Archive of Our Own

Eddie Munson has terrible impulse control.

This is something he’d learned about himself at a young age. Something he’d been reminded of regularly, in frequent school reports and letters from disgruntled teachers, comments from neighbours who’d had to watch him for any length of time.

Doesn’t think before he speaks. Doesn’t think before he acts. Head in the clouds, loud, disruptive, attention seeking.

He isn’t attention seeking. Not exactly- attention just happens to come his way as a result of maybe poorly-planned actions. 

Which is sort of what’s landed him in this predicament. 

Predicament being: hair trigger away from orgasm if Steve so much as looks at him wrong (or right), jeans uncomfortably tight, lube leaking everywhere, all over his boxers, tacky and slidy and a general mess. 

At a Hellfire session.

That he’d planned.

At Steve’s house.

And okay. Maybe there’d been some forethought this time- and maybe this is an attention seeking tactic (or it will be, if things go to plan), but things were getting dire! Desperate, even! What the fuck was Eddie supposed to do, talk to Steve? Tell him- hey, in what some might describe as incredibly unexpected circumstances, things are going really well and I haven’t somehow spooked you off yet- and I’m really enjoying trading handjobs or blowjobs after we hang out or whatever, but I kind of want you to start potentially mistreating me in the bedroom and also... why haven’t we fucked yet?

That would be insane. 

Things are still new, and tentative. Eddie’s aversion to touch has done an incredible job at rotating three hundred and sixty degrees into a full blown addiction (specifically to one Steve Harrington), and he’s made Steve come down his throat a total of eleven times at this point. Not that he keeps track. Because that would be a strange thing to do, wouldn’t it?

Steve is sweet and doting. He still does shit like show up at Eddie’s place with flowers from time to time, which is as bizarrely shocking as it was the first time he’d done it. He still holds Eddie’s hand when they sprawl out over his stupidly large couch to watch a movie (holds it hostage, and plays with it until Eddie’s slowly driven mad, and he’s ready to crawl on his knees at Steve’s feet and beg for more, more touching, more, more). He still shows up at Eddie’s work to keep him company on shift, sometimes with Robin- who he’s pretty sure knows about them at this point, judging from the sly looks she sends his way when he calls Steve shit like big guy and pretty boy in public without thinking. In an entirely non-homosexual manner- he’s not flirting. He’s just teasing Steve.

So he doesn’t want to risk upsetting everything by asking Steve- hey, remember that shit you said the first time I sucked you off, about choking me on it until I started crying? Can we revisit that, please? And also the part where you put your fingers inside me, just if there’s any space in your increasingly busy schedule?

Because while Eddie might be able to brag (to an audience of absolutely nobody) that he has a semi-regular sex life at this point- and while Steve is a total sweetheart in the bedroom- it does kind of feel like he’s… retreated.

Which is confusing, to say the least.

He still says pretty filthy stuff in Eddie’s ear while he gets him off, still calls him beautiful and so good for me and a bunch of other shit that regularly occupies Eddie’s daydreams, but Eddie can’t help but feel like Steve is kind of holding back. Like he wants to say more, but he’s biting his tongue. Like he wants to do more, but he’s restraining himself. 

And that’s a thought Eddie has pretty frequently. Restraints. Namely, on himself. Specifically, at Steve’s bequest.

But how do you bring something like that up when your boyfriend won’t even finger you? It seems pretty fucking out there. 

Out of Eddie’s close group of friends, only one of them has a regular sex life. Jeff’s been seeing a girl for a couple of months at this point- they’d met at a gig in the city, and discovered she lived a town over. She’s sweet- Margie looks at Jeff like he hung the fucking moon in the sky. And when they all got trashed after practice the week prior, he’d sort of wink wink nudge nudge insinuated she was a riot in the bedroom, which had sent Gareth into a torrent of non-stop questions (ninety percent of which Jeff had firmly ignored), but Eddie had managed to shut the fuck up for once to listen in and gather that Margie had been with a couple of guys before Jeff (which he’d been kind of nervous about, because Jeff had only got his first kiss a year back), and that she’d wanted to try all sorts of crazy shit in the bedroom.

Kinky stuff.

“But did she just ask you?” Eddie had asked, very would-be-casual, avoiding Jeff’s eyes. “Like- oh, hi Jeffrey, lover of mine, light of my life, angel of my-”

“Get on with it,” Jeff rolled his eyes.

“Like, did she just ask- about whatever it is you’re too shitscared to tell us about? Was it really that freaky?”

Eddie wiggled his eyebrows, but Jeff just looked unimpressed. He snorted.

“Well, uh- I guess we talked about it, but some stuff.. I don’t know, man. Let’s just say it came up naturally. Element of spontaneity, etcetera. Can we move on from my sex life now? I know you virgins can’t be that interested-”

And then Gareth had thrown his empty beer can (which was in fact, not entirely empty) at Jeff’s head, and the subject had been dropped.

So. Spontaneity. That was the main thing Eddie took from that conversation, and spontaneity he could do. Maybe rather than talk to Steve about the pace their love life had taken on recently, he’d just… increase the speed himself. 

Which leads back to the situation at hand.

Steve’s house is the regular hang-spot for Hellfire sessions now, because it’s big, empty, and he’s sweet enough on the teenagers he babysits to offer rides on certain days. They had a session planned for this Saturday night, and Eddie wasn’t working- perfect. 

Perfect.

And before he’d had to head over to Steve’s place, he’d kind of thought about how best to approach the whole spontaneity thing, and figured- better to be prepared, right? Pretty fucking boy scout of him, actually. 

So an hour before he’d left, he’d scrubbed himself clean, and then fingered himself open on his bed (in a blissfully empty trailer, thank you Wayne for conveniently timed fishing trips). One, and then two- he’d got to three at this point, not for the first time. The thought of Steve being the one to do this later on had really got him riled up. He’d got pretty close to the edge, and then backed off. The first time he’d done that to himself, he’d imagined it was at Steve’s request- just like the first time Steve had said to him don’t touch yourself. Wait. I’ll make it worth the wait.

He has actual lube now as well, which has been a massive step up- only procured two days ago, so it’s not like Steve could have seen the bottle at his place. He’d used it liberally- way, way too liberally he’s now realising, as he stands on Steve’s doorstep, five minutes till session start, feeling really strangely slimy when he moves. It’s kind of gross, and it’s also kind of turning him on, not helped by the fact he didn’t let himself come earlier.

He’s just- he thinks if he can somehow get Steve alone after, and kind of surprise him or whatever-

Maybe Steve will fuck him.

He has to adjust himself in his jeans at that thought, grateful for the fact that the shirt he’s in is long, and the hem strays well below his waistline. 

This is because the shirt is actually Steve’s. Underhanded tactic? He isn’t sure. He just knows Steve gets very handsy whenever Eddie ends up in any of his clothes. Maybe it’s a possessive thing? He’s never done it publicly, so he’s unsure of what reaction it’ll get.

He twists at the ring on his index finger, wishing Steve would hurry the fuck up and open the door. Honestly at this point- Eddie’s ready to try and jump him before the session starts. He hasn’t seen Steve all week because of their stupidly aligned shifts, and he’s horny as fuck, all riled up.

The door opens-

And it's Robin.

“Buckley,” he smiles wide, trying to push past disappointment. He loves Robin- truly he does, but he’d reeeally been hoping for a moment alone with Steve. Alas.

“You’re… early,” she says suspiciously. “You’re never early to anything.”

“I’m the DM. Can’t a man be prepared, as the fearless leader of a table of budding young adventurers?”

Robin narrows her eyes.

“I guess a man can. No other motives, I suspect- just dedication to the game.”

“Precisely. Now can you let me in, or…”

He pushes past Robin, and sees Steve slide out in his socks from the kitchen, peering round, eyes going wide when Eddie smiles. 

Steve’s eyes travel up.

And then down.

Syrupy slow over him, lingering over his shirt- up to his face, biting his lip. Jesus Mary and fucking Joseph, that felt pretty filthy off the bat, and Eddie hasn’t even opened his mouth yet. He shuffles forward, trying to play cool.

“Hey,” Steve smiles, hands in his sweatpants pockets. “You’re early.”

“Why is that such a shocking occurrence to both of you?” Eddie grumbles, feigning annoyance. Steve reaches out towards him, as if helplessly drawn in- plucks at his shirt. It’s not anything crazy- it’s just a plain dark red henley. Eddie isn’t sure why he feels like he’s walking around with a big beacon saying I AM ENGAGING IN SEXUAL RELATIONS WITH STEVE HARRINGTON, but he still feels all hot under the collar all the same.

Robin mimes gagging and walks past them both. 

“I’m gonna raid your pantry, Harrington. I’m starved.”

“Yeah,” Steve calls back to her, his eyes still firmly fixed on Eddie. “Sure, whatever you want.”

He fingers the soft, worn collar of the shirt. 

“Playing dress up?”

Eddie blinks at him innocently. Steve told him two weeks back that Eddie’s eyes were the first thing he’d noticed about him (in a manner of physical attractiveness, so to speak- after Eddie had stopped pinning him to the wall with a broken glass bottle). He widens them a little, and Steve steps a little closer.

“What, this old thing? Think you left it last time you were over.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You know me. Laundry’s a bore, and well- it was just lying around.”

“Convenient.”

Eddie hums in response, his eyes drifting down to Steve’s mouth, as Steve slowly walks him back against the hallway wall. Robin, he wants to say, the kids- there’s no time-

“You know how much I like you in these jeans,” Steve says, voice all low, sliding his index fingers into the waistband. Eddie does know that. It’s precisely why he decided to wear them, even though they’re normally the ones he keeps for gigs.

He just shrugs, unable to tear his eyes from Steve. Fuck, maybe he didn’t need to do any of that shit earlier- the plan feels like it’s already derailing. Was there even a plan? He has no idea at this point- he still feels kind of sticky and uncomfortable from the mess of lube all up his ass, but other than that-

“You’re already hard?” Steve whispers, slightly disbelieving as he leans in close, running a finger up the middle of his jeans where Eddie had tried to tuck himself away. He tugs at the bottom of the shirt, self conscious.

“Steve,” he murmurs, trying to be brave- to find the words, before people arrive and everything gets nightmarishly distracting. 

I stretched myself open for you. I want you to fuck me. I want you to make me cry. I want-

“Ew. Warn a girl.”

Steve’s face twitches in irritation, but he leans back, plastering on a smile and spinning in Robin’s direction. She stands there, deadpan expression as she sticks her hand in a bag of barbecue chips.

“This is my house. If I wanna be gross with my boyfriend-”

“Boyfriend,” Robin giggles gleefully, “Eddie, the first week he called you that- literally only to me, mind you, he went so red. So very un-King-Steve like-”

“Thank you, Robin,” Steve scowls, “very helpful.”

Eddie grins. “Cute. Are you embarrassed, Harrington?”

“Yeah, Steve- are you ashamed?”

Eddie turns to Robin, miming shock, gasping theatrically. Her eyes twinkle as she crunches another handful of chips, dodging Steve as he swats at her arm as he stalks back towards the kitchen, muttering under his breath about bullying. 

“I don’t know what the fuck you did to him, but he’s soooo sappy,” Robin whispers as Eddie passes by, which definitely doesn’t make his heart suddenly swell like an overfilled balloon inside his ribcage. Definitely doesn’t make him want to start running around in little circles, or like, start biting Steve. Fuck. He’s too much.

Eddie’s distracted for the time being from his predicament (and the task at hand) by Robin continuing to tease Steve as he pulls out more snacks from his parents sizeable pantry, and then after that, when she demands they both accompany her to a bar in the city she’d heard is more accepting of people like them next week. Eddie knows of the bar. He’s never been, but he tells Robin he’s happy to come along and try and like, play wingman. Not exactly sure how that'll work out, because he’s never played wingman for anyone before (let alone a lesbian, a very awkward one- and Eddie’s awkward enough on his own), but what else are they gonna use the fake I.Ds he’d got for the two of them a couple weeks back anyway?

The thing is- he’s still really fucking horny.

He feels like a dog in heat. He’s trying hard not to stare at Steve- he’s kind of worried his thoughts are written all over his face, and it’s not as though he can do anything about it, because suddenly other people are here- Gareth, and Jeff, and teenagers being dropped off by the carful. Henderson comes right over to him immediately to ask about multiclassing the next time his character’s due to level up, and it is distracting, sure, he totally is paying attention-

But his eyes keep drifting over to Steve.

His boyfriend. 

Steve catches him staring, and smiles a little, only it looks a little too smug, a little bit like a smirk. He faces Gareth again to continue whatever conversation it is they’re having, and Eddie tries to refocus. 

Focus.

Focus.

Ten minutes later, they’re all sitting around Steve’s long wooden dining room table, bickering and arguing and generally making noise and acting like nuisances. Eddie’s at the head of the table (duh, he’s in charge), and Steve’s sat in the chair to his left, which is really very nice- it’s his third session. Steve acquiescing to Eddie’s wishes for him to finally join a campaign might have been the most romantic thing he’s done for Eddie so far, and it blew Henderson’s little mind when he first rocked up with his character sheet all done up. Dustin still can’t get over the fact Steve’s happy to play with them.

The nice thing about being a DM, is that as long as your players are preoccupied with each other, it gives you little brief moments of reprieve to sit back and observe, or get your shit in order behind the scenes. They’re all comfortable enough together at this point that roleplay between them can go on for quite a bit, so Eddie sometimes gets to settle back in his chair and watch them go back and forth like a tennis match.

However. 

Today? Today, Steve is beside him. Steve is close to him, and Eddie is so very fucking distracted. 

Whatever. Mike and Jeff are literally arguing in character about the politics of a fictional realm’s made up religious order, so Eddie doesn’t have to pay attention that well. 

Instead, he slides his foot up Steve’s calf, propped sideways in his chair, resolutely not looking at him- still facing down the table while he tries not to feel embarrassed about being a grown man, initiating a game of footsie. 

Steve stares at him.

Eddie can feel it- the weight of his gaze. Can see in his peripheral vision when Steve leans forward with his elbow on the table and rests his head in his hand, staring at Eddie hard.

Eddie squirms.

God, how much lube did he put up there? The stuff is thick and slidy- he’s pretty sure it’s oil based, and the constant reminder of the fact it’s probably made a mess in his boxers is kind of still turning him on. Steve has no idea. Steve doesn’t know he could take me next door and fuck me over his kitchen countertop. Fuck, he’s so hard. Why the fuck did he time this with a goddamn Hellfire session? Stupidest last minute decision ever.

He wiggles his foot higher up Steve’s leg, and watches Steve bite his lip. Watches Steve narrow his eyes a little, trying to refocus on the game- he’s barely spoken at all this session. He takes a swig from the open bottle of beer he has, and almost as soon as he puts it down on the table, Eddie picks it up, taking a long drink from it. He imagines he can still taste the remnants of Steve’s spit around the rim, his lips all wrapped round it. He looks at Steve while he does it, his eyes half lidded, Steve biting at his thumb now, staring at Eddie hungrily. He gets this certain expression when he’s really turned on- Eddie’s intimately familiar with it by now- when his eyes go all dark, his breathing picks up a little.

He’s looking at Eddie like he wants to take him apart, and suddenly- regardless of where Eddie’s sat at the table, he’s pretty sure he won’t be in charge for much longer.

“Sorry man,” he smiles at Steve sweetly, gesturing at the beer bottle. “Didn’t realise that was yours.”

“Why are you in Steve’s shirt anyway?” Dustin interrupts, turning to face him away from the heated argument (still, if Eddie’s not mistaken, entirely in character, Mike actually standing now and yelling). Clearly he’d thought Eddie had been talking about the shirt and not the beer.

“I forgot it,” Steve tells him, still staring at Eddie’s. “Last time I was over. Spilled something on it. Guess you figured you could help yourself, huh Munson?”

“Something like that.”

Dustin’s already turned back to the game, entirely uninterested.

Eddie swallows. His skin feels two sizes too small, hot all over under Steve’s dedicated attention. It’s heady and addictive- just makes him want more, greedy for it. 

Makes him want to act out. 

They take a break an hour in. Will needs to call his mom to check in, and the rest of them disperse around Steve’s big house for further snacks, drinks, bathroom breaks. Steve flops down on the sofa on the opposite end from Robin and Gareth, chattering away- Eddie follows slowly. He could sit in the La-Z-Boy. He could sit on the edge of the sofa. 

He sits at Steve’s feet instead.

It isn’t that weird. He lolls about on the floor at first, complaining about how tired he is. He has a headache. Then he sits up against Steve’s legs, leaning against his calves, and while Robin and Gareth discuss something about an old classmate- entirely engrossed in their conversation, paying no heed to him sprawled on the floor- he looks up at Steve, leaning his head back and peering up through his lashes.

Steve looks fucking good.

He’s looking down at Eddie like he always does when Eddie gets on his knees for him, when Eddie sits between his legs and lets him use his mouth, or just jerks off over his face. His hand slowly migrates down beside his lap, hidden by his thigh, and slides into Eddie's hair, petting it. Tugging at it gently, while Eddie gazes up him beseechingly, unsure what he's even looking for. He squirms a little, shuffling his thighs, painfully aware of his dick- hard and chafing, trapped behind the waistband of his jeans.

Steve's fingers curl suddenly, and he pulls. Hard.

Eddie closes his eyes and bites at his hand- he cannot make a noise right now. This entire situation is insane- it’s all his fault, and he-

Steve lets go. 

He turns back to face Robin as if nothing had happened (she and Gareth still entirely ignoring them, deep in some sort of debate now) and Eddie supposes barely anything did- he’d just looked down at Eddie like he was a dog at his feet, pulled his hair very briefly, and then-

“Bathroom,” Eddie mumbles, getting to his feet and tugging at the shirt again, lower. “Back in a sec.”

“Don’t be long,” Gareth warns, looking up at him. “I wanna get back to it, pronto.”

He plods upstairs, his dick aching. Jesus, what the fuck was he thinking? He’s not gonna last the rest of the session. Steve probably thought he was a freak for doing that, sitting down there. He finds Steve’s guest bathroom at the end of the long upstairs hallway, grateful for the door muffling the noise from downstairs, but before he can close it, somebody is pulling it open, pushing inside. 

Suddenly he has his face pressed against cool wall tiles, his hands behind his back, and Steve is all over him.

“Hey baby,” he murmurs, right against Eddie’s ear, his hand tightening over Eddie’s wrists. “Sneaking off?”

“No,” Eddie tries to shake his head but he can’t. His eyes are squeezed shut. Oh fuck he’s going to come, going to finish in his boxers if Steve moves against him.

“Liar,” Steve whispers, his voice all low. Harsh. He grinds forward, hard against Eddie, panting in his ear. “What’s got into you today, hm? I leave you alone for a week and you start acting up like that?”

“Not acting,” Eddie whines, “‘m not doing shit, Steve-”

“You’re acting desperate,” Steve corrects him, biting at his earlobe hard. The pain makes his head swim a little, forces out a little choked off noise from his lips. “Wearing my shirt- kneeling at my feet- staring at me like you need bent over and fucked- is that what it is? You just need some attention? Poor baby. You’re such a little tease-”

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie keens, “I can’t- I’m gonna-”

“You’re gonna come? Just from that? You’re so easy, sweetheart. Bet I could have you begging for it before you go back out there- get you whining around my dick.”

“Jesus,” Eddie moans, arching, rubbing back, anything for more contact. “Yeah you- you could.”

He isn’t thinking straight. Stupidest thing they’ve done so far, when the moment might break at any minute, but-

“You could try,” he pants, struggling to free his hands, trying to get them round to unbutton his jeans. “Try’n see how I feel. How I’ll feel around you.”

Steve stalls out, freezing in place. His hands suddenly come round to Eddie’s front at lightning speed, fumbling with the button, the zip. The bathroom is silent bar the sound of Steve’s heavy breathing, the zip sliding down- Steve thumbs over the head of his weeping cock, precome everywhere, and he groans softly in Eddie’s ear.

“God you’re so wet,” he sighs, teasing the head. You have no idea, Eddie thinks deliriously, holding back a laugh.

Steve pulls at his boxers suddenly- maybe he’d intended to squeeze his ass, maybe he’d intended to slide his thumb, still coated with pre, down there for a feel- but Eddie knows the moment he feels the mess of lube, still sticky and slidy all over him, his rim still aching in a good, dull way from how long he’d opened himself up for earlier- Steve pauses.

“What.”

“I. Uh-”

“Holy shit,” Steve hisses, spreading his cheeks, sliding one finger down against his furl, his other hand gripping Eddie’s hip so hard it hurts. “Fuck- what- when?”

“Before I came over,” Eddie gasps, “I just- I wanted-”

“You prepped yourself? You’ve been- oh fuck, Eddie,” he breathes, one hand pulling his dick free from his boxers, squeezing it, the other one dipping a finger inside- and fuck, Steve’s fingers are a dream. Thicker than his own. There’s barely any resistance- just a terrible, slick squelchy noise that makes them both groan in tandem.

“I can’t believe you,” Steve growls, bullying a second finger in, rutting his hips forward. “Look at you, fuuuck. You’re such a slut.”

And Eddie comes.

It hits like a damn freight train, his entire body stuttering, his cock twitching in Steve’s hand as he spills over his fist, his mouth open in a silent cry, eyes squeezed tight shut. Steve bites him as he does so, bites at the junction between his neck and shoulder.

When he’s done, he lifts his hand up to Eddie’s face. 

“Clean me up,” he whispers, and god if that doesn’t make Eddie’s head spin- if that doesn’t make all of this worth it. “Go on. You made a mess.”

He licks the mess of his own spend off Steve’s fingers while Steve pulls his shirt collar low, sucking a bruise there, barely hidden. He’s whispering shit in Eddie’s ear, that’s it, all of it- good boy, there you go.

“Steve,” he whines, when Steve turns him around, and kisses him hungrily. He’s still hard. 

“Can I-”

“Eddie? Come on, man! It’s been five!”

Jeff’s voice calls from far away, and reality comes back in like a shock of cold water to his system.

Steve grins at him. 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Coming!”

“Haven’t you already done that part-”

“Shut up,” Eddie huffs, pushing at his chest while Steve tucks himself away. 

“Can’t believe you,” he murmurs, zipping Eddie’s fly up as he stands there, propped up against the wall, boneless. “What am I gonna do, huh? You're gonna let me suffer like this?”
“Um.”

It’s not really as if they have any time. And Eddie’s pretty sure Steve knows that- he’s just playing.

“I’m gonna make you pay for this later, honey,” Steve says softly, leaning back in to kiss his neck again, “I promise you that.”

And then he leaves.

And Eddie sinks to the floor, trying to get ahold of himself.

Fuck.

He needs to move. Needs to magic some strength back into his legs- but Jesus, if he’d known that acting like that would get Steve to say shit like that in his ear Eddie would have done this weeks ago. The way he’d looked- the way he’d sounded, the noise he’d made when he’d realised Eddie was all stretched and ready for him.

It’s a dangerous feeling. Addictive. Who would have known it was that fun to rile Steve up?

Eventually he recovers and slinks back downstairs, pink cheeked, hickey on his neck just concealed by the collar of Steve’s shirt. Robin eyes him suspiciously as he passes her and Steve on the sofa but makes no snarky comment at him, and well- he can’t ask for much more than that. He’s pretty sure he should feel ashamed or something, but all he wants to do is keep poking Steve until he goes off like that again. 

Like, sure. Eddie likes being good for Steve. And it’s taken him an embarrassingly long amount of time to get over the nerves he had initiating any kind of sexual contact between them, considering he hadn’t even kissed anyone until Steve had pinned him down in his own bedroom and licked into his mouth not so long ago-

But this teasing thing has its perks. 

Steve sits back at the table, narrowing his eyes at Eddie when Eddie beams at him, leaning forwards on both elbows. Fuck he looks so pretty. He’s lining up his dice in a neat little row, smiling slightly at something Dustin’s saying, and Eddie can’t tear his eyes away, he’s just-

He’s in love. 

“Hellooooo,” Mike calls, “earth to Eddie? You alive over there?”

Eddie rolls his eyes at him.

”Yes, Wheeler, less of that attitude, please and thank you. Gentlemen,” he starts, clearing his throat, settling back into his role- pointedly ignoring Steve’s foot sliding over his own under the table, trying very hard not to turn bright red. 

“We reconvene. I believe Lord Caromyr was investigating the rear entrance to the abandoned shack you all seem so interested in?”

Everyone starts clamoring at once, and then finally they’re off, and it’s a little easier to focus now, the pressing issue of his unattended boner finally having been taken care of. Still, it’s hard not to glance over at Steve every once in a while, and whenever their eyes catch, it’s like- it's as though he can see Steve’s intentions written straight across his face. His promise from earlier to make Eddie pay. 

It’s pretty damn distracting. 

Steve’s a bit more engaged in gameplay at this point as well, which is really unfortunately cute- Eddie’s pretty sure he should feel self disgust at how obviously he’s mooning after the guy. Everything he does just makes him want to get on top of the table and yell I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS MAN, but that probably wouldn’t go down very well as a first love confession, so he holds back from doing that and instead just sort of gazes adoringly at Steve while he fumbles his way through an investigation check. 

“Um. That’s a seven?”

Eddie clicks his tongue sympathetically.

“With modifiers?” Dustin prompts. Ever patient, he points at Steve’s sheet to his intelligence score. It’s sort of a moot point, no way is that gonna bump it up high enough to get him anything useful.

“Oh. Nine?”

Eddie hums, pursing his lips and staring up at the ceiling, and then leans forward theatrically, right up in Steve’s space. 

“Bad luck.”

Steve slumps. Kicked-puppy expression looks good on him, and Eddie might be a sucker, but he’s also a fair ruler, so. They move on.

Five minutes later, and they’re all trying to navigate scaling a wall- some by foot, others with equipment- Steve asks about trying to use an abandoned crate nearby to drag it over and climb up to a foothold, and sure, maybe Eddie’s being a little mean- but the crate has shit in it. They established that before- so he calls for a strength check. 

And Steve rolls a five. He then rolls his eyes, making a bitchy little face. Bad luck. Bad dice, maybe. Bad day? Eddie’s had ‘em. Everyone has.

He makes a failing buzzer sound. 

“Damn, Harrington,” he sighs, “you just can’t roll right today, huh?”

Steve stares at him, biting his lip. He slides his foot back over Eddie’s.

“Don’t I get advantage?”

“Why?”

Because you’re pretty? Eddie thinks. Because I’m really, grossly, horrifically in love with you?

“Because I’m a barbarian, right?”

“You aren’t raging though.”

Steve groans. Dustin has to help him in the end. When they end up in combat a few minutes later, Steve rolls shit again on his turn.

“Son of a bitch!”

“Really, Steve,” he drawls, grinning lazily. “Are you trying to roll low? Need me to do it for you? Or should I try and teach you how to roll a D20?”

Lucas snickers beside Dustin, and Steve stares at him, smiling now. It’s sort of a dangerous looking smile, eyes narrowed, head shaking slowly back and forth. He licks his lips.

“Just for you,” Eddie says, his voice very soft and low- really, only Steve should be able to hear this, especially given the ruckus going on at the other end of the table. “I’ll let you roll again, hm? Since you’re still new and all. Still getting used to it. Inexperienced.”

“That’s sweet of you,” Steve murmurs. “You’re such a generous teacher.”

Eddie shrugs, eyes twinkling. “Well, I take pity sometimes. You’re at the mercy of the dice, right? Go on.”

Steve rolls. 

Natural one.

Eddie widens his eyes and puts his head in his hands, leaning forward on his elbows, mock frown on his face.

“Aw,” he simpers. “Dang.”

Steve’s hand is entirely concealed under the table, but he still flinches when he feels it grip his knee. Squeezing in warning.

“Don’t worry Steve,” Dustin hums, still thumbing through his handbook, “if you die, I’ll avenge you.”

“I’m not worried,” Steve says, eyes fixed on Eddie’s. “I’ll have my revenge.”

He squeezes again, and the rest of the session passes agonisingly slow after that. He’s sort of apprehensively nervous now, though. Like- Eddie didn’t really do much. He just wanted to wind Steve up a little, and watching him get all frustrated over dice rolls was kind of cute anyway. It’s so hard to fluster him, but at the very least, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve intends to do something with him after this end, and that prospect is exciting enough to push past the nerves. 

He does indeed survive the session, though he’s gravely injured and they’ll all need a rest to restore HP. Eddie avoids his eyes when he stands, jittery for some reason, and he chats to Gareth about their next gig while they all pack up. Robin and Jeff offer lifts back to the rest of the stragglers, which Steve thanks them gratefully for- he doesn’t want to have to leave the house. 

Nobody asks whether Eddie’s offering lifts or not- he deliberately stays quiet when they divide up seats, but he sort of plays at leaving when everyone else is pulling on sneakers and boots, lounging about on the staircase.

Steve stares at him. Stares, like- where do you think you’re going?

Eddie just blinks at him innocently, and pulls on his first sneaker. He’s not actually leaving. He’s pretty sure he’d have to be carried out of here kicking and screaming, but still- the way Steve is looking at him-

“You heading off?” Jeff asks, lacing up his own shoe.

Eddie yawns. “Guess so.”

Steve clears his throat behind him, and suddenly, he’s on the stair next to Eddie, pressed up against his side. 

“Actually, Munson- you got a minute? I wanted to ask you something before the next session.”

“Wow,” Jeff beams, “look at you, Harrington! You’re dedicated.”

Steve smiles tightly at him.

“What a nerd,” Eddie teases. He can’t even look at Steve, who’s eyes are boring holes in the side of his fucking skull right now. He feels like he’s about to start giggling like crazy, but he pauses lacing up his sneaker.

“I’m not sure I do,” he muses, “I’m pretty busy. Gotta get back.”

“Really? You do? Now?”

“Mmm. Just- not sure I can-“

“Oh I think you can spare five minutes.”

“Well. I guess, if you really need it.”

Steve laughs at him dryly. Grits his teeth.

Oh, the fun they have. 

“Bye Jeff,” Steve calls sweetly, and then he shuts the door in Jeff’s face. He turns to Eddie. 

There’s a minute where they both just stare at each other, Steve stepping closer while Eddie still sits on the bottom step, Steve looming over him. Looking down.

It’s as though all the air in the house has evaporated.

Eddie hears the last car door slam. The sound of the gravel driveway crunching underneath retreating cars, and then-

“I want you to go upstairs,” Steve says calmly, taking Eddie’s chin in his hand and lifting his face up to look at him, “and strip naked. And wait for me on the bed.”

Eddie wants to protest. To open his mouth, to keep mouthing off, but when he does so, Steve squeezes his jaw, and words just- they fail him. 

He closes his mouth.

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, “that’s what I thought.”

Eddie does as he’s told.

He’s so turned on at this point he can’t even bring himself to feel embarrassed or awkward- it’s like that way his brain goes all stupid and slow around Steve has increased tenfold. It used to happen whenever Steve was too touchy, too clingy. Then as Eddie got used to that, it only happened when they started fucking around. 

Now it feels as though his head is entirely empty. Sinking down into fuzzy nothingness, spacey and dumb. 

He sits on the bed with his clothes in a pile, hard and flushed, trying to calm his breathing. He has no idea what Steve’s doing- he re-appears a minute later with something in his hand, but he’s deposited it on the ground before Eddie can see what it is. He stands there, fully dressed, hard in his jeans. He isn’t smiling- he’s got that dark, intense look over his face. Eddie suddenly feels like he did over a month ago, when Steve had pinned him against his car on their first date and promised to take him apart- like he’s all limp and fuzzy, and also kind of desperate. Unsure of what to do. Where to look. Where to touch.

Slowly, Steve unbuckles his belt.

Eddie watches reverently. The leather is kind of cracked- a thick brown band, snaking its way into Steve’s hand from beneath the denim loops as he coils it around his fingers. And Eddie’s first thought is- holy shit, he’s going to hit me.

His second thought is- why is that turning me on?

His cock drools against his stomach as he watches the belt, sliding around Steve’s deft, capable fingers. Fingers that had been inside him today- he closes his eyes, swallows. Remembers the way Steve had whispered in his ear. 

You’re such a slut.

Fuck, he is. He’s so, so desperate for it- he’s pretty sure he’d do anything for Steve. He’d let Steve spank him, come all over the bruises. He’d thank Steve after. He’d clean up Steve’s come with his tongue.

“C’mere,” Steve says softly. “You’re all shy now, huh?”

Eddie isn’t sure he can speak. All his earlier bravado and bluster has vanished out the window. 

“Come on,” Steve coaxes him, “be a good boy and turn round for me.”

Eddie obeys, still wordless. But Steve doesn’t hit him- instead, he holds Eddie’s wrists together as he wraps the belt round and round, folding it over itself, pulling tight until Eddie’s hands are entirely restrained, locked in place.

“Okay?” he hears Steve whisper, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, sweeping Eddie’s hair back. The sweetness of the gesture leaves him aching. Somehow it burns hotter than the idea of Steve smacking his thighs, knuckle deep inside him. 

He nods shakily. So okay.

“Very okay,” he eventually manages, and thank god, speech has returned. It feels like his tongue is all heavy, slurred. He feels like he might start floating away into oblivion, and Steve’s barely touched him.

Steve moves a pillow against the wall, and Eddie shuffles round again to face him- he feels so bare now, truly naked. Vulnerable. Steve still hasn’t unbuttoned his jeans, and it’s sort of making him want to whimper pathetically, beg with his mouth pressed up against his crotch. Beg with his eyes.

“You’re all sweet now,” Steve teases, pushing his thumb against Eddie’s lower lip until it drops open, drool already filling his mouth when Steve slides it inside. He climbs onto the bed, straddling Eddie’s thighs. “You were acting up so bad earlier. I can’t fucking believe you showed up all ready for me. Nice and easy.”

Eddie nods slowly, his eyes half closed, mouth still open as Steve’s thumb presses down on his tongue. So easy. Yeah. He’s easy.

“I was holding back,” Steve adds conversationally. “Didn’t want to rush you, baby. Clearly we weren’t on the same page. Were you that desperate for me to get my fingers in you? See how ready you were?”

Eddie’s head is spinning like a top. He’s not sure if Steve wants him to answer, or if he just gets off on holding Eddie in place while he leaks a puddle of precome all over his stomach- he just makes a kind of whiny noise, bucking his hips slightly.

“Not gonna fuck you today,” Steve breathes, “even though you were driving me crazy earlier. Fuck, Eddie- you don’t even- you make me want to eat you alive. Drove me mad. That’s not very fucking nice, is it?”

Eddie blinks at him, and Steve slides his thumb out to wrap a hand around his jaw again, hand over his mouth.

“Is it?”

Steve moves his head back and forth in a shaking moment, and clicks his tongue against his teeth.

“You had so much shit to say earlier about my dice rolling, I thought you might want to practice with me.”

Practice? What? Eddie’s barely fucking coherent. He’s not sure he’s really in the mood to play anything involving dice right now.

“So here’s how it’s gonna go. You pick a dice, and I’ll roll. And we’ll see how high I can get, hm?”

What.

Eddie just stares at him, and Steve smirks, before leaning down to pick up a dice tray- one of Eddie’s old ones that he’d given Steve, and a bag of dice. 

“Pick.”

Pick a die? Eddie raises one eyebrow, but manages to croak out an answer regardless.

“Uh. The D20?”

Steve nods, and he rolls. 

“Wow. Look at that- seventeen! After all the crap you gave me earlier.”

He moves the dice aside and plants his arms either side of Eddie’s torso, hovering over him.

“Count for me.”

Count what? He can’t mean-

Steve leans in, and kisses him. All thoughts melt out of his brain- he closes his eyes and moans into it- it’s a filthy kiss, wet and open-mouthed, all tongue and spit, Steve biting at his lower lip. He tastes so good. Eddie knows it’s gross, but he’s kind of obsessed with how Steve tastes. With his spit. He licks at Steve’s tongue haphazardly, and Steve pulls back, smiling down at him, so fucking beautiful. There’s a string of saliva connecting them, and Steve wipes at it with his thumb, pushing it back into Eddie’s mouth. 

“You like that, Eddie? You like my spit that much?”

Eddie whines, his eyes fluttering closed. 

“One,” he hears Steve say, and then he moves to his neck. Eddie cottons on after kiss three, which is less of a kiss and more of a sloppy, un-coordinated love bite behind his ear. 

“Count for me, remember?” Steve murmurs, biting the shell of his ear softly. Eddie pants, writhing. The feel of the belt cutting into his wrists- the kisses- he feels so good. 

“Fo-our,” he moans, because four is around his nipple, very chaste, but Steve blows on it after, and it’s enough to get him wriggling beneath him again. He slurs out five, six, seven as Steve keeps meandering down his chest, kissing over his scars, his ribs, thumbs rubbing circles over his hipbones. Eight, nine and ten hover above his happy trail, and he arches his back, whimpering when Steve licks under his bellybutton, so close to his leaking cock that he can feel Steve’s breath exhaled over it, hot and humid. By the time Steve gets to thirteen, he’s begging. Begging with his body, with his mouth- in between numbers, whining pathetically. Please, Steve- pleeeease.
Steve just smiles, and bites his inner thigh, hard and mean. His dick twitches with interest, and he moves on, spreading his thighs desperately as Steve moves up his legs again from where he’d shuffled off his lap to kneel on the carpet between them.

“Fuck, look at you,” he says breathlessly. “Spreading your legs for me. You’d do anything for my dick right now, wouldn’t you Eddie? Or my mouth.”

“Anything,” Eddie agrees, desperate and whiny. “Please, Steve. Please. I’m- I’ll be so good. I’m good.”

“So good. Keep counting.”

“Fif-teen-” he stutters, fifteen landing so, so close to where he needs it most. Sixteen is close enough that Steve’s cheek brushes against his cock, a smear of precome shining on his face when he leans back. Eddie arches his back, his dick red, neglected and aching, leaking like a faucet. Steve leans down, and Eddie shuts his eyes.

But he doesn’t feel Steve’s mouth over the head. Instead, the bed creaks, and Steve moves up and over him, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to his forehead. Eddie’s eyes fly open.

“Seventeen,” Steve smiles softly, and Eddie groans, shaking his head.

“C’mon baby. Say it. Count.”

“But-”

“Say it.”

Eddie wants to cry. He’s so desperate for touch- for anything. This is so mean. So unfair.

“Seventeen,” he says in a small voice, biting his lip to stop it quivering. 

“Aren’t you glad I rolled so high?” Steve grins. “Pick another one. Another die. Actually…”

He leans back over Eddie’s thighs again, sitting on his knees and humming as if deep in thought. Eddie glances down, and curses under his breath- he can see a damp patch in one spot over Steve’s jeans, his dick straining against the fabric. 

Steve is into this. 

Like- fuck. He’s getting off on it.

On Eddie begging.

“Actually- pick a couple. Pick three.”

“For you to kiss me again?”

Eddie kind of hates how hopeful he sounds. It’s sort of pathetic, and unfortunately that just seems to make him feel more aroused, burning hot with shame and desperation and just neediness, feverish with want.

“I’ll kiss you again if you ask nicely,” Steve says lightly, trailing his finger down Eddie’s stomach. “But no. Guess you’ll have to wait and see, huh?”

Eddie swallows.

“Then… a D4. D8, D12?”

No fucking idea what any of that is going to do with anything, but Eddie doesn’t give much of a shit as long as Steve gets him off. Or maybe just gets himself off, straddling Eddie like that, talking to him in his low voice, calling him easy, calling him a good boy.

“Good job,” Steve smiles, and Eddie watches as he rolls. The D4 lands on a two. He rolls a four, and then a ten on the next ones, humming bemusedly to himself. Eddie’s never seen him look this pleased before, like the cat who’s got the cream. It’s different from how Steve’s been in bed over the last few weeks- still sweet, but also kind of… controlled. 

In charge.

“Want to guess what this one is?” he asks, pinching the D4 in his fingertips.

Eddie shakes his head.

“That’s how many times you’re going to come, baby. You’re gonna come twice- yeah,” Steve narrows his eyes, because Eddie’s still shaking his head- he can’t, not when he’s already come today earlier. Sure, it was a few hours ago- and yes, he knows he can come twice in a row, but still. That’s a lot. 

“Yeah, sweetheart. I don’t make the rules, I’m just… what did you say earlier? At the mercy of the dice, right?”

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes, and Steve picks up the D8. 

“Only a four,” he tuts. “Damn my low rolls. I’m gonna work you up, get you close four times at least. Four, and you better not come before. You already made a mess all over my hand earlier, let’s not repeat that.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open, so Steve sticks his thumb in it while he holds up the D12 thoughtfully. “I think I’ll save this for later. Tell you after, maybe.”

Whatever, Eddie thinks. Please touch me, he prays. 

“You have no idea what you look like right now,” Steve murmurs, pinching his nipple. “In my bed. Should have kept you in my shirt. Fuck, I just- I wanna mark you up. It’s crazy, you make me feel like a fucking caveman. Gonna make you feel so, so good now baby- but if it’s too much, just tell me to stop, okay?”

Eddie nods, half delirious. His wrists are chafing now, but the pain is kind of nice. Keeps him present.

Steve swipes his hand through the mess of precome Eddie’s leaked all over his stomach, and sides his fist down his shaft. Pleasure sparks through him almost instantly and Eddie moans, bucking into it, fucking Steve’s fist.

“There you go,” Steve whispers, leaning over him to kiss his neck. “C’mon baby, fuck my hand.”

“Steve,” he gasps, stars dancing behind his eyes, pressure building, pleasure starting to crest like a wave.

“Steve, I’m- I’m gonna-”

All of a sudden, Steve stops. He grabs the base of Eddie’s dick and squeezes hard, almost painful, growling in his ear- “don’t come. Don’t you dare.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie whimpers, “please-”

Steve waits for a moment, holding him tight, whispering in his ear- sweet syrupy nonsense, calling him a good boy, so sweet, so good, and the pleasure recedes.

This is okay, Eddie thinks, squirming, mindless, drooling around Steve’s fingers, which are back in his mouth. I can manage this.

On the third time, when Steve slows, takes his hand off, and Eddie actually wails, Steve laughs against his neck, biting him there again. Like a goddamn vampire, Eddie thinks.

Please, god let me come.

“Please,” he gasps, “please, baby-”

“Just one more,” Steve promises, palming himself through his jeans, breathing heavy, “one more, honey, you’re doing so well. So good. Can you manage one more? Eddie?”

Eddie’s brain turned to soup the second time Steve denied him. All that’s left is the ability to plead. To beg.

“Okay,” he whispers, and he actually cries out when Steve holds back the fourth time. His eyes are still shut, his lip bitten to the point of bleeding, panting and writhing. 

He doesn’t even open his eyes in time to see Steve go down. Just feels his mouth, hot and wet- swallowing him down. He’s barely bobbed his head twice before Eddie finally comes with a gasp, snapping his hips up and moaning Steve’s name, all drawn out and reedy. It feels like every nerve in his body is alight, pleasure fizzling through his veins.

He’s barely even recovered before he feels Steve’s fingers slide lower. Hears a click, a plastic cap opening- and then there’s cold, slidy lube being pressed in. His thighs shake and twitch, spreading further open, his body half overstimulated from his orgasm, cock softening on his stomach, and half inviting Steve in.

“There we go,” Steve murmurs, kissing his chest, licking a path up to his neck. One finger pushes inside, and Eddie twitches, biting back a whimper. “So good. Letting me in like that, you’re so fucking greedy for it.”

Steve bites at his throat, licks a stripe up to his ear, smiling against his neck as Eddie shivers. “You’re gonna come again for me.”

Eddie shakes his head dazedly. “Can’t doit,” he slurs, “can’t, Steve.”

“Yeah you can. You can take it. Look at you, already taking two fingers- you’re so easy, Eddie. Could have you all day like this. Keep you here in my bed, use you- you’d still beg for my cock, wouldn’t you?”

“Steve,” he pants, “I-”

“Look,” Steve whispers, “look at that. You’re still hard.”

He looks.

Fuck.

And then Steve’s fingers curl. They stroke upwards, searching, and Eddie gasps, overstimulated, pleasure bursting through him, sharp and painful, toomuchtoomuch-

Steve eases off, stretching him further, driving his fingers in rhythmically, and it’s that- not the brush against that magic spot, but the way it feels like he’s getting fucked, that makes him stiff again, hard, against all his own expectations.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Steve urges, “don’t I- I always take good care of you?”

He’s fumbling with his own button on his jeans, pulling his dick out and hissing with relief. Fuck, Eddie wants it. Want it bad- Steve is right, so right- he really would beg, the overstimulation has faded into the background, he just needs it, he’s such a slut for it, just for Steve-

“Jesus, the mouth on you,” Steve moans, because Eddie’s said most of that aloud, babbling nonsensically. “You are, fuck- you are- you’re mine,” he whines, curling his fingers up and grinding into Eddie in a way that has him losing his mind, senseless, still whining, actually crying now, tears welling up as he pants and writhes.

“Want to know what that last die was for?” Steve asks, steadily fucking him with his fingers, pushing in, over and over. Eddie can’t even speak. He can barely nod, but Steve goes on anyway.

“Ten. Not gonna let you touch yourself for ten days after this.”

“Please,” he sobs, “please can I-”

“You can come now,” Steve gasps, “want you to come, baby. Come for me, come-”

“No,” Eddie wails, “I- can't, I- I want- just- please- just the tip?”

Steve’s fingers stutter, his mouth dropping open in shock. “Eddie-”

“I need it,” Eddie begs, “I need it, need it to come, need-”

Steve hisses, manhandling him round on the bed so he’s positioned between Eddie’s legs.

“Thought you were gonna be good and wait,” he growls, stroking himself fast and hard, “like a good boy. Told you I’m not fucking you today.”

“Just- just the tip,” Eddie pleads, tears spilling out down his cheek, Steve’s fingers grinding inside him punishingly, he’s so close.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes-

And he moves forward. His fingers retreat, and Eddie hears the lube bottle again.

There’s pressure at his rim, and Steve’s staring down at where he’s sliding in, open mouthed, pushing inside- barely an inch. He strokes Eddie’s cock hard and fast, barely pushing his own further in, Eddie’s eyes rolling back in his head. It's too much. He's going to die- he's so overstimulated at this point, he's not even sure he can come, but Steve seems intent on dragging him over the edge, pushing him-

“Come. Come now or I won’t let you at all.”

When he feels it build, pleasure bubbling up in him sharp and rapid, it feels like Steve's pushing it out of him, forcing his cock to jump limply on his stomach, leaking pathetically, thin and watery at this point. His brain feels like it's been melted down, dipped in hot oil, he's barely aware of the noises he's making- he’s pretty sure he’s full-on crying, eyes squeezed shut, cheeks and mouth wet with tears and drool. He opens them just in time to see Steve pulling out and coating him in ropes of his own come, panting Eddie’s name out in a soft gasp.

It’s almost like there’s a ringing in his ears. He feels stupid. Spacey. He feels small. He feels out of his own body, floating high up, unable to speak or move or do anything besides twitch. 

Steve cuddles in beside him, and draws a finger up through the mess of come all over his torso.

“‘M gonna clean you up,” he mumbles. Eddie hums weakly in response, still all fuzzy. He can’t seem to care about it, even as it cools on his skin- he just doesn’t want Steve to leave. It’s quiet for a moment, and then Steve sits up next to him, thumbing at a tear track, leaning in to kiss his face, over his cheeks- over his eyelids, shakily, his nose, his forehead. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers, and Eddie can tell, even in his bleary state, that he’s nervous.

He smiles at Steve. “Feel good. S’good.”

Steve presses his forehead to Eddie’s and exhales, rubbing their noses together. He’s kind of sweaty, but Eddie couldn’t give less of a fuck. 

“Steve,” he whispers.

“Hmm?”

“Like you,” Eddie murmurs, closing his eyes. “I like you so much.”

He can hear Steve’s breath hitch as he buries his face in Eddie’s neck. Feels him mouth the words back against his skin, Eddie, like you, like you, like you.

“I need to get a towel,” he groans after another minute, still hidden against Eddie's neck. “I wanna hold you.”

“No,” Eddie whines. “Don’t leave.”

“I have to, baby. I’ll be right back-”

Eddie tries to protest, but his brain still feels as though it’s firing on half cylinders, sluggish and muzzy. He shuts his eyes again and drifts.

Steve cleans his face and stomach with a wet rag, and Eddie’s just sort of- out of it. His wrists ache a little when Steve pulls the belt off, and for a split second he feels bereft- kind of wants it back, wants the feeling of being pinned in place to stay a little longer, even as Steve rubs at his hands, kissing his wrists softly.

He feels so weird. 

Normally when Steve gets him like this, all spacebrained, like he’s sort of high- it fades kind of fast. This time it doesn’t. It just ebbs, and makes him clingy, and kind of sad. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Steve asks when they’re tucked under his comforter, Eddie clung around his side like a koala. “You need some water?”

Eddie shakes his head, rubbing his face against Steve’s side. 

“I dunno,” he frowns. “Don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He just feels kind of sad. Pathetic. Everything feels heavy and hazy all at once, like he's sinking, stone in the creek. Like he's drifting away with no say over it, alone and sore.

He clings to Steve, squeezing him, and Steve rolls over.

“Can you lie on top of me?”

Steve blinks. “What?”

“Like. Just lie on me like a blanket.”

“Sure.”

He doesn’t question him any further, for which Eddie is very grateful. Just rolls over and drapes himself over Eddie’s body, pinning him with his body weight, which is kind of lot- Steve’s kind of big. The breath whooshes out of him, and Steve giggles.

“I’m crushing you, dude.”

“Ahh,” Eddie sighs, kind of wheezy, smiling wide. “Perfect.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Yep.”

It kind of feels like Steve’s holding him down, holding him in place. It's instantly better. Means he can’t sink alone. Can't float away, means his brain starts to come back down to earth. They lie there like that until his brain feels a little more active again, until the sad has retreated - and then eventually he wiggles Steve off to one side and turns to face him, beaming.

“Thanks.”

“Uh. Anytime?”

Eddie stares at him. He's so pretty. “This is my favourite mole,” he muses, lifting a hand to poke at one on Steve’s cheek. He’s kissed it before, and he leans in to do it again. Target practice. 

“Playing favourites again,” Steve whispers, as if outraged. His hand finds Eddie’s under the comforter, and he slides their fingers together.

Eddie closes his eyes.

“I think we should probably talk about it,” Steve murmurs.

Eddie sighs.

“Talk later,” he mumbles. “Sleep.”

“I think I kind of need to talk now though,” Steve says, and he sounds sort of nervous again. Eddie blinks his eyes open, and then nods.

“Okay baby. ‘M awake.”

Steve exhales. “I- what we did, like- what I said and stuff. It was really hot. Like- sometimes I genuinely think you’ve been pulled out of one of my wet dreams, Eddie- seriously. But I want you to know, I… I wasn’t like, avoiding fingering you. Or whatever. I just worried- after what I said, you know, when you blew me for the first time? And like, some of the stuff I’ve been… thinking about? I just didn’t want to freak you out,” Steve admits. He bites his lip. “Or rush you. But I should have talked to you first. So- if you felt like you had to-”

“Steve,” Eddie cuts in, bumping his forehead against Steve’s. “I get it. Fully understood, all on board, one hundred percent okay. I kind of sprung it on you anyway, which maybe wasn’t fair-”

“Are you kidding?” Steve raises a brow. “That was hot, man. No complaints here.”

“Well… none on my side either.”

Steve nods, still looking pensive. Eddie pokes his cheek.

"Are you good?"

Steve hums, nodding. "No. I mean- yeah, no, I'm good."

Eddie smiles. "Mixed messages there, sweetheart."

"I just... I got really in my head a while back. And I feel like- you just... I just wanna like... I like bossing you around, but I worried I was kind of... influencing you before. It's so stupid."

Steve sighs. "That's why I was maybe a bit... slower, recently. With, uh. Stuff."

"Stuff?" Eddie grins. 

Steve rolls his eyes, jabbing him in the ribs so that Eddie squeaks, air rushing out from his lungs. He squeezes Steve's hand.

"How come you didn't say anything?" he asks softly. "I'm sorry if I... if you felt like you couldn't-"

"Nah, it wasn't you," Steve mumbles. "I was dumb about it. I'm glad that you... took the initiative."

"Well," Eddie muses, "I have a naturally high dexterity modifier, so."

Steve blinks at him.

"Get it? Because... initiative?"

"I actually... I actually do," Steve admits, looking horrified. "Jesus, what have you done to me? That's such a shit joke, and I understood the reference."

Eddie sniffs, pretending to wipe a tear from his eyes. "You're coming along so well," he sighs, "my young jedi apprentice..."

"Ew," Steve laughs. "Enough, oh my god."

"Steve," Eddie says, serious again. "Promise you'll say something, man. Like- if that happens again, and you feel like shit."

Steve nods, and then glances down at their hands, fingers intertwined again. He smiles softly.

Eddie rolls to face the ceiling.

“Earlier… when you were like, asking me to pick dice and stuff-”

“Was that too much?”

“What? No. I can’t believe you have that in you. That’s like, nerd sex- you think I’m not into nerd sex? Harrington, you wound me. I meant more… ugh,” he groans, putting his hands over his face. “Why the fuck is this embarrassing.”

Steve snorts.

“Before you kissed me, like with the whole countdown thing- was it really only kisses you wanted to do that for?”

Eddie turns his head to face him, and Steve is staring.

Like.

Mouth open.

“Uh. I guess I was kind of entertaining-”

“When you took your belt off I thought you were goingtouseitonme-” Eddie blurts out, his brain-to-mouth filter still a little dysfunctional. “Sorry. If that’s really weird.”

Steve shakes his head in disbelief. 

“I did too.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows.

“Like, I thought about it!” he adds hurriedly. “I wouldn’t actually- not without talking to you first. I wouldn’t. But fuck, Eddie- I thought about it. Yeah. Making you count. Telling you off for-”

“For earlier,” Eddie nods, squeezing Steve’s hand below the cover. “Fuck, I think I’m into that. Like, not sure why I’m surprised, I’ve seen shit like that in a porno, and- but- fuck, that’s- yeah.”

“I think I am as well,” Steve admits, sliding his hand up to grip Eddie’s waist. “Jesus, dude. How are you real?”

Eddie snorts, and then it feels like there’s just- like a dam is cracking in his chest, and he can’t stop laughing, wriggling forward into Steve’s grasp, laughing until he’s wheezing against his chest, Steve shaking with mirth, his chin on Eddie’s head.

“Fuck, are we like- are we fucked up?” Eddie sniffs, breathless from the laughing. Steve rolls him over, pinning him down again.

“Because you want me to hit you with a belt?”

“You said you thought about it too!” Eddie protests, “oh my- ah- god, get off, you’re crushing me.”

“Does that make me a freak?” Steve wonders, sliding off him again. 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “I feel like you surpassed that long ago, Harrington.”

“You corrupted me,” Steve grins, poking his cheek.

“Pot, meet kettle. I’d never even made out with anybody until a month ago, and you just made me come twice while you called me a slut and made me cry.”

“Woah,” Steve scoffs, “I feel like that’s…”

“That’s?” Eddie grins, waiting.

“It’s…”

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” he snickers, and Steve wrinkles his nose.

“What?”

“Shut up, Harrington. Kiss me.”

Steve frowns, but he obeys well enough. Soft kisses, open mouthed. He thumbs over Eddie’s wrists as he does so, leaning in to press kisses again against his lips, his cheeks.

“You sure it wasn’t too much?”

“Steve,” Eddie whispers. “I’ll tell you, dude. I liked it. All of it. Even uh. Even the bit… you know. The thing you said at the end? With the last die?”

Steve grins, sliding his hand up to rest firmly over Eddie’s throat. The grip makes him relax a little, pliant under Steve’s touch.

“Oh, I think I remember. It was… remind me what the number was?”

Eddie swallows. Feels his throat move under Steve’s fingers.

“Seven?”

“Liar,” Steve admonishes, his eyes glittering. “It was ten, baby.”

“You don’t wanna fuck around for ten days?” 

“Who said we couldn’t fuck around? I just don’t want you to touch yourself. Or come.”

“You added that on!”

“Are you complaining?”

Eddie bites his lip.

“...no.”

“Then that’s fine, hm? I know you can wait.”

He leans in close to kiss Eddie’s neck, mouthing at it and growling near his ear- “you’re gonna be good for me, right?”

Eddie groans, closing his eyes. “Sweetheart, please. I cannot physically get horny right now. And yet you are somehow pushing my buttons, do you have a fucking off switch?”

“Not around you, no. But I’ll be merciful. Want to take a nap?”

“It’s too late to nap.”

“Says who?”

“Says your sleep schedule which relies on you getting up at ass o’clock tomorrow.”

“You can wake me. You’re staying over, right?”

“Mmm. Yeah. You gonna make dinner?”

“I think we have, like, eggs. And bacon. Can do breakfast for dinner.”

“Fuckin’ excellent,” Eddie groans, burrowing into Steve’s side. “You’re the best. Like you so much.”

Steve squeezes him. 

“Yeah,” he eventually replies softly, after a brief moment of quiet that already has Eddie half-lulled into slumber. “I… like you too.”

Sleep is pulling him under like a great wave, but Eddie’s last conscious thought is- huh.

Sounded like he was going to say something else there.