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So, it starts like this: Steve— dear, lovely, caring Steve—is letting out the tenth deep sigh in as many minutes and Eddie needs to do something about it about seven minutes ago, when his, once again, dear lovely caring Steve was on sigh number three.
It had been a rough few weeks with the kids starting the second year of high school without (luckily and finally for Eddie, thank you very much) their newly acquired brother slash dungeon master slash friend. Eddie had, by the skin of his teeth mind you, graduated the last year of high school after the Grand Vecna Extravaganza of Spring Break.
Point is, everyone is a little bit on edge, especially considering The Party and the older kids had all spent most of their summertime together and both groups feel like a litter of puppies with separation anxiety whenever they’re forced to spend more than a few days apart. No matter the fact that none of them will ever admit it out loud.
Steve, dear lovely caring Steve, his Stevie, is feeling this anxiety tenfold. He doesn’t even seem to be completely aware of this but anytime his babies (Eddie used to joke about the kids being Steve’s children but it gradually stopped being a joke and simply became an acknowledged but not lingered on truth) aren’t under his protective, watchful gaze he cannot seem to be able to relax. He quickly becomes grouchy and cranky, at least until he makes sure they’re all fine and dandy.
Actually, it starts like this: Dustin had called Eddie’s place for a silly, very easily fixable problem, but his initial mild panic mixed with urgency mixed with weird excitement had sent Steve’s gears turning, jumpstarting him into a semi-panicked state from which he hadn’t wound down yet. Hence, the never-ending sighing.
“Baby” Steve’s eyes focus on his boyfriend’s soft ones at his careful, caring tone. “hey, sweetheart. It’s alright, you know? It’s fine. They’re all fine.” Steve is nodding but he’s still a bit dazed and vacant “yeah. No, yeah, I know. They’re fine. Dipshit Dustin will send me to an early grave I swear to God” he gives a low chuckle, aiming for nonchalant but missing by about a mile and a half. It’s fine, Eddie has become a bit of an expert at this. Or at least he likes to think he has.
The thing is, Steve is always taking care of everyone and everything all the fucking time and he will rarely let anyone take care of him. Luckily, Eddie fits in Steve’s definition of “rarely” and makes the list for both Steve’s many exceptions and just as many rules. That’s to say, if Eddie is a little bit sneaky about it, Steve will let him take care of him. Anytime Eddie wants to, really. He just has to stick to their carefully curated routine, a dance learned through patience and devotion.
“I’m brewing myself some tea, do you want some too, sweetheart?” Steve scoffs sweetly at Eddie’s question; he shakes his head a little, blush high on his cheekbones, more out of delight than embarrassment. He’s muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “you don’t even like tea” but after another—goddamn it—sigh that is more on the side of fondly exasperated than actually nervous he decides to go with the bit. Best boy.
“Yes, baby. Thank you. Do you need me to cling to you like a koala while you do it as well?” he’s smiling wider now, more relaxed, his thin glasses are slightly askew on his nose, his white tank top reveals the edge of his scars, right under both his armpits curving in half moons towards the center of his chest. His hair is sticking up in every direction and the expression he’s wearing is open and unguarded. He knows what’s coming.
“a man after my own heart” exclaims Eddie dramatically, clutching his left tit with an emphasis that makes his Stevie smile, it always makes him smile, so Eddie never stops. He stomps over the couch where his boyfriend is now slumped and crouches in front of it to have him climb onto him and give him a piggy-back ride to the kitchen. “On we go Stevie boy!”
Eddie brews tea for Steve, he whips out his favorite brand of black tea while the water is boiling and he does a little dance of pirouettes and weirdly timed jumps that make the strands of hair that got out of the ponytail Steve made for him a few hours prior float around his face as he goes to retrieve the sugar cubes, two, just like how Steve likes it. He switches gears and stops to give Steve’s nose a kiss on his way to the fridge, bounces on his heels as he takes the milk, one splash, just like how Steve likes it. His boyfriend is adequately entertained by the little performance and smiles boyishly at him while he strokes one of his, surely by now, red cheeks.
“you’re so silly” Steve utters, and it sounds like “I love you” and so Eddie throws his head back and laughs as he holds on to Steve, whose other hand, the one not stroking Eddie’s cheek, is holding him by the waist. Closely, carefully, like Eddie is something precious, sometimes fragile, something lovely. “you’re so pretty” replies Eddie and it sounds like “me too”.
They sip their tea in silence while Eddie is sat on the counter with Steve nestled between his thighs, his back to Eddie’s chest. It’s free, it’s always free with Steve, he doesn’t need to hide. He knows Steve sees him exactly for who he is. He doesn’t need four to five layers of clothes to even feel comfortable existing when he’s with Steve.
Eddie’s right hand is holding the now warm mug—it’s his Garfield one, his uncle Wayne had bought it for him when he was twelve years old and he cares for it a lot, is weirdly attached to it and will bring it with him when he moves out of the trailer . His left hand is resting on Steve’s bare leg, he’s playing with the sparse hair peaking out of his yellow shorts, sometimes he draws hearts on it with the tips of his fingers .
He can tell his boyfriend is paying attention to this because he can feel him smile at the base of his neck, at the juncture where it meets his shoulder. He’s done with his tea now, put his, also yellow, mug on the counter and is circling Eddie’s waist with both arms. His grip is relaxed, but ever present. It seems to Eddie that Steve is not really able to be in his presence without somehow touching him at all times. It’s almost like he needs to make sure Eddie is always there, next to him. He can’t blame him, especially after all the near-death experiences they shared in one single week. He also doesn’t particularly mind it, loves it even. What he loves even more though, is taking care of his boyfriend’s well-being and relaxation.
“Sweetheart?” a hum is the only response he gets “wanna get in the shower together?” he turns around and waggles his eyebrows in an overly exaggerated way, the half drank tea almost spills and Steve responds with a sleepy nod and a tiny grin, one that’s usually reserved for Eddie and Eddie alone. “let’s get you to the shower then, big boy” a puff of air on his neck as Steve slumps against him and lets Eddie drag him to the bathroom.
Eddie sets up the water at the perfect temperature (for Steve, who likes scalding hot water ) while his boyfriend is half asleep sitting on the toilet. Eddie lets out a low chuckle and gets close to him to start taking off his tank top.
“at least take me to dinner first” Steve mumbles sleepily with a dumb smile adorning his features. His glasses, bless his heart, are even more askew from leaning on Eddie for almost half an hour earlier, barely hanging on the tip of his crooked nose. Eddie laughs at this and gestures at him to get up and take his pants off. He does with little protest and slumps over Eddie once more. “c’mon sweetheart let’s get you in” he’s almost completely relaxed now. Steve doesn’t get shy about being seen naked by Eddie anymore. He gets excited now, playful even, when he’s in the right mood. Tonight seems to be the perfect mood and his plan is working so well Steve is even the one to ask him directly.
“Wash my hair?” he asks as he tilts his head like a puppy, offering him shampoo. “Sure. Turn around, then” he does, but not before giving his boobs a cheeky squeeze. See? Playful. Eddie adores him.
Eddie begins by wetting his boyfriend’s hair and then squeezing a dollop of product on Steve’s head. He starts lathering it up, focusing on his scalp. It’s another routine learnt in the folds of quiet where day becomes night and leaves both more open and vulnerable. It’s a nice feeling, the practiced motions, the confident scrape of Eddie’s fingernails against Steve’s scalp. Not too rough, but not so gentle it tickles. Steve needs a firm touch, or it will bother him more than soothe him. He gently rinses the shampoo and quickly puts the conditioner on his lengths and pushes his front strands out of the way with a yellow clip.
He starts washing his body too, Steve didn’t ask, but Eddie knows he finds it nice and he loves having an excuse (not that he needs one) to touch his boyfriend’s fine ass body. He lathers his chest hair with body wash and traces all of his boyfriend’s scar. Firm, steady. Steve smiles at him and does the same to Eddie’s scar. (“we match” he said when they had both recovered enough to make this observation in the first place.)
Since Steve is in a playful mood, he doesn’t miss the chance to whip up a big soap-beard he conveniently puts on Eddie’s face. He giggles about his own masterpiece and Eddie giggles along with him. Just because.
They each rinse quickly because the steam from the hot boiling water is almost enough to make them dizzy and Eddie doesn’t want an ambulance trip to the hospital to ruin this nice night they’re having.
They get out of the shower and wrap themselves up together in the big red towel Eddie prepared beforehand. Eddie quickly dries Steve’s hair despite the latter’s constant protests about it (protests for what, Eddie doesn’t know since it takes all of three and a half minutes, but that’s beside the point.) They put on boxers and make their way over to Eddie’s room. Steve is wearing those ridiculous red sliders Max got him as a gag-gift for his birthday last year and from which he won’t part unless dead. Eddie finds it adorable, his boyfriend’s pat-pat-pattering away every time he moves from room to room.
They crawl together under the covers. Eddie on his back and Steve wrapped around his side like a leech. A cute one. Eddie would still love him if he was a leech, he thinks. Steve has one leg hiked so high up Eddie’s torso it might as well be a new bra, the other is tangled with Eddie’s. One of Steve’s arms is under Eddie’s neck and the other is holding Eddie’s left boob. Eddie finds it endearing. He has both his hands in Steve’s hair, scraping his scalp occasionally. He took off most of his rings, all but one. He may have plans for that later, he’ll see how the night evolves.
“I can hear your heartbeat.” Steve says, and before Eddie can reply with something sarcastic like “I’d be worried if you didn’t, sweetheart” Steve adds, heart wrenchingly honest “I like it. ‘s nice.” Eddie inhales a deep breath and moves one of his arms on Steve’s neck, where his pulse jumps steadily under his fingers. A flutter of wings, a gurgle of red water under paper-thin skin. Eddie’s surrounded by Steve’s everything: his body, his smell, his hair is tickling his nose and now his lips are mouthing at his exposed skin, feather light kisses that spell undying devotion.
Eddie knows this dance, too. He had to pay particular attention to learn its intricacies. He knows Steve will sometimes try to give something he’s not really in the mood to give because he always wants to give, regardless of how hurt he might get out of it.
So, Eddie learnt this dance. He knows the steps by heart and knows what the steady moves of his boyfriend’s lips are making on his skin mean, knows what the firm press of his fingers on Eddie’s scarred side are trying to tell him. Knows, intimately , what the almost desperate grip on Eddie’s hair is screaming.
“I’ve got you, darling. Don’t worry” Steve whimpers at this and Eddie swallows it within a kiss. A firm press of lips, it drags, then something gives and they’re clutching at each other’s bodies with a hunger not easily sated although feeding off each other seems to be the only thing they’re really used to doing nowadays. Eddie slows it down. He wants to savor every second, wants to pay attention to Steve, have him relax, have him hand over every worry and bad thought and nightmare and-
“Eddie, Eddie please. Please, please, please.” Steve whispers, so low Eddie can only hear it because his ear is right besides his boyfriend’s lips. “I’m here. I’m here Stevie, I’ll make you feel so good, promise. Do you trust me?” he can’t even finish the sentence and Steve is already nodding against his lips while trying to get Eddie to kiss him some more. He’s climbing fully on top of Eddie now, leaning all his weight on him. It’s a nice weight, a comfortable one, one he’s used to. It grounds him and kicks him into gear.
Eddie flips them and straddles Steve’s hips. He takes his left hand and takes off his only ring to place it on Steve’s ring finger. With it he places a kiss, then two, three, four, five. One for each knuckle. He kisses Steve’s palm with a quiet desperation “can you feel my devotion? ” his eyes are trying to scream. Steve’s breath hitches in his throat, his pupils dilate and his eyes gloss over. There’s a strong blush high on his cheekbones. He’s quiet, he always is at first, but no less expressive for it.
Steve’s ringed hand falls into Eddie’s hair. He grips it like a lifeline and Eddie relishes in the slight sting and lowers himself down to Steve’s pecs. He wants to appreciate every inch of Steve’s body. He knows Steve trusts him. He would sooner die than not trust Eddie with anything important he had. Eddie places a love bite between Steve’s scars, in the middle of his chest, then dips down to Eddie’s other hand, the one that had not been kissed. He places the lightest kiss to Eddie’s middle finger and kisses his way up his arm, noses the juncture where his elbow creaks and playfully bites Steve’s shoulder. It’s so light it makes Steve giggle. Eddie follows after him. They take a minute to just laugh together, release any eventual tension, foreheads touching, hands interlocked, and bodies pressed closely together. This is familiar, this feels right.
“Get the strap?” suggests Steve, throwing a wink and waggling his eyebrows for good measure, making Eddie burst into a new fit of giggles, which Steve follows after this time, instead. He still gets up, earning a mid-laugh whine from his boyfriend, who still misses him despite him being not even three feet away, and gets the strap. It’s bright purple and has glitter in it and this alone makes Steve, and consequently Eddie, snort a laugh every single time.
“c’mon get serious. I’m about to suck your dick and you’re gonna hurt my poor poor feelings if you laugh in my face.” Eddie is making puppy eyes at his boyfriend, which works every single time. Eddie is actually starting to suspect it has nothing to do with the puppy eyes and everything to do with it being Eddie asking whatever it is he’s asking. If that were the case, he would be very pleased, indeed.
Eddie straps his boyfriend for him because he loves doing it and Steve loves Eddie doing it for him. It doesn’t save them the light embarrassment, but it makes for a very intimate moment. They’re both blushing and giggling by the time Eddie is finished with it, but it gets very serious very quickly once Eddie looks up at Steve with eyes full of lust and adoration.
“oh my god” Steve has barely time to let this out
He finally gets closer to where Steve wants him. He licks a strip up his cunt and follows to the underside of his cock. He lingers on the tip and Steve is already shivering, he grips Eddie’s ponytail and sets it free, twist his hand in Eddie’s hair and encourages him to continue. Eddie grabs Steve’s hip with hi left hand and smoothly enters Steve with the other while he sinks down on his cock.
A wrung-out moan escapes Steve’s lips as he starts shaking because he doesn't know whether to buck up or down. Eddie holds him down with his left arm and decides for him. “Easy there, tiger ” he comes up to say and goes back to his ministrations without hesitation.
Steve huffs a laugh that is immediately caught off by an impatient grunt. Eddie is holding back, and his bratty little Steve will let his complaints be known. “c’mon Eddie. Please.” He’s panting and still trying to move his hips down on Eddie’s fingers, he’s slowly worked them up to three by now, but the pace isn’t what will take Steve over the edge.
Normally, Eddie would take his time, enjoys teasing Steve until he’s an incoherent bubbling mess immensely, but tonight is all about letting Steve relax, taking care of him, making him feel loved. He’s choking on Steve’s cock; he feels it in the back of his throat and there are tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. Steve’s hand momentarily leaves Eddie’s hair to swipe away the stray tear on Eddie’s cheek.
“pretty” he murmurs, almost completely out of it. Eddie lets out a moan and gets off Steve’s dick, moving south to concentrate on his clit, throbbing in desperate need for attention. Steve has been a very good boy so he tells him as much, earning a moan and then diving in to bring him to completion.
It doesn’t take much to bring his boy over the edge, a few expert swipes of tongue with the right pressure, a firm, grounding touch. He doesn’t let up with his fingers either and Steve is a writhing mess above him, trying to stifle his moans unsuccessfully. Eddie slows the pace and picks it up again when Steve doesn’t risk dying of overstimulation anymore and has him come for him a few more times.
He loves the faces and noises Steve makes, the way his hands grip his hair, his shoulder. The way his legs start bent at the knee on the mattress only to always end up wrapped tightly around Eddie’s head. He loves the heady scent of him, his coarse brown hair, on his legs, his pussy, his chest. He loves how spent he gets after the three orgasm mark hits but how he will always ask for more, his grip lessening but ever present.
He's bubbling with nonsense at this point. Mostly Eddie’s name and half whispered declarations of love. Eddie decides he’s satisfied. He has to consciously decide it otherwise he will stay buried between Steve’s legs for the rest of eternity. Steve decides it immediately after by letting out, tired and glossy-eyed.
“c’me up here” Eddie does. He’s kissing his way up Steve’s body, printing “I love you’s” in his skin with his lips. He runs his hands through Steve’s chest hair and Steve holds him close as he puts his face in Eddie’s hair and inhales deeply. They kiss for a while, slow paced and tender. Steve must be tasting himself on Eddie’s tongue and if the frantic way he picks up the pace is anything to go by, he likes it.
“Ride my thigh?” he’s looking up at Eddie with adoring, love-sick eyes and Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice. He gets off Steve to let him sit more comfortably against the headboard and then straddles his left thigh. He’s still wearing boxers and they’re soaked through. The soft gasp Steve lets out is confirmation enough. His boyfriend grips his hips and starts guiding him into a languid rhythm. One hand comes up to tweak at his nipple and it causes a full body shiver for Eddie, his sensitive areas neglected until now.
He's extremely turned on, from giving attention to Steve and from the build-up of anticipation and from Steve himself, knowing his body by heart and pulling all the stops to make him feel good. Eddie’s thinking he’s almost at his limit when Steve brings him closer by the hips and hitches his thigh to have Eddie tower over him and takes on of his nipples in his mouth. The added sensation of that hurtles him even closer to the edge.
Steve swirls his tongue around his nipple and the grip of his hands gets even tighter trying to bring him impossibly closer. It’s like Steve wants to crawl inside Eddie’s skin. Eddie can relate. He cards his hands through Steve’s hair in desperation and hangs on to it with a possessiveness that must sting. Steve lets out a half-moan, half-grunt. The vibration of it against his nipple goes straight to his throbbing pussy and he comes with a high-pitched whine. His legs are shaking, and his hips are canting frantically, riding out his orgasm to the point of overstimulation. He collapses on Steve, fucked out of his mind.
“Keep me awake please” he has the presence of mind to remind Steve. Steve doesn’t need reminding. He tilts his chin up and starts peppering little kisses on his face. Blowing raspberries on his cheek. He flips them so that he’s on top of Eddie, crouching on his tummy as he blows a raspberry directly in his belly button.
“you’re so dumb” Eddie says.
“oh, shut up, you love it” Steve says between playful bites to Eddie’s stomach.
“I love you” says Eddie sincerely, locking eyes with Steve. “I love you” Steve beams at him as he says it. He looks relaxed. Happy. Open. His guard is down and there is a youthful, boyish blush high on his cheekbones. His eyes are bright and awake.
“Tell me your favorite Lord of the Rings head canons?” Steve is mostly asking this to get Eddie to talk about something exciting but familiar so that he won’t fall asleep. Eddie’s head gets all wonky when he falls asleep right after sex. He needs some awake-not-semi-unconscious quality time after it to feel good. Steve has come up to wrap himself around him in the meantime and Eddie starts talking while stroking his beautiful hair. This is always part of their routine. He starts firing off his favorite head canons and goes on a nine-minute tangent on who of the party would be who in Lord of the Rings that makes Steve laugh his ass off.
They force each other to clean up a little and get back into bed sleepy and content. Eddie wraps around his boyfriend like a skillful leech and thinks he would like to take care of Steve like this forever.