not want Robin to know your cock's pierced? Whoops.

Steve: I'm kidding. Don't throw yourself into the water. I don't have the equipment to dredge the sea for your remains.

He hits send.

Steve: I'll be home in an hour.

Then, he has a second thought.

Steve: Save that for me. I need fucked tonight.

Eddie sends back a string of incoherent emojis. Then:

Eddie: u can tell her about my cock just don't show her pix

Steve laughs.

Steve: How should I explain having this newfound knowledge?

Eddie: nvrmind. just start saying your gbyes and get home.

Home. Eddie's at home, their home, and Steve scrolls back up to the picture, getting one more look before he puts his phone back on the table, turning his full attention back to Robin.

He realizes he's smiling like a goddamn fool, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt.

"You're flirting. With Eddie. And that's very traumatizing to me. I'm ordering more wine. Nicer wine. And appetizers. Since you're paying, and all."

Steve shifts in the booth, fingers pulling at denim, trying to rearrange things under the table as inconspicuously as possible as to not draw the wrath of Robin. Erections aren't allowed in her presence. It's in their friendship bylaws.

When she orders a bottle of wine that he's pretty sure could pay a month's utility bill, he knows she needs payback.

"His dick's pierced, by the way," he says casually, and the way she chokes and sputters makes him smile with glee.

Game, set and match.

Eddie's pacing the living room when Steve gets home, and nearly knocks him to the ground before he can hang up his coat.

It's like Eddie's reverted back to the overexcited loser he was when they first met. Steve's incredibly charmed.

"Easy," Steve says, taking both of Eddie's shoulders in his hands, squeezing. 

"Easy? Easier said than done, Harrington. Bend over."

Steve lets himself be manhandled. Unbuttoning his jeans as Eddie presses up against him from behind. Pushing him down over the arm of the couch, hand finding the back of his head, holding him down against the cushions.

"Not gonna last long enough to get in you, sorry," Eddie says, and Steve's about to protest, but he feels the slick drizzle of lube running down the crack of his ass.

Then, Eddie's dick is sliding between his cheeks, rutting against him, cock pressing against his asshole in a way that feels amazing. The piercings catching, rubbing in a way Steve's never felt before. It'd be better if he was prepped and Eddie could slide on inside him, but this will definitely do the job.

"Oh, goddamn," Steve whines. Feeling the throb of want, of need, as he digs his fingers into the couch.

This is the Eddie he was hoping to get for this arrangement. Confident, and weird. Unpredictable. A little bit feral, touched by a bit of wildness that can't be tamed by polite society.

Steve moans, pressing his face roughly into the cushion, fingers gripping the blanket that's under him. Loving the feeling of Eddie's cock rubbing against his hole, the pressure of it, the tease. It's gonna be so much better when they actually do fuck again.

Eddie's free hand is on his asscheek, spreading him as wide as he can get him without letting go of his head.

"Fuck," Eddie says, and then he's coming on Steve's back with a long groan. Steve feels it through his body. His own dick is hard, aching, pressing against the arm of the couch.

He's wiggling just enough to get a hand wrapped around himself, when Eddie lets him up, spinning him. Hand braced against his thigh, backing his legs up against the couch until Steve is forced to sit, as he takes Steve's cock all the way into his mouth in one movement.

Nobody ever takes him like that in one go. Goddamn.

"Fuck, Ed," he says, and Eddie is just sucking his cock like a goddamn pro.

Eddie looks up at him, mouth full, and Steve reaches around to the back of his head, pulling him down, pressing deeper. Eddie doesn't flinch, doesn't gag, just takes it.

Steve's too close, too turned on by this that he comes down Eddie's throat. Eddie swallowing around him. 

He's never had head like that, not ever, and Eddie isn't rushing to pull off, either. Just letting him stay there in that wet warmth, even if he's getting a little overstimulated by the sensation. He still rocks his hips, just a little, and as he goes softer, Eddie doubles down. Pressing closer until his nose is buried in Steve's pubes.

Steve hears, and feels, him sucking in deep lungfuls of air through his nose. 

Smelling him. He's smelling his crotch, like a big fucking freak.

Steve loves it, and Eddie must too, because he grips Steve's hip, pulling him deeper, if that's even possible. 

The seal is broken after that. The cobwebs shaken out. The yips, a distant memory. They are down to fuck, anything seems to be fair game, and Steve's definitely gonna take advantage of it. Of Eddie's adventurous weirdness.

They've fucked four times in two days, and Steve still wants more. More of what, he's not sure. Just more.

Eddie's fucking him right now, a punishing rhythm that makes Steve feels dazed in the best way.

"Hit me," Steve mumbles, and Eddie stutters his rhythm, faltering like he hasn't all night.

"Excuse me?" 

"Hit me. On the ass."

"You want me to spank you?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods. Yeah, that's what he wants.

"I've never tried it," Steve admits, and he's curious. He's curious about lots of things that he thinks Eddie might be into. Rougher things than Steve's used to.

"Steve," Eddie says, rubbing his thumb in the small of Steve's back. He's acting like Steve's gonna break, and he's not. 

He shoves his hips backward, drawing Eddie in deeper, "Do it."

Eddie gives him a light tap on the ass, and Steve makes the most exasperated noise he's made in his life, he's pretty sure. And he lives with Eddie. He's exasperated a lot.

"Get it right, or pay the price," Steve demands, bitchily.

"Are you quoting Salute Your Shorts while I'm balls deep in you?"

"Hit me, Donkeylips!" Steve sasses, and Eddie's clearly so offended he rears his hand back and slaps Steve on the ass. Hard. The sound bounces around the room.

It stings like taking a line drive that you were only barely able to slow down first. It fucking hurts, aches. 

"Oh," Steve says, "yeah, that didn't do anything good for me. Sorry."

Eddie is shaking with laughter above him, but he rubs at the spot he'd swatted, "I didn't think it would, sweetheart."

Steve lets out an involuntary keen, head dipping, hanging low. Where the fuck did that come from? Maybe he was into it.

"Yeah, that's more like it," Eddie says, "you're a good sweetheart for me, aren't you?"

Oh. It was that. Not the impact. 

Steve nods. He's good. He can be good for Eddie.

"You're good for daddy," Eddie says, and the spell is broken. A laugh comes out of Steve's mouth before he can even think to stop it.

"Nope. No, no thank you," Steve says, and Eddie laughs from above him, tucking his face over Steve's shoulder. Pressing his body flush against Steve's, using all his weight to force Steve down into the mattress.

"If you want to try new things, I'm gonna give you new things. And I've heard you call yourself daddy, Steve. More than once. It wasn't that big of a leap to think you might be into that."

"I was kidding when I said it, obviously. Daddy no-likey," Steve says, and Eddie reaches up and yanks his hair.

"Stop that," Eddie demands as Steve's head snaps back until it's resting against Eddie's chest. Steve lets out a long moan as he reaches down, wedging his hand between himself and the bed, wrapping his fist around his cock. Eddie pulls his hair just a little tighter.

"Let go," Eddie demands, and Steve does. Releasing his cock, "Good. I'll give you what you need, you don't need to rush it," Eddie says, snapping his hips back, and then shoving Steve's face down into the pillow. It smells like Eddie.

Steve breathes deep, grinding his hips against the mattress, trying to find some relief, some release, as Eddie fucks him, hand still on his head. Still pressing down, "That's good, if you keep being good, I'll let you take it."

"How generous of you," Steve snarks, a little muffled by the pillow, but he's laughing, even as fucking turned on as he is right now. This is exactly what he imagined fucking Eddie would be like. A little rough, a lot mouthy. Kinda weird. So, maybe it's a no to spankings, and a definite no to anything daddy-related, but a yes to hair pulling and being held down. And a big fucking yes to being praised. He's not particularly shocked by that last one.

He just wants to be loved. And Eddie may not love him, not like that anyway, but Steve knows he'll take real good care of him, and that's a kind of safety he's longed to feel.

Steve feels Eddie's hands on his ass, spreading his cheeks. He can still feel heat in the spot Eddie hit him. Steve flushes with the rush of imagining Eddie staring at his cock going in and out of his ass. 

"Tell me what you see," Steve says. He wants to hear Eddie's voice, talking, yammering, anything.

Eddie groans behind him, "A pretty boy wrapped around my cock."

The next thrusts are harder, and Steve can feel Eddie's balls slapping him. Fuck. He wants to touch himself. He doesn't. He waits. 

Lets Eddie fuck him, use him until he's making noises that tell Steve's he's getting close.

"Gonna come in you," Eddie finally says, and something rolls in Steve's belly, making his groin tug with a new wave of arousal.

"Do it, do it," Steve chants, and between Eddie's piercings dragging across his prostate and the friction on his cock from being pressed into the bed, he comes from that alone, all over the sheets. Throbbing, pulsing with the pleasure of it.

Eddie comes not long after with a groan, and then pulls out, holding onto the base of the condom. 

Steve turns his head, watching him crawl off the bed. The long lines of his body, stark tattoos standing out against his pale skin, untouched by the sun. Steve watches as he lifts his softening cock, wiping it down, cleaning up lube and come from the head. The silver piercings running down his dick fully on display as he does it.

He's beautiful in a way that Steve could never imagine anyone else being. Truly, one of a kind. And Steve stares at him, eyes going soft. Already feel the pull of sleep, the kind that feels like sinking in the best way after a good orgasm.

"Scooch," Eddie says, and Steve rolls over. Getting out of the wet spot, and making room as he feels the bed shake when Eddie crawls back in, stretching out. Steve makes room for him. Shifting, allowing their legs to tangle together. Following Eddie's lead. Laying against him, watching him settle in.

Eddie's eyes are closed when Steve asks, "Want me to go back to my own bed?"

"Not unless you want to," he says, tightening his arm that's wrapped around Steve.

No, Steve doesn't want that at all. It's nice to have someone close, and he throws his leg over Eddie's thigh. Pulling himself even more flush to Eddie, and Eddie hums with what sounds like approval.

Steve presses his cheek to Eddie's bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the thudding of his heartbeat, and both lull him until he's asleep a few minutes later.

Chapter Text

Eddie's off in his own world. But what else is new?

He's scratching his pen against the cocktail napkin, his own shorthand as he works through his thoughts. Just like he does when he's writing a song, or designing a new tattoo. 

They need to make a list. Cross-check them, see what they're both into, because they can't just keep throwing spaghetti at the wall to see what sticks. That seems like a recipe for disaster, not that Eddie thinks either of them can't shake off shit they aren't into. But still. 

They could streamline this, surely. Get to the stuff that pushes the right buttons without poking at the wrong ones. Big bucks, no whammies. 

"Why are you acting so weird? Guys are sniffing out your cock like it's a cartoon pie cooling on a windowsill, but you're pretending like they're all invisible." 

Eddie's head jerks up, looking at Gareth. Guys? What guys? Eddie didn't see any guys. 

He's a million miles away. Thinking about Steve, only Steve, and all the ways he could fuck him.

Gareth's sitting in the booth across from Eddie at their favorite bar. 

It's Tuesday. They always go out on Tuesdays after they close up the shop. It's their night. Sometimes Steve and Robin tag along, but often, they make a point to do their own things that Eddie and Gareth would never want to do. Like, wear sports coats and drink expensive wine.

"I'm just not interested."

"You, Eddie Munson, aren't interested in getting laid? You've been bitching about a spell drier than the Sahara for months, and now when dudes are all but throwing themselves at you for some godforsaken reason, you're just like, nah? Since when?"

"Since now," Eddie argues. 

"Eddie."

"Since I'm sleeping with Steve. Just for six weeks. Until the new year. A friends with benefits situation, and I promised I wouldn't tell anyone, or fuck anyone else, so keep your fucking mouth shut."

"Oh, this will end well," Gareth says, rolling his eyes. "Whose bright idea was this? Idiot one, or idiot two?"

Eddie just shakes his head.

"We were both single at the same time, sick of the fucking apps, and tired of chasing our tails. So, we found a solution. Six weeks, no strings attached."

"Oh, there are strings all right, Pinocchio. I can see them right now."

"It's fine, stop."

"Mark my words, it's not fine now, and it's definitely not gonna be fine after six weeks. I know how you feel about him."

Eddie ignores him.

"What are you honestly expecting to get out of this?"

"Laid?" Eddie snarks.

Gareth just glares at him.

"We're trying new things with each other, well, trying to. We keep turning each other off by accident. We need to match up our overlapping interests," Eddie says, linking his fingers together in demonstration before picking up another wing from the appetizer platter they are currently demolishing. 

"There's a site for that," Gareth says, and Eddie raises an eyebrow, questioning.

"Go on," he prods, waving the bone around in the air.

"Like, you fill out a survey. Both of you, independently. And then it matches up things you both agree on. But doesn't reveal things that just one of you wanted. So, like, if you wanna be pissed on—"

"—I don't," Eddie interrupts.

"—but Steve doesn't, well, he'll never know you're a big freak. There's no nasty surprises. It's a joint yes, or it's a secret no. The other person will be none the wiser."

Hmm. That's interesting, actually. It might just work. 

"How do you know about this?" Eddie asks. He's never heard of such a thing.

"I'm an angel behind the drum kit, and a freak in the sheets," Gareth snarks, and Eddie kicks him under the table.

"Just text it to me, Casanova," Eddie demands, and Gareth pulls out his phone to do just that.

Steve approaches the couch, two longneck bottles being held by the necks in his hand, offering one to Eddie. Eddie takes it, and they settle on opposite ends of the couch, legs intertwining, phones in hand. 

"Okay, first we have to choose beginner, intermediate or advanced," Eddie reads off the quiz. 

"Like, we've both been fucking a long time, we're definitely not beginners," Steve says, "but I don't think I could do it standing on my head."

"Don't sell yourself short," Eddie teases, but checks the intermediate box. The middle ground. "Intermediate then?"

Steve nods.

They go through the categories next and decide to check everything except public and group. This is supposed to happen here in the apartment, between the two of them, not out in the world with other people. 

After filling out their names, they're in. And my fucking god, that's a lot of questions.

Call Steve obscene words (bitch, slut, whore, etc.)

Eddie checks that he's not interested. Steve is a bitch, but in a good way. He likes that he's bitchy. And a little slutty. He definitely doesn't want Steve thinking any of that's a bad thing. 

Receive a foot job from Steve

Fucking no. No feet. He hopes Steve isn't into feet.

After plowing through all the questions, their joint list is long. They only have four weeks left, and there's no way, even if they fuck every night that they'll get through everything on here. They're gonna have decisions to make. Eddie never imagined they'd be so goddamn compatible, sexually. From the outside they've got nothing in common, but they still found a way to wind up best friends. So, maybe Eddie shouldn't be so surprised. They'll just have to double some of these up or something. Narrow it down to the must-tries.

Steve's got sub tendencies oozing off the page. Which, honestly, Eddie had suspected, even before they started this sex thing. He'd love to explore that, would love to be the one Steve looks to for a guiding hand. 

But he's not sure it's wise to open that can of worms on this limited timetable they've got. Still, they could play a little. For sure. Test the waters. Make Steve feel good in any way he can. 

Steve tries to figure out how to print them from their phones, and struggles. Eddie knows how though, and snatches Steve's phone from his hand. Sometimes he thinks Steve would prefer to have grown up in the 80s, with smart nothings to deal with. Eddie's used to printing shit. He does it every day with his stencils.

Papers in hand, Eddie finds a red Sharpie in the drawer, "Circle your top ten. And I'll circle mine. We'll start there."

They match up on a handful, the priorities, and Eddie looks them over. Barebacking is the glaring option, the big surprise, the one that Eddie didn't think in a million years Steve was gonna want to do, too. That was a pipe dream, some wishful thinking. Eddie's never been with anyone long enough to get to that place, to be that trusting, but the idea is so goddamn hot. 

Especially with Steve.

They already had the 'you good?' conversation when opening negotiations were being made, and it's not like he's been with anyone else since. 

And he assumes Steve trusts him, if he checked that box. Eddie trusts him, too. Of course, he does. He trusts him more than just about anyone on earth, except for Wayne. He's right up there with Gareth. Firmly planted in the to be trusted column. About anything. With anything. And for this in particular? Eddie's seen the condom stockpile Steve has, it's not like he's out there doing this with randoms, Eddie's damn well certain.

But, the fact that he wants to do it with Eddie? Yeah, that's something, all right.

Scanning the list some more, he's pretty pleased that they've got a lot to work with, way more than he expected. That's awesome.

They're starting easy, clothed sex and mutual masturbation, so Eddie is sitting back on his heels at the foot of the bed, eyeing Steve's boxer brief covered crotch.

"Like this?" Steve asks, palming himself through the material.

Eddie nods, eyes glued to the large bulge he's working through the fabric, "Just like that. That's perfect. You're perfect."

Steve's face softens, and Eddie loves that he has the power to do that. To make him feel good, to make him melt. He'll happily worship the ground he walks on for as long as Steve will let him. It's definitely no hardship to sing his praises. It's all fucking true. 

"You too?" Steve asks, and Eddie almost asks him to clarify, but Steve just takes his free hand, and guides Eddie's hand to Eddie's own cock. Yeah, fuck, him too. He'd just forgotten. Gotten too caught up in watching Steve. Steve lets go, and Eddie immediately cups his dick through his own underwear. 

The outline of Steve's long, thick cock is visible through the blue cotton, and Eddie's enraptured, watching Steve's hand stroke along it, accentuating it. Showing it off. Shifting the fabric so the head is pressed tight against it, eventually leaving a smear of precum, that dot of moisture changing the fabric from a soft blue to a deep navy. 

Eddie lazily works his own dick through his underwear, eyes flicking between Steve's cock and his hooded eyes. Eddie wants to touch him, but resists. This is a gift, his own private show, and he's not about to squander it by a lack of self-control. 

Something for Eddie's eyes only to enjoy.

Steve's breathing hitches, chest heaving upwards, breath catching as he comes on a whined exhale. 

Watching the dark, wet spot spread, Eddie strokes his own cock tighter, harder, until he chases him over the edge. 

As soon as he has his faculties back, he leans forward, bracing his hands against Steve's hips as he lowers his head and sucks on the stained, wet fabric of Steve's boxers. Tongue pressing to the head of Steve's spent cock. Getting his underwear even more wet as Eddie lets the spit pool on his tongue, and then presses it to the damp fabric. Eddie breathes deep through his nose. Tasting him, but also enjoying that clean, musky scent that drives Eddie wild. Pheromones, or some shit. It's gotta be. Gareth has waxed poetic about loving the smell of a dripping wet pussy, but it can't possibly hold a candle to Steve. Eddie loves the smell of him, wants to bury his face in all his hot spots. Crotch, armpits, his hair. Burrow in, and not leave until he's scent drunk.

Eddie's always loved the smell of men, but none of them have ever smelled as good as Steve does.

Steve groans, hips coming up off the bed, as Eddie laves at the spot, licking, sucking. Steve eventually tangles a hand in Eddie's hair, hair pulling a mutual yes, and tugs until he crawls up Steve's body, tongue pushing into Steve's mouth, giving him a taste of himself. 

Kissing him, clinging to him, until Steve groans in a not good way. 

"Things are sticking," Steve says, and Eddie pulls back. "This one was fun, but definitely requires a shower after."

He stands up, pulling the waistband of his underwear outwards, carefully unsticking everything before it totally dries.

"You can go first," Eddie offers, and Steve turns to look at him, smiling.

"I think you've seen everything I have to offer," Steve says, reaching his hand out, "C'mon. We can share."

Standing crowded together in the shower is somehow more intimate than anything else they've done so far. He gets to watch Steve wash his hair, his pubes. Gets to see the long line of his neck as he tilts his head backwards to rinse out his shampoo.

He wants to kiss his neck. Suck bruises into his skin, right near the mole that's fluttering against his pulse. 

He wants to bite. 

Steve opens his eyes, water clinging to his lashes, and it must be all over Eddie's face, because Steve laughs, "Just do it. Whatever your brain is screaming at you to do right now."

Eddie lets out a strangled breath, and immediately latches his mouth to Steve's neck. Tongue pressing flat against that mole, before he seals down, creating suction. Steve moans, tilting his head, giving easier access, and that just eggs Eddie on. He likes attention, and Steve's attention? Especially like this? There's no drug better. 

When he lets go, he can already tell it's gonna bruise, and then he latches his teeth to the muscle of Steve's shoulder. Not hard, but firm enough to scratch the itch under his skin. 

Steve grunts, contorting, forcing himself up into Eddie's personal space more, rubbing his half-hard cock against Eddie's hip.

"Oh, yeah," Steve breathes against Eddie's ear. He's getting hard again, and Eddie's definitely not there yet, but he's still having good fucking time. 

He releases his teeth from Steve's shoulder, and admires the teeth marks. Nothing that broke the skin, nothing that will bruise, but the indents are there, and he runs his tongue over them, feeling their shape molded into Steve's skin.

Steve moves quicker than he'd anticipated, shoving Eddie up against the shower wall, kissing him. Tongue demanding, kissing him deep and hard. Eddie's hand finds the back of his head, fingers digging into his wet hair.

They're playing with goddamn fire here.

Because this right here is intimate, not just an arrangement to trade orgasms. There's no fucking doubt about it.

Steve's rutting against him, cock sliding along the crease of his thigh, and Eddie has a flash of want where he feels the urge to turn around. Wants to brace his hands against the slick shower wall and feel the head of Steve's cock bumping against his asshole.

He's never.

But at this exact moment, oh, he wants it. Bad.

"You're a perverted freak," Steve whispers, breath ghosting across Eddie's cheek. 

Eddie nods, emphatically, "Only for you, baby," and he can feel Steve's smile against his skin. 

The noise that leaves Eddie's mouth is embarrassing, and a little ungraceful when Steve picks him up, pressing Eddie's shoulders back into the fiberglass, while crowding closer between his open thighs. Thrusting against him. Eddie would never trust anyone else to do this. Would be fucking terrified of being dropped on his ass, or his head, but Steve's strong. And he trusts him, so he just wraps his arms around Steve's neck.  

Eddie's never been manhandled like this in his life. Holy shit. 

When Steve presses his free hand to Eddie's forehead, pushing Eddie's wet, tangled hair upward, Eddie just stares in his eyes. 

His dick is getting back in the game, and Steve wraps a big hand around both of them, his eyes never leaving Eddie's.

Eddie stares back, looking into those big, gorgeous eyes, mesmerized. Eddie licks his lips, and Steve's eyes only leave Eddie's then, tracking the movement. Eyes focused on Eddie's lips, now. Kiss me, is on the tip of Eddie's tongue. But he doesn't have to ask. Steve's on the same page, beating him to the punch, as he dips his head and kisses Eddie. Soft and sweet, as he keeps Eddie pressed to the wall, holding on tight.

Steve's toweling his hair dry, standing totally naked in front of the mirror, and Eddie suddenly wants to see him naked all over the house. Just living his life, unclothed. Eddie wants to parade him by their open windows, maybe let the world see what's his for the time being. 

Exhibitionism wasn't on the list, he realizes. He wonders if that got filtered out with the public questions. Bummer. Still, he can tell him what he wants, even if it's all talk.

"I want you to be naked," Eddie says, and Steve looks down at his body.

"More naked than this?"

Eddie laughs, but presses his body against Steve's bare backside, hand sliding around to his chest, "Around the apartment. Just. Naked."

Steve smiles, meeting his eyes in the mirror, "I could do that."

And Eddie bets he could. Steve Harrington isn't shy, isn't ashamed of this body he's got. And he damn well shouldn't be. He's gorgeous. Eddie could only dream of having chest hair like this, and he combs his fingers through it, lazily.

Eddie's daydreaming about naked Steve being naked when Steve's stomach growls. Loudly.

Eddie laughs, "Same page. Pizza?" 

Steve seems to think about it, "Pancakes?" 

Pancakes sound good. They can walk to the diner. Get a full breakfast this late. 

"Hell yeah," Eddie says. 

Sitting in the booth, Eddie hooks the toe of his shoe behind Steve's calf, just wanting to touch him.

Steve smiles over the top of the menu.

"What kind of pancakes are you getting?" Steve asks him, and Eddie truly doesn't care. They could surprise him, anything would be great, as long as he gets to look at Steve Harrington while he eats them, knowing everything he knows now. 

He's happy. Having fun. A little smug. Pancakes are just way down the list of what's using up all his brain power today.

"Gingerbread," Eddie finally answers, looking at the advertisement on the table, and Steve is clearly skeptical of this choice, but smiles.

Steve folds the menu and sets it down, both hands finding his coffee mug. 

"Did that new pigment work out?" Steve asks, changing the subject, and Eddie smiles. He loves that Steve clearly listens to him yammer on. He called it pigment, and not ink, even. Eddie uses them interchangeably, but the fact that Steve's picked up on it is charming.

"It goes on good, clean," Eddie says, "I just gotta see how the colors look as it heals."

Gareth agreed to be the guinea pig. Usually Eddie prefers to heal a new test piece on his own skin after changing anything, like switching to a new brand of pigment. Likes to see how it feels, how it packs. But this time he didn't want to be hindered by healing a tattoo, even in the slightest of ways. 

Gareth already swears by it, so it's not like Eddie hasn't seen work done with it, he just likes to see what his work looks like done with something, even if he trusts Gareth's judgment. He just doesn't like change. He gets set in his ways. 

But Eddie loves that Steve listened and retained that information that in no way matters to him.

Eddie knows he did for no other reason than because it matters to Eddie.

Turns out, Steve eats more of Eddie's pancakes than Eddie does, plates being traded halfway through the meal. The buttermilk pancakes Steve ordered are good, too. Drowned in syrup and butter. His fingers are sticky, and he slides them in his mouth, licking them clean.

Steve makes a noise, a whimper of a sound, and it goes straight to Eddie's cock. He freezes. Fingers in his mouth. Fuck. He looks up, meeting Steve's eyes.

Only then does he pull his fingers out of his mouth, wetly dragging them against his bottom lip.

"Check, please," Steve says, waving over the waitress.

She places it on the table, looking between them. Smiling. Like they're being weirder than usual.

They probably are.

Eddie reaches for it.

"I've got it," Eddie says, picking up the check, and maybe that's too date-like. But this kind of felt like a date in a way the other thousand times they've sat in this exact booth, in this exact diner, never have.

Things are shifting between them, there's no denying that. Even if it's only temporary. 

It still feels real. So fucking real.

They hurry out of the diner, unable to keep their hands to themselves, and Eddie doesn't know how they managed to be friends, dormmates, roommates for this many years without touching each other like this until now. It seems absurd. 

Steve's wearing a casual coat, a sporty looking thing that Eddie would hate on anyone else. He's rushing up the street ahead of Eddie, playing with him, hands in his pockets, pulling the thick waistband tight, showing off his ass.

Eddie catches up, sliding his hand up Steve's back, leaning close to his ear, "I wanna motorboat your hairy tits, then your hairy ass."

Steve laughs, loud and sounding full of delight as his breath comes out in a puff into the cold, night air. It makes Eddie smile, hard.

They approach the door to their building, and Steve turns, walking backwards, "Anything you wanna do, Eddie."

Eddie grins, "Famous last words."

Steve laughs, turning to pull the door open, and Eddie doesn't know how they'll ever go back to the way it was.

He's not sure he'll want to, even if that's not the deal he made.

Eddie follows Steve up the staircase, Steve bypassing the elevator, pressing himself to Steve's back as much as he can and still walk at the same time, mouth running, "Gonna eat you out. Gonna get you so wet. Spit right on your hole, and press it in with my tongue. Get you so loose you're not gonna need any lube. Just me."

Steve whimpers, and when they reach their door, Steve's hand is a little shaky as he tries to slide in the key. Eddie grins, "Gonna have better aim than that. Gonna get in ya in one try."

Steve's back is shaking as he laughs, but the door finally swings open, and then all the possibilities await.

It was hard to crawl out of bed the next morning, working is not fun right now, not with Steve sprawled out naked, tangled in the sheets that definitely need washed today. 

But he did it, and he's been handsomely rewarded when he gets home from work: Steve's still naked, and the blinds are wide open. Sure, the odds of anyone seeing him are slim, but the idea that they could, still gets Eddie going.

He just stands there, admiring him. 

"You been like this all day?" Eddie asks, and Steve grins.

"I did my half of the chores just like this," he says, and Eddie doesn't even care if he's lying through his goddamn teeth. He can still imagine it, and it's glorious.

Eddie shoves his hands in his pockets and just stares.

"You gonna come touch me or just look from afar?" Steve asks, smirking at Eddie from across the room. 

Eddie's eyes rove over his body, "Just look. For now."

Steve eventually comes over and lowers himself to his knees in front of Eddie, hands folded behind his back. Waiting. The natural submission of it sends a jolt through Eddie. He's not even sure Steve knows what he's doing, just that it's comfortable for him. 

"What do you need?" Eddie asks, reaching out to caress Steve's face.

"Can I suck your cock?" Steve asks, and Eddie strokes Steve's stubbled cheek, thumb rubbing under his chin.

"You want me to take them out first?" Eddie asks, nodding towards his crotch.

"No way in hell."

"Do you promise not to chip all your teeth?" Eddie says.

Steve laughs, "I got a big mouth. Don't worry."

And Eddie starts undoing his belt. 

Once his jeans and boxers are pulled down his thighs, Steve takes over. Hand sliding down his length, before taking him into his mouth. He has no trouble, and he drags the underside of Eddie's cock along his tongue.

Eddie lets out a long groan. 

It's fucking good. 

"Fuck," Eddie says, head tilted back as Steve works the underside of his cock. Tongue pressing, gliding, over each rung of his ladder with purpose, before moving higher. It feels fantastic. 

Steve pays extra attention to the head of his cock, before carefully sliding back down, his lip bumping along the piercing, catching, but protecting his teeth. It's not fast. It's not hard. But it's perfect as he gets used to the feel of Eddie in his mouth. 

Then, he picks up the tempo in a way that nobody has, not since he's gotten pierced. At least nobody worried about their teeth. And that's been fine, normal, he feels like those are things he traded away when he got the piercings. But right now, tonight, Steve seems confident in what he's doing, which is really working for Eddie.

He doesn't grab onto his head, or neck, or any place that he could accidentally control the pace. Steve needs to lead this, and he does, like a goddamn champ.

"That's good, baby," Eddie says, and Steve opens his eyes, lashes fluttering as he looks up at Eddie. "You're blowing my fucking mind."

Steve smiles around him, then dips back down, getting back to work.

It doesn't take long, and Eddie comes with a long groan, sweetheart falling from his lips.

The next night, Eddie has a list of ideas for their evening. A long list. And he's been thinking about it all day. Filthy, dirty things. Gareth was about to throttle him for being so spacey. 

Steve just has to get home from work.

The door slams shut, and Eddie looks up. Oh. 

"What's wrong?" Eddie asks, rounding the kitchen island.

Steve is just shaking his head, pulling off his overcoat, his dress boots. He yanks his tie loose, and Eddie takes it from his hand. Unknotting it, smoothing it out. Eddie owns one tie, maybe two, and they are definitely left tied at all times. 

Steve's aren't though, and Eddie loosely rolls it up, carefully sitting it on the kitchen island, so Steve can put it in his tie drawer later.

"Steve, what's wrong?" Eddie tries again.

"Nothing," Steve says, and Eddie knows that's bullshit. It can't be nothing because something is written all over Steve's face, his body pulled tight, his shoulders tense. 

Steve sheds his dress shirt, buttons quickly undone, and Eddie takes that, too. Hanging it over the back of the bar stool.

Then, Eddie leads him to the couch, tugging him down next to him, wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulders. He's warm, even if he just came in from the cold, his bare skin pressing against Eddie's arms.

Steve presses his nose into Eddie's neck, "Just a bad day."

Those happen. It's life. Eddie combs his fingers through the hair at the nape of Steve's neck, then strokes the hair on the back of his shoulders, fingers touching him all over. Just holding him close, trying to soothe whatever's bothering him.

"My dad," Steve says. 

Of course. Of-fucking-course. 

Eddie doesn't even need to ask any follow up questions. He knows. He knows no matter how good Steve is at his job, and he is good, Eddie believes that fully, that it'll never matter. That his dickhead father will still find a way to needle him, to cut him down to size. Tough love, he'd say.

It's bullshit.

Pressing his lips to Steve's hair, he just doesn't get that man. Steve doesn't need, or respond to, tough love and the aptly named Dick Harrington's never figured that out. Never came to the conclusion that he's got a great son, the best, even if he's different from his dad in more ways than they'll ever be alike.

Tough love is bullshit, especially when Steve's so easy to love. It will never make a lick of sense to Eddie.

Steve's funk has lifted after a nap and some food, and Eddie grabs the remote, kicking his feet up, "What are we watching?"

Steve slides his hand over Eddie's thigh, not stopping until he's cupping Eddie's dick through his shorts. Fingers immediately seeking out the hardware. 

Running his thumb down the underside of Eddie's dick, a little thump, thump, thump, thump that Eddie feels. 

Like they're a security blanket for him, a fidget toy.

Eddie doesn't mind. Not at all. He's so sensitive, and Steve isn't doing anything crazy, but it still drives him wild. 

"I got other ideas," Steve says, and he laughs when Eddie lets out a groan.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks. If he's not in the mood, they can just hang out. It's not like they've never done that before.

"Hell yes. I had plans for tonight before my day went boom."

And well, Eddie's not one to disrupt plans. He stretches his arms out wide along the back of the couch. Down for anything. He'll definitely let Steve Harrington cook and see where this leads.

"Do you want me to shave first?" Steve asks, thighs falling open on the bed. 

Steve was trimmed up a bit below the belt when they first started this, and it's grown out quite nicely in a month. Eddie doesn't want him to shave, no way. He loves his body hair.

"No fucking way, that's half of the appeal," Eddie says, palm resting in the center of Steve's chest, touching all that thick hair that he thankfully hadn't been convinced to bushwack like his pubes.

Then, he runs a finger down his chest, along his happy trail, "I vote full bush."

It makes Steve giggle. Eddie grins, but keeps moving south, finger brushing through his pubes, and then down his hirsute thigh. Spreading his leg outward, getting a real good look at his hairy asshole. 

He brushes his thumb against his taint, then closing his fist, he brushes his knuckle against Steve's hole, making Steve arch his shoulders up off the mattress. It's soft, not prickly like it's still trying to grow out, and Eddie slicks his fingers up with lube, rubbing them against Steve, dampening the hair, making it appear even darker. Matting it together. His chest hair always looks vaguely damp because it's so dark and straight, and now this hair looks the same as he slides his finger inside, opening him up. 

Pushing into him, Eddie goes slow, so slow, letting each step of his ladder pop past Steve's rim individually. 

"Fuck, that thing is a deadly weapon," Steve mumbles into the pillow, and Eddie grins. Fully seated, he grinds into him, and from the sounds Steve's making, he's hit the bullseye. 

"Guess I know how to use it after all," Eddie taunts, and Steve laughs. Shaking, clenching around Eddie's cock as he does it. Goddamn.

He's never going to be able to go back. Not after this. Not after Steve, and definitely not after sliding his cock into him bare. It's a warm vice, and the slip is so much greater without a condom that he can't imagine the disappointment he's gonna feel when he has to go back to his regular life. Fucking strangers he doesn't care about.

They get into a good rhythm, give and take. Just enjoying the feeling of being with each other. 

"Let me," Steve says, and Eddie pulls out, making room for Steve to roll over onto his back. 

Eddie adds a little more lube, he'd rather too much instead of too little. He's never fucked anyone without a condom before Steve, and he doesn't want to hurt him with his piercings. 

"Ready?" Eddie asks. 

When Steve nods, Eddie pushes back into him. 

Steve's cock is hard, laying against his belly, as he cradles his own balls as Eddie fucks into him. He's beautiful.

Eddie's as close as he's ever been to him, and he only wants to be closer, still. He shifts, spreading Steve's hairy thighs more, as he covers his body with his own. Steve whimpers, whines, looking up at him in a way that burns Eddie from the inside out. That look, paired with the best sound Eddie's ever heard is fucking amazing. Eddie can't resist. He leans forward. Kissing him. It's not like they aren't kissing, it just hasn't been the main focus. 

Tonight? Maybe Eddie should make sure it gets all the proper attention it deserves.

Steve wraps his legs around Eddie's hips, hanging on for the ride.

"Come in me, come in me," Steve chants right against Eddie's mouth, and Eddie groans, thrusting one more time, burying himself deep, coming hard. Steve is whining, clenching down on his cock as Eddie fills him up, spasming, shuddering at the mental turn-on that this fucking is. Goddamn. 

When he finally slides out, his cock hanging wetly against his thigh, he hooks Steve's knees over his elbows. Looking, watching the first trickle of come leaking out of Steve's wet hole, before rolling down his crack.

"Tickles," Steve says, and Eddie smiles at him. Running his hand over Steve's hairy thigh.

He presses his thumb against his hole, and Steve thrashes against the sheets, "Look at you. Full and leaking. I did that."

"You did that," Steve confirms, digging a heel into Eddie's back. His cock is still hard, red at the tip, laying against his hairy belly, still chasing his own release.

"I marked you," Eddie says, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut and groans as Eddie thumbs at his hole, eyes trained on his cock, watching it twitch, and harden further. He's so close. He just needs a little nudge over the edge, and Eddie presses his thumb firmer as he says, "You're mine."

"I'm yours," Steve whines, high and uncontrolled, as he comes against his own belly. 

He's not Eddie's, not to keep anyway, but Eddie's definitely gonna take real good care of him while he has the chance.

"Look at you," Eddie says, taking in the come clinging to his hairy stomach, dirtying him. 

Steve's legs are shaking when Eddie lets him down, covering Steve's body with his own, petting him, hugging him, kissing him. Taking care of him, because he deserves to be loved more than anyone Eddie's ever met.

He might be playing with fire here, but he's more than willing to get burned.

Chapter Text

"Knees," Eddie says, and Steve lowers himself to the carpet. "Hands," Eddie adds, brushing his fingers down Steve's chest, and Steve clasps his hands behind his back.

"Good," Eddie says, and Steve beams up at him.

Eddie slips the leather cuffs over his wrists, securing them behind his back. Then, he eases Steve down so his cheek is pressed to the pillow on the floor. Shifting it for him, so he's in a good position.

"Comfortable?" Eddie asks, and Steve rolls his shoulders, testing the position out.

"Yep," he says, and Eddie rubs his ass cheek.

"Great. You gotta tell me if that changes," Eddie says, as his fingers circle Steve's hole, over and over, never pressing inside. It feels so good. Steve had thought it was a weird question, being asked if he wanted Eddie to play with his ass without penetration on the website, but he didn't oppose it. Now he knows what's up as Eddie strokes him gently, applying only the softest pressure. 

Teasing him, slowly working him up to a simmer.

Steve closes his eyes and just lets the warmth spread, relaxed, even while his hands are bound behind his back. 

What feels like days later, when he's squirming with want, needing more, Eddie finally flicks his tongue against Steve's hole.

"Oh god, that's it," Steve says, he's so worked up he thinks he might be able to come from this alone if Eddie keeps it up.

Eddie pulls back, and spits right on him, and Steve feels it hit his hole, and he clenches. His cock jumps at the sensation, pulling at his wrists instinctively.

"Still good?" Eddie asks, hand covering Steve's cuffed wrists.

"Still good," Steve confirms, restrained, wrists cuffed together with thick leather. Eddie fully in control. He wants Eddie fully in control. It makes his body hum in a way he could never describe.

Steve had seen the handcuffs in Eddie's room, and has always been curious about them. Were they for him? For his partners? Just for the aesthetic? 

Well, those were just for decoration these days, apparently.

The thick bands of leather currently binding his wrists aren't uncomfortable at all, and Steve loves this feeling. Of trusting Eddie to give, and take, as he sees fit.

When he's sure he can't any more, Eddie must read him, because he flips him over, pressing his thighs apart, and mouth sinking down on his cock. His weight on his wrists hurts, pulls in a new way, just a little, but not enough to stop this. Eddie's lips and tongue working together, and Steve's too close to stretch this out, to make it last.

"Gonna come," Steve says, and Eddie pulls back, stroking him, letting Steve come all over his mouth.

It's a filthy sight, and Steve watches intently as Eddie's tongue darts out, licking up the mess Steve made. Steve's hands are still bound, but he has control of his legs. He wraps one around Eddie's ass, pulling him forward. Eddie takes the hint, and presses their mouths together. He can taste himself on Eddie's lips, his tongue, and chases more.

He's always gonna chase more, more, more when it comes to Eddie, he's afraid.

Steve's sore the next day. His muscles scream at him that he'd been contorted into ways he's not accustomed to, and he finds that he likes it.

Like he has a secret nobody else knows about.

His phone buzzes on his desk. 

Eddie: wanna come hang at the shop after work? i'm gonna be here late.

Eddie working late isn't a surprise, but the invitation to come hang out kind of is. It's not like he'll turn it down, though. No way. He sends over a thumbs up, so he doesn't make a fool of himself with words.

Steve: 👍

Steve has only now realized that Eddie hasn't worked late in weeks, when that was a very normal occurrence before they started this thing. It makes Steve grin to know that Eddie's having just as much fun as he is, so much so that he's giving up time when he could have clients in the chair.

It's after eight. Steve got held up at work, because of course he did when he had somewhere he wanted to be. He checks his watch again, like it's gonna change how late it has gotten. Eddie said he was gonna be at the shop late, but Steve doesn't know how late he meant. He'll still try. It's not like it's out of the way. Being asked to come hang if he wanted to at the shop is out of the ordinary. That's not something he's done much. Sure, he's been in the shop over the years, especially when they were first getting it off the ground, but he knows he can't just loiter around like a weirdo while Eddie's got a client on the table.

And Eddie's always got a client on the table. He's booked solid, day after day, week after week. It isn't surprising. He does good work, and word has spread far and wide.

Walk-ins aren't really a thing at Hellfire Studio. It's just Eddie and Gareth, and they're both busy as fuck most days. 

So, Steve's curious. And he was invited.

It's after hours, so Steve slides his key into the lock, and enters through the back door, knowing the front is already closed up for the night. Steve finds Eddie's bent over Gareth working on the back of Gareth's knee. It's clearly an ongoing piece that's massive, snaking up his thigh and down his calf. It's intricate. Beautiful.

Just like Eddie.

"Hey, you came," Eddie says.

Steve pulls up a chair, "I didn't know you'd have someone in the chair."

Eddie laughs, lifting the needle to look at Steve, "He's not someone. It doesn't count if he's not paying me."

Gareth grumbles, but doesn't open his eyes. 

"My last appointment canceled," Eddie says, as he looks down at Gareth's leg, and wipes some excess ink away from his skin. "I've probably got forty-five minutes to go tonight."

Gareth squawks. 

Eddie looks at Steve, eye roll locked and loaded, and goes back in behind Gareth's knee.

"Fuck, Eddie, you're trying to fucking kill me," Gareth snaps.

"The knee ditch is a bitch, but he's also being a baby," Eddie tells Steve, needling Gareth in more ways than one.

Steve grins, and drags his chair up to the head of the table. Near Gareth's head.

Gareth opens an eye to look at Steve.

"It looks good," Steve assures, and Gareth nods, closing his eyes again. 

Steve really hasn't seen much of Gareth these past couple weeks. He hadn't realized that until now. Usually he's over at their place several times a week. Like Eddie and him don't see each other enough during the day.

It only takes a minute for Steve to realize that it's because he knows about their arrangement, that Eddie told him and he's making himself scarce. Eddie telling him isn't at all surprising. Steve told Robin, too. It is what it is. 

"Wanna talk to distract yourself?" Steve asks, and Gareth shakes his head. But he reaches out and grabs Steve's hand, squeezing. And then closes his eyes again.

Steve smiles at Eddie, as he leans back, enjoying the chance to watch Eddie work up close as he holds Gareth's hand between both of his.

Gareth is making a low keen as he tries to breathe through it, and Steve can't resist poking at him, "Okay. That sounds straight out of a porno."

Eddie laughs, his eyes locking on Steve's for a long moment, his wheels clearly turning, before he gets back to work.

"Okay. You survived. That's it for today," Eddie declares, and Gareth lets out a breath. 

"Thank fuck," Gareth says, and Steve realizes how transfixed he'd been watching Eddie work. None of them had said a word in nearly an hour.

Steve gets to see Eddie draw all the time, but actually apply those skills to skin? Almost never. It kind of makes him wish he was a tattoo guy. That he could experience Eddie permanently leaving his artwork on Steve's skin.

"Take care of it, you know how," Eddie says to Gareth, and Steve smiles. Watching Gareth get up and check the new work in the full length mirror as Eddie cleans up his station. Putting his tools in the machine that looks like a little washing machine. The autobahn? That sounds right. Steve knows he uses it to sterilize everything he uses. 

Waiting for him, Steve looks at the art that's displayed on the walls. Their portfolios. Eddie's, and Gareth's. The best of their best. Both amazing, just different. He can tell them apart without asking. They don't have a flash wall anymore, they've built up clientele and Steve knows it was a big fucking deal the day they went to all custom work. How fulfilling it was, how it made Eddie feel like he'd made it. 

Steve's glad this shop worked out for them, because it was a risk back when they were trying to get it off the ground. He was their main sounding board for financial advice, and being supportive while accessing the very real risks had been hard. But they took his suggestions, and they did the thing they'd dreamed up together, and it's been amazing to watch it grow. Steve feels lucky he got in on the ground floor, not only helping them figure out the money side, but also helping paint, and carry in all the furniture.

He was there the day they opened, and the few rough months thereafter when clients weren't exactly banging down the doors. Steve tried to invest money, but Eddie only wanted his time, and Steve was more than happy to give that to him.

It worked out. Word spread, and now they are both highly sought after and respected artists. 

Looking over at them when he hears them bickering like the old married couple they are, Steve smiles to himself. They're both so adventurous. Tattooed. Pierced. Unafraid to be exactly who they are. 

Steve's dad would lose his goddamn mind if Steve showed up at the office with a bar though his eyebrow, a stud in his nose, or a tattoo crawling up his neck. The thought of that alone makes him consider it. But it has never felt like him. Eddie, or Gareth, either one, would do a great job. He knows they would. It's just not for him. 

If he's learned anything, it's that he is who he is, and he's not really willing to change that. It's made him butt heads with his dad a lot over the years. Steve works for him, in the company, the family business, but he does it his own way. His clients are his to handle, and he doesn't do it like Richard Harrington, that's for goddamn sure.

He does wonder if Eddie finds his blank slate boring. He's just standard issue, like a doll fresh out of the box. Before, he'd have never cared. Now, he kind of does. 

"Am I boring to you?" Steve asks abruptly, and Eddie's head pops up, an inquisitive look on his face. 

Then, he smiles. 

"Steve Harrington, you've never been boring to me a single day that we've known each other."

Steve ducks his head, "My body must be boring, though. No tattoos. No piercings. No nothing." 

Eddie puts down his sanitation log, and approaches Steve. 

"That's just untrue," Eddie says, taking his gloves off, tossing them in the trash.

Then, he touches Steve's cheek, thumb brushing gently, "You're covered in art. Natural art. Your moles, they're beautiful. Constellations that are only yours."

Steve shakes his. They aren't. That's ridiculous. 

"I'm serious," Eddie says. 

"You don't wish I was covered in tattoos or piercings?" 

Eddie is shaking his head before Steve's even finished asking. 

"Absolutely not." 

"Really?" Steve asks, not believing him. He's seen the men Eddie's attracted to, who he brings home, and they are definitely not boring to look at, unlike Steve. They don't wear polos or suits. They definitely don't work for their fathers in office buildings because they didn't have any other original ideas of what they wanted to be when they grew up, and they were somehow, unfortunately, very good at it.

No, they ride motorcycles, and wear leather jackets even in the summer heat. 

"Really," Eddie says, "I wouldn't tattoo you, even if you begged. You don't mess with perfection."

Steve laughs, and swats him as he walks away, going back to his end of night routine.

When he's done, and everything is clean and santatized, Eddie looks at him.

"Wanna pick up food? I'm starving," Eddie asks, and Steve nods. Definitely.

Throwing the mail they'd picked up from their mailbox on the counter, Eddie is really staring at him.

"What?" Steve asks, wiping his face, self-conscious at the way Eddie's studying him over the kitchen counter as they start digging into the food.

"What kind of porn do you even watch?" Eddie asks, holding out a potsticker between his chopsticks, and Steve takes it into his mouth. Chewing. 

"Hello to you, too," Steve says, and it takes a minute to make the connection that Eddie's been holding onto that question since Gareth was on the table, moaning and groaning around.

So, Steve thinks. He wasn't thinking about porn, he was thinking that he was starving. Thinking that it was a real Monday that only got better once he was with Eddie again. That Eddie anticipating that and inviting him to the shop to unwind before ordering takeout was some mind reading voodoo. 

Porn. Right. He's not picky about his porn. He's sampled all kinds. But he tries to pick a favorite, because Eddie asked.

"POV," Steve finally says, leaning against the counter, rummaging through the boxes.

"Interesting," Eddie says, like he's studying him. "You like to watch it go in…and out…and in, eh?"

Steve just rolls his eyes. 

"After we eat, you wanna watch some while we fuck?" Eddie asks. It was on the list. Watching porn together, but neither of them had circled it as important.

Apparently, it's important to Eddie now.

Well, sure. Steve's not opposed to trying new things, obviously. That's what this whole fuckbuddy experiment is about, after all.

"Show me one of your favorites," Eddie demands. 

Steve's bent over the couch, and honestly? This poor couch, it's been put through things this month, he thinks as his eyes are trying to focus on the big screen TV mounted on the wall. Some dude getting fucked in surround sound and high definition. Something he liked, at least while horny once upon a time, and now it's just kind of meh.

This may have been a hotter concept than actual practice. He'd rather watch Eddie, not this random dude getting railed, up close and personal.

"Good?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods. He's good.

"Be better if I was looking at us up there," Steve laughs.

Eddie stills, cock buried inside Steve to the hilt.

"Yeah? We could?" Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, "I'm not making porn, Eddie."

Eddie taps him on the thigh, "Well, record, no. But, like, I could mirror the live footage up there? So you could watch. See what I see. It's a sight to behold, Harrington."

Steve clenches down on Eddie's cock. Fuck. Really?

"Do that," Steve says, and Eddie pulls out, which honestly, is rude. But it doesn't take but a few minutes, and then Steve's looking at a live feed of their living room on their TV. It's a little trippy.

Eddie points the phone camera at Steve's back, and then slides it lower. Focusing on the hair at the base of his spine, fingers running through it. Then lower, over his ass. Hairier than any of the waxed asses he's seen in porn, and Steve is pretty sure he can see a pimple. Well, this isn't making him feel all that sexy.

However, when the camera focuses on Eddie's hand gripping his cock, Steve thrums with want, the rest falling away. 

"I only got one free hand now, spread 'em," Eddie says, and Steve reaches back, pulling his cheeks apart, watching on screen as it happens on a very slight delay.

Nothing seems to happen on screen, just a close up shot of his own asshole in HD like he's never seen before. Then he feels it, a second before he sees it. A long, string of spit clearly dripping from Eddie's unseen mouth, now clinging to Steve, siding down, slicking up his asshole. 

He's already lubed up. This is purely for show, and Steve approves, wholeheartedly.

Then, Eddie has focused in tight on the tip of his cock, brushing against Steve's hairy hole. Rubbing in the spit. It's fucking weird to feel it, and see it, nearly in tandem.

When Eddie pushes into him, Steve groans, loud, letting go of his cheeks to grip the back edge of the couch, the sturdy wood under fabric. He feels every bar catch his rim as Eddie enters him, then everything feels warm as he drags his piercings over Steve's prostate, again and again.

It's addictive. It's lightning in his veins.

He could understand not liking it, if you're too sensitive. But Eddie swears some guys can't tell at all. That is what's mindblowing. Impossible. 

Maybe they just fit together perfectly, Steve thinks. 

Eddie's thumb is near his filled hole, spreading him open, just a bit so he can see better as Eddie fucks him. Steve can't look away from the TV screen.

That's them up there.

Steve watches, feels, and just falls into it. Being stimulated in both ways as Eddie sets a steady, pounding rhythm that Steve just rides. 

It's only when Eddie makes a strangled noise that it yanks Steve out of his haze, and Steve watches as Eddie pulls out, stroking himself once before coming all over Steve's asshole, marking him up real pretty. Steve clenches, watches it move, drip, and wants more. 

More, more, more.

He squirms, and Eddie presses his thumb against Steve's used hole, rubbing the come in, teasing him. Fingers dancing across his reddened, sensitive skin, before dipping inside. Fingering him, fucking him some more.

Steve pushes back against Eddie's hand, his fingers brushing Steve's prostate, and Steve's gonna come all over this couch and he doesn't even fucking care.

He tenses, groaning, and does just that.

Panting, he watches as Eddie refocuses the camera, now showing the mess dripping down the back of the couch.

Then, the screen goes black. 

And Steve slumps forward, breathing hard.

Like he can't catch his breath. 

"You okay?" Eddie asks, squeezing his shoulder, leaning over his back. Bodies pressed flush together.

Yes. No. He's not sure.

It's like he's been hit by a truck.

It's not just the orgasm. The afterglow. 

He's in love with him.

Goddammit.

He's in over his head. This was a mistake. He's not only going to lose Eddie as his friend, but his roommate, too. They never should have attempted this. No matter how good it's been, how much fun, how much closer he feels to Eddie now.

It's gonna cost too much. 

He shoves the feeling down, trying to ignore it. 

"Keep touching me," Steve says, and Eddie shifts. It's not exactly what Steve meant, but Eddie spreads him again, then carefully, gently, lays his soft cock against Steve's used hole, the titanium warm and hard, against his rim. It's. Yeah. That's good.

They stay that way, bent over the couch, just pressed together until Eddie's leg starts to shake. Steve moves to right himself, standing up and wiping up the mess he made. After that, he's curling up on the couch next to Eddie who is already flipping through all the streaming service apps, trying to pick something to watch. Like he's fine. Normal.

Eddie's not the normal one.

Steve burrows closer to Eddie, who never tells him to stop touching him. Who always pays attention when he's talking. Eddie just stretches out his arm, pulling him closer. 

Who always has pulled him closer, never pushing him away. Never thinking he's too much, always ready for more of Steve. Just as he is.

Nobody is like that except Robin, and that's not the same. 

He's been blindsided by the fact that Eddie is everything he's ever wanted in a relationship, in a person that he would love to love. He should have seen it sooner, should have known before he got this deep, because Eddie's not really his to feel that way about.

It's a bitter fucking pill to swallow. 

It's Tuesday. Eddie's out with Gareth, and Steve dumps his coat on Robin's foyer floor. Toeing off his shoes, and making a beeline for her on the couch. 

Steve rests his head on Robin's shoulder, "You can gloat now."

"Pass, you've taken all the fun out of it," she says, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and pulling him closer, even if he dwarfs her in size. Comforting him.

Chapter Text

Eddie's standing at the counter, waiting to place his order when one of their regular servers leans over, smiling at him. "Hey. It's you. Your boyfriend just picked up food, like, ten minutes ago."

"My boyfriend?" Eddie says dumbly, like he's thinking for some reason she's confused him with somebody else.

"Steve? He definitely got your regular order," she says with a smile, and Eddie nods like an idiot. He fishes a twenty out of his wallet and slides it to her. She didn't have to stop him from ordering again, but she did.

He takes a step away, then whips around, hair flying. Leaning too far over the counter, head tilted, eyebrow cocked, eyes narrowed like he's getting ready to ask her something super secret.

"You think he's my boyfriend?"

She gives him a look like he's a dumbass, like he's teasing. Which, fair enough. He's given her enough playful gruff over the years for her to easily come to that conclusion.

"Do I think your boyfriend is your boyfriend? Yeah, Eddie. You've been coming here for years. And I have eyes," she asks, just grinning at him. She sounds like Gareth.  

He's dumbfounded. Speechless. 

And getting a little thrill. They've looked like they were together for years. 

Holy shit.

He smiles at her, and touches his own nose, and then points at her, watching her laugh as he spins and heads out the door.

Steve is standing at the counter, surrounded by to-go boxes. His non-boyfriend boyfriend. 

"Hey, I stopped and got food," Steve says, grabbing two plates from the cabinet.

Eddie debates telling him the story, but decides against it.

"You read my mind," Eddie says, and the smile Steve gives him is electric. It pulls the truth right out of him, "Literally. I stopped there, too. And Meg? She thinks we're boyfriends. I tried to get the same order, and she was like 'your boyfriend already got you food' and I was like, 'my what?'" Eddie rambles, feeling his cheeks flush.

Steve just smiles, and puts a stack of pancakes on his plate. Gingerbread. A seasonal, limited time offer. Just like him and Steve.

"That's cute," Steve says, like he isn't having a spiraling breakdown like Eddie is. 

He might be sweating. It's December. He shouldn't be sweating. Fuck.

"She gave me extra eggnog syrup," Steve says, "Maybe she's trying to steal your boyfriend. Keep your eyes open, Munson."

He's teasing, but Eddie's maybe gonna have to strip off his shirt and wipe his underarms. He laughs, and hopes it doesn't sound too forced. Canned. Like he's in a studio audience.

He's so fucked.

After they've eaten, and things level back out to normal, Eddie is relieved when they head to bed. This? This he knows how to do. 

Then, Steve hands him a condom. Eddie's confused. He thought. Not that Steve can't change his mind. He definitely can. Is this about the boyfriend thing? Did it seem like Eddie thought they were boyfriends for real now? He didn't. He knows. He was joking. If Steve thinks—

"Take it off, after we've started," Steve says, and his cheeks are a pretty shade of pink. 

Is Steve Harrington embarrassed? Now, that is something new.

But Eddie's confused. Eddie looks at that condom, then back at Steve, "You want me to pretend to stealth you?"

Steve nods, looking away.

Well, fuck. Okay.

He's not sure what part of this is revving Steve's motor, and by the blush he's rocking, he won't ask right now, unwilling to let him feel awkward about anything he wants. Anything at all. 

Eddie pulls out, changing positions, slips the condom off, and promptly drops it on Steve's thigh with a wet slap. So much for being sneaky. Steve ignores it, and Eddie picks it up and tosses it over the edge of the bed, before sliding back into Steve. It feels wrong, and dirty and bad. Everything you're not supposed to do. 

Oh. That's it. 

It's gotta be the taboo of it. 

Because he didn't ask Eddie to be forceful, or to take, or to pretend to make him do anything. He's safe here, and he hopes Steve knows he can ask him for anything. Anything at all.

Eddie pushes his hands into Steve's hair. Steve moans, arching up, trying to get closer to him, and Eddie can definitely oblige. He shifts his hips, and now they are face-to-face, as close as they can be. It's almost sweet, if he forgets about the whole condom removing charade.

They've done a lot of things, but not any roleplaying in this way. This is new, and Eddie's not sure how far Steve's planning to take it.

Doesn't matter, he supposes. He'll roll with it, no matter what. 

Eddie groans. He's never gonna get over the feeling of being inside Steve, nothing between them. Pretending he's not supposed to be doing it, is adding something to the experience. Steve was onto something there. 

"You feel so good," Steve whines.

"You too. So warm," Eddie tells him, rocking into him, slow and steady. 

Something shifts. Like one of them turned the wrong knob, or dialed the wrong number, and then just went with it. 

They move with each other in a way that feels practiced, and comfortable, like they aren't in any hurry, and honestly, they aren't. They just grind together gently, almost lazily if the slow rhythm wasn't so solid, Eddie touching Steve's face. Thumb brushing his lips, his moles. Gazing into his eyes.

Steve kisses the pad of his thumb, and the affection Eddie has for Steve washes over him in waves.

"You're beautiful," Eddie says, and Steve makes a noise in his throat that Eddie knows he'll replay at will for years to come as Steve clamps down on his dick, coming between them. His cock rubbing against Eddie's belly, making a welcomed mess.

Eddie rests his palm on Steve's cheek, and presses their lips together in a soft kiss, sharing space, and breath, as he comes inside him with a soft grunt.

He immediately anchors his body to Steve's, covering him, staying deep inside his body. Hand cupping Steve's neck as they keep kissing.

Whatever this started as in Steve's head, definitely isn't how it ended up, Eddie thinks. And that's fine. It's the journey that matters, the experience.

And that was a hell of one.

The next night, Eddie is pulling his shirt over his head at the foot of Steve's bed. They've spent more time in his room, because his mattress is nicer, Eddie's realized. There is a difference, and now he's gotten spoiled.

He's gonna have to upgrade his own, after.

"Pick something off the non-penetration side of the list," Steve says, already in bed, and Eddie stops, looking at him.

"You okay?"

"Just a little sore, nothing a few days of rest won't fix," Steve answers, and Eddie nods. They have been going at it pretty hard, and often, for weeks. It was bound to catch up with them.

Eddie looks at the options on the list. And then thinks of one that isn't on the list at all. Eddie has a preference, and that preference is definitely being the one to do the fucking.

But.

He's been curious. And this whole arrangement was designed specifically to take advantage of being comfortable with each other. For trying new things. Safe and secure. Back when they took that survey, he didn't know he'd start thinking about it. So, now he doesn't know if Steve was interested in fucking him on that questionnaire or not. But maybe Steve would still want to do it anyway.

If he wants to know, he needs to ask. Communicate his desires. That's the whole point of this arrangement, and there's no reason to pussyfoot around and miss out because he's scared or embarrassed to speak up.

He crawls in bed, where Steve's messing around on his phone.

"Do you ever switch it up?" Eddie asks, laying in bed next to Steve. He might miss this part the most when this ends, the full bed. The warmth of Steve, right at his side.

"What do you mean?" Steve asks, phone in his hand, scrolling. Not really paying attention to Eddie, at least not fully. 

"Are you versatile? You know, like, do you pitch and catch?"

Steve puts his phone down on his chest, and turns his head to look at Eddie, "I only played first base."

Then he grins. Steve's teasing. Poking fun at him for the sports metaphor that sounded wrong coming off Eddie's tongue. 

"Sure," Steve answers, easily, "I mean, I have sex with women, too. So, I'm pretty open to changing things up. Why?"

Eddie swallows, but doesn't look away, "Would you want to, you know, with me? Change things up?"

Steve smiles, "You asking me to fuck you?"

Eddie nods. He is, in a fairly roundabout way.

"I know I didn't tick that box, or whatever. But I've changed my mind. If you'd be interested."

"I'm interested. I'm totally interested. I just thought you were definitely not into that. From every conversation we've ever had, you know, ever."

Eddie laughs. He's not wrong.

"No, you're right, I just thought…well, if we're trying new things in the safety of our little bubble, and you're sore, then why not? Wouldn't this be the best possible scenario to give it the old college try? You're pretty big, though. I might be biting off more than I can chew."

Steve laughs.

"Biting off more than you can chew is your entire brand, isn't it?" Steve teases, easily. "But let's try to get you fucked, Munson."

Eddie hasn't had a bad experience, he's just had no experience with it at all. He's an anal virgin, at least with receiving. He's never so much as had a finger up there. Not his own, not anyone else's. 

And now he thinks he's gonna just take Steve's big dick. Sue him, he's a little impulsive. But that's not anything new. It's just that he's never felt that kind of connection with anyone. Not like he does with Steve. 

So, now's the time to see. Maybe he'll like it. Maybe he'll hate it. 

Eddie's just confident nothing will change with Steve, either way.

He's relaxed. Steve being at the helm feels safe. He's been one of Eddie's safe spaces for a lot of years now. A comfort. Steve takes care of him, always has. That hasn't changed with this new dynamic. 

He can just take care of him in a brand new way, now.

"We'll start easy," Steve says, and Steve jacks him off, which is nice, but isn't what he thought they were doing. He'll trust the process, trust Steve.

And when Eddie is rushing towards the point of no return, Steve removes the pressure, gently laying Eddie's cock against his belly. 

Then, he's spreading Eddie's thighs, and Eddie feels exposed, but doesn't really care. Let Steve look. Let him touch. Whatever he wants.

Steve's rubbing his taint, and it feels good, but his cock flags, just a little after a while of not being touched. So, Steve works him over again, sucking his dick for a bit, getting him back to the edge.

Then releases his cock again. Going back to what he'd be doing.

After the third round, Eddie thinks the little shit is just edging him for fun.

But Steve lubes up his fingers again, and rubs Eddie's taint, again, putting more pressure there, moving, seeking, searching. 

Whatever Steve's doing suddenly feels good. Really good. Eddie's toes curl into the sheets, gripping as Steve fingers apply pressure, almost up under his balls. Eddie's not sure what Steve's trying to—

Oh. Oh fuck. 

Eddie lets out a shaky breath, and his belly clenches when it hits him. Abs he didn't even know he had, spasming.

"Found it," Steve says with a big smile.

"Oh shit, goddamn, fuck," he mutters, clinging to Steve's shoulder, squeezing.

"What are you doing to me?" Eddie asks, chest heaving, pupils blown wide. He feels feral. Trapped, in the very best way.

Steve just smiles, and keeps applying that pressure. It's like lightning has struck the head of his cock, like he's being touched in the best possible way, when Steve's hand is nowhere near it. He feels like he needs to pee and come at the same time. He writhes in the sheets like a whore. 

He doesn't give a fuck, he'll be a whore for Steve Harrington.

Of course he will, so long as Steve keeps doing whatever the fuck he's doing to him right now.

Steve's been touching him for what's felt like hours, he's lost track of time, of space, of reality. The warmth that's spreading through him is insane. Addictive. His stomach clenches, every muscle in his body tightening at once it seems, and he just rolls with it. Over and over, until his legs are shaking, quivering, uncontrollably.

He's leaking precum all over his belly out of his not even fully hard cock, making a mess of himself. He doesn't care.

When his balls draw up tight, he thinks this is it, finally. He's gonna come. 

Feeling it peak, the best orgasm in the world crashes over him, but then somehow it just hangs there, heavy, continuously washing over him, never letting up.

"Steve," he breathes out, and Steve smiles. The heat finally wanes, and he thinks it's over, but Steve keeps the gentle pressure on that spot until it ramps up again, and the heat builds back up, like it's radiating from his whole groin.

And then it wanes, again.

Eddie wants that feeling back. It's addictive.

Steve reads his mind, because he reaches over and gets in his nightstand to pull out a small vibrator. He turns it on, and presses it to the good spot. The magic spot.

Oh hell yes. It's too much. It's not enough. He doesn't know. All Eddie knows is that he's gonna ride this feeling to the grave. Fuck. He might have to get a guiche ladder down his taint. If it could feel even a tenth as good as this, he's all fucking in. Steve's rewiring things in him that he didn't even know could be changed at this point in his life.

Eddie's not even mad about it. He's in love with Steve, and losing him, losing this, is gonna suck. But they're closer than ever before, now. He knows they are, and he's gonna focus on that. That their friendship is deeper now. It has to be. 

They've peeled back new layers from this onion, it's just too bad these layers are gonna make him cry when all is said and done.

He hates that he was right. 

He's not gonna survive Steve Harrington.

When he's wrung out, having had more orgasms than he's ever felt in his life, but no ejaculation, which fucking weird, he's begging to get fucked.

"Later," Steve promises, but there isn't much time for later left. They only have a week and half left of his arrangement, and if he doesn't get to feel Steve's dick lodging itself somewhere up near his ribs, he's gonna perish. 

It's gotta be now. Right now.

"Now," Eddie counters.

Steve laughs, "You're not ready. It'll hurt, even if I don't want it to."

"Steve," Eddie whines, "my body is playdoh. It's goo. I'm melted. I'll never be more relaxed than this."

Eddie picks up his arm, and then drops it to the mattress with a thud, like that will be what convinces Steve.

Steve smiles.

"Fine. We'll try," Steve concedes, and fucking finally.

"Breathe, breathe through it. It's gonna feel weird, and like it's too much. If it's actually too much, tell me, and I'll pull right back out." 

Eddie nods. Yeah, yeah. Steve's done everything. Made him come over and over in a brand new way. Fingered him. Lubed him up. Everything but actually fucked him while Eddie laid there like pillow princess of the highest order.

And Eddie just wants to get fucked.

He feels exposed, up on his knees, but Steve swore this was the way to go for his first time. He's shaky. He may never recover from what's happened to him tonight.

Steve touches the head of his cock to Eddie's hole, and starts pressing in. It feels too big, just like he said it would, like it's never gonna—

The head pops past the loosened ring of muscle, and Eddie digs into the sheets, making a noise he's never heard come from himself before. 

He's full. He's split wide. 

Steve rubs at his back, "Okay?" 

Eddie's definitely okay, just overwhelmed. Overstimulated. This is new. 

Everything that's happened tonight is new.

"Yeah. That's, you're big. That's a lot of cock."

Steve laughs, "Honey, I'm barely in you."

Eddie groans. He knew that. He did. Doesn't change the way it feels, though. 

And he can't focus on Steve calling him honey. That's new, and he definitely doesn't hate it. 

"More," Eddie demands.

And Steve? Well, Steve gives him more. 

Slowly sliding in until he's seated, that big, thick cock pressing on his prostate from the inside now, and Eddie reaches back and grabs a hold of Steve's forearm, holding him, and screams.

A loud, guttural noise that the neighbors surely heard as Steve fills him.

"You—“

"Fuck me, fuck me," he begs, interrupting whatever check in Steve was ramping up to ask. Steve trusts him, and does just that. Gently, and with extreme care, but he's being fucked. 

He kind of loves it, maybe. 

He definitely loves Steve Harrington, certainly.

Love, love, loves.

Chapter Text

It's Christmas. Steve can't be fully excited about that, because it also means it's the last week of this experiment they've been conducting. 

Where maybe, just maybe, he feels like they've found lightning in a bottle.

Eddie has been waxing poetic about his prostate for days, going on and on that it was the best Christmas present ever and how he could never possibly give Steve anything that would compare. He already has given him more in everything he's ever done since they've known each other, so Steve just grins every time Eddie opens his mouth. He's so fucking charmed, and feels like a sex god that he was able to do that for Eddie, that he could finally feel like he was giving something back.

That he was able to give him a good first experience, that he planted this particular flag. There first. His own moon landing.

It's been a lazy Christmas, honestly. Lowkey. Chill. Except for in Steve's own head. There, he's a bit of a basket case. Both of them used every excuse in the book to not go anywhere for Christmas this year. Neither said it, but Steve could feel that they both wanted to stay in this bubble, just the two of them.

Steve's watching football. Christmas being on a Sunday means he's been blessed by the triple-header scheduling gods, even if none of them are his team.

Eddie's noodling around on his guitar, low and soft on the couch, and Steve rotates until he can lay his head on Eddie's thigh. The soft, melodic guitar is drowning out the TV commentators, and that might be better.

They both took the week off work without really discussing that they were doing it. Eddie and Gareth made the joint decision to close the shop for the whole week, something they never do, having to shift appointments around. Steve knows Eddie's booked himself some late nights after the first of the year, and he gets it. Steve cleared his own schedule and will have to make up for it, too. It just seemed like the thing to do to make the most of the time they have left.

And the clock is definitely ticking in a way that's hammering in Steve's brain, like he's suddenly hyper-aware of every second of every goddamn day. He hates it. He's never felt like that in his life.

Turns out, Eddie standing in the doorway of Steve's room later that night, waiting for him in nothing but a Santa hat, proves to be the only thing that pulls him out of his funk. Steve grins, and clambers off the couch, heading in Eddie's direction.

"Well, Merry Christmas to you, too," Steve says, and runs his hand along Eddie's neck, until he's buried his fingers in Eddie's hair, tugging him close enough to kiss.

By New Year's Eve, Steve definitely doesn't have any interest in leaving the house to party. Not anywhere, not with anyone. They both turned down invites from basically everybody they know, instead opting to spend all evening in bed. If this expires at midnight, well, they're fucking until that ball drops in New York. No. Later than that. They've got an extra hour to work with here. Time zones. For once working in his favor.

Naked, his hair damp and stuck against the back of his neck, they shift again.

Now, Steve's got his legs wrapped around Eddie's hips as Eddie gently rocks into him. They didn't consult the list tonight, didn't make a mad dash to finish anything they've run out of time to try.

Eddie's not blowing Steve's back out tonight. Steve's heart though? It's demolished. It feels like it's been crushed and scattered, pieces all over the place. 

He clings to Eddie's sweaty back, fingers pressing in deep as Eddie moves inside him, keeping that slow, steady pace. Steve's probably gonna leave bruises the way he's holding on. Hopefully the next guy doesn't mind that Steve was here first. 

Eddie's rhythm is steady, unwavering. Something that's grown so familiar, so comforting. So safe.

He's got Steve. 

And they're in no hurry at all. 

It feels like he's Eddie's sweetheart. He supposes he still is. At least for the next forty minutes. 

Steve closes his eyes, and pretends they aren't just sexually compatible friends running an experiment that's winding to a close. It doesn't feel that way anymore. Right now, at this moment. It feels like this should never end.

He feels hopelessly in love. 

Stretching up, he presses his cheek against Eddie's. Wrapping his arms around Eddie's neck, squeezing, desperate to hold on tight.

"Hi, sweetheart," Eddie says in his ear, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut, hoping he doesn't cry. He feels like he's on the precipice of that, and thinks that maybe later, when he's alone, that he will. Just get it all out.

He doesn't right now, though, instead he composes himself, and when they can't hold off any longer, they both come, clinging to each other.

Steve looks at the clock. It's six minutes after midnight. 

"New year, huh?" Eddie asks, laying in Steve's bed, sheets pooled over his thighs, his spent cock nestled in his pubes. Steve's staring, taking him all in. His lean body, his stark tattoos. His piercings. Trying to memorize it all one last time.

New year, new experiences, he supposes. 

But he really liked the experiences that the end of this past year brought his way. So much so that part of him wants to scratch his name into Eddie's skin, stake his claim. Keep him. Steve really, really wants to keep him. 

"What new sexual discovery is Steve Harrington gonna unleash on the neighborhood this year?" Eddie asks, and the idea of touching anyone else isn't doing it for Steve. Not now. Not at all.

Not while Eddie's still right here, looking like that.

But Eddie's clearly expecting an answer, so Steve looks over at him, "My body hair. Don't like it? Don't fuck me. I'm not shaving. It itches."

"Hell yeah, that's the spirit," Eddie declares, offering him a fist bump. Steve smiles, he's rubbed off on him. But then he looks at Steve, more serious, "It's gorgeous, by the way. Manly. Don't ever change it for anybody."

Steve smiles, and feels his eyes falling to Eddie's mouth. He wants to kiss him, and it hurts that just because it's a brand new year, he can't do that anymore. He's staring, he knows he is, and Steve sees Eddie's eyes track his gaze, fully aware of what he's wanting.

"We haven't slept yet. It's still yesterday," Eddie says, an offer.

Steve nods, and takes what Eddie's allowing him to have for just a little bit longer, kissing him. Long, and deep. If it's the last time, he's gonna make it count.

They stay up all night talking about everything besides what Steve thinks they should be talking about. When the sun breaks over the horizon, warming the room slowly, Eddie is still playing with Steve's hair. Combing his fingers through it as they talk.

Eventually though, Eddie stretches, and gets out of bed. Then leans over, offering Steve his hand. Grinning.

Steve shakes it.

It's goofy, and dorky. But it makes Steve's heart squeeze.

Steve wants to chase him, cling, beg.

He doesn't. He just watches Eddie go, disappearing from his room. From his bed. 

Steve rolls over and buries his face in his pillow. It smells like Eddie.

By mid-afternoon, he wants to say fuck the new year. So, he's wallowing, just a little. He's eating straight out of the pint of ice cream he bought yesterday, in preparation. 

Robin tried to get him to come over, to leave the house, but he's not feeling that at all. 

He's good here. Mourning, just a little. 

She wanted him to just talk to Eddie, sure that at least getting everything out in the open would make him feel better. Maybe later. Today? Today he's going to eat his ice cream and meld into the couch.

Eddie blows in with the snow, shaking out his hair out like a dog.

"It's getting really icy out there, nearly busted my ass a dozen times," Eddie declares, but even as cold as he looks, as soon as he spots the ice cream he walks over and opens his mouth, demanding, "Bite!"

Steve gets a spoonful, feeding it to him. Eddie went out to get food, and the takeout containers are nearly spilling out of the sack he's sat down on the coffee table. He crashes on the couch, right next to Steve. Tugging part of the blanket that's over Steve's thighs onto his own lap. He's too close, and somehow not close enough. Steve hands over his ice cream, and lets Eddie have it. He's done, anyway.

But Steve's gonna let himself indulge in other things, and rests his head on Eddie's shoulder, breathing deep. Taking the smell of him in, still coming through, even as cold as he is. He misses him. He's right here, but he misses him already.

This is gonna suck.

"What's up, buttercup?" Eddie asks, and Steve couldn't explain it if he tried, so he turns his face into Eddie's shoulder. Nose pressing in until it kind of hurts. It's stupid. He's stupid. It was just sex. Two friends fucking.

He knew that going in. 

It was his idea for fuck's sake, and he's still the one that's gotten clobbered by it. 

He's cursed, always forming unrequited attachments, so what did he really think was going to happen here? Stupid, stupid.

Throwing his love out easily, but having it batted away. He thought he'd learned from that, years ago. Had developed a thick skin for nearly anything. Not this, though. Not Eddie.

He just wants to be loved. Fucked, yes. That too. But loved, that's what he's really been missing. He didn't know that going into these six weeks, but that's where he has landed, now. He wants love, and a relationship with someone he fucking adores.

Someone he not only loves, but likes to spend time with.

He wants Eddie.

"I got you extra potstickers," Eddie says, and it's what tips him over the edge. 

Eddie thinks about him, because he cares. Because he knows him so well. Steve sniffles against his arm, trying to hide that he's going through it at the moment. But he can't hide anything from Eddie. He has hearing like a goddamn bat.

"Hey, hey, hey," Eddie says, leaning forward, setting the ice cream on the coffee table, the spoon unable to balance, clattering to the floor. Eddie ignores it, and reaches for Steve's face. Cupping both of his cheeks. "Talk to me."

"I'm fine, just tired," Steve lies, and Eddie's eyes look so earnest, so worried, that it kills him. "I'm good."

Eddie clearly doesn't believe him. It's written all over his face, but Steve sees him making the calculations. Determining how hard he needs to press the issue. How deep he needs to dig for the truth.

And Steve sees the moment he lets off the gas, calling off his knee-jerk reaction for a full-court press.

"Okay, well, if you aren't, we'll fix it. Whatever it is," Eddie insists, leaning forward, kissing him on the side of his head. "Tell me who to kill, and they're a goner."

Steve laughs at that, and feels a little bit better. He didn't lose Eddie. Eddie's still making jokes, still right here, being Eddie. He didn't make it weird, except for himself. Eddie's acting totally normal.

Maybe a little more touchy, but Eddie's always been easy with his affection, and Steve's always taken that for granted.

Not now.

Eddie leans forward, and grabs the top takeout box, pushing the handle down, popping open the tabs. He hands it to Steve, then digs around in the bag for utensils, "Eat. You'll feel better."

That night, one day into the new year that came far too fast, Steve lays in his own bed, alone, staring at the ceiling. This is stupid. He climbs out of bed, and as soon as he steps into the hallway, Eddie is exiting his bedroom down the hallway at the same time. Steve freezes.

"Where're you going?" Steve asks.

"Your room, where are you headed?" Eddie asks, and Steve smiles.

"Your bedroom," Steve admits, and Eddie grins, drawing an arm out in front of him, bowing, welcoming Steve towards his room. 

Steve doesn't hesitate. 

He slides past Eddie in the doorway and climbs onto the side of the bed that he's claimed as his own. Eddie climbs in next to him.

"It's weird, right? Too quiet. Too cold," Eddie asks, and Steve nods.

"Definitely," Steve agrees, rolling onto his side to look at Eddie.

"Maybe cold turkey isn't the way," Eddie offers, and that's good enough for Steve, so he leans all the way forward, pressing his lips to Eddie's. 

Eddie grins against his mouth, and brings his hand around, cupping the back of Steve's head. Fingers scratching his scalp.

It's comforting, comfortable.

Steve pulls back, and tucks his face into Eddie's neck. 

"I got kinda worried I was gonna lose you at the end of this. You know, as a friend. Definitely as a roommate," Steve admits, and Eddie's hand that has migrated to his shoulder, squeezes him tight.

"I'm not going anywhere," Eddie reassures. "You let me in like Flynn, I'm never leaving. You're stuck with me, Harrington."

Steve nods against his skin.

"I had fun these past few weeks," Eddie says, "but should we do a post mortem? Talk it out? Just acting like nothing has changed between us is what's making things weird. Right?"

"It's definitely weird," Steve answers, and isn't sure how honest he should be. Maybe he does need to lay it all out like Robin suggested. Just get it out in the open so they can get past it, eventually. He just doesn't want to make Eddie feel awkward. This was all Steve's idea, and now he's the one that couldn't follow the plan that he invented. Figures.

He got attached. He always gets attached, but Eddie knows him well enough that he wouldn't be surprised by that, surely.

And Eddie is honest. He tells you the truth, and Steve wants to tell him the truth, too. Even if it's embarrassing. Even if he did the one thing he wasn't supposed to do during these six weeks.

Eddie will appreciate the honesty. The bad news first, always. He'd want to know where things stand, even if he doesn't feel the same way.

It'll be fine.

"I caught feelings," Steve admits, pulling the band-aid right off. Fast and quick before he can change his mind. When Eddie tenses next to him, the pit in Steve's stomach expands to the size of the Grand Canyon.

Or not.

He's not sure if he should go? Flee the scene of the crime and never look back?

Eddie grasps at his hand, as if he expects that he might try to bail. He knows him well, and Steve lets him hold on.

"You have feelings? For me?" Eddie asks, hand gripping Steve's shoulder, like he's scared he might run given half the chance. He's not wrong, if Steve could disappear right now, he would.

"Don't gloat," Steve says dryly, "you're very charming when you want to be, you know?"

And Eddie laughs, a contagious, bright sound that cracks Steve's chest open even wider.

"Are you mad?" Steve asks, face still hidden in Eddie's pillow.

"Mad?" Eddie repeats, "No, sweetheart. I'm not mad," he says, and then he shifts so he can force Steve to look at him. Steve doesn't want to, not at all. He feels too raw. "Look at me."

Steve looks at him.

"I've had feelings for you for a long time, and when it never happened for us in those early years, I just assumed you weren't interested in me like that. And that was okay. So, I've been able to let my feelings for you hum away in the background, just a half-formed chord that was never gonna come to fruition. All stencil, no ink, you know? But being best friends with you, being roommates, well. That was always enough. More than."

Steve is staring, he knows he is.

"So, that's why I was hesitant at first, when you threw out this idea, so casually. Not because I didn't want to have sex with you, but because I was pretty sure I wasn't gonna survive it, after."

Steve smiles, and leans in, kissing Eddie, cupping his face, thumb brushing against his stubbly cheek. 

When he pulls back, they are face-to-face, so close, "For real?"

"Hell yeah, you're Steve Harrington, you know? You're a goddamn catch."

"I've always said so," Steve teases, and smacks another kiss against Eddie's mouth, before shifting so he can lay right on top of Eddie, and Eddie rolls with it, running his hand up and down Steve's bare back.

"We gonna do this? For real?" Steve asks.

"Fuck yes we are," Eddie answers, his chest rumbling under Steve's, "We already are. We have been, pretty much this whole time. You know that, and I know that. I just wasn't sure if we were on the same page. Now that I know? Hot damn."

Steve grins into his neck.

"You won't be bored? We've already done all the dirty fucking." 

Eddie laughs, delighted, clearly, "I'm not concerned. Lots of dirty fucking left unfucked, I'm confident."

Steve smiles, brushing a kiss against his chest. 

"These past few weeks have been the best. I swear it. I've had so much fun with you, Eddie. We've had the best sex. I've felt more loved, even if—"

"—you are loved. You are so loved, you know that, right? Not just by me. By everyone. You're the glue that holds us all together."

Steve swallows, he doesn't think that's true at all. 

"You're loved. Know that." 

"Okay," Steve answers, "you are, too, by the way. Loved."

"Glad to hear it," Eddie says, voice so fucking fond that Steve can hardly stand how much he adores him.

How much he's gonna get to love him moving forward, out loud.

Steve's sprawled out on the couch on top of Eddie, when he hears the key in the lock.

Robin. 

Or Gareth, he supposes. But he knows it's Robin, coming to check on him. 

The door swings open, and Steve watches as Eddie tilts his head back, trying to see who's here from underneath him.

"I knew it," she says, then looks over her shoulder, "we both knew it."

Gareth pokes his face around her shoulder, "We did. You're so predictable. I told you there were strings."

Then he makes a puppeteering motion, and Steve's not sure what the fuck this is about, exactly, but he definitely understands Eddie's being given shit.

Eddie doesn't seem to care.

"Then why are you here?" Eddie asks, teasing them.

"Just in case you were being stupid assholes," Gareth answers.

"It was definitely a possibility," Robin chimes in, and Steve laughs.

She's not wrong. They could have made themselves miserable with this.

"Glad to see you both realized you were being idiots about this whole stupid thing," Robin says, and Steve smiles. 

"You weren't supposed to know," Eddie accuses, looking at Steve.

"Please, I knew they both knew," Steve says.

"How?" Eddie asks.

"Well, I told Robin. And Gareth has avoided this place like the plague for weeks, and he's usually underfoot—"

"Hey!" Gareth objects.

Steve ignores him, continuing, "I wonder why that is, Eddie? You have any idea?" Steve mocks, and Eddie laughs. 

"I told him," Eddie admits.

"Yeah, no shit, I knew that. Did you really think I didn't tell Robin?"

"Of course not," Eddie says, sulking a little. 

Steve smiles at him, then looks up at the two of them still hovering in the doorway.

"We're in love," Steve announces, and Robin puts her finger in her mouth, pretending to gag. Gareth laughs at her, and then they slam the door behind them.

Eddie looks back at him, and Steve leans down, kissing him. He can kiss him all he wants now. 

They're in love.

Then, Steve laughs as the idea crosses his mind that he kinda did lose his roommate, but he also gained a live-in boyfriend, and that's way better.