Archive of Our Own

The most unbelievable thing about Eddie Munson’s life — realistically speaking — should be that he still has one. After bats in the Upside Down ate his left nipple, part of his thigh, and half of his liver, even the government doctors called it “a miracle” that he woke up. 

However, most people aren’t allowed to know about all of that... So, maybe the most unbelievable thing about his life — in the popular consciousness of Hawkins, Indiana — is that Eddie got his diploma. 

But if Eddie could go back in time and speak to himself in 1981 or even ‘82, when his hair and limbs were at very awkward lengths, that kid would probably think it was pretty sick, actually, that bats ate his nipple and he survived the journey into Mordor and back. Eddie doesn’t think he would have found it particularly surprising. He’s always been “imaginative.” He always dreamt of big, epic adventures!

And, even if that gangly sophomore Eddie would be kind of pissed that it took him six years to graduate, he wouldn’t be surprised. It’s not like his grades were any good back then.

No, all that stuff is conceivable, at least for him. Maybe all the details were actually much worse to live through than Eddie’s imagination could stretch. But there are other things — smaller, but at the same time bigger things — that Eddie just cannot believe about his own life. 

So, if he had a time machine and no regard for the consequences, Eddie would skip over the nipple thing, the near death thing, the false accusations of murder, the super-super senior status, and probably the drugs, too. He’d just set his hand on his younger self’s shoulder and say, “Hey man, I’m you from the future and we fucked Steve Harrington.”

Or, he wouldn’t.

“If you had a time machine, would you try to warn your younger self about the future?” Eddie asks. “Or do you think you’d do something more heroic, like kill baby Hitler?”

“What?” Steve asks.

“I said, if you had a time machine—”

“No, no,” Steve says. “I heard you, I just thought we were — you know — anyway, I mean, I…”

“Yeah, that was what got me thinking about it, actually,” Eddie says.

He’s stretched out on the mattress that was included with the apartment — and which Robin made Steve take. There are springs digging into Eddie’s back even through Steve’s comforter. With his head propped up on a pillow, Eddie can just see Steve hunched down to pull a white tube sock up over his hairy calf. It’s got little green stripes at the top of the cuff.

He stands up afterward.  Eddie can’t help but wolf-whistle. There Steve is, in the shortest little white shorts and one sock, with his hands on his hips.

“What would you warn your younger self about?” he asks. “The— Or— Is it me?”

He frowns with his eyebrows mostly, his pretty pink mouth scrunching up into a pout. Eddie wants to eat him. Just grab him and stuff him into his mouth like a handful of popcorn.

“Yeah, going to tell that little fucker to start jogging or something,” Eddie says. “Gotta build up better stamina for saving the world and keeping up with you in the sack.”

“Oh,” Steve says. “Well, then…”

He goes a little pink in the cheeks. The frowning and pouting ease slightly.

“I think I wouldn’t want to risk creating a, a time paradox or something,” Steve finally answers. He’s bent over again, pulling on the other sock. Eddie can’t see this one as well as the other.

“I mean, there’s stuff I’d change if I could. Who wouldn’t?” Steve asks. “But what if I changed stuff and then I didn’t get to have this?” 

It’s probably rhetorical, but it makes Eddie feel warm somewhere under his sternum. He sits up suddenly, even though it sends screaming little shocks of discomfort down his whole torso. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to tell his past self to workout just a little. Like no need to do a sport, but limber up a bit.

“Don’t worry, babe,” Eddie tells him. “There’s no timeline where I wouldn’t let you have all this.”

Steve looks up from the shoelaces on his Nikes.

“You’re just saying that because I’m doing one of your costume kink things for you.” He scowls a little, but Eddie’s already too accustomed to the way Steve’s lips move when he’s secretly delighted by something.

“Why do you think I even have a thing for uniforms, Stevie?” Eddie asks, really laying into the question. “You think I was watching a lot of games on cable? Buying Sports Illustrated to jerk off to?”

Steve gives him a considering look. “I mean…”

“No way!” Eddie says, now leaning over the bed to swat in Steve’s general direction. “It’s you!”

“I mean!” Steve says. “You’re not wrong about that either!”

Eddie talks over him. “No, idiot, it’s you! You and your walking through the halls in those little shorts!”

“I never did that,” Steve snaps back. “I hated wearing this uniform outside the gym. It’s too damn cold.”

“It sure didn’t look cold,” Eddie says. He pushes himself as far as he can over the edge of the mattress without falling off the bed.

Steve leans a bit closer toward him.

“Big boy,” Eddie teases.

“Are you trying to make out right now?” Steve asks. “Or see me in my old basketball uniform?”

“Both,” Eddie tells him. “Obviously. I’m trying to fuck you in your old high school basketball uniform.”

Steve blushes to the tops of his ears. Eddie wants to bite him. He wants to push the perfectly, artfully fluffed bit of hair out of the way so he can just sink his teeth into Steve’s ear cartilage. Steve would probably even let him.

Until he pulls the jersey on, Steve holds himself carefully. He places his hands over or near his scars. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“There,” he says. “It’s too small, now. I don’t exactly… I mean, I’ve had some changes to my lifestyle.”

His chest hair peaks up over the collar, right up to the line of his collarbone. The hem of the jersey rides up his belly slightly. The shorts fit tight to Steve’s thighs and cut into the flesh above his hips. The cut of the jersey makes his arms look bigger, too, but honestly…

This isn’t the smooth, young body that Eddie saw once or twice while ducking through the locker room on the way to smoke up in a toilet stall.

It’s so, so much better.

“You wearing a jockstrap under those?” Eddie asks.

“Why don’t you come find out?” Steve replies. The way he rests his hands on his hips reads as confidence now, whereas it often makes him look like a disappointed suburban mother. 

Eddie slides off of Steve’s bed as smoothly as he can. He only stumbles a little on his own loose bootlaces.

Steve’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows. His stubble is coming in. It’s late. Steve had a closing shift, but still agreed to this because he wants it and he’s off tomorrow. Eddie can’t believe it. Eddie wants to kiss him. He’s so good, so perfect. Eddie can’t wait to tell him how good and perfect he is.

He steps forward and Steve eases back. His thigh catches on the corner of a stack of still-packed boxes. Steve’s handwriting reads “sweaters” on the side of one.

“What are you getting out of this?” Steve asks, in a quiet voice.

Eddie walks him up against the closet door.

“Oh, sweetheart, what am I not getting out of this?”

Steve looks at him with his big brown eyes, perpetually large and wet and worried. He looks at Eddie like he’s waiting for something: an explanation, a command, a joke. Instead, Eddie moves in so close that it makes them both cross-eyed. 

Steve’s mouth tastes faintly bitter from the beer he had after dinner. He lets Eddie kiss him up against the closet door. His mouth opens up for Eddie’s tongue. His lips are soft against Eddie’s, even when Eddie kisses him as deep as he can. He touches the corner of Steve’s lip with his thumb. Steve sucks on his tongue, like he wants to be kissed even deeper. He lets Eddie bite at his lips. 

“Fuck,” Steve says, already breathless, “Eddie.”

Eddie moves to his jaw, feeling the roughness of a 5 o’clock shadow at 1 a.m. It makes his lips tingle. He kisses gently at the space under Steve’s jaw, but when he moves further down Steve’s neck he sucks a little harder. There are scars here. Steve’s not as sensitive or maybe too sensitive. Having Eddie’s hands here freaked him out a few weeks ago in Eddie’s bedroom of the new government-bought trailer that smells of a billion chemicals but doesn’t have death soaked into the ceiling. Steve apologized afterwards.

“I want it,” he had said, between too-rapid breaths. “I’m sorry, Eddie, I swear, I kept thinking about it when I jerked off and I thought — I thought that meant — I’m sorry.”

So, Eddie kisses him now like he can fix it, like he can make every fantasy possible for Steve. He’s certainly willing to try. 

“I meant.” He hears Steve licking his lips. “Am I playing a character? Are we pretending we’re in high school or something?”

Eddie pulls himself off Steve’s collarbone with a wet little pop.

“Sure thing, Strider,” Eddie says. “We can always roleplay. I just like the look, but you already know…”

He runs his fingertips down the length of all that arm muscle Steve didn’t have in high school. In his mind, he’s flipping through memories. The one where he pretended to be a vampire who could suck Steve’s life out through his dick was fun. But Steve had seemed really into all the things Eddie called him when he was a “knight” tied up with hemp rope in the “dragon’s lair” of Eddie’s bedroom.

Steve makes a face to himself, like he’s thinking too. Then he nods. Eddie wishes he knew what that was about. Now that he knows people can read thoughts, he wishes he could read Steve’s.

“Munson,” Steve says, with his hands on Eddie’s waist.

“Hm?” Eddie asks. “What is it, Harrington?”

Steve makes a slightly sour face at being called by his last name while Eddie presses his thigh against his half-chub.

“Heard you can get stuff,” Steve says.

“Depends,” Eddie says. “What are you looking for? Trying to get juiced up?”

He squeezes Steve’s arm, feeling the way Steve tenses so that the muscles turn to hardened steel under Eddie’s fingers. Jesus Christ, Eddie really cannot believe this. Then, Steve relaxes again, goes soft.

“Don’t think you really need that,” Eddie tells him.

“I don’t,” Steve says, sounding smug. He’s got that little smile on his face.

“Look,” he says, and his gaze drops to Eddie’s mouth and then comes back, “usually I’d send someone to you with cash, but…”

He chews on his lower lip.

“I’m broke.”

Eddie snorts. “Really?”

“Really,” Steve says. He’s grinning. “And I… I really need it, Munson, I can’t even fall asleep without it.”

“What a shame,” Eddie says. “And this… This stuff, do you think about it all the time?”

“All the time,” Steve repeats. “I can’t focus on anything else.”

“You hooked on something?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says, pushing his hips against Eddie’s thigh. “I think I’m addicted to it. I need it. I’d do anything.”

“Anything?” Eddie echoes.

“Anything, Munson,” Steve says. “Anything you want.”

“Ooh, having the King himself at my mercy,” Eddie says, reaching up to hold Steve by the chin. “How can I resist?”

“Call me Steve,” he says.

“Ah, ah, ah, you’re not really in a position to make demands, methinks,” Eddie tells him. “If you want it so bad.”

Steve swallows, then lets out a big gust of breath.

“Please?” he asks. “Please call me Steve?”

Eddie leans in toward Steve’s ear where he smells like the fragrances in his shampoo and hairspray. Something sweet and floral. Something just as pretty as Steve is.

“Alright, Steve,” he whispers. “You can call me Eddie. No need for formalities between us when I’m about to make you suck my dick.”

Pressed up against the closet door, Steve’s whole body gives a jolt. Eddie feels an echo of it run down his own spine. God, Steve makes it so easy for him. He feels it in his forearms and in his scalp, the way he does a particularly sick guitar riff. What the fuck is Eddie’s life?

“Are you going to use these?” Steve asks. The hand on his waist moves down to jangle the cuffs hooked on Eddie’s belt loops.

Eddie pulls back enough to look Steve in the eye.

“Do I have to?” he asks. He means, “Do you want me to?”

“Maybe,” Steve says. “Yeah. I mean, then I can’t stop you…”

Steve’s mouth must be watering the way he keeps swallowing. It must be so wet in there. A little thread of saliva connects his lower lip to one of his perfect incisors. It snaps when he speaks again.

“While you make me suck you off.”

“Hmm, you want it sooo badly,” Eddie says. He’s reaching up and pushing the hair away from Steve’s ear like he kept fantasizing about doing. Those ears are red with blood. Eddie brushes a freckle with his thumb.

“But you won’t just be a good boy and work for what you want?” Eddie asks. He clicks his tongue a few times. He shakes his head.

“Typical.”

“Maybe — maybe I will,” Steve says. “But you don’t know, Eddie.”

Steve’s eyes move over him like he’s got X-Ray vision and he’s trying to count the bite marks on Eddie’s ribs. It’s so much more than undressing Eddie with his eyes. It feels violent.

“I’m just a dumb jock, right?” Steve asks. “Good at making buckets, but not much else.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says. “You look like you’re good at plenty of things.”

As he steps back slightly, Eddie brushes his thumb over Steve’s lower lip. Steve’s tongue tries to chase that touch, but he’s left licking at nothing.

“Pretty mouth like yours,” Eddie says. “I’ve heard rumors that you know how to use it.”

He fishes the keys out of his pocket.

“Yeah?” Steve asks. “My teammates talking about all the post-game blowjobs I give in the locker room?”

Eddie fumbles and drops the keys. He can feel himself absolutely burning with lust even though he’s at best half-hard and still fully clothed. Steve Harrington is a menace.

“Got ‘em,” Steve says, diving to his knees. Eddie watches him snatch up the keys off the scuffed-up wood floor. Steve’s knees frame Eddie’s feet. His legs are spread well apart and the fabric of those fucking shorts pulls up the length of his thighs until the hair thins out at the tops. Just another inch and it’ll get even thicker and darker leading up to Steve’s cock. 

They should put a pillow down. The flooring in this new place is going to shred Steve’s knees.

Steve’s hand is hot even through Eddie’s jeans. In less than a blink, Steve pushes his face against Eddie’s zipper.

“Whoa!” Eddie says. “Hey, hey, you’re getting ahead of me.”

“Thought you wanted me to suck you off,” Steve says, directly to Eddie’s dick. Eddie can hear him breathing in deeply. The other hand comes up to rest on Eddie’s other thigh. He can feel the keys against Steve’s palm.

“Gimme those,” Eddie says.

Steve easily gives them up, but he doesn’t quit rubbing his nose against Eddie’s crotch, feeling out his hard dick with his face. Still, Eddie doesn’t fumble again. He gets the cuffs off his belt loops. 

“Get up,” he says. 

Steve pulls his face away and looks up at him with those big, brown eyes. His brows rise up and crease his forehead under the flip of his perfect hair.

Eddie probably couldn’t force Steve up if he had to actually force him. They wrestled around once in the bedroom of the house the Harringtons recently sold to land developers (who may be the Department of Energy or the CIA). Yeah, Eddie had won — but he had only been out of the federal government’s temporary hospital for about two weeks, so he knows Steve was letting him win. Eddie has the strength now to haul boxes and furniture, but he doesn’t think he could move Steve Harrington. This guy goes jogging every morning and only owns books with weird titles like “Tao of Jeet Kune Do.” 

But it’s that same Steve Harrington who gets to his feet when Eddie touches him. 

“Turn around,” he says. He pushes Steve’s face against the closet door. The basketball jersey has ridden up to show an inch of flesh above the waistband of his shorts. Steve arches his back so that his ass looks even better. Again, he’s a menace.

Eddie closes a cuff around Steve’s right wrist, but not too tight. He actually likes to leave it so that Steve can slip out of them if he really needed to. Eddie hasn’t really gotten all the details about the Russians, but Robin has told him enough. He wants to give Steve things he wants — nothing less, but nothing more either.

Steve offers him his left wrist, which makes it even easier. Eddie clicks the cuff shut (loosely).

He pushes himself up onto his toes slightly as he presses against Steve’s back.

“Now,” Eddie tells him, “you’re mine.”

He’s whispering directly into Steve’s ear, because his face is still mashed against the door. Eddie pushes the hair away from Steve’s ear with his nose. He scrapes his teeth along the curve of Steve’s ear, then follows it with his tongue.

“This stuff’s expensive,” Eddie says. “You can’t pay me, that means I gotta just eat the cost. Gonna have to raise the prices for everyone else, just to satisfy you.”

Even cuffed, Steve grabs at Eddie’s shirt with his hands. 

“I’ll make it worth it,” Steve says.

“That’s a big promise,” Eddie says. “Not sure I believe you. Sounds like you’re just needy.”

“No, no,” Steve says. “I can do it. Come on, Eddie, let me…”

Eddie kisses the corner of his mouth and Steve trails off. He’s easy to turn in Eddie’s arms. Then Eddie puts him back up against the closet door. This time, though, he doesn’t push quite as hard. He doesn’t want Steve to lose circulation in his hands or arms.

Steve’s mouth is incredibly wet inside. Eddie lets that awareness soak into him. Steve’s mouth literally waters at the thought of sucking his dick. It makes him a little dizzy. Maybe a little aggressive, too. He bites down hard on Steve’s lower lip. Steve makes a sharp little noise. He kisses back, pushing his tongue against Eddie’s in his mouth. It’s messy. There’s spit on Steve’s chin when he pulls back.

“You think I’ll be as easy to please as all those…” Eddie’s brain screeches to a halt for a moment. Don’t think about cheerleaders. Don’t think about cheerleaders. Don’t think about —

Steve kisses him, all sweet and open mouthed. Eddie throws himself back into kissing. He lets Steve hump him a little, even. The feeling passes. He doesn’t even feel stupid about it.

“Yeah,” Steve says, quiet and low. “I bet I can do it for you just like I have so many other guys.”

Eddie literally isn’t even asking him to do this. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from. Steve blowing other basketball players? That’s not something Eddie could have dreamt up during his most depraved chronic masturbator era. The kind of fantasies that Eddie had about Steve back then were just getting his attention, even though it was certainly going to end in Eddie getting called names or punched out. He’d imagined being forced to his knees, at first, before he realized how badly he wanted to see… Well, the exact thing he’d seen when he dropped the handcuff key.

“Slut,” Eddie says.

Up close, Steve’s pupils make up most of his brown eyes.

“Didn’t anybody warn you about me?” Eddie asks.

The skin under Steve’s eyes is creasing up as he smiles.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “You’re not like any of the band geeks or jocks, right? You’re too cool for us.”

He’s grinning. The twerp. Eddie rolls his eyes.

“And let me guess,” Eddie says. “You don’t believe any of that.”

“Sucking a dick is a sucking a dick,” Steve says, like he didn’t apologize before giving Eddie head the first time and then promptly forgot that he can breathe through his nose.

“It doesn’t have, like, tentacles or something?” Steve asks. “Maybe little horns? Oh, I heard a rumor that you had a piercing.”

“Wait, really?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, actually,” Steve laughs. “Not that I was disappointed that you don’t.”

Eddie takes a moment to adjust himself in his jeans. Then he reaches for the hem of Steve’s white and green jersey. The “Hawkins” on the front is a weird orange-yellow that’s probably meant to be gold. Even after six years, Eddie’s not totally sure what his school’s colors are.

Also, the uniform changed right? This really is an old one. Whatever, that’s too deep of a thought for right now. He pushes the jersey up with his fingertips. The little hairs thicken and darken going up the line of Steve’s belly. He’s petting them the wrong way, these hairs are really a big arrow pointing down to Steve’s dick. 

Eddie’s always been great at ignoring directions. He pushes the jersey up over Steve’s ribs and into his armpits.

“How are you planning to get this off?” Steve asks, teasingly.

“Shut up,” Eddie says. “I don’t want to take it off.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks. “Then what are you doing?”

“Getting my money’s worth,” he says. Oh, that’s a good one! It makes Steve smile.

Then, Eddie reaches over and flicks Steve’s nipple with his forefinger and thumb. Steve hisses. Eddie reaches across his chest, letting his fingers tousle Steve’s chest hair. He pinches the other nipple between the same fingers. Steve’s head thuds back against the closet door. His cock presses against Eddie’s thigh. Eddie allows it.

“You like that?” Eddie asks. He pulls slightly and Steve makes the kind of whining noise he can’t control. His face scrunched up. He breathes hard when Eddie lets him go.

Eddie touches Steve gently, afterward, while Steve looks at him. His mouth hangs open. There’s no quick retort this time.

“Love how sensitive you are,” Eddie says.

When he moves his hand, the jersey starts slipping back down. It’s expected, like, because gravity exists. But Eddie’s still annoyed. It draws Steve out of his weird, quiet headspace, too. Which is worse.

“Seems kinda pointless,” he says. “You could leave it down.”

Eddie yanks the jersey up with one hand and grabs Steve by the nipple with the other. This time he twists a little. Steve grunts when he does it. And again when Eddie lets go.

“What was that?”

“Kinda pointless,” Steve says, his voice breathy. “Just gonna fall down.”

Eddie hums. He rubs his thumb over the hard, sensitive little nub of Steve’s nipple.

“Not if I shove it in your mouth,” he says.

Steve goes quiet.

“How’s your dick going to fit, then?” Steve asks, but the pause has been too great. Eddie has to know, now.

“Plenty of other places I could put my dick,” Eddie says.

This time when Steve tries to grind on him, Eddie moves his thigh back and out of reach.

“Nah,” Eddie says, “I think I’ll only do it a little while. Would let me work you over without all your pesky little comments. Then, when you’re good and horny, I’ll fuck your pretty little mouth.”

Steve makes a sound, wet and guttural, in his throat. Then, he swallows.

“I don’t know, man,” he says. “Shirt’s not gonna come off like this.”

Oh, Eddie realizes. He’s being provoked. He yanks the hem up to Steve’s chin. Then, past it. The fabric fits between Steve’s lips. He catches it in his teeth, gamely. 

It puts the cutest little crease in Steve’s cheeks. The apples of them get all fat and pushed up under his eyes; it’s really a cute look, especially when he’s flushed. Eddie kisses his cheek.

Steve tries to say something through the gag.

“Awww,” Eddie coos. “What was that?”

Steve mumbles it again, with purpose. But Eddie isn’t meant to hear and understand it. It could be anything. Steve could be telling him to fuck off or giving him nuclear launch codes. It’s all the same.

Eddie steps back to see the sights. Steve’s hard little nipples and the width of his hairy chest. The scars low on his belly, all pink and shiny and screaming Steve’s bravery to the world. His hard cock makes his little white polyester shorts jut out from his hips. There’s just so much leg between the hem of his shorts and the cuffs of his socks.

Steve looks back at Eddie just as hard as Eddie looks at him. It’s that X-ray vision feeling.

“You want something, Steve?” Eddie asks. 

He nods, but doesn’t dislodge the jersey.

“Wonder what it could be,” Eddie says. He hums again as he plays with the hem of his shirts.

Even around Steve and Robin, Eddie has been wearing long sleeves and undershirts. It’s a sweaty affair. His deodorant can’t quite keep up. Next summer should be fun. Eddie pulls both shirts off at once and throws them wherever.

Steve takes in the sight of his half-eaten chest tattoo and the half-finished coverup on his side like a dying fighter might look at a potion of healing. Eddie doesn’t know what he’s seeing and he’s too afraid to ask. But Steve’s eyes range all over him. He even bows his head a little, making Eddie want to adjust the way his dick sits trapped against his thigh.

Steve mumbles more incomprehensible nuclear secrets at him.

Eddie moves back in. He reaches out and pulls Steve away from the door. They should get closer to the main event, really, and that’s going to require more space. Also Eddie wants to grab at Steve’s chest with both hands and circle his thumbs around Steve’s nipples until Steve’s head lolls back.

“If you’re this fun to play with,” Eddie says. “I bet you’d be great to suck on.”

Steve says something.

Eddie kisses his neck first, biting right below his fading scar. He bites Steve’s nipple too. Hard enough to make Steve grunt again. He’s actually sucked and bitten hard enough to leave a hickey on one, but that’s not his goal tonight. He just digs his teeth in until he gets a response and then lets go. There’s so much skin to touch. Once Eddie has run his fingers down Steve’s ribs and pressed his bare belly to Steve’s while grabbing his ass, he moves back up. He kisses Steve’s upper lip where it rests on the fabric of the jersey bunched up in his mouth.

“Let’s see,” Eddie says.

He reaches down to grab Steve’s dick through his little shorts. It throbs in his hand. His grip is firm, but only offers half a stroke.

He hums again. “Yeah, I think that’s it.”

Eddie pulls the jersey out from between Steve’s teeth carefully. He also makes sure he pulls the fabric clear of Steve’s nose. But his hair? Yeah, it’s Eddie’s personal mission to fuck that up as much as possible.

When he’s done, the jersey frames Steve’s shoulders and the hem has been pulled to the back of his neck. It looks like a harness.

The fabric cuts into Steve’s pecs and pits in a way that can’t be comfortable when he’s already got his arms behind his back. Eddie grins at him. He squeezes a hand against his chest.

“The way you mess around,” Steve says, “it’s like you don’t even want a blowjob.”

There’s spit running down his chin and creases from the fabric on his face. He can’t rub it away and Eddie won’t do it for him. He also can’t brush away the hair hanging in his face.

Eddie kisses him. His mouth tastes weird from the fabric. Steve wets his tongue against Eddie’s. He presses into the kiss, eagerly, needy even. Eddie runs his hands over Steve’s chest and up to his shoulders. He feels out the muscles of Steve’s arms for a moment, reaches up to brush against the beauty marks he knows are on Steve’s cheek. Eddie could find those blindfolded in the dark.

His hands settle back on Steve’s shoulders. He forces Steve back to his knees. Or rather, he pushes down and Steve drops like his strings have been cut. His legs spread at Eddie’s feet.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters to himself. 

Steve grins up at him. Then he licks his lips.

Eddie gropes himself, well aware that Steve is just as hard with nothing to hump against until Eddie offers him his shin or something.

“So,” Eddie says. He bites the inside of his cheek. Steve raises an eyebrow.

“Just say it,” he says.

“You like balls, huh?” Eddie says. “Wanna play with mine?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but his smile doesn’t falter. Eddie feels something that might be love tugging at his heart. He reaches down to press his thumb to the spot beside his mouth where he sometimes gets a dimple, even though Steve insists he doesn’t have dimples.

“Sure,” Steve says. “I just love balls.” He’s so dry and deadpan that Eddie chokes on his own laughter.

“You’re so hot,” Eddie says. “I want to put both my balls in your mouth and keep them there.”

Steve’s expression grows thoughtful. He licks his lips again. Eddie watches him swallow. He puts his other hand on his fly and starts opening the buttons. Steve’s eyes refocus on him, watching Eddie’s hand. Eddie moves his thumb to the corner of Steve’s mouth. It slips in as Eddie pushes his jeans down. The elastic of his boxers goes next. 

The pad of Eddie’s thumb slides against the slick skin inside Steve’s cheek. It’s terribly soft. Eddie pinches Steve’s cheek and brings him forward like that.

“I’d ask if you’re ready baby,” Eddie says. “But you’re always ready for me, aren’t you?”

Steve’s eyelashes flutter. His spit drools out the corner of his mouth where Eddie’s yanking on his face. 

Eddie holds his dick in his left hand, pressing it up against his belly and rocking his hips so that his balls meet Steve’s lips first. Steve breathes in deep. It’s enough to make pre-cum leak out against Eddie’s palm. He can feel it. Steve gets him so wet sometimes just by… By liking him? Eddie couldn’t explain it if his life depended on it. 

There just aren’t words for what Steve does to him.

Steve presses the flat of his tongue to seam between Eddie’s balls. His nose grinds against the base of his cock. Steve’s eyes slide closed. Eddie finally lets him go. He wipes his thumb on Steve’s cheek.

It’s hard to keep his eyes open, but Eddie just has to watch as Steve licks him all over, pulls one of his nuts into his open mouth with just his lips and his tongue. He jerks himself off with his fist around the head of his cock, where it feels best. 

The back of Steve’s throat will feel even better, he thinks, and it makes heat wash down Eddie’s whole body. The muscles under his dick go tense. His balls move against Steve’s mouth, a twitch, a pulse. Steve huffs laughter against him. His breath ruffles all the dark curls around Eddie’s dick and over his balls. 

After a moment, Steve turns, makes a face, and spits on the floor.

“Hair,” he explains.

“Ungrateful,” Eddie says. “That was a gift just for you.”

Steve scowls up at him. “Gross.”

“If you think that was gross,” Eddie teases, “you’re not going to like when I come down your throat.”

“Maybe not,” Steve says. “But that’s why you cuffed me, isn’t it, Eddie?”

The piercing X-ray vision look is back. Eddie almost staggers back from the sharpness of Steve’s gaze.

“Isn’t it?” Steve asks. He keeps his eyes on Eddie as he leans back in and drags his hot tongue over Eddie’s balls and up the base of his shaft. Steve kisses him, wet and open mouthed.

“I can’t stop you,” Steve says. “I’m yours to use.”

Eddie takes a deep, deep breath.

Then, he grabs Steve by the hair. He’s careful, grabbing a big fistful and pressing his knuckles against Steve’s scalp. Even when he knows he’s got a good hold, Eddie lingers just to feel how fucking soft Steve’s hair is by the end of the day. All the hairspray has pretty much worn out. 

He yanks Steve’s head back and to the side. 

Steve’s mouth drops open and he grunts. He fights to open his eyes and look at Eddie.

Eddie’s hand slides down the grip the base of his dick. He points the wet, wet tip at Steve’s mouth.

Then he has another terrible idea.

He eases his fist back and forth. Steve’s eyes track the movement of Eddie’s cock head. Eddie grins. Moving his hand very slowly and deliberately, Eddie fucks his own fist. This is how he’s going to fuck Steve’s throat, he wants to say. But he doesn’t need to. Steve blinks at his dick all stupid. He knows.

Eddie holds the base and bounces his cock a little just to watch Steve watch him. 

“You want this so bad,” Eddie says. “It’s like you’re hypnotized.”

Steve’s throat clicks audibly when he swallows.

“It’s just a dick,” Steve says, but his voice is soft.

“Swiiiing,” Eddie teases. “Battah, battah…”

“Swing!” He slaps his cock against Steve’s cheek. Steve flinches back sharply, pulling his own hair against Eddie’s grip. A noise comes out of him; it’s fantastic. It’s partly that irritated huff he has when Eddie’s being a total comedic genius and partly his sex groan. Eddie’s cock drools out more pre-cum just at the sound.

“Don’t fucking do that,” Steve says. 

He glares up at Eddie, who grins back down at him.

“I thought you were mine,” Eddie says. “Aren’t you mine, big boy?” 

He rubs the wet head of his dick against the spot he just slapped on Steve’s cheek.

“Yeah, I love you,” Steve says, “but if you do that to my face again, I will bite you.”

“Aw,” Eddie replies, “is that a threat or a promise?”

Steve is mostly eyebrows as he looks up at Eddie. He’s looking up through his eyebrows. It’s so fucking cute. His pouty little frown, all wet with spit and red from scraping against Eddie’s pubes, pulls up into a toothy grin.

“It’s a threat,” Steve says. 

He snaps his teeth at Eddie, which makes Eddie’s hips jolt back and away. He makes a sound that definitely isn’t something a harsh sado-dominant would make. It might be a squeak. His fingers loosen in Steve’s hair.

He lets go. His knuckles are stiff when he flexes his fingers. Instead of yanking Steve around, Eddie takes a moment to pet his hair. God, he loves that he just gets to do that. 

“I’m a freak, but not that much of a freak, Steve,” Eddie says. “Maybe I’ll just jerk off on your face. Would be safer.”

Steve pouts at him. 

“Wait,” he says. “Really?”

“It’s not what I want,” Eddie says. “But I don’t want to get my dick bit off by a dumb jock who doesn’t know not to use teeth.”

Steve makes his sour face again. Eddie knows he’s getting to him, as though Eddie would ever actually renege on a promise to fuck Steve’s face.

“I like dumb jocks,” Eddie says. He leans over and ruffles Steve’s hair some more. “Love ‘em even, especially the real slutty ones. But it’s only worth it if they’re actually good.”

Steve blinks. Then he blinks again.

“I can,” he says. A swallowing sound. “I can be good.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

He straightens up and starts stroking his dick in front of Steve’s face again. Steve’s eyes flick between Eddie’s face and his cock. It’s somehow even cuter than Steve looking completely entranced by his dick. Up and down. Up and down. It doesn’t even match the stroke of Eddie’s fist.

“If you promise to be good,” Eddie says, making his voice as low and sweet as he can, “you can have it in your mouth.”

“I’ll be good,” Steve promises.

And, really, he’s been on his knees on a bare wood floor that desperately needs to be refinished. He’s got his hands cuffed, even though Eddie knows he doesn’t really like that. He’s wearing these little white shorts and a white Hawkins High School jersey, neither of which he really liked to wear when they actually fit him. Eddie knows just how good Steve can be for him. It’s kind of ridiculous of Eddie to even demand it. Promise to be good? Steve Harrington’s the fucking best.

“Stick your tongue out for me,” Eddie says.

Steve obeys instantly. He gazes up at Eddie’s face until his forehead creases. Eddie combs Steve’s hair back off his forehead so he can get the clearest view. He tilts Steve’s head back. Steve seems to stick his pretty pink tongue out even further.

Eddie sticks his own out a little in sympathy. He’s chewing it on. Shit, he probably looks like a fucking troll or a gargoyle, leaning over Steve with his weird chin jammed back into his neck and his cock out.

“Good boy,” Eddie says. “No biting.”

He rocks forward and rubs the head of his cock against Steve’s tongue. Fuck, it feels so good. He holds his dick at an angle so the sensitive spot under the head rubs against Steve’s curling tongue. Spit drips down onto Steve’s chin. Eddie wipes his pre-cum across Steve’s tastebuds.

“Yeah,” he says. “Just like that.” He strokes himself, still, pushing the skin up around the ridge of his cockhead and letting Steve’s tongue wet it. He catches some of Steve’s spit on his fingers and wets his dick with it as best he can.

Eddie feels a tremor in his legs already. He pushes up onto his toes and his cock sinks further into Steve’s open mouth. Steve is still looking up at him and Eddie can’t look away. Those big, big, big brown eyes aren’t cutting through Eddie and looking at all his bones and organs and embarrassing feelings. They’re just sweet and adoring. 

Eddie can’t stand it.

He feels the back of Steve’s throat taking him down, slick and tight and flexing around him as Steve gags. Spit splatters on the floor. It runs down the shaft of Eddie’s cock. 

What is Eddie getting out of this? Something so good that it literally makes him feel like he’s going to burst into flame. He’s going to spontaneously human combust. 

He’s going to snap back into his 19-year-old self, who wanted to pinch and pull at Steve Harrington’s split lip with his dirty fingers; and his 17-year-old self, who smoked in the locker room toilets and stripped his dick raw over seeing Steve Harrington in a jockstrap; and his 13-year-old self, who couldn’t look at any boy without thinking about what it would feel like to kiss him. He’s sort of all of those guys and also the 20-year-old burnout who woke up in a hospital bed with half a liver and Steve Harrington cradling Dustin Henderson across the room on a single, shared folding chair.

Fuck, he can’t think about this when he’s so close to jizzing on Steve’s tonsils.

“You’re doing so good,” Eddie says. “Yeah.”

He combs his hand through Steve’s hair again, then closes his hand into a fist. Steve likes that and Steve deserves to get something he likes out of all this.

“Just like that,” Eddie says, bumping into the back of Steve’s throat again. It has to feel bad, he thinks. It’s mean. But Steve can breathe a little easier. Eddie can feel him breathing around his dick.

“You’re perfect,” Eddie tells him, and means it. “Makes me want to do anything for you. You deserve it, the world, everything, Steve, fuck, my perfect little whore, best mouth in Indiana.”

Fuck, this is really showing off how at a loss for words Eddie is.

The nervous or slightly irritated little furrow has appeared between Steve’s eyebrows. Eddie tugs on the roots of his hair, holding him in place. Steve grunts around Eddie’s cock, a hot and wet push of air that moves over the head of his dick and over all the spit-slick skin that Eddie has pushed up around it.

“Christ,” Eddie murmurs. “Fuck.”

He’s the absolute picture of Eddie’s ultimate fantasy: flushed pink, with his perfect hair messed up by Eddie’s hands, mouth willing and eyes eager even with that little bit of irritation on his face (which might be because Eddie’s not just fucking his throat already or because Eddie’s got him by the hair). Eddie can still see Steve’s cock tenting his little white shorts. He can see Steve’s thighs spread wide. His tits are out, framed by the shirt that Eddie yanked up under his armpits.

Eddie pulls Steve’s head forward onto his cock as he folds forward. Steve’s nose buries in his curls. He swallows and swallows around Eddie’s dick in his throat, perfectly hot and wet and so tight. His tongue presses to Eddie’s balls again. It’s even wetter now. It drips down to the inside of Eddie’s thigh. Eddie gropes blindly grabbing at Steve’s chest with his free hand. He doesn’t have much time.

When he pulls back, Steve gasps for air.

“Fuck,” he croaks. His eyelashes are clumped together. His face is flushed. Eddie’s cock juts out, hard enough to stand on its own without his fist holding it up to Steve’s mouth. It’s like it knows where it ought to be.

Eddie shoves two fingers into his own mouth.

“Think you can do it again?” Eddie asks.

Steve looks dazed. “Yeah.”

His voice is full of gravel and honey. 

The next time Eddie doesn’t go so slow; he thrusts into Steve’s mouth and Steve helps him. He moves to catch Eddie’s cock and pulls his tongue in so he can cover his teeth with his lips. He swallows as Eddie moves his hips. 

He has to let go of Steve’s hair to keep his balance, folded in half as he is. He spits on his fingers again. Steve makes a sound around his cock. Eddie feels it in his fucking guts and he locks his knees before they can turn into water on him. His own spit runs down his knuckles. He can taste the metal of his rings. 

Eddie shoves his hand down the back of Steve’s little white shorts and through the damp hair in the cleft of Steve’s ass. He doesn’t press in, just circles and touches. This is his, he wants to say. Steve pushes back against him, moves as much as the position will allow.

And then Eddie has to pull away again. He stands up so fast that his hair whips back and he sees white spots in his vision. He staggers back, trying to catch his balance. 

“Oh fuck,” he says. Then he moves in close.

“I’m so close, Steve, baby,” he says. Steve leans toward him. He moves his mouth to take Eddie’s cock in even while Eddie reaches out to touch Steve’s face and his hair.

He grabs at him, at the roots of that perfect, wavy hair and his soft cheeks and his ears even. Eddie cups his hand at the back of Steve’s skull and thrusts in and out of his mouth. Sometimes Steve gags slightly. But that’s mostly because Steve is moving now, too. He’s fucking his own face on Eddie’s dick because he’s perfect.

“Want all of you,” Eddie says. “Want to take everything from you and give you everything, my perfect baby, my little slut.”

Steve does the work himself, but Eddie thrusts jackhammer fast against him. He feels Steve’s tongue and the back of his throat. He feels Steve trying to make it even better for him, swallowing and moving so he won’t gag.

“Ah, fuck,” Eddie says. “Gonna come right down your neck, Steve, gonna splooge all over your vocal cords.”

Steve doesn’t slow down. Eddie shuts his eyes so he can only hear the wet, gasping, sucking sound of what he’s doing to Steve’s mouth. There’s spit splattered against his pubes and lower belly. It’s dripping down inside his underwear. The muscles under Eddie’s balls pull tight. He can feel his asshole clench on nothing. His thighs seize up. His foot shakes.

“Daddy,” Eddie chokes out, because he knows Steve likes that and he’s got to do something for Steve right here at the peak. 

The force of his orgasm, the way his muscles shake, it feels like Eddie’s shooting semen down Steve’s throat so hard it should choke him. But Steve doesn’t even cough as Eddie starts to pull out. Come keeps spilling out of him as his dick twitches against Steve’s tongue. It pools there in Steve’s mouth and some runs down the corner of his lips.

Eddie blinks at him for a moment. He stares.

His dick is swollen and wet, but goes soft almost embarrassingly fast. It hangs down and bumps into Steve’s chin.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says.

He lets go of Steve’s hair, which points in approximately sixty-nine different directions now. Steve’s eyes are wet and he’s very red in the face. Eddie’s fucking sperm is dripping down his chin while he still kneels on the shitty wood floor.

“Fuck,” Eddie says. “Steve, your knees.”

As he reaches down to pull Steve up, Steve slips a hand out of one of the cuffs. 

“I got it,” he says. “I can stand up.”

But his knees are scratched up red and already bruising. Eddie puts one arm under Steve’s armpit and pulls Steve’s chest against his. Steve’s so warm against him. He’s tacky with sweat and his chest hair rubs against some places where Eddie can’t feel anything from the scar tissue. It’s such a strange feeling. He knows there’s something there, but he can't feel it.

Eddie kisses him. He tastes himself, bitter, on Steve’s tongue. 

They stagger backwards toward the bed. Steve’s hard in his little shorts, still, and rubbing his dick against Eddie’s hips above the waistband of his boxers.

First, Eddie gets the cuffs fully off. He holds Steve’s wrists, which aren’t nearly as red as his knees, and kisses them. Steve huffs.

“You were perfect,” Eddie says. “Shakespeare needs to come back and invent some new fucking words to describe how perfect you were. Sublime, transcendent, exemplary.”

“What,” Steve says, laughing slightly. “Eddie, I want to get off.”

“Going to kiss your knees, first,” Eddie insists. His dick keeps flopping around as he climbs all over Steve on the bed. He folds Steve’s leg and gently kisses his scraped and bruised knee. Steve looks at him like Eddie hung the moon in the sky and painted every star just for him. It makes Eddie’s heart climb up into his throat. 

“Gotta kiss it better,” he says. “Then I’ll get you some ice latter.”

“First can you do something about this?” Steve asks. He frames his hard cock by putting his big, perfect, slightly hairy hand alongside it over his little shorts.

“Yeah, big boy, we can do something about that,” Eddie says. “What do you want me to do? Want my mouth or my hand?”

“Wanna kiss you,” Steve says, sounding like he’s half-drunk and getting a cold. Eddie wants to rip his hair out. He’s so obsessed with this boy.

Eddie peels the shorts off Steve so that he can see Steve’s hard dick straining against the stretchy white fabric of a jockstrap. The socks stay on, too. And his Nikes. Eddie can’t even complain: Steve regularly cleans his shoes so they stay white and Eddie has fallen asleep wearing his crusty Reeboks.

Eddie peels off his jeans and kicks them off his feet. His boxers end up bunched up inside them. 

Once he’s naked, he presses Steve to the bed and kisses him. Eddie pulls the fabric of Steve’s jock aside so he can get to his dick. It’s not as wet as Eddie’s gets, but it’s rock hard and hot to the touch. Steve groans, deep and rumbling, underneath him. 

“Can’t believe you called me—”

“Gonna kiss you now,” Eddie interrupts.

Steve leans up to meet him. His mouth feels well fucked under Eddie’s lips. His lips are so wet and puffy against Eddie’s chapped ones. Steve keeps loaning him his Nivea chapstick, but Eddie can’t keep track of that shit. He’ll moisturize his mouth on Steve’s. 

Eddie licks his own come off of Steve’s chin while Steve thrusts up against his belly. Eddie moves his hips, keeps his too-sensitive cock away from Steve’s raging hard-on. Instead, Eddie offers Steve his thigh. 

“Want something slick?” Eddie asks, but Steve just grunts and pants.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Eddie tells him. He folds his arm so he can reach Steve’s hair again, petting it. “Wanna feel you come all over me, big boy.”

“Good,” Steve says.

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” Eddie says.

“No,” Steve says. “Me.” He pants more and squeezes his eyes shut against whatever it is he’s feeling.

“You’re so good, Steve,” Eddie tells him. “My good boy, right? You just want to please me.”

Steve huffs out little agreements. He humps up against Eddie’s body and clutches at the sheets under him.

“You know what would really please me?” Eddie asks. “If you come. I want to see you bust all over both of us, Steve, can you do that? Can you be good and come for me?”

Steve tips his head back and arches the column of his neck at Eddie. He kisses it just as sloppily as he has been kissing Steve’s mouth. The loud groan that rattles out of Steve shakes Eddie on top of him. It makes Eddie laugh. Steve’s just grind his body up against Eddie’s leg while stretched out under him. The whole bed shakes.

Eddie pulls his face off Steve’s throat and draws his hand out of Steve’s hair. When he licks his palm, it tastes a bit like hairspray. He reaches down and cups Steve’s cock against his thigh, pressing it to his skin.

“Uh, uh,” Steve grunts, and it bleeds perfectly into Eddie’s name. His name punched out in time to Steve’s last thrusts as he comes all over himself and Eddie. 

“Eddie, Eddie,” as Steve spills all over Eddie’s hand and up the length of his hip. Steve keeps moving as come slicks up his belly and gets all over Eddie’s. Eddie moves a little on top of Steve, letting himself get messy with it. The space between their skin is already wet from sweat, so this feels good. It’s warm and it makes the whole room smell like sex.

Eddie kisses him again, because how can he not?

“I love you,” Steve says, all starry eyes and sore throat.

Eddie kisses him again.

“I need to get a washcloth,” he says, when Steve has been thoroughly kissed. Eddie can barely even taste himself. Steve’s mouth is back to tasting like Steve’s spit.

“OK,” Steve says. He doesn’t move as Eddie peels himself off of Steve. He looks debauched on the bed. His pristine white Nikes and athletic socks splayed out toward the two corners of the bed. His hair has been ruined. His jockstrap pulled to the side and his shirt pulled up. Steve turns his head and watches Eddie dig his boxers out of wadded up jeans and pull them on.

“I’ll be right back,” Eddie says.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Steve says. “Promise.”

He gives Eddie a little wink that doesn’t make any sense, but it makes Eddie laugh. Maybe that’s why Steve did it. Maybe there’s no reason. It’s still cute. Steve looks like the kind of centerfold that would get someone sent to prison for obscenity: the athlete in ruin, covered in semen and sweat.

Eddie gets a glass of water and a container of leftover Chex Mix from the kitchen. It has a floppy plastic lid on top that Steve insists will keep it from getting stale. “So, Eddie, you don’t have to eat the entire thing when we make it,” he had explained. Whatever. 

He sets both of the bathroom counter while he wets a washcloth under the hot tap. It takes a while to warm up. Then it’s an interesting little juggling act for Eddie to get the water, washcloth, and Chex Mix back to Steve in bed.

Steve hasn’t gone anywhere, just like he promised. But he has taken off his socks and his shoes and the jersey that was caught over his shoulders. Not the jockstrap, though, Eddie notes. He stares right at it. Steve snorts.

“For you, my lord,” Eddie says, holding out the glass of water.

“Thanks,” Steve says.

When he drinks, a bit of the water escapes his lips and runs down his chin. Eddie has to look away as he wipes off Steve’s belly. He even makes sure he gets the cum out of Steve’s navel. He wipes down Steve’s chest and thighs, too, just because he can. Finally, when the washcloth has gone cold, Eddie gets the jizz off himself before it dries. It’s already gotten gross and sticky. It makes a mess in the hair above his belly. Eddie sticks the washcloth down his boxers and tries to clean himself up a bit more, but he should probably take a shower.

Later, he thinks.

Steve watches him with his head propped up on a pillow. The Chex Mix dish sits between them, but Steve rests his hand in it.

“Did you wash your hands?” Steve asks.

“No?” Eddie asks.

Steve sighs and sits up enough to feed Eddie a piece of salty corn cereal.

“I should add M&Ms next time,” Steve says.

“Ooh!” Eddie says. “That would be amazing.”

He flops down into the space next to Steve and looks up at him. The springs of this awful mattress dig into his ribs. 

“You know what was amazing?” Steve says.

“What?” Eddie asks.

“The way you tried to finger me when you were, you know,” Steve says. He grabs a fistful of Chex Mix and shoves it in his face. There are crumbs caught in the faint hairs of his mustache. He chews loudly. He offers a handful of Chex Mix to Eddie, who picks out only the cereal and pretzel bits.

“You liked that?” Eddie asks, and Steve nods enthusiastically.

“We could do it if we stayed in the bed,” Eddie says, “or you could be on the bed and I could be kneeling on the edge.” He can already imagine Steve with his head tipped over the end of the mattress and his knees held up in the air so that Eddie can fuck straight down his throat while he fucks him with slippery fingers. In Eddie’s imagination, Steve’s wrists are tied to his ankles. Maybe there are wooden clothespins on both of his pink little nipples, so that Eddie can easily flick them whenever he wants. 

Shit, it’s way too soon to be thinking about this. He’s already been selfish enough.

“I wanna try that,” Steve says, around the remaining Chex Mix in his mouth. “God, Eddie you’re like… I thought I was good at sex, but you’re like a sex genius or something.”

“What,” Eddie says. He can feel his face heating up.

“Just the stuff you think up,” Steve says. He turns over slightly and looks Eddie in the eye. “It’s always so fucking hot and fun.”

“Really?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says. He smiles at Eddie. His hair hasn’t been fixed at all, like Steve has just given up on it. Or maybe he’s indulging Eddie. Or maybe it’s something else, who knows.

“It’s like… I have to think more,” Steve says. “I think about how I can’t touch you, because of the hand cuffs, duh, but I think about the stuff you say about belonging to you and it makes me think about all the things you could do. Even if you tell me what you’re going to do, it’s no promise. You could have just bent me over and fucked me raw.”

Eddie blinks. “You want that?”

Steve seems to think about it for a moment. His cheeks flush.

“Yeah,” he says. “Not… not right now, but I think…”

Steve chews on his lip. “Soon?”

“OK,” Eddie says. He feels like his heart is going to punch its way out of his chest and jump down Steve’s throat. He suddenly needs to be closer to him.

He should be thinking about how Steve feels, but shit, clearly Steve feels great if he’s talking like this. Eddie’s dick hurts from how hot he finds everything Steve says. 

“You’re perfect,” Eddie says. “I can’t believe it.” 

Steve moves the Chex Mix out of the way, so Eddie just rolls over into that space. Eddie’s face fits perfectly into the space between Steve’s collarbone and his neck. A huge, warm hand rubs at Eddie’s back between his pointy shoulder blades.

“I think you’re perfect, too, Eddie,” Steve says. “I don’t know how I got so lucky. I…”

Steve trails off on the thought and doesn't pick it back up. Eddie lets the silence settle over them like the blankets they aren't using.

“You know I’m like, really, really in love with you,” Eddie mumbles against Steve’s skin. His heart won’t stop pounding. He throws his leg over Steve’s.

“Me too,” Steve whispers. They should turn the lights out if they’re going to fall asleep, Eddie thinks. He should do that, because Steve will be tired and his knees will hurt. Eddie should have put some disinfectant or something on those. Checked for splinters?

Instead, Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s broad shoulders and lets himself be pulled up on top of Steve. Steve mumbles something about how good he feels, how warm he is. They don’t pull the comforter down. Eddie’s pretty sure his hair is all over Steve’s face, because he can feel it moving against his ear when Steve breathes. Steve keeps taking deep breaths under him.

If Eddie’s very, very still and quiet, he thinks he can hear Steve’s heart beating. Or maybe that’s his own heart.