Work Text:
The bell above the door twinkles with a sweet little one-two chime.
The smell is exactly how Buck remembers it; earthy and overpowering, with undercurrents of sweetness like beeswax. There’s a large display all along one wall with jars of incense bundled together, and when he walks past it he’s bombarded with more scents than his senses know what to do with. Spicy amber and herbaceous flowers and strong, woody cedar, all fighting to come out on top. It makes his nostrils burn.
“Welcome to Rosemary’s Emporium,” a muffled voice says from a backroom Buck can’t quite see into, and then the beaded curtain is clacking noisily as it’s carelessly tossed open, and the woman who steps out stops in her tracks at the sight of him. She tilts her head for one curious moment before her eyes light up in recognition. “Oh! It’s you! Brick!”
“Buck,” he corrects.
“Right, yes, of course,” she rushes out, holding out two apologetic hands decorated with intricate Henna. “Is everything alright? Is your partner doing well?”
Buck flushes at that, face pinching up awkwardly. “He’s— good,” he squeaks out, because how does he even begin to unpack that. Actually, he’s not my partner— well, he is— but he’s not— we haven’t really talked about it—
The agony must show on his face, because Rosemary places one gentle, comforting hand on his forearm. She gives him a small little wan smile, the edges of her mouth creasing and showing her years. “Sometimes things only look complicated up close,” she says cryptically, and Buck’s neck starts to sweat. Is it warm in here? “What can I do for you today, my dear?”
Buck clears his throat awkwardly, shaking himself in an attempt to get rid of the weird feeling accumulating in his chest. “So, uh, that quartz you gave us…”
Panic makes her eyes go wide and bright. “The effects have worn off by now, yes?”
“Oh yeah, yeah,” Buck assures with a frantic little nod. “I, um… is there any way I could, uh…” he looks over his shoulder with his hands planted firmly on his hips, as if scouring the room for any onlookers. They’re the only two souls in the store. He leans in closer to speak in a hushed tone, anyway. “Can I… get it back?”
She blinks up at him for a moment before a mischievous, shit-eating grin spreads across her face. It still somehow looks elegant on her. The flush on his face crawls down to his neck. “Oh, well, I’m afraid the energy it was imbued with has long since faded. Well, not faded, energy doesn’t ever truly dissipate. Just redistributes itself.”
“Right,” Buck says, like he has any idea what she’s talking about. “Of course. It was a long shot,” he huffs awkwardly, smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Sorry to bother you.”
“One soul is never a bother to another soul,” Rosemary says warmly, and even though it’s shlocky and patently untrue, Buck feels the tension in his chest loosen up at the gentle way she says it. She sort of reminds him of his elementary school art teacher. He gives her a polite nod and spins on his heels to leave when she adds, “I never said I don’t have more.”
Buck freezes, craning his neck over his shoulder. “Uh, you do?”
“Wait right here,” she says with a twinkle in her eye, her floor-length skirt billowing out as she whips around and disappears behind the beaded curtain once more. Buck is left standing there and looking like an absolute fool, flustered and fidgeting nervously, wondering if there’s a hidden camera somewhere filming this prank. He hopes his hair looks good, at least.
“Here we are,” she sing-songs, both hands full with an overstuffed velvet pouch. It makes a dull little clacking noise when she deposits it on the counter next to the register. She pries open the cinched-shut mouth of it with two manicured fingers and carefully dumps out a handful of stones onto the aged wood, and Buck gapes at it with rapidly blinking eyes.
“Are these all for—?” he starts, picking one up between his thumb and forefinger and examining it closely. It looks the same as the other one, at any rate.
“There are various purposes,” she says cryptically, and Buck’s eyebrows fly up to his hairline when she doesn’t elaborate. “It’s all about intent.”
“Right,” he says slowly, dragging out the vowels. Intent. His tongue goes a little swollen at the memories of Eddie shrieking in the middle of the night, of Buck storming his way into the bathroom, both of Eddie’s panicked hands fisted in his shorts— “Uh— whatever intent we, um, imbued it with last time was… accidental.”
“No such thing as an accident,” Rosemary says, winking at him. “Just consequences and the subconscious mind.”
Buck winces at that. His subconscious mind is a filthy, depraved traitor, then. “How much?” he croaks out, fumbling for his wallet.
“For you, my dear?” she croons, squeezing his hand where it’s resting on the table. “I think we can work out a deal.”
Buck’s not sure exactly how they got there. Well, he knows the series of events— the consequences, if you will. He’s pretty sure his brain left the premises and his dick took the wheel sometime around the part where he was telling Eddie men would line up down the block just for a chance to fuck him. Gun to his head, though, Buck was sure that they would’ve…
Moved a little in one direction or the other. That Eddie would’ve woken up the next day good as new and awkwardly laughed it off and said, thanks, man. I really appreciate it. Let’s, uh— let’s just keep this whole thing to ourselves, yeah? But then he’d teasingly scrubbed down Buck’s back in the shower with his loofah and his favorite shower gel, and he’d thrown his arms around Buck’s waist in bed afterwards, and he’d pushed his newly-returned cock into the skin of Buck’s thighs and down his throat and he’d come with a soft, shuddering sigh—
In the shower after, with a flipping gut full of Eddie’s warm come, Buck had thought to himself with a pathetic pang in his chest: he didn’t kiss me this time. The revelation is a sad one; for himself, most of all, for breaking his own vow. For vehemently denying that what was ultimately and mortifyingly true: he was in love with his straight best friend. He’d erected that brick wall himself and never gave it another glance, and then he and Eddie took a sledgehammer to it. God, Maddie was going to be so smug about it.
Straight. Buck wasn’t that naive. He’d once been so confident about that label for Eddie that he’d locked away any and all impulses that wanted to dissect the variants. Out of sight, out of mind. Now, all he can think is: how pathetic. Even when he’s not straight, he wouldn’t want you.
And he’s not, right? Straight. Buck is pretty certain Eddie had abandoned that moniker sometime between letting Buck slip his fingers into his waistband and letting Buck fuck him full of come. He’d thought that might be the end of it when Eddie didn’t reach for him that night, when Eddie had yawned and said, man, I’m beat. Growing new body parts is exhausting, and Buck had laughed and said, you should get some rest, and they’d locked eyes and Buck had thought: invite me to come with you and I will.
But Eddie had just looked into his eyes, lips parting, and he’d said, yeah, good call, and Buck’s heart had broken a little for himself, but he thought: this is different. Eddie’s not leaving me. Eddie’s not kicking me out. We can come back from this.
After work the next day, just when he’d given up hope, Eddie had given him a hot look in the kitchen, wet tongue lapping at the stray droplet of beer that had escaped his bottle, and he’d jerked his chin at Buck and said, you wanna…? Blood had rushed to his dick so quickly that Buck felt a bit lightheaded— he’d shot up from his chair like a rocket, leveling Eddie with a clumsy but eager nod.
It was easy to integrate it into their routine. If they had the house to themselves, if they were feeling pent up, hell, even if they were just bored— they’ll give each other a look and they’ll drop to their knees and they’ll make each other feel good with their fists and their mouths. And oh, is that a good look for Eddie, cheeks flushed and eyelids fluttering with a fucked-dumb gaping mouth. That’s a reward in and of itself. Buck forgets himself sometimes, gets lost in the buzzing heat of his imminent orgasm, and he’ll curl his tongue into Eddie’s mouth like he’s trying to suck the air right out of his lungs. Eddie’s breath stutters every time, mouth slack while Buck plunders him and wrings him dry and leaves him pink and heaving and sweaty.
It’s a bad idea. Buck knows that, logically. What is he supposed to say? Sorry, Eddie. I don’t want you to suck my dick today. I don’t want you to touch it ever again. Buck is many things, but he’s not a liar. And— sue him, after everything that’s happened, he likes how close it’s brought them. Buck could use a little closeness right now.
They’d been driving around downtown, the bed of Buck’s truck full of their haul of Costco goods, when Eddie had slapped Buck on the arm with the back of his hand to grab his attention. Hey, isn’t that…? he’d said with a curious little frown, pointing to a shop nestled on a little commercial strip, and Buck had straightened his spine and readjusted his grip on the wheel and said, heh, uh, yeah, looks like it. Rosemary’s Emporium, rebuilt with a shiny new hand-crafted sign hanging out front in elegant, looping cursive.
Still in business, Eddie had laughed, shaking his head and resting his elbow against the console. Melting back into the leather seat that molded to the shape of his body. Good for her. Wonder if she’s still cursing people.
Wonder when she’ll finally get sued, Buck had bitterly chimed in, and Eddie had snorted and tutted and looked back down at his phone.
We should use her guilt to our advantage, Eddie said distractedly, thumbs flying over the keyboard. We could probably get a lifetime discount.
On what? Candles and CBD gummies? Buck had joked, but his traitorous mind had flashed back to that stupid quartz, and—
Yeah, y’know, or more sex rocks, Eddie had said, face still pointed down at the phone in his lap, and that—
That wasn’t a bad idea.
Buck hides them in his locker at work, inconspicuously tucked away in a small, black leather pouch. He tucks the pouch into the front pocket of his spare, dry hoodie, shoved way into the back of his locker, buried beneath his gym clothes and his sneakers and his bag of toiletries. Somewhere where nobody can accidentally find them. His mind pings their location like a radar at least twice a shift, but he waits until the stars align to bring up the prospect to Eddie. He’s still workshopping that conversation— hey, I got you another one of those rocks. I got you five, actually. She gave me a discount for buying in bulk.
They have a grueling schedule of back to back shifts right before their mandated ninety-six off, which they get every month or so, but then Christopher gets invited to go camping with Lewis’ family and miraculously wants to go instead of grumbling about being away from his computer. Eddie gets a proud little twinkle in his eye— a real bonafide Boy Scout, just like his old man— and Buck thinks: now or never.
“I— uh— I got you something,” Buck stutters around a hitched breath.
Eddie blinks up at him incredulously, one neat eyebrow shooting high up towards his hairline, pulling his lips off slowly. His open mouth pants hot air all over Buck’s pink, drool-soaked cock. “Is this, uh… like, pillow talk? You brought me a hot pizza with extra sausage?”
Buck chuckles breathlessly, and his cock flexes in Eddie’s damp palm where he’s still holding it upright, tilted towards those swollen lips. He resists the impulse to pump up into his grip. “No, it’s a real tangible gift, I swear. Sort of, uh, been holding onto it for a while.”
Eddie hums and waits, idly rubbing his thumb along the underside of Buck’s cock. He grits his teeth at the shock of sensitivity. Eddie begins to look impatient when Buck doesn’t elaborate any further. “...Well? Are you gonna hand it over, or do I have to beg?” He tightens his fist and starts fucking it over the leaky mess of Buck’s cockhead, and Buck’s mouth drops open in slack bliss.
The edges of his mind go a bit blurry. Buck forgets himself for a moment, savoring the tight pressure, thighs flexing in time with the rhythm of Eddie’s hand. He swallows against the dry, scratchy cotton of his throat. “Check the nightstand,” he manages to croak out.
Eddie’s eyes light up curiously, and he drops Buck’s cock to riffle through the contents of the drawer. It makes a wet slap when it lands on his hip, and Buck shivers and resists the urge to cup his palm over the head. Eddie picks up the velvet pouch and leans back to rest on his heels, holding it up to his ear and rattling it noisily, the rocks clacking together.
“Marbles?” Eddie guesses, head playfully cocked to the side. The sides of his mouth fidget where he’s fighting a grin.
Buck snorts, propping himself up on his elbows. “Yeah, Eddie, I want to play a rousing game of Chinese checkers,” he says dryly, his own smile big and obvious on his face, before jerking his chin at the pouch. “Open it.”
Eddie concedes, pulling open the mouth of the bag and dumping out the contents into his large palm for inspection. He frowns down at them for a handful of moments, and then recognition lights up his features. His eyes quickly dart back up to meet Buck’s. “From Rosemary?” he says.
Buck nods, dragging his teeth over his lower lip. He feels antsy. “Yeah,” he croaks out, throat rumbling when he clears it. He fidgets against the sheets, muscles tightening at the friction of cotton against his bare skin. “Yeah, I figured, uh, we have the place to ourselves this weekend, so…” he trails off.
“Yeah,” Eddie breathes, looking back at the quartz in his hand. The unoccupied one drifts down to his own cock, bulging obscenely where he’s hard and wet in his briefs, strangled by fabric. His palm practically engulfs it, and it makes Buck’s mouth water. “When did you pick these up?”
Buck’s eyes are glued to the way Eddie’s thumb rubs over the head through the fabric, stomach tightening in sympathy. “I-I don’t know,” Buck lies, losing the fight with his own hand to mimic Eddie’s, cupping loosely over his cock. It jumps in his palm, and he starts caressing himself with long, languid pulls when Eddie’s hand slips underneath his waistband, matching his tempo. “Maybe a month ago?” he says. Twenty-seven days, to be exact, but who was counting?
“You’ve been holding out on me, bud,” Eddie breathes, the muscles in his arm flexing in time with his pulls. His eyes have gone glassy— Buck tugs at himself faster, thick thighs spreading wider. “Could’ve done this at any time.”
“Yeah, well,” Buck says, heat suffusing from his guts when Eddie’s brows pinch together in bliss. He cants his hips up softly into the now choking grip of his fist. “Wanted to really savor it. Take my time.”
“Yeah?” Eddie says, dumping the handful of rocks onto the mattress and crawling forward into the vee of Buck’s legs. He straddles one thigh, and Buck’s head goes dizzy at the feeling of wet cotton smearing over his skin. “Been dreaming about it?”
“Uh-huh,” Buck nods, his voice strangled, and he drops his cock to wrap both hands around Eddie’s waist, pulling their bodies together tightly. His scalp goes a bit tingly when Eddie’s hot, damp breaths wash over his collarbone.
“Me too,” Eddie whispers, like it’s a secret, and then he’s tangling one hand into Buck’s curls and pressing their swollen mouths together and everything goes white-hot with ecstasy, every muffled groan and stuttered breath echoed by the clack of quartz tangled in the bedsheets.
Buck rarely remembers his dreams in detail, but he’s certain he’d been having a good one, because the shrill sound of his phone ringing cuts right through the warm, comfortable bliss he’d been entrenched in. Eddie groans at the noise, and Buck echoes the sentiment, wading through the sleepy confines of his mind to identify the intrusion until he’s gently slapped on the cheek by the back of Eddie’s flailing hand.
“Shut it off,” Eddie grumbles, half-muffled by the pillow his face is stuffed in.
Buck grunts, squinting his eyes open and pulling away from the warm cocoon of Eddie’s body. He fumbles for his phone on the nightstand, knocking over several things in the process, before noticing that it’s an incoming phone call. At— 7:30 in the morning. Great.
“Yeah?” Buck says into the phone, his voice still thick with sleep. He rubs at the crust accumulating at his eyelids.
“Buckley,” the voice says with a sigh of relief. “Thank god, someone picked up. I need you to cover my shift today.”
Buck groans again. It’s Williams from B-shift. “Not happening,” he says.
“Man, come on, you owe me,” Williams complains. “I covered for you when you flew out to Pennsylvania last year at the last minute.”
“My uncle had just died,” Buck scoffs, his voice still gravelly.
“And I covered, like, three of your shifts!” he exclaims. “Man, please? Some asshole totaled my car on the freeway with my kid in the backseat and he’s still pretty shaken up, I’m not leaving him.”
Buck groans a third time, rubbing his hand over his face. Damn it. He would do the same. “Fine,” he grumbles, blindly swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
“You rock, man,” Williams breathes. “It’s just a twelve, you’ll be home before you know it.”
Buck glances over his shoulder to look down at a drowsy Eddie, sleep-warm and blinking up at him from beneath the blankets. “I better be,” he says before hanging up.
“Who wazzat?” Eddie mumbles, shifting up onto his elbows. His t-shirt is all rumpled, and when the blanket slides down to his lap Buck’s eyes are drawn to the strip of tan skin where the hem is riding up on his stomach.
“Williams,” Buck answers. “He needs me to cover today.”
“Shit,” Eddie sighs unhappily. He rubs his hand over his brow. “I’ll go start the coffee.”
“No, no, you stay,” Buck says, gently encouraging Eddie back into the pillows when he starts to sit up. “You should go back to bed, I can get something on the way.”
Eddie hums, eyes fluttering shut when Buck’s warm hand stays pressed against his sternum. “You sure?” he asks, like he’s not melting into the sheets.
Buck exhales in amusement, digging his teeth into the corner of his cheek to bite down the smile. “I’m sure,” he says. His thumb rubs soothing circles over Eddie’s t-shirt, and when Buck stretches it out as far as he can he grazes the side of one nipple. It’s a subtle thing, but his mouth goes dry at the little quake in his spine that Eddie suppresses.
“Oh,” Eddie says quietly, cracking one eye open and grinning at Buck lecherously. “Almost forgot about the, uh—”
He’s sliding one free hand down beneath the blankets before Buck can ask, and his whole body flushes hot at the way Eddie tenses and sighs breathily. Fuck, he’d forgotten, too.
He swallows against the dry, sour boulder in his throat, eyes honing in on the lump of Eddie’s hand rubbing soft and rhythmic beneath the blankets. His mouth has dropped open, he knows, lips parted as he gapes at the sight. “Eddie,” he says quietly, his hand still firmly planted on Eddie’s warm chest. “Eddie, can I—?”
“Mm,” Eddie hums, eyes falling fully shut for a moment to bask in the sensation, and Buck’s cock lurches in his sweats.
“Please,” he adds.
“You’re gonna be late as it is,” Eddie says, his voice husky, and Buck fights the urge to restlessly bounce his foot. “Besides, it’ll be here when you get back.”
“I can be quick,” Buck pleads, and his heart starts fluttering erratically when Eddie pulls his hand free, his middle two fingers slick and catching on the light.
“No, you can’t,” Eddie says fondly, pulling his fingers apart to eye the sticky strings. He gives Buck a sly smile before stretching them out towards him, as if in offering, and Buck sucks those wet fingers into his throat without a second thought. He groans at the taste, sour and musky, tongue lapping in-between Eddie’s fingers to slurp up every drop. Buck fights not to go cross-eyed when the blunt edge of Eddie’s fingernails drag against the roof of his mouth, spit pooling on the flat of his tongue.
Eddie pulls his fingers out, dragging those drool-soaked fingers through Buck’s harsh morning scruff, cupping his jaw. Both of their breathing has gone heavy and unsteady. “You can wait,” Eddie says, his pupils already blowing. Buck’s sure his own are no better. “You made me wait, so it’s only fair.”
Buck makes an agonized noise, not dissimilar to that of a dying cat. His dignity has long since left the building. “Come on, that’s different,” he whines, but the last word is garbled from Eddie smushing his lips together to shush him. He frowns and tries not to pout.
His phone buzzes on the nightstand again, and they both startle at the disruption. Eddie drops his hand back down to the mattress, and Buck finds that he immediately mourns the loss. “You got this,” Eddie encourages, giving him a wry smile. “Go bring home the bacon,” home, Buck’s brain attaches to, “and when you get back…”
Buck bites down the crude, vulgar sentence that immediately floats to the forefront of his mind. “Yeah,” he breathes instead, eagerly nodding with fever-bright eyes. “When I get back.”
Buck’s never had his fingernails pried off, but leaving that bed has got to be the closest approximation of it. It’s absolute torture.
Just twelve hours, he repeats to himself in traffic, his iced latte already sweating in the cupholder from the wretched heat. How bad could it be?
Buck is actually— for once— grateful for the cloying L.A. summer heat. Their first four hours on shift are spent going from accident to accident on the five, which is usually a back-breaking, laborious nightmare; hours of kneeling on hot concrete, of lifting hundreds of pounds of mangled metal and mangled humans, all the while fighting heat stroke in his turnouts. It’s a good distraction, all things considered. There’s no time to daydream about what’s waiting for him at home when he’s too focused on the uncomfortable sensation of sweat pooling at his collarbone and his pits and the backs of his knees.
Everyone makes a beeline for the showers when they get back, exhausted and covered in grit, and Buck is one step behind them when his phone buzzes in his pocket. There are a few earlier texts he missed, and he sinks down onto the bench to scroll through them with a dumb grin on his face.
[Eddie 10:32]
Damn I actually managed to go back to sleep
[Eddie 10:32]
Hope ur not suffering too badly out there
[Eddie 10:34]
From the heat I mean
[Eddie 10:34]
Although…
[Eddie 11:48]
Forgot how weird this is
[Eddie 11:49]
I mean not weird weird but different
[Eddie 11:49]
Slippery
Fuck. Buck’s stomach does somersaults at that one-word text. He exhales a shaky, quivering breath, checking over his shoulder to make sure the coast is still clear. This must be how aristocrats felt when they saw a bare ankle.
[Eddie 12:08]
Awful quiet out there
[Eddie 12:08]
Everything good?
Buck grins down at his phone, ripping his other glove off with his teeth to whip out a response.
[Buck 12:10]
just got back to the station 😮💨it’s scorching out
Bubbles pop up immediately, and Buck’s chest goes warm and floaty, like someone was filling every hollow space in his ribcage with light and bubbles and water.
[Eddie 12:11]
Yeah? The sun getting you all hot and bothered?
Buck shakes his head fondly at Eddie’s teasing, and he whips open his camera to take a selfie of himself— sweaty and flushed and grimy, wild curls askew in every direction, still wearing his turnouts.
[Buck 12:12]
(image attached)
[Buck 12:12]
amongst other things
[Eddie 12:13]
Who still says amongst
Buck startles when a hand falls onto his shoulder, breaking him from his reverie and making his grin fall. He does a double-take up at a freshly-showered Chapman, instinctually flipping his phone screen to be face-down on his thigh. He hasn’t done anything wrong, but— he still feels like he’s been caught.
“Go wash all that stink off, Buckley,” he says, pivoting to his locker. “I need your help in the kitchen with lunch. I hear you’re the only one over on A-shift with any knife skills worth a damn.”
“Uh— yeah, right,” Buck rushes out, standing in a flurry of movement. “You, uh, you heard right,” he chuckles, forcing nonchalance. He probably doesn't stick the landing.
In the station’s shower, with his head ducked down under the spray as dirt and sweat circle the drain at his feet, he tries and fails not to think about Eddie— at home, alone. Slippery. It’s nothing short of a miracle that he doesn’t brain himself on the wet tile.
[Eddie 1:48]
Can’t stop thinking about later
Buck surreptitiously lifts his head up to glance around the loft. He’s not alone, up here— he’s stretched out in an arm chair by the tv with Meyers and Shaw, only half paying attention to the Real Housewives episode they’re heatedly debating on the couch. Everyone else is spread out into different corners of the station; two playing pool, one scrubbing the ambulance downstairs, another handful taking a siesta in the bunkroom. He tries not to be obvious as he settles his phone into his lap to reply.
[Buck 1:49]
yeah?
The reply, once again, comes through in an instant, like Eddie was waiting for him to respond.
[Eddie 1:49]
Yeah
[Eddie 1:50]
Clit’s been throbbing all day
Fuck. Buck nervously crosses one leg over the other, his tongue darting out over his lips.
[Buck 1:50]
fuck
[Buck 1:50]
are you wet rn?
[Eddie 1:51]
Fucking soaked
[Eddie 1:51]
Want to play with myself so bad
Buck swallows back the groan that rumbles in his throat, eyes flying around the room to check his surroundings. Meyers and Shaw— they’re not paying attention to him, but they’re only ten feet away. Fifteen at most. His dick is starting to thicken in his pants, and he spreads his thighs infinitesimally to give it room to swell up. This is so, so stupid.
[Buck 1:52]
u should
He’s honestly holding back; Buck knows what he wants to say. He wants to crack his jaw open— metaphorically— and say yeah, baby, I bet it fucking aches. Needs my dick in there to make it better. But that is crossing a line, he thinks, because while they hadn’t discussed lines per se, there is something loud making a racket inside of him; an intrinsic, instinctual need for preservation. You don’t tell your best friend they need to be plugged up with cock. You definitely don’t call them baby. Maybe he’s overthinking it.
[Eddie 1:53]
I was saving it for you
[Eddie 1:53]
Seems only fair since you can’t do the same
Ohgodohgodohgod, Buck thinks incoherently. He squeezes his thighs together in a desperate bid to get his cock to calm down, but the pressure only makes him crazier. Fuck, his coworkers are right there. They’re laughing at the tv, slapping each other on the shoulders, and it’s easy for his brain to warp it so that they’re laughing at him. Pointing at his hard dick in his pants and mocking him and cackling. Embarrassingly? It kind of just makes him hotter. Maybe he should unpack that someday.
[Buck 1:54]
forget about me
[Buck 1:54]
u should touch yourself
[Buck 1:54]
take the edge off
[Eddie 1:55]
Could never forget about you
[Eddie 1:55]
Been thinking about you all day
[Eddie 1:55]
Thinking about that tongue
[Buck 1:55]
fuckkkkkk
[Buck 1:56]
wanna get my tongue on you again so bad
[Buck 1:56]
bet ur underwear are drenched rn
[Eddie 1:56]
Been drenched all day
[Eddie 1:56]
Haven’t changed yet
[Eddie 1:56]
Wanted you to see what you’re doing to me
Buck looks away from his phone to stare up at the ceiling, toes curling in his work boots. His cock is more than half-hard now, his whole body flushed warm and panicky like he’s going to be sick. He needs to calm down, before the ache in his gut turns into a throb, before he spills in his uniform right here in the loft, writhing against the chair while he stains his leg with his own come. Would everyone know? Would they see his red face and know, instinctually, that he’d just made a mess in his pants?
Fuck, that mental image is so not helping.
[Buck 1:58]
fuck eddie
[Eddie 1:58]
You hard right now?
[Buck 1:59]
yeah
[Buck 1:59]
jesus
[Buck 1:59]
as a fucking rock
[Eddie 2:00]
Fuck
[Eddie 2:00]
Are you alone?
[Buck 2:00]
no 😥
[Eddie 2:01]
Wish you were
[Eddie 2:01]
Then you could take a picture for me
“Buckley,” a teasing voice rings out, and Buck startles and presses his phone into his chest. His stomach swoops violently, face flushing hot and red, the thick blood in his veins rushing fast and making him feel vaguely ill. It’s Chapman again. “You’re glued to that phone today,” he says with a grin, tree trunk arms crossing firmly over the expanse of his chest.
“Uh,” Buck says dumbly. His phone buzzes against his shirt.
“Oooh, he’s all red,” Meyers teases, their attention drawn away from the television. “Somebody’s got a girlfriend.”
The trio oooo at him mockingly, like grade schoolers, crowing at him to tell us her name, Buckley, is she pretty? Firefighters are such gossips. Second only to nurses, that is. He finds it’s much less fun being on the other end of it for a change.
“I do not,” he defends weakly, trying his level best to lightheartedly dismiss their accusations. “A— A man can’t just text his friends?” Buzz buzz.
“Not with that schmoopy expression on their face, they can’t,” Shaw says.
“Schmoopy,” Buck mocks, affronted. He crosses his legs tighter, white-knuckling the phone in his hand. It vibrates again. He wants to look so, so badly. “I do not have a girlfriend,” he reiterates insistently, emphasizing his words with his free hand.
“If you say so,” Chapman says, and when Buck looks back up at him he gives Buck a playful wink, like they’re both in on the joke. Buck deflates back into his chair, shoulders sinking.
He only (cautiously, with a carefully neutral expression) lifts his phone back up when the coast is clear, when Chapman has wandered away and the tv has been unmuted, and it’s like three gut-punches in a row: Bet your cock’s all big for me, and then, wish you were here right now, and finally, wish I was coming all over your hand.
Buck pinches his bicep until the skin is raw and aching just for the distraction, just to direct his blood flow elsewhere, and then trudges defeatedly towards the engine when the alarm sounds out.
“Buck?” Eddie says when he picks up the phone. “Aren’t you still at work? Is everything okay?”
Buck grins, lips stretched wide around the shape of it. Eddie can be such a worrywart. “I’m fine, I just wanted to hear your voice.” He pauses, his free hand wrapping around the open locker door, tapping against the metal impatiently. There’s an old picture of him, Eddie, and Christopher taped to the inside, tucked firmly under the mirror next to a polaroid of him and Maddie as kids. “Is… that weird?”
“No, not at all,” Eddie breathes, the smile and the relief obvious in his voice. “What’s up? How’s the shift been?”
“I’ve had worse,” Buck says. “Bunch of car wrecks on the five this morning, which was sweaty work.”
“Mm,” Eddie hums thoughtfully. “That picture you sent me.”
“Yeah,” Buck says. He catches a glance of himself in the mirror on the door of his locker; he looks— flushed, and fond. He looks so obviously, annoyingly in love. He ducks his head away and slams the door shut. “Uh, then we had a call after lunch out to this, like, play in the park. Shakespeare. Turns out wearing full sixteenth century ballgowns in ninety-degree humidity is a great way to get heat stroke.”
“Who’d’ve thunk?” Eddie replies.
Buck leans against the row of lockers, casually crossing one foot over the other. “Felt so bad cutting through that corset,” he laments with a breathy chuckle, remembering the cry of dismay from one of the other cast members. “Looked expensive.”
“She’ll probably forgive you when she wakes up alive tomorrow.”
“Uh, ‘he’, actually,” Buck corrects. “They were doing it old school. No girls allowed.”
“Is that right?” Eddie murmurs, and Buck presses the phone impossibly closer to his ear, like he could shove Eddie’s voice right into his brain. “Sounds tight.”
“Eddie,” Buck breathes with a little smile, and then snaps open his eyes when he realizes they’ve drifted shut. He clears his throat. “What, um— how’s your day been?” he asks clumsily.
Eddie hums again. “Not bad,” he says. “Went back to sleep for a few hours. Lounged around in bed on my phone for a bit. Checked in with Lewis’ dad.” He pauses, and Buck strains his ears to pick up on any stray noises— sighs, the rustling of fabric, anything. “Cleaned up the closet a bit,” he adds, but there’s a weight to it that belies a deeper innuendo.
“Oh, yeah?” Buck asks, eyes wandering through the glass walls to make sure he’s still safely alone. “Find anything?”
“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Found a box of your stuff on the top shelf.”
Buck sinks his teeth into his lower lip, shivering at the dirty thrill that runs through him. Oh. That box. He swallows thickly, releasing a heavy exhale. “Did you, um…” he nervously checks over his shoulder again. God, he’s being so obvious. “Did you… pull anything out?”
Eddie snorts in his ear, like he’s hopelessly fond, and Buck thinks maybe his heart and his cock might be connected by an invisible red string. They both seem to be conspiring against him right now. “I wish you’d pull something out,” Eddie jokes.
“Eddie,” Buck says. He tries not to make it sound like a whine. “I’m still at work.”
“Trust me, I know,” Eddie sighs. There it is— the jangle of a buckle being shoved through belt loops. It puts his body at full alert. “Had to resort to a piece of plastic instead of the real thing.”
A thrumming sensation zips up his spine— he checks his surroundings one more time before ducking into the attached bathroom, shouldering the door shut behind him. “Eddie,” he breathes, dropping his free hand down to his crotch once he’s alone. He squeezes himself once, sighing at the feeling, before moving into a stall and locking it behind him. As if that’ll accomplish any real privacy. “Eddie, come on, man.”
“Use your words, Buck,” Eddie chides.
“Will you…” Buck starts, eyes darting over the top of the stall like a wild, trapped animal. The coast is still mercifully clear. “Would you send me a picture?” he murmurs, gently knocking his forehead into the stall door.
“Of my…?” Eddie starts, bewildered, before barking out a startled laugh. Buck anxiously shifts his weight from foot to foot. “…You’re not serious,” he says quietly.
“Deadly,” Buck says. “Deadly serious. As a heart attack.”
“Fuck,” Eddie laughs. “You’re really gagging for it, huh? I’ve never seen you like this.”
For you, Buck thinks, antsy and impatient as his cock fills out for the umpteenth time that day. It’s as familiar as breathing at this point, his arousal sparking as easily as dead wood in a campfire. He’d probably light up a whole forest at this rate. Only for you.
“Well, that’s not totally true,” Eddie sighs. There’s another shifting of fabric, and Buck imagines Eddie stretching out on the mattress, down to just his socks and briefs. “That first time— you were crazy desperate for it.”
“Yeah,” Buck grunts, his voice guttural just at the memory. Him and Eddie, on the couch, one of Buck’s arms slung around the back of it while he got right up into Eddie’s space, while his blunt fingers combed through sticky-wet pubes, while Eddie panted and squirmed and shoved Buck’s shirt into his mouth until the fabric had gone damp—
“Fuck,” Eddie breathes again, letting loose another wet chuckle. It’s like candy for Buck’s ears. “You sure you want this picture? My underwear are kinda nasty. Like, actually crusty.”
Buck slams his forehead into the stall and it rattles with the force, the hinges creaking dangerously. He grits his teeth together while his jaw spasms. “Yeah, Eddie, god, I really do. Show—” he exhales, shaky, and grinds his head into the door. “Show me how filthy your panties are.”
The noise Eddie releases makes his brain go foggy. Eddie’s voice, pitched low and deep, groaning in his ear. It strokes at the pleasure center of his brain. Like it’s reaching through the phone to slither right into his ear, smooth and slippery and effortless. It makes him squirm. Makes his cock throb, dull but present.
“Yeah, fuck, hang on,” Eddie grits out, because he’s good like that, because he always listens to Buck, and Buck’s hips fuck forward into nothing, desperate to rut into anything. He feels fucking crazy. Waiting for the vibration of a new incoming message feels like a thousand lifetimes, but when it finally comes through Buck is quick on the draw to open it. And god— it might be the best picture Buck has ever been blessed with. It’s Eddie; Eddie’s bare stomach, clenched up tight and showing off the cut of his waist. His thick thighs, dusted with dark hair and spread wide on the mattress. His cloth covered hips, straining upwards, and below that—
His briefs, stained and wet, two thick fingers on either side of where his clit must be. Buck’s mouth waters— he wants to be down there, wants to nose at those sticky knuckles and lap up the mess, wants to suck at the fabric until Eddie is writhing against his face and shoving him closer with a pathetic plea.
“Jesus Christ,” Buck garbles out, pulling the phone back up to his ear. “Eddie, god, tell me about the toy, please,” he begs.
“Hah,” Eddie laughs, and Buck can just imagine him in bed right now— in their bed, because it is their bed, because Buck hasn’t slept on the couch in weeks— rubbing the pads of his fingers over his briefs and letting the pleasure roll through him. God. “Is that such a good idea? You are still at work.”
Buck groans, but this time it’s one of annoyance. “You’re killing me,” he says. “I’ve never jerked off at work before, but you’re really testing my resolve.”
“Don’t,” Eddie says quickly, and Buck holds his breath. “Don’t jerk off.”
The throb in his gut is nearly unbearable, but— “no?”
Eddie exhales raggedly, peaking the microphone unpleasantly. Buck would endure it a thousand times over. “No. You should save it for— nngh— ah, for— for—”
Buck wets his lips, face crumpling up where it’s smashed against the stall door again. “For your cunt,” he says quietly, and he holds his breath again and listens to Eddie fall apart in his ear, deep and melodic and euphoric.
“Fuck,” Eddie pants out, and Buck savors every full-bodied exhale in his ear. He feels unsteady and dizzy, swaying a bit where he’s somehow still upright. “Whoa. I don’t think I’ve ever made myself come that fast before.”
“I’ll beat your time,” Buck promises, and Eddie laughs like he’s making a joke.
“Didn’t come in your pants, did you?”
Buck glances down at his lap. Bulging, straining, smothered against fabric wet with pre-come, but— “No. Barely.” He chews on his next thought for a moment, before cheekily offering, “you want that picture now?”
“Yeah,” Eddie breathes, and Buck angles his camera down at his hard cock and fights back a laugh at how ridiculous he feels; skin buzzing, dick hard, antsy to wrap a hand around it and milk himself dry. He hasn’t felt this desperate for someone in years. Maybe— ever.
He snaps the photo and sends it to Eddie.
“Mm,” Eddie hums in his ear, sending a fresh wave of tingles up to his scalp. “Nice.”
He probably breaks a few laws on the drive home, but potential speeding tickets be damned: Buck’s got an ache in his heart and a throb in his jeans and lead in his foot, and not even a natural disaster could halt him from getting back to Eddie. Especially after they’d wrapped up their clandestine phone call, when Eddie had sighed playfully and said, guess I’ll go pop this thing in some tupperware and stick it in the fridge, since no one is eating it. He could practically hear the goofy little simper through the line. He’d laughed at that in the moment, thick and wet, but he’d also kind of wanted to shove his knuckles into his mouth and bite down until the skin bruised. He’s not quite sure how he’d managed not to.
Just a few more hours, he’d promised, and when C-shift came to relieve them he’d done his very best impression of the Road Runner and dashed towards his truck with nary a goodbye. He can’t be totally sure, of course, since he wasn’t looking, but he likes to think he left a little cloud of smoke behind.
The ache comes back while he’s stuck in traffic. He doesn’t honk, because that would be impolite, but he does get irrationally irritated every time the light turns green and the person in front of him doesn’t immediately move. His left foot jiggles impatiently, and his right hand keeps fidgeting down to adjust himself in his jeans, squeezing himself and making it worse. God, they just blew each other last night. It hasn’t even been that long. Certainly not enough to warrant this reaction from his body. He thinks Eddie might have biohacked him. Or, really— maybe he kind of biohacked himself.
The anticipation reaches its peak when he pulls into the driveway, his truck nestled right next to Eddie’s. He doesn’t even bother with his work bag, abandoning his dirty, sweat-soaked clothes to their encrusted fate on the passenger-side floor. Buck barely even remembers to lock his truck, his long legs pulling him towards the house like he’s in a trance.
“Eddie,” he calls out as soon as he’s past the threshold. He toes his sneakers off and abandons them where they land in disarray by the front door. Eddie will probably chew him out about it later. “Eddie, I’m—”
“Bedroom,” Eddie’s voice calls out from down the hall, sounding kind of strangled, and Buck’s nervous system lights up like a Christmas display.
“Jesus Christ,” Buck says when he swings the bedroom door open, bluescreening. He tugs at the neck of his shirt to whip it off his body, careless like it’s personally offended him, his eyes unmoving from the sight laid out before him. Eddie’s reclined on the bed, his shirt rucked up but completely bare from the waist down, two thick fingers plugging up his hole. His wet hole, Christ, the moisture smearing where it’s drooling out of him all the way down to his thighs. He looks like a wet dream come to life, all flushed cheeks and gritted teeth and the pink, wet swell of his cunt.
“‘M ready, bud,” Eddie breathes out, burying his fingers to the root and slapping his palm against his engorged clit. His brows pinch together softly. “I’m so ready, take your pants off, come on—”
Buck nods dumbly, struggling with the zipper of his jeans momentarily, his every movement uncoordinated from the fog that settles over his brain. Eddie’s hips cant up softly when Buck’s cock springs free, pressing into his own touch, and when Buck is finally naked he crawls down towards Eddie’s cunt only to be stopped with a firm hand on his forehead. Like pushing a stubborn dog away from your food.
“Don’t need it, Buck, come on, just get in me,” Eddie pants. Buck resists Eddie’s hand, pushing against the pressure, and Eddie startles like he’s been shocked when Buck’s tongue darts out and laps at the knuckles still stuffed inside him.
“You have been torturing me all day,” Buck says in a strangled, raspy voice. “I’ve been thinking about getting my tongue on you for hours. I’ve earned this.”
Eddie shudders, hips squirming on the bed, and when he pulls his wrinkled fingers free Buck is quick to suck them into his mouth with a ragged groan. God, Eddie tastes good. And it’s all for him.
“You’re crazy,” Eddie huffs, breathless and grinning and so, so gorgeous it makes Buck’s heart hurt. He pulls his mouth off of Eddie’s fingers, swallowing the mess of slick and drool around his own cocksure grin.
“Lock me up, then,” he retorts, and then he ducks his head down and presses his soft mouth to Eddie’s cunt.
He’s sloppy about it from the get go— Buck lolls his tongue out and lathers it against Eddie’s folds, eyelids fluttering shut at the pungent wetness that melts across his tastebuds. He laps at Eddie gracelessly, messily, like a dog lapping at a bowl of water, hunched over like some kind of starving beast. He feels shaky and uncoordinated, his knuckles going white where he’s thumbing at the plush fat of Eddie’s thighs on either side of his head, holding him open for his tongue.
“Oh, god,” Eddie groans above him, thick fingers tangling in Buck’s curls and making his scalp go buzzy. His hips undulate in rhythm with Buck’s tongue, fucking up towards his mouth like he just can’t help himself. “Buck, shit, almost forgot how good you are at this.”
Buck preens, sucking Eddie’s clit into his mouth with a pleased hum while the praise washes over him, Eddie’s thighs flexing beneath his fingers. He’s not even being touched, doesn’t even have his cock pressed against the mattress, but he still feels waves of pleasure shivering up his spine in hot bursts. He’s not gonna last more than ten seconds at this rate. Didn’t even really last more than ten seconds last time, either, if he’s being honest, and— that just seems wrong. Eddie’s begging him for his cock, and he’s not gonna be able to give it to him. Not in the way he really wants. Buck groans at the thought, the vibrations muffled into the swollen, tender flesh of Eddie’s cunt— Eddie. His best friend. His best friend who is writhing, desperate and wet and empty, who wants Buck to soothe the ache and plug him up with cock and drive into him until they’re both—
He rips his mouth away to suck in air, lungs shuddering. Fuck. He can’t do this. “Eddie,” he says, the excess wetness in his mouth making his words come out all slurred and garbled. Or maybe that’s just him. “I need to come.”
Eddie nods deliriously, strong hands cupped under Buck’s damp pits to pull him up to his face. “Yeah, come on, fuck me,” he breathes, leaning up to press their mouths together over and over, closed-mouth smooches that make Buck’s guts boil.
“No,” Buck says, his voice thin, and Eddie freezes below him. “No, I’m gonna— I’m gonna come once so that I can last for you.”
“Fuck,” Eddie sighs, pinching his eyes shut. “Yeah, okay, yeah,” he nods again, both hands soothing over Buck’s flank. His hands cup over his waist— god, they’re fucking enormous. Those hands almost make Buck feel dainty, which is frankly laughable. “Can you get it up again that fast?”
“Yes,” Buck says confidently, because— yeah, he probably can, and even if he couldn’t he’d defy his biology and find a way, because this is probably the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him. Top two, for sure. Buck reaches down to start pulling at his cock, huffing at the relief of finally getting a hand on him, tugging at himself like an overeager teenager. “Yeah, I’ll get hard for you again, don’t worry.”
Eddie’s eyes glaze over, melting back into the mattress. His thighs spread wider, and Buck’s eyesight is drawn back down to his pussy. God, he’s all slick and swollen, a gooey mess from Buck’s tongue. He wants to get back in there. He’s about to inch back down and finish what he started when Eddie stops him with a firm squeeze, jerking his chin down at Buck’s throbbing cock. “You said you’d…” he starts, eyelids fluttering, and that makes Buck pull at himself harder. “You’d save it for me. For my… cunt.” He stumbles over the last word, like he’s embarrassed to say it, and Buck feels feverish. Eddie tilts his hips up towards Buck’s cock where it’s leaking a mess over his fist, still staring at the sight.
Buck’s stomach clenches, goosebumps erupting all up and down his back. “Yeah, I did,” he says, gravel in his throat, and then he inches his knees closer and holds his breath as he slaps the head of his cock directly over Eddie’s swollen clit.
Eddie lurches at the contact, back arching up off the bed. “Fuck,” he sighs, so Buck does it again, and again, dragging the tip through silky, spit-wet folds, and he thinks he might be losing his mind. “Come on,” he coaxes, fingernails lightly scratching over Buck’s back and shoulders, digging into the muscle with a strained keen. “C’mon, just— just a couple inches.”
Buck’s breathing goes from sort-of fast to actively unsteady, and he teases the wet mess of Eddie’s hole with the sensitive head of his cock. God, it feels heavenly and he’s not even inside yet. “I’m gonna come,” he chokes out, dipping in a little further, a little further, a little more…
He’s got just the tip buried inside when Eddie’s walls seize up around him, fluttering at the intrusion, and the heat in Buck’s gut that’s been steadily bubbling all day comes to a violent and almost painful spike. He groans, brows knitting together severely, stripping over the length of his cock as he empties himself inside of his best friend’s pussy. “Eddie, Eddie, holy shit,” he groans, punched-out while his face crumples, his fist colliding with Eddie’s swollen clit with every tug.
“Oh, fuck,” Eddie keens, reaching down to wrap his own fist around Buck’s, pumping harder. His walls clamp down every time they reach the apex and bump his clit, arching into the pressure. “Buck,” he cries helplessly.
Buck shudders, oversensitive, and he pulls his hips back to drag himself out of that velvet warmth. The circle of Eddie’s hand slips up towards the sagging head, and one last strip of come laces itself over Eddie’s clit and his swollen labia, like a final, depraved brush stroke against perverted canvas. His ears are ringing. Maybe Buck is just a little delirious.
He takes a beat to gather his soul back into his body, and when the ringing subsides he’s acutely tuned in to the wet, sloppy sound of Eddie’s fingers dragging through the mess to clumsily rub over his clit. He doesn’t hesitate for long; he scooches back on his knees to flop down between Eddie’s thighs again, lathering Eddie’s cunt with spit and sighing wistfully.
“Fuck,” Eddie grits out, abdomen visibly clenching with every swipe of Buck’s tongue. He keeps his eyes on Eddie’s face this time, laser-focused on every ecstasy-soaked flinch that screws up that beautiful red face. “So good, so good, sweetheart, don’t stop,” he babbles, and when Buck sloppily sucks at his clit he tenses at the contact. It makes him clench up and then relax, over and over, throbbing in time to the way Buck’s cheeks sink in, and then a little thin trickle of Buck’s come starts leaking out from his hole. He ducks his head down, nose pressed firmly to Eddie’s drool-soaked clit, and starts to lap that mess up, too.
Buck’s tried his own come before— he’s only human, who hasn’t?— but never like this. Never licking it directly out of a person. It’s nasty and sour and depraved, and he’s never felt anything quite so euphoric in his life. Seasoning his meal, he thinks, and he buries his laugh into Eddie’s slick folds and wags his tongue in an erratic little zig-zag pattern that makes Eddie’s mouth drop open, the pressure a soft, slick blur. He always did love to lick his plate clean.
“Oh, Jesus, you’re gonna make me come,” Eddie pants up towards the ceiling in a tight voice. Buck shakes his head back and forth to force his tongue to move faster, pushing through the soreness of his jaw, slurping noisily. He wonders if he can get Eddie to squirt again. He wonders if he can get Eddie to do it around his cock this time. He reaches one hand up to push under Eddie’s shirt and grab a handful of his chest, which— really isn’t a handful, because his chest is flat, but muscle memory demanded otherwise. Eddie seems into it regardless, because he pushes up into Buck’s hand and pushes down on his head and frantically ruts his hips up. “Right there, right there—”
His knees flinch up as he comes, and Buck keeps dutifully licking him through it, dizzy at the sight of Eddie’s pink face pinched up in ecstasy. He keeps letting out these little chopped up moans, like the sound is getting stuck in his throat, and Buck sighs and lazily laps at his wet cunt until Eddie is loose and boneless, shuddering into the sheets. When Buck finally pull his lips and tongue away with an obscene slurp— and that really, truly is like pulling fingernails— Eddie huffs out a laugh, husky and breathless and sweet as apple pie. Buck leans his head against Eddie’s thigh, grinning up at him while they both catch their breath. He kinda wants to bottle up that sound, that feeling, and huff it like glue.
“Jesus,” Eddie breathes out, raking his fingers through Buck’s haphazard curls. Buck basks in it, the attention and the delicate touch and the fond look on Eddie’s pink, pink face. He buries his cheek harder against Eddie’s thigh and nuzzles, pressing soft kisses against the plush skin. He hopes his stubble doesn’t irritate it too badly. “You could just live down there, huh, bud?”
His thumb traces over the shell of Buck’s ear, and a small shiver works its way up Buck’s spine. He feels a little liquid right now. “Yeah,” he says honestly, leaning in to lick one mischievous stripe up Eddie’s center, from his freshly-slicked cunt to his oversensitive clit. Eddie’s abdomen clenches up tight as he flinches, grunting softly. “But I think I want to fuck you now.”
His cock throbs dully where it’s resting against his thigh— he leans up to hover over Eddie’s body now, reaching one hand down to pump himself to full hardness, and he groans when Eddie’s hand joins his, two clumsy fists stripping over his flushed cock.
“Yeah, come on,” Eddie coaxes, his abdomen flexing when he sits up to finally tug his shirt off by the neck, the cotton dragging on his dewy skin. He collapses back into the pillows with a dreamy expression and tilts his hips up as Buck settles between his legs. His heart feels like it’s going to pound right out of his chest, like it’s a trapped bird banging its wings against the cage.
His eyes lock on to Eddie’s face as he starts to sink in, eyelashes fluttering at the filthy wet heat that grips his cock. Eddie’s mouth drops open, his own eyes dropped down to watch where their skin connects, where Buck is plunging into him, his eyebrows dimpling as he screws them together. His face, impossibly, flushes further. “Oh, fuck,” Eddie mutters, digging his canines into his lip, and Buck stutters out a groan when Eddie’s cunt flutters around him.
“Jesus,” he grits out, sinking to the hilt. Eddie’s knees hitch up tighter around his hips, skin sliding where they’re both working up a sweat. He still feels like he’s on a hair trigger despite his earlier orgasm— it tugs at his belly and makes his spine go soft and shuddery, cock smothered in the wet mess between Eddie’s thighs. His head goes limp when Eddie clenches down around him again, falling lifelessly into the crook of Eddie’s neck, begging himself to get a grip. Buck doesn’t find it, but his hips do find a soft rhythm and start to move.
“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, one big hand coming up to rest on the back of Buck’s neck. His thumb digs into Buck’s scalp, and it makes him shiver bonelessly, knees spreading to get better leverage on the mattress. “Yeah, fuck, just like that, Buck,” he says.
Buck’s lips part, dropping open in slack bliss to sloppily mouth at the skin beneath them. His brain goes a bit fuzzy with the praise. “‘S good?” he croaks out, pumping down steadily. It’s a bit shallow, pressed tightly together like this, but it still makes his guts burn hot.
“So good,” Eddie slurs out, pupils blown and eyes going hazy. His hips hitch up, his ankles crossing at the small of Buck’s back, heels slapping against Buck’s ass with every thrust. He goes even tighter around him. “So good, Buck, Christ, love this fucking cock.”
Buck whines, definitely delirious now, hips pumping down steadily. He just feels so fucking good right now, his head going fuzzy with the feel-good chemicals that smother every inch of his skin, pimpling with goosebumps. And Eddie, he feels— heavenly, soft and wet around him, and his face has gone slack and kind of dreamy where it’s resting against the pillow, mouth swollen and parted against the onslaught of pleasure. Buck’s monkey brain looks down at him, flushed red with his gorgeous brown eyes that have gone kind of hollow and hazy, and he feels something tug at him— affection and possession and mine, mine, mine.
“Love—” he rasps, the word slipping out of his mouth before his brain has time to catch up. “Love how fucking wet you get,” he says instead. Which isn’t untrue— the slap of their skin and the absurd squelch where Buck is frantically rutting into him makes his body go molten hot. He kinda feels like he might come again already. “Eddie,” he grunts helplessly.
“Don’t stop,” Eddie begs, and Buck convulses at the wave of pleasure that curls in his stomach. He has to stop, he has to, he’s gonna—
Buck pulls his hips back, slipping his cock out of that heavenly velvet heat, and Eddie whines and seizes up below him, scratching at his shoulders with blunt, desperate fingernails. “No, please, please,” Eddie mumbles, slipping one hand down to fumble for his clit, fingers blurring as he rubs. His hips writhe against the mattress, and Buck slams his eyelids shut to try and compose himself. “Buck,” Eddie cries out, and Buck counts to five in his head while he inhales, the room stinking like sweat and sex, and he counts to five while he exhales. The throbbing precipice he was dangling on subsides. When he opens his eyes again, Eddie’s skin has flushed dangerously hot, bliss etched on his face as he touches himself with fervor.
“Look at you,” Buck whispers, marveled, and when he starts sinking his cock back in Eddie’s mouth drops and he comes around Buck with a shocky little cry. Twin sets of eyes roll back into their heads— Eddie’s cunt brainlessly clamps down around him while Buck eases him through it with steady pumps of his hips, grinding his pelvic bone down into Eddie’s rigid hand and trapping it against his own clit. It makes everything that much hotter and wetter, slip-sliding as their bodies undulate in rhythm with the pleasure. He can’t help but lean in and stuff Eddie’s gaping mouth with his tongue, a filthy, toe-curling kiss that makes Eddie flutter around his dick.
“Keep going,” Eddie hazily mumbles against his lips, sighing when Buck nips at him with his canines, the flesh swollen beneath his teeth. A little string of saliva stretches between their mouths when he pulls back to breathe, and it snaps and falls against Eddie’s chin.
Buck’s cock pulses at the command. He wants to be courteous, and conscientious, all too aware of how sensitive Eddie must be right now, but he’s lost all coherent thought beyond the gorgeous creature below him— beyond Eddie, and hot and tight and wet. He pulls out again and Eddie makes an unhappy little groan, but Buck shushes him and drags one hand down his sternum.
He rearranges them both to lay on their sides, back to front, skin sticking against skin where they’re damp from the sweat. He slots one thigh between Eddie’s to hold him open before sheathing himself back inside his wet cunt with a shudder, wrapping both arms firmly around Eddie’s torso and trapping Eddie’s arms against his body, burying a dreamy sigh into the back of his neck. Eddie groans and lifts his leg higher to open himself up more, the only part of him not trapped by the mass of Buck’s body.
“Fuck,” Eddie mutters, low and shaky. He sucks in air between his teeth as Buck restlessly works his hips, aftershocks still trembling through him and making Eddie erratically clench down around him. “Come on, baby, give me that cock.”
Buck groans, louder now, and he loses himself to his baser animal instincts— lets muscle memory and pleasure drive his movements, adjusting the angle of his hips so he can start really driving into Eddie. Eddie, who is arching his back and gasping into the pillow beneath his cheek, gasping like he just can’t help it, pussy spasming around Buck’s cock and making their thighs slick and wet with the mess. He’s so— pliable in Buck’s arms, so compliant, limp and soft while he lets Buck hold him tight and pump his cock into Eddie’s heat the way he wants.
“So tight,” Buck groans, panting open-mouthed into Eddie’s hair. Eddie grunts like he’s been struck, thigh flexing where it’s hovering in the air. His arms spasm where Buck is holding them trapped against his chest. “Even tighter than I remember. Feels so fucking good.”
Eddie shudders in his arms, tilting his head to clamp his teeth down on the pillow, stifling his frantic groans. He’s so, so red, the flush crawling down his neck and splattering his chest with splotches of pink, and it just makes Buck want to fuck into him harder, into the warm wet clutch that smothers his cock. He feels lightheaded. He knows his face has gone stupid and slack, brain melting with every sticky slap of his hips colliding with Eddie’s ass, his mind fuckdumb and blissfully blank. Eddie doesn’t seem much better himself.
Stupidly, he wishes he had video footage of this. Wishes one of them had the foresight to set up a camera, or even just a free hand to hold up one of their phones—
Buck shudders violently, his rhythm going clumsy and his breathing going shallow as he gets close again, his thrusts getting sloppy. God, just the mental image of that, of having video evidence of Buck’s blood red cock pushing inside those soft, fluttering walls, framed by sticky wet hair, their hips stuttering, the look on Eddie’s face as Buck pounds him into a brutal orgasm, one after the other—
“Want you to fuck me,” Eddie mumbles, his words slurring with the effort, like his tongue was swollen. He’s practically lifeless in Buck’s arms, like a doll, which shouldn’t be so hot, but it really, really is. “When I’m— when I’m back to normal, I—”
“Shit,” Buck hisses. He can feel it in his fucking teeth, buzzing, hot and tingly. His cock throbs with a dirty, molten thrill. “Really? You would let me…?”
“Need it,” Eddie moans raggedly, and then, “oh, fuck, you’re gonna make me come again, it’s so—” and then his spine is going rigid and he’s clenching down hard, strangling Buck’s cock in wet warmth that gushes out in excess around them, soaking into the sheets. Buck rolls his hips and buries himself to the hilt when the heat in his guts spikes again, smearing his mouth over the back of Eddie’s goosepimpled neck as he succumbs to his own orgasm, stomach lurching and tightening painfully with every jolt. They’re both moaning through it like it hurts, a pinprick edge of pain with the intensity, wringing each other dry.
They rut into each other gently through the aftershocks, strangled gasps torn from their heaving lungs. Buck’s muscles have started to tremble by the time his dick starts to deflate, and the wet, sloppy sound of him pulling out has Eddie keening softly into the pillow. He stares down at Eddie’s face, tilting him gently so they can face each other, and he feels kind of— dizzy and weird and wrong.
“Hey,” Eddie says softly, a wicked grin lighting up his sleepy, dopey expression, and he tugs Buck’s head down to slot their mouths together. It’s a lazy kiss, messy and indulgent in the immediate aftermath, and Buck feels his heart pound mournfully in his chest. The sensation is way, way too familiar. Fuck, maybe he can’t do this after all.
He pulls back, and their lips separate with an audible smack. Eddie’s smiling at him dreamily, cheeks pink and pupils blown wide, his eyes almost hazel where it catches on the fading light outside. He thinks about someone else getting this— getting to see Eddie like this, vulnerable and mushy, and it makes cold dread seep into his veins. Fuck, why is his brain doing this now? He should be busy basking in the afterglow, not flinching at the unmistakable scrape of red-raw nerves. His cock isn’t even fully soft yet.
Buck pinches his eyes shut and rolls over to lay flat against the bed, throwing one arm over his eyes. Maybe in the darkness the feelings will go away. His thigh is still touching a wet spot on the sheets. “I can’t do this,” he says quietly.
Eddie hums, oblivious to his turmoil, one hand playing with the sweaty, tangled mess of hair on Buck’s chest. “Need a gatorade before round two?”
Buck laughs humorlessly, dropping his arm and sitting upright, dislodging Eddie’s touch. Even just that small adjustment makes them feel miles apart, and he takes no joy in the way Eddie’s smile falls in his periphery. “No, I mean this. I don’t think I can pretend that I’m not…”
Eddie sits up to be shoulder-to-shoulder with him, nudging him gently. “Not what, Buck?” he asks patiently. Eddie is just so— kind and caring and gentle. It’s not helping.
Not in love with you. It’s way, way too much. “I can’t do casual,” he says instead, voice cracking despite his best efforts, and when he musters up the courage to look at Eddie’s face, all he finds is confusion etched deeply into brow.
“Okay?” Eddie says, drawing out the vowels. When Buck doesn’t follow up, Eddie draws his knees up to rest his arms on them with a perplexed huff. “What am I missing here, Buck?”
Buck scoffs, dragging his hand tiredly over his face. It still smells like— yeah. “Just— you and me. Just friends. I don’t think I can separate it anymore.”
Eddie clicks his tongue in annoyance, and Buck feels something hot flare in his gut. Embarrassment, maybe? Indignation, definitely. “Buck,” Eddie chides. “When did I ever ask to be just friends?”
“I…” Buck starts, parsing through his memories. He comes up blank. “Well, you sure as hell didn’t ask me to be your boyfriend.”
Eddie flushes anew, even his ears stained an embarrassed pink. “I thought it was implied,” he hisses quietly, one hand moving up to frustratedly pinch at his brow.
“Implied?” Buck laughs, edging on hysteric, practically a roar. “By what?”
Eddie’s head rears back comically, like a cartoon character. “Oh, I don’t know, man,” he says sarcastically, high-pitched and fervid. “Maybe when I sucked your dick and kissed you good morning and cooked dinner with you every night for the last— however many weeks.”
“That’s not—”
“You live in my house.”
“The housing market is bad,” Buck says.
“We sleep in the same bed,” Eddie points out.
“Well, that’s just… ergonomic.”
“I called you sweetheart,” Eddie says. “And I— I wash your hair in the shower. I take you to the movies on Friday nights. I beg you to touch me when you kiss me and I’m so hot I can’t stand it.”
“Circumstantial,” Buck weakly deflects.
“Buck,” Eddie laughs with a fond shake of his head. “Buddy, I don’t know if you haven’t realized this, but I’m not in the habit of letting any old friend have their way with me. Especially with…” he gestures to his lap with wide, sarcastic eyes.
“Well, I don’t know,” Buck lamely says with a half-assed shrug.
“You do know,” Eddie says firmly. “You think I’d be hitting up Chimney for something like that?”
Buck grimaces. “Don’t even joke about that.”
Eddie snorts, bumping their shoulders together again. “I really, really don’t do casual, Buck,” he says sincerely, meeting Buck’s eyes and holding the contact. “I figured you were on the same page. I should’ve just asked.”
Buck’s eyes dart down to Eddie’s mouth. When he looks back up at his eyes, they’ve gone soft. “Well… no time like the present,” he jokes, but his voice still trembles with trepidation.
Eddie rolls his eyes, but his cheeks are dimpled with the stretch of his grin. “Buck,” he says firmly, indulging him. “Will you continue to be my boyfriend?”
Buck tries and fails to fight the goofy smile that takes over his whole face. “Yeah? For real?”
“Mhm,” Eddie hums, and then he’s cupping Buck’s face and pressing their lips together in a sweet, wet kiss. Buck melts into it, despite the fact that it keeps getting broken up by their matching grins and huffs of laughter, pushing Eddie back against the pillows and licking into his mouth.
“Okay,” Buck sighs, nuzzling at the cut of Eddie’s jaw and working his way down. “On one condition.”
“Oh, your love is conditional now?” Eddie scoffs lightheartedly. He lazily arches into the kisses Buck smears against his collarbone.
“Yeah,” Buck says. He laps at the hollow of Eddie’s throat, salty beneath his tongue. “My turn with the rocks next.”
Eddie barks out a laugh and hauls him back up to his mouth, playfully nipping at his lower lip with those sharp fangs. His eyes have gone soft and gooey.
“Get your own,” Eddie says with a look on his face that is— undeniably, unquestionably, irrefutably— schmoopy.
That’s okay, he thinks. Buck’s definitely no better himself.
Eddie lets out a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head morosely. “It’s unsalvageable," he says, admitting defeat.
“We could… lie it out in the sun,” Buck suggests, gesturing towards the stained mattress with the hand not currently resting on his hip.
“No, we definitely can’t,” Eddie says, biting back his smug laughter. “We really need to lay down a towel next time. Or plastic sheets,” he mutters.
Buck snorts. “That’s romantic.”
“I’m a romantic guy,” Eddie says, and then he draws Buck in by the chin to plant a smacking kiss on his mouth. “C’mon, let’s go load it up in the truck. We can grab your old one out of storage on the way home.”
Buck hums, letting his hand fall to rest at the small of Eddie’s back. “...And then we take that one for a test ride?” he says with a boyish grin.
Eddie’s cheek dimples. “Sure, Buck. With a towel.”
“With a towel,” Buck agrees.