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Steve doesn’t know why he keeps showing up here.
He and Kelly have been going steady for a month or so now. She’s prettier than a lot of the girls Steve has gone out with over the years; dark, wavy hair that goes to her shoulders, big brown eyes he can get lost in, a full-body laugh instead of the little giggles he’s used to girls putting on. He takes her out to dinner and brings her flowers and waves the late fees on all her rentals, drives her around in the Beemer and makes out with her in the back seat. Runs his hands through her hair, grabs her waist, kisses down her neck, but never goes farther than that. He tells himself it’s because she’s special, that he doesn’t want to ruin whatever they have going on with sex so early, and Kelly doesn’t seem to have a problem with that at all.
And it’s not like Steve doesn’t want to have sex with her. He’s thought about it a lot the past few months: thought about unhooking her bra and sucking on her soft tits, about sinking down on his knees in the back seat and burying his face into her pussy, about sliding into her and playing with her clit and feeling her clench down around him as she comes. He’s even gotten off a couple of times thinking about it, so it isn’t like he’s not attracted to her like that. He is. Kelly is fun and more than a bit flirty and isn’t afraid to give as good as she gets, and Steve could see himself falling in love with her someday.
Which brings him back to the doorstep he’s standing on, the shitty yellow-tinted light shining on him like it’s broadcasting to the world that he’s here, that Steve Harrington just dropped his girlfriend off at her house and instead of going home, he somehow ended up on the other side of town at the drug dealer’s trailer to do anything except buy drugs.
He doesn’t know why he keeps coming here. But he also can’t fucking stop.
The screen door swings open, the hinges making a terrible screeching noise as Eddie Munson squints down at him, his hair pulled back into a ponytail the way he does it when he’s messing with his guitar. He’s shirtless, and he’s got a half-smoked cigarette in his other hand, and Steve was raised to think people like Eddie aren’t worthy members of society, but right now all he thinks is that Eddie looks fucking irresistable.
“Harrington,” Eddie says, his tone unreadable. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
There’s music playing in Eddie’s room, the faint, harsh sound of it carrying out the front door. Steve lets his eyes drag over Eddie’s chest, over the tattoos Steve will never fully get but will drool over anyway, over the small trail of hair leading into his too-big sweatpants. There’s a small hole under the waistband there, and a few others scattered around that Steve knows about only from memory, his face heating up when the images flash through his brain.
“Steve?” Eddie asks again, his voice a little rougher this time. Steve shivers.
He aims for stubborn confidence and instead sounds meek. “You know why I’m here.”
Eddie looks him up and down and then huffs, stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray by the door. He steps aside and gestures widely with his arm, so Steve mutters a thanks and follows him inside, going through the routine of shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the hook screwed into the wall.
“How’s the girlfriend?” Eddie asks as Steve toes off his shoes, setting them nicely next to the door amidst the mess of Eddie’s various boots and canvas hi-tops, his stomach lurching at the mention of Kelly.
“She’s good.”
Eddie scoffs behind him. “Not good enough, apparently.”
Steve pauses. Takes a deep, annoyed breath, then turns around and gets all up into Eddie’s space the way he used to do when some guy was looking for a fight. “Okay, Munson. Do you wanna talk about my girlfriend? Or do you wanna fuck me?”
Eddie’s eyes flash. “Why don’t we do a little bit of both?”
Steve doesn’t get a chance to ask what he means because Eddie shoves him into the wall and kisses him, rough and biting the way it almost always is with Eddie now, like he’s taking out his anger on Steve’s body with the same coping method that Steve is using to give his guilt someone to blame. But Steve kisses him rough right back, yanking Eddie’s hair out of its messy ponytail and sliding the hair tie around his own wrist because Eddie will kill him if he loses another one. He buries his hands in Eddie’s hair and pulls him closer, licking into Eddie’s mouth as Eddie sucks on his tongue, and fuck, this is exactly what he needs.
“You smell like fucking flowers,” Eddie grunts, pulling away to suck at Steve’s neck. “I hate that shit.”
It’s Kelly’s perfume. They both know it.
“No marks,” Steve gasps as Eddie sinks his teeth in right at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, knowing that Eddie only pulls away because Steve asked him to. As much as his stomach runs hot at the thought of carrying Eddie’s marks everywhere… well. The reason why he can’t do that is obvious.
Another wave of guilt flashes through him. Shit, he shouldn’t be doing this. He needs to stop. He needs to call off this whole thing with Eddie and drive back to his house and never show up here ever again so he can stop feeling so fucking awful all the time for not being able to choose. He needs to leave right now, he needs to leave—
“Fuck,” he moans, his head falling back against the wall as Eddie grinds his palm down over the front of Steve’s jeans. “Bed. Now.”
“I don’t think you’re in any kind of position to be giving orders, Steve Harrington,” Eddie drawls, gasping as Steve yanks at his hair. So maybe part of Steve’s fun is riling Eddie up, making him so pissed that he has no choice but to fuck Steve through the mattress so hard he can barely walk the next day. Steve’s seen Eddie’s softer side, was on the receiving end of it when they first started this and Steve hadn’t dug himself so deep yet, and it’s good, but…
Steve doesn’t feel like he deserves it. Not back then and definitely not now, so the only thing that gets him out of his head these days is feeling Eddie’s hips slam against his ass as he splits Steve open with his cock.
He knows he’s getting what he wants when Eddie grabs him by the arm a little too hard and yanks him across the small trailer into his bedroom, the familiar scent of weed and cigarettes and cologne and sweat hitting Steve like an aphrodisiac, his cock filling out in reaction to it like those fucking dogs he learned about in science class. It strains against his jeans as Eddie yanks Steve’s shirt off and throws him onto his sheets, wasting no time in latching his teeth around one of Steve’s nipples.
“Ow, what the fuck?”
“Shut up,” Eddie spits, lifting his head up to shoot Steve a glare. “I know you like it. Stop being a bitch.”
“Whatever.”
And suddenly there’s pain—delicious, mouth-watering pain—shooting down his skull as Eddie yanks him back by his hair, his eyes dark and wild and dangerous. “Listen, King Steve. You came to me because you’re the one who needs this. You’re the one that gets off on cheating on your perfect little girlfriend. You’re the one who doesn’t want to admit you like getting fucked in the ass by other men. You. Not me.” Eddie gives Steve’s hair another rough tug. “So let’s cut the bullshit and skip to what you came here for, or I’m throwing you out and I’m not letting you back in.”
Steve hasn’t been scolded like this since he was in school. It kicks up something defiant in him, something that needs to reassert his status as the alpha in the room, but there’s a part of him that’s much louder that wants him to roll over and bare his neck to Eddie. To submit and let himself be fucking ruined.
He’s also never been harder in his life.
“Harrington,” Eddie warns, scraping a nail down Steve’s chest. “What’s it gonna be?”
Fuck, what other choice does Steve have?
His voice comes out strained. “I’ll cut the bullshit.”
“Good boy,” Eddie purrs, releasing Steve’s hair and palming at his dick again. Fuck, that’s good, even through two layers of fabric it’s better than Steve’s own hand, and he arches up into the touch and lets a little whine escape his throat.
“Except,” Eddie starts, and no, no, Steve just wants to get fucked, “I’m not fucking you until you admit that what I said is true.”
“It’s true,” Steve pants, his brain already losing higher functioning even as Eddie squeezes his cock hard.
“Come on, Steve. You know better than that.”
So Steve squeezes his eyes shut. Remembers what Eddie told him.
“I’m the one who needs this,” he says, and he feels Eddie unzip his jeans, pet his cock through the opening. “I’m the one who—who comes to you because—because I need you.”
“Good, Steve,” Eddie soothes, teasing his thumb back and forth over the tip of Steve’s cock through his boxers, the fabric dragging where Steve is making a wet spot. Already. “What else?”
“I like it when you fuck me,” Steve moans, hitching his hips up just thinking about it. Outside of this room, it would be a lot harder for him to say, but surrounded by the scent and sight and taste of Eddie, it flows out of his mouth with ease. “I like having your cock inside me. I… I like it better than being inside girls sometimes.”
“Clearly,” Eddie laughs to himself, tugging Steve’s jeans and boxers off and tossing them to the side, running his hands through the hair on Steve’s inner thighs and pinching at the sensitive skin. “Wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”
Eddie ghosts a single finger down the underside of Steve’s cock, and it jumps off his stomach at the touch, Steve opening his eyes again just to see Eddie’s hand on him, light bouncing off of his rings and casting pretty shapes onto Steve’s hips.
“And?” Eddie goads, pumping his hand slowly up and down Steve’s cock, staring him down. “What’s the last thing, baby?”
“I—I—”
Fuck, why is it so hard to just come out and say it? He spends so many of his waking moments turning this whole thing over in his head, beating himself up over what he’s doing, thinking about each possible outcome and playing them out until he’s prepared for every one. Every date he goes on with Kelly, he’s thinking about how to end things with Eddie. Every time he shows up on Eddie’s doorstep, he’s thinking about how to tell Kelly what’s going on. He knows intimately what he’s doing, so much so that it hurts his head trying to keep everything straight, so why can’t he just fucking admit to it already?
“Spit it out, Steve,” Eddie says, trailing his hand down until he’s rubbing his fingers back and forth over Steve’s hole, liquid heat running up Steve’s spine and making it even harder for him to piece words together. But Eddie isn’t the type of guy who will just let this slide. No. Eddie will make good on his promise, and even though Steve should let Eddie kick him out…
He can’t. He isn’t ready to give this up. He needs this.
Just like Eddie said he did.
“I like cheating on my girlfriend,” Steve gets out all in one breath, guilt immediately weighing heavy on his chest, knocking the air out of his lungs just in time for Eddie to push two lube-slick fingers into his body and send Steve’s brain leaking out of his ears. “I like cheating on my girlfriend with you.”
“Oh, how the mighty fall,” Eddie smirks, rubbing his fingers up against Steve’s prostate. “If only Nancy Wheeler could see her King Steve now. I bet she wouldn’t be surprised. She was always too good for you anyway.”
Steve’s stomach lurches. “And you’re not?”
“I’m the devil-worshiping fag of Hawkins High, Steve,” Eddie says, his tone dry and annoyed. “Right now? You and I are perfect for each other. Thou shalt not commit adultery and all that.”
“Have you ever even—fuck—even stepped foot in a church?”
Eddie’s sliding a third finger into him and Steve is slowly losing the ability to respond, his cock twitching and bobbing up off his stomach with every thrust of Eddie’s fingers that goes all the way inside. He needs to get fucked right now, but as always, Eddie is taking his sweet time just to torture Steve as much as possible.
“No I have not,” Eddie laughs, twisting his fingers right up against Steve’s prostate, and fuck, fuck, shit, that’s too much, that’s so— “Might burst into flames as soon as I cross the threshold. I don’t really worship the devil, you know, but the sodomy might do it.”
“Sodomy—sodomy is legal in Indiana—”
“And why, praytell, does Steve Harrington know that little piece of information?”
“Just fuck me already,” Steve grunts, shoving his hips down onto Eddie’s fingers. “You talk too much.”
“And you’re too fucking bossy, Steve, but I deal with it anyway, don’t I?”
“Fuck you.”
Eddie laughs. “Maybe once you break up with your girlfriend.”
And then Eddie is pushing his sweatpants down and ripping open a condom he got from who knows where, sliding it on and slicking himself up without even fully undressing. Like it’s a chore for him to give this to Steve when he wants it, like he could pull out and go back to his evening. It shouldn’t be hot. It shouldn’t be.
Steve spreads his legs wide as Eddie sinks in, a long groan leaving his mouth when Steve bears down and then relaxes, watching Steve with calculated eyes. Steve’s dick is bigger than Eddie’s, but it still feels like it’s splitting him open every time they do this, his eyes rolling back as Eddie rocks in and out until he’s all the way inside.
“Fuck,” Steve chokes out, his fingers digging into the threadbare sheets covering the cheap mattress, his toes curling as Eddie starts a slow grind that makes Steve’s vision go hazy. Eddie reaches up and pinches one of Steve’s nipples between his calloused fingers, rubbing it in rough circles that match the rhythm of his hips, and Steve never remembers that Eddie is a musician so much as he does when they fuck. Eddie is playing his body, the perfect mixture of sharp and dull pleasure, and Steve is starting to remember why he can’t stay away.
Most people who are repeat offenders at Eddie’s place are addicted to drugs. Steve is just addicted to him.
“More,” Steve pants, and Eddie’s grinding stops so he can adjust his stance, pulling Steve’s hips up into his lap and finally starting to fuck him with a steady rhythm. It’s—fuck, it’s so good Steve can barely think, and Eddie’s mouth isn’t running a mile a minute, just soft pants and the occasional moan that cut through the slick sound of his cock. But there’s still a part of Steve’s brain lighting up, telling him that this is dirty and it’s wrong, and Steve can’t remember why. It feels so good, and Eddie is squeezing his hips hard enough to leave marks and Steve should be upset but he’s not, he wants them, he wants Eddie to possess him.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Eddie mutters, and Steve doesn’t think he was supposed to hear that, but it lights him up from the inside and his cock drools all over his stomach, his body tensing up as Eddie speaks again, louder now. “Tell me you love this.”
“I—I—Eddie, I love it,” Steve cries out, moaning when Eddie bends him almost in half and starts fucking pounding him, fast and hard and holy shit, he’s gonna come, holy shit—
“Tell me her name,” Eddie demands.
“Wh-what?”
Steve’s mouth is hanging open, but his eyes are open wide enough to see the way Eddie grins down at him, his hair hanging in his face, a lion with a gazelle in its jaws.
“Tell me her name, Stevie.”
“Eddie,” Steve whines, so close to the edge and so desperate to tip over, his cock pulsing and begging to be touched, and he doesn’t understand but he needs Eddie to make him come, needs to do it around Eddie’s cock. “I don’t—Eddie, please—”
Eddie’s smile widens, and Steve yells as Eddie bends over so he’s hovering inches from Steve’s face, bangs sticking to his forehead and wild curls clinging to his flushed cheeks. Steve should be scared. Instead, all he feels is need.
“Go on, then, big boy,” Eddie coos, his lips parted, fast breaths hitting Steve’s mouth. He yanks Steve’s hips up so his cock is grinding against Eddie’s stomach with every thrust, and shit, shit, shit shit shit—
“Eddie—”
Steve’s head fills with white noise as he arches off the bed, Eddie holding him up as he shakes apart and comes between them, his orgasm exploding through his body harder than it ever has before, higher than Eddie has ever taken him. His thighs start to tremble around Eddie’s waist because Eddie is still fucking him, even as his body gets hypersensitive and he starts whining and squirming to get away from the sensation. But just as he’s about to ask Eddie to stop, he sees Eddie’s brows furrow, his rhythm faltering as he comes inside the condom, his cock twitching inside of Steve.
“Shit,” Eddie gasps, slowly letting go of Steve’s hips and sliding out of him. It’s always a weird feeling, Steve clenching down around nothing as Eddie ties off the condom and throws it into the little trash can next to his bed that Steve insisted he get after witnessing Eddie toss it onto the floor one too many times.
“Yeah.” Steve swallows and licks his lips, tries to get some moisture back into his mouth. Eddie flops down on the bed next to him and stares up at the ceiling.
“Are we finally gonna talk about this?”
Steve huffs. “Do we ever?”
“No,” Eddie sighs. “But, you know. Maybe we should.”
Steve doesn’t reply to that. He stares up at the ceiling too, honing in on every part of his body Eddie touched, at the ache it’s left behind on his skin. Eddie’s hair tie is still around his wrist, squeezing just a little too tight. It’ll be enough for a while. This can be enough.
Eddie breaks the silence. “When’s the next date?”
Kelly. Right. Steve can’t believe he’d… and Eddie must have known that would happen, must have played him just right to get his desired outcome like Steve is a member in his nerd game club. He can blame Eddie for that too.
Steve clears his throat. “Thursday.”
“Thursday,” Eddie repeats, and Steve hears the flick of his lighter, the long inhale of him taking a drag. “Should I expect you after?”
Steve doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.
They both know the answer.