Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

School had ended a solid hour ago. 

The bell had rung out its blessed song, signalling to the zombified masses within that it was finally, finally, time to stagger out and into the great big world beyond. 

It was the most looked forward to time of day, especially to Hawkins High’s resident freakshow, Eddie Munson. 

Hell, on any usual day, Hellfire days aside, Eddie would be the first one out the front doors.

He’d already be in his van with a cigarette hanging from his teeth and Judas Priest blaring from his shitty radio when the rest of the student body began to trickle out, more than ready to vacate the premises of his educational purgatory. 

But not today. 

No, today he found himself tucked away under the bleachers in the abandoned gymnasium, laying back against the cool floor with an unlit blunt held contemplatively between his fingers as he stared at the multicolored spots of petrified gum layering the underside of the seats like stars in the rural night sky; trapped in the odd limbo that was staying at school after hours. 

His van had crapped out on him that morning, a perfect start to a mediocre day, so he had little choice but to lay there and wait for the after school clubs to finally release so he could hopefully snag a ride home with Gareth. 

He didn’t mind too much. 

Being alone after a long and monotonous day of getting lectured by teachers and glared at by jocks and whispered about by cheerleaders and altogether avoided by just about everyone else who wasn’t interested in purchasing some flower was… refreshing; a relief, if he was being totally honest. 

The life of a small town Freak was a difficult one to be sure; even if the actual beatings had stopped post-middle school growth spurt and attitude adjustment, the name-calling and the random acts of aggression, the cruel pranks, the shouted insults from his fellow students, and the whispered insults from his teachers were all still a constant that he was, quite frankly, exhausted by. 

He shook his head almost wistfully, smiling to himself as he reached for his lighter, twirling the freshly rolled blunt in his fingers. 

He almost had it to his lips when his supposed sanctuary was very suddenly interrupted by the thunderously loud bang of the gym doors, followed quickly by the squeaking of sneakers across the court. 

Someone was running, racing, toward him. 

Eddie sighed a put-upon sigh, shoving the blunt into the inner pocket of his jacket and pushing himself up into a ready half-crouch. 

He wasn’t sure whether this intruder knew he was there or not, but he certainly wasn’t about to let them catch him unawares. You don’t survive thirteen years in the Hawkins school system by letting your guard down. 

It was always best to expect the unexpected. 

That thought was clearly more solid in theory than in practice as none other than Steve Harrington whipped around the corner, grabbed onto one of the supporting beams of the bleachers mid-sprint, and blindly flung himself underneath them and directly into Eddie. 

Eddie grunted as the wind was knocked out of him by the 5’11” freight train of wiry muscle and perfect hair, landing hard on his tailbone as Steve landed with a surprised yelp on top of him. 

“Ow! What the fuck?” Eddie hissed, hands immediately moving to shove the other boy off when the doors of the gym opened with another echoing bang.

Wide brown eyes met his and before he could say another word, a strong and slightly clammy hand slapped hard over his mouth, fingertips digging painfully into his jaw. 

Eddie froze completely, his legs stilling in the air where they’d been uselessly kicking to attempt to dislodge the jock. He held his breath as footsteps sounded, the clicking of heels against the basketball court like the ticking countdown of a timer. 

Possibilities raced through his mind a mile a minute:

Was it Billy Hargrove? Had he finally snapped and decided to just do away with King Harrington once and for all?

Was it Mrs. Click, come to lecture him about his consistently missing homework?

Or perhaps Principal Higgins, trying desperately to recruit the guy to yet another sports team as if he wasn’t up to his ears in-

“Steve? Hello?”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up, a smile forcing its way across his face beneath the unforgiving clench of Harrington’s hand. 

It was Tammy Thompson. 

His eyes traveled back up to Harrington’s face, but the other boy wasn’t looking at him, instead peeking through the gaps in the bleachers like prey tracking the movements of an approaching predator. 

A predator wearing too many jangly bangles and little white kitten heels. 

Eddie couldn’t hold back a snort at the thought, those fearful dark eyes meeting his once again before a second hand joined the first over his mouth and the other boy leaned even further down into his space, as if the extra pressure and proximity would help to further muffle the sound and hide his presence from the searching girl. 

Eddie’s fingers tightened their grip on Steve’s blue striped polo, scrunching and wrinkling the no doubt expensive material in his slightly sweaty fists.

He hoped he left a stain.

“Steve?” Tammy called out with a tinge of hope, the clicks of her heels growing closer and closer and fuck even Eddie had a little knot of nervous anticipation growing in his gut. 

Harrington bit his lip, worrying it between his even white teeth as she approached. Eddie’s eyes tracked the movement, not for the first time and definitely not for the last time, freezing on Steve’s mouth.

A mouth he’d seen in his dreams more than once, pretty pink lips dropping open, but not to spew biting insults and charming one liners. No, instead it was to lick and suck at Eddie’s cock, shaping around him like he was made for it.

Heat crept up his neck towards his cheeks and he dearly hoped Steve couldn’t feel the flush under his hands. 

Tammy was almost to the bleachers, close enough that Eddie could hear the swishing of her skirt and the snapping of her gum. 

“Steve, is that you?”

Thinking fast, he opened his mouth under Steve’s hands and licked a wet stripe across his palm. 

Steve pulled back with a startled look, poised to voice his disgust before Eddie raised himself to his elbows and pressed a shushing finger to his pursed lips. 

“Nope. Just us mice,” he answered smoothly, smirking as the footsteps stopped in their tracks. 

“Oh,” Tammy said with very clear disappointment before hemming and hawing in discomfort. 

She’d definitely recognised his voice, then.

He tried not to feel a little proud of that. 

“Well…” she started, her earrings jingling as she glanced about the gym as if to make absolutely certain there was no one bearing witness to her willingly speaking to Eddie the Freak.

As if Chief Hopper himself would jump out from behind the bleachers and arrest her on the spot.

“If you see him, could you tell him Tammy’s looking for him?”

Without letting him answer, she turned on her heel and scurried out of the gym, letting the door slam shut behind her to leave them once more in blessed silence. 

Steve visibly deflated, letting out a long sigh and running a hand through his lightly mussed up locks. A few shorter strands stuck up around his temples in a way Eddie fought not to find endearing. 

“Thanks,” he breathed, his chest rising and falling as he sucked in a couple deep breaths to abate his apparent panic. “I owe you one.”

“No problem, man,” Eddie waved him off, leaning his weight on one elbow as he reached back into his inner jacket pocket, bypassing the blunt and pulling out a loose cigarette, taking it carefully between his teeth. 

“Just out of curiosity, and severe boredom because I’ve been waiting for my ride home to get out of his stupid drama club meeting for like an hour, why is his Majesty hiding from his adoring fans? Finally sick of all that positive female attention?”

He flashed a toothy smirk toward the jock, getting a positively withering eye roll in return. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Munson,” he spat with no real venom as he sat back on his haunches; on Eddie’s hips.

Steve Harrington was straddling him on the floor behind the bleachers. 

They both seemed to realise it at the same moment, eyes meeting briefly before Steve launched off of him, smacking the crown of his head against the overhang of the bleachers with a loud bang. 

“Fuck!”

Eddie, for his part, tried very hard to stifle his laughter, busying himself instead with lighting his waiting cigarette and calming his racing pulse. 

He took a puff, watching from his still reclined position through hooded eyes as Harrington lowered himself back down to the floor, rubbing at his no doubt sore head with a wince. 

He almost felt bad for the guy. 

Almost.  

“Oh of course,” Eddie spoke up through an exhale of smoke, watching as it curled and dispersed lazily into the air above. “I am but a humble jester in your court, my King. What knowledge have I of female troubles?”

Steve shot him a strange look, eyebrows scrunched down and mouth twisted in a grimace. 

“Dude, can you just talk normal for like a minute? Is that even possible?” he questioned with a shake of his head. 

Eddie’s eyebrow shot up at that, one edge of his lips rising around the cigarette resting there. 

He watched in interest as a sudden look of what looked to be genuine regret crossed Harrington’s face. He sighed, still close enough that the barest hint of a breeze brushed past the skin of Eddie’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry, man. You didn’t deserve that,” the former King spoke softly, eyes downcast as he stared at his hands, which were now resting in his lap and fidgeting with the untucked hem of his polo. 

“I just… this is the third time this week that she’s tried to ask me out, and I’m not interested and I’ve told her that, but she just… I don’t know.”

There was that feeling again; the one where, against every single belief and scattered experience he’d shared with the other boy through the years, he was starting to feel bad for Steve Harrington. 

“Not interested in the Tammy Thompson? Hawkins' own rising star?” Eddie snorted, nudging Steve’s knee with the toe of his shoe. 

“Is it the Miss Piggy singing voice, or is it the way she stares at you in Click’s class like she wants to lick your bagel crumbs off of the floor?”

Eddie’s eyebrows rose in utter delight as Steve let out a surprised laugh, his hand slapping over his own mouth as it echoed around the gym. 

“Damn… she really does sound like Miss Piggy,” Steve agreed, hand dragging down from his face to rub at the back of his neck. “I just wish she’d stop trying.”

“I mean, can you really blame her?” Eddie scoffed playfully, taking a nice long drag of his cigarette and flicking the ash to the side. 

“Seems like ever since news got around that you were back on the market, everyone’s queued up trying to hop on the Steve Harrington train.”

Steve laughed again, this one far more subdued than the last, almost bashful. Eddie could very nearly convince himself he saw a bit of a blush rise onto his cheeks. 

“I suppose I just… don’t think I get the appeal anymore.”

He made a sweeping motion over himself before that hand went directly back to its spot on the back of his neck. 

Eddie’s hand froze in front of his face, mouth hanging open just short of his cigarette as he dipped his head down to meet Steve’s gaze incredulously. 

“Dude… did that smack on the head give you memory loss or something?” he questioned as he reached out, ruffling around the other boy’s signature hair as if searching for the cartoonishly large bump beneath the tresses that would make such an apparent lapse in memory make some sort of sense. 

“You’re King Steve. Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington! Everyone wants a piece of you. It’s a well established fact at this point.”

“Man, c’mon,” Steve started with another eye roll, this one far less scathing than the last as he batted Eddie’s hand away and smoothed his mussed up strands back into perfectly coiffed submission. 

Damn him. 

“No I’m serious, Harrington,” Eddie cut him off, sitting up fully to meet the other boy’s gaze. 

“You might be kind of a dick, but you’re an attractive one. Always have been.”

And there it was. Eddie’s inability to just leave something alone; to just stop fucking talking. 

Mouth meet foot and fist meet face. 

It was honestly inevitable. 

He watched, his blood running cold with fear, as Steve’s face scrunched up in… what?

Confusion, disgust, anger?

He supposed it was a good sign he wasn’t immediately reeling back for a punch or something; at least not yet. 

Eddie’s hand was visibly shaking from the sheer nervous anticipation as he brought his hand back up to his lips, willing away the cold nauseous feeling gripping his stomach in a vice, when suddenly his cigarette was plucked from his fingers. 

His eyes tracked its movement, wide with shock as Steve held it just out of reach and fixed him with a questioning look. 

“You think I’m attractive, Munson?”

Steve was closer than he remembered him being, half kneeling between Eddie’s casually spread legs with a hand braced against the floor beside his hip for balance. 

Brown eyes, no, hazel, with vibrant flecks of gold and green, pinned him in place like a moth under glass, and he could no longer fight back the blood rushing to his cheeks, amongst other places, as the King of Hawkin’s High gave him a full and searing once over. 

He realised, albeit belatedly, that he’d allowed the silence to stretch on for far too long, but he was genuinely and horrifyingly tongue tied, every smart word, every snarky joke, every goddamn phrase in the English language fleeing from his brain like screaming passengers off of a sinking ship, and Steve Harrington was the fucking iceberg. 

His mouth dropped open, face slack with surprise as a wide smirk suddenly upturned the corners of Steve’s soft pink lips, amusement dancing across his handsome face as he took a slow drag from his cigarette, smoke trailing out like ghostly fog over a lake. 

Eddie wanted to kiss him. 

He wanted to kiss him so bad it ached. 

“Don’t play around with me like that, man,” he gasped out, fighting down the lump in his throat as he pushed himself up into a fully seated position to reach out for his stolen smoke. 

That smirk only widened as Steve pulled back his hand before Eddie’s fingers could make contact, holding the cigarette further back out of his reach like it was a fun little game of keep away instead of one of the most erotic things Eddie had ever experienced.

“Ah ah ah,” he teased in a sing song voice, eyes heavy lidded as he planted a solid hand on Eddie’s chest so he had to lean back with his palms on the floor and considered him through his long lashes and fuck if that wasn’t doing things to him. 

“Answer the question.”

It was easy to forget just how mean Steve Harrington could be, those three words a positively glaring reminder as he flashed him a wolfish and dangerous grin.

Eddie wondered briefly if this was what all of those girls saw and felt when “The Hair” would take them to Skull Rock. 

He hoped to whoever was listening that Steve couldn’t feel his racing heartbeat fluttering underneath his hand like a canary in a cage. 

“I mean… yeah,” he finally nodded, averting his gaze to the lazy little trail of smoke rising from the glowing bud of his dying cigarette between Steve’s long slim fingers. 

“I’m not blind, man. It’s a pretty well known fact, especially considering you’ve had the girls all over you since fucking grade school.”

Steve chuckled lowly, the soft sound still managing to knock the air out of Eddie’s lungs. He tried to surreptitiously suck in a breath, hit immediately with the fresh and warm scent of Steve’s no doubt expensive cologne; sandalwood, citrus, lavender, and mint. 

Fuck, he smelled good. 

“So say it.”

Another three words that caught Eddie so incredibly off guard he didn’t really know if he’d ever been on guard in the first fucking place. He’d been completely disarmed by perfectly coiffed hair and hazel eyes and rose petal lips. 

“Say it?” he repeated incredulously, unable to hold back the nervous laugh bubbling up in his throat. 

“Dude, if you really need the ego boost so bad, I have been tasked with letting you know that Tammy Thompson’s looking for you-“

That strong hand curled suddenly in the collar of his shirt, Harrington’s other knee coming down between his legs, bracketed by his thighs, and once again all of the words pouring freely from Eddie’s tongue ran completely dry; a barren riverbed in a months-long drought. 

He watched with bated breath as Steve’s other hand raised up, snuffing out his stolen cigarette on the bottom of the bleachers before carelessly discarding the crumpled filter behind him. 

He didn’t think he could’ve issued a complaint if he’d tried. 

“You’re funny, Munson,” Steve spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, though it still managed to resonate through Eddie’s burning lungs; lungs filled with Steve’s air. 

He could only laugh, a light, airy, and just this side of hysterical sound, quivering with nerves and adrenaline. 

“I try,” he managed to let out before Steve was leaning even further into his space, his overwhelming warmth bleeding into Eddie from every single point of contact. 

His thighs were honest to God trembling as Steve’s own legs nudged them further apart as he moved in closer, his now free hand coming up to brush the hair away from Eddie’s flushed face. 

“Harrington?” he managed to whisper, his voice cracking far too loudly in the humid and heavy silence. 

It would be utterly humiliating if his brain wasn’t so fuzzy from the distinct lack of upper body blood flow he was contending with.

Could someone die from a boner?

“W-what are you doing?” Eddie stuttered out as Steve’s hand, warm and surprisingly soft, cupped his cheek, thumb rubbing across the rise of his cheekbone as if he was something delicate and precious and beautiful, and not Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. 

Steve huffed a laugh, breath ghosting across the plains of his face, sending cool tingles across his overheated skin. 

He was dreaming.

He had to be. 

The real Steve Harrington would never look at him like that; big dark doe eyes heavy lidded and suggestive and everything Eddie had been dreaming about since fucking Middle School. 

His breath caught in his throat as Steve’s fingers traveled from caressing his face to combing through his hair, cradling the back of his head and pulling him in. 

The press of his lips was like an electric shock; lethal but invigorating. 

Eddie couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as Steve Harrington kissed him, slow and languid as if they had all the time in the world; as if they were familiar lovers instead of almost strangers, tucked under the gymnasium bleachers an hour and a half after school had let out. 

He couldn’t bite back the breathy moan that spilled from him as the jock swiped his tongue insistently across his bottom lip, licking greedily into his mouth.

He thought he could almost cry when Steve sucked on his tongue. 

All at once, Eddie’s brain caught up to his body and he gripped Steve by his solid biceps, pushing him back and separating their lips with an obscenely wet smack. 

He tried not to lose it right then and there at the string of saliva that connected their lips; at how red and shiny Steve’s had become, at how they dipped upward in that knowing catlike grin as darkened hazel eyes met his. 

“What are you doing?” Eddie found himself repeating breathlessly. 

Steve laughed at him, actually laughed at him, his fingers tightening in Eddie’s hair in a way that had him lightheaded with arousal. 

“Repaying the favour,” he answered before leaning back in and nipping at Eddie’s lower lip, and Eddie whimpered as he surged forward and crashed their lips together once more. 

It was dangerous and, quite frankly, ridiculous how quickly he’d fallen for this. 

How he melted into it and tangled his fingers in Steve’s infamous locks like he’d always wanted to; how he moaned needily as Steve wrapped strong solid arms around him and plundered his mouth for all he was worth. 

Fuck, he was an amazing kisser. 

Eddie let out a muffled sound of surprise, heat rushing through his body as Steve’s hands gripped his hips, lifting him effortlessly out of his reclined position and pulling him entirely upright and into his lap. 

His thighs tightened around Steve’s on instinct as their bodies collided, those lean muscled arms winding around his waist, hands splayed across his lower back to hold them flush together. 

“Fuck me,” he cursed into the kiss, breathing hotly against the cocky grin Steve was sporting as those hands travelled back to plant themselves in his back pockets like they belonged there. 

“Is that what you want, Munson?” he hissed, nosing along Eddie’s jaw until he was tilting his chin up to allow him better access. 

Steve graciously took the silent invitation, latching onto Eddie’s newly bared throat and sucking the delicate skin between his teeth, and shit he was already half hard. 

“You want me to fuck you? You want me to lay you down right here under these bleachers and spread you open until you cry?”

Eddie gasped out several shallow breaths as Steve licked a long wet stripe along his throat, his filthy words going straight to his dick which was trapped mercilessly inside the confines of his tight jeans. 

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Steve chuckled, giving his ass a firm squeeze that had Eddie’s head falling back and his eyes fluttering shut. 

“See, I’ve seen you eyeing me in Click’s class too, when you think I’m not looking. I’ve seen you staring at my mouth when it’s my turn to read a passage, or watching my ass when I walk up to the board. You have no fucking clue how badly I’ve wanted to just grab you by the hair and bend you over that shitty desk you always sit at.”

Eddie’s mouth fell open with a whine as Steve started to slowly grind up against him. He could feel the other boy’s erection even through the several layers of clothing between them, and his mouth watered at the feeling. 

Steve Harrington was hard for him. 

Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington was talking dirty to him and grinding his dick against his ass, and Eddie was just taking it and whining and whimpering like a bitch in heat. 

“Mhm, why didn’t you?” Eddie rasped out, letting out a sharp gasp at a particularly hard bite to his collarbone. 

Christ, he was gonna look like a fucking Dalmatian when Harrington was done with him. 

Steve answered him with a languid swipe of his tongue across the already forming bruises and a soft and amused puff of air. 

“As exciting as it would be to take you apart in front of God and everyone on a Tuesday morning, I decided I wanted you all to myself.”

Fuck, that was hot. 

“So selfish, your Majesty,” Eddie huffed with a little grin, pulling back just enough to send him a suggestive look through his long dark eyelashes. 

Steve shrugged as he shot Eddie a sultry look of his own, tongue flicking out to slide across his too-pink lips, and Eddie was once again awestruck at just how beautiful the other boy was. 

It should be illegal. 

“So sue me.”

With those words spoken, Eddie had just enough time to take in a quick breath before Steve’s lips were claiming his; a deep plunge into a dark and endless ocean, and Eddie had never been a big fan of swimming, but at that moment he was absolutely convinced that he’d never love anything more than he loved this ocean. 

Hands tugged at his belt, hips rutting up against him like waves lapping insistently at the shore, the sensation all encompassing and heady, and he was so fucked. 

His own hands, shaking in a way he would be embarrassed by if he weren’t so incredibly turned on, came down to help, freeing the leather from the buckle with a clink and a thwip that echoed loudly through the empty gym. 

Steve’s clever fingers immediately found their way to the button of his jeans, popping and unzipping them as if he were impatiently tearing into a Christmas present, and Eddie couldn’t hold back a whine at that; at how much Steve seemed to want him.

Need him.

His breath stuttered in his throat as a warm hand plunged into his boxers without any further preamble, taking him in a firm grip and stroking. 

He buried a moan in Steve’s chest, the soft fabric of his shirt, far nicer and newer than anything Eddie owned, doing little to muffle the sound. 

“God, you’re so loud. I woulda done this sooner if I knew,” Steve whispered against his temple as he pulled him completely out of the confines of his jeans. 

His free hand curled once more into Eddie’s hair and yanked him back solidly, and Eddie could only watch with tears gathering in his eyelashes as Steve licked across his palm before taking him in hand once more. 

A fire blazed deep in his gut as Steve set a steady pace, just this side of too slow. 

His shaking hands travelled up the jock’s arms, smoothing down his chest, greedily caressing wherever they could reach. He thumbed under the hem of Steve’s polo, fingertips grazing across the heated skin of his toned abdomen, pulling a breathy little gasp from the other man. 

Emboldened, Eddie pushed the polo up slowly, feeling every dip and smooth plane of the body he’d been dreaming of. 

His fingers brushed across two pink nipples and he revelled in the surprisingly desperate noise Steve let out. 

Hazel eyes met his, clouded with arousal, and he couldn’t help the cocky little grin that spread across his face. 

“A little sensitive there, King Steve?”

A dark look crossed Steve’s face and Eddie yelped as he was manhandled back down onto the floor, the hand cradling the back of his head the only thing sparing him from smacking it against the slippery wood. 

His shirt was shoved up his body in an instant, scrunched under his armpits as Steve knelt in between his legs, shooting him another sinfully hot look before lowering down to suck one of his nipples in between his teeth. 

Eddie threw a hand over his mouth, biting into the back of it as he tried desperately not to blow his load right then and there. 

Steve’s hand resumed its teasing pace on his dick and he could honestly die like this, wrapped up in the spicy and floral scent of Steve Harrington’s cologne, trembling like a leaf caught in a breeze under his talented mouth, bucking up pitifully into his spit-slick palm. 

“You’re one to talk, Munson,” he breathed, the little puff of air a cool contrast across Eddie’s abused nipple. 

“But then, you've always had a mouth on you. Maybe next time we can put it to better use?”

Eddie’s lip quivered. 

Steve Harrington was going to be the death of him. 

His hands flew up into Steve’s hair as that mouth went back to work on his other nipple, licking and sucking at the sensitive bud until Eddie was panting, open mouthed and desperate. 

A hand ran down his side, smoothing across his ribs, down his quivering stomach, to the sharp jut of his hipbone before a palm was pushing down, pinning his rocking hips in place. 

Eddie fought briefly against the solid hold, squirming and whining to absolutely no avail. He felt the smug smile against his chest as the hand stilled completely on his leaking dick and he could’ve cried if he wasn’t so busy cursing through his clenched teeth. 

“Ah ah ah.”

There was that teasing sing song again, breathed against his lips as that tongue flickered out to wrestle with his own in a filthy open-mouthed kiss. 

“If you want this,” he stroked once, pulling a pitiful whimper from Eddie. 

“You need to be good. Are you gonna be good for me?”

Fuck. 

He nodded like a man possessed, gripping at Steve’s hair like a lifeline keeping him afloat in the ocean. 

Eddie’s eyes rolled back in his head as Steve attacked his throat with renewed fervor, sucking and biting even more bruises that he must’ve known his shirt couldn’t possibly cover; almost as if he wanted everyone to see. 

The thought of it had his stomach doing fucking backflips. 

“That’s it, Munson,” Steve said lowly as he kissed along his collarbone, down the centre of his mostly hairless chest, across the concave plain of his abdomen, mouthing along his happy trail. 

Eddie’s brain was as good as scrambled eggs when hot breath ghosted across the weeping head of his dick. 

“S-Steve?”

His voice was wrecked, barely more than a whisper as Steve’s hair tickled across his hip bones. 

He really really thought he could die right then and there when Steve smirked up at him through long dark eyelashes before leaning in and planting the softest kiss against the head of his cock. 

Eddie shuddered as Steve planted his hands firmly on Eddie’s jean clad thighs, slowly sliding the tip into his perfect pink mouth and hollowing his cheeks. 

The feeling was pure bliss, the slide of his lips wet and filthy and everything Eddie had ever wanted; everything he’d screamed for into his pillow at night as he jacked off furiously to the daily memory of King Steve Harrington and his mocking little smile, and his rosy pink lips, and his strong broad shoulders under his stupid henley or polo, and his perfect hair that smelled like sandalwood and grapefruit. 

Steve led with his tongue, taking him halfway into the velvet heat of his mouth before pulling right back up with an obscene pop.

Eddie fought to keep his hips still as Steve had ordered, biting his lip hard as the other boy licked along the vein on the underside from base to tip before taking him back in, even further this time. 

The muscles in his stomach clenched in warning. 

He was already close. 

He opened his mouth to call out a warning to Steve when a loud bang sounded, echoing through the gym.

The doors. 

Someone had just walked in. 

Eddie’s eyes went wide as they met Steve’s and he slapped a hand over his own mouth to stave off his startled cry. 

“-don’t know where he could’ve gone, Tammy,” said a rather exasperated sounding voice as two sets of shoes clicked against the court. 

Jason Carver. 

“C’mon, Jason. I just want to talk to him. I’m concerned for his well-being! He just hasn’t been the same since Nancy broke his poor sweet heart!”

Eddie’s hand that wasn’t clenched over his mouth scrambled to right his clothing before they could be discovered, but Steve planted a firm hand against his abdomen and pushed him back down to the floor, fixing him with a look of pure mischief that had his stomach dropping through the depths of the earth like Gandalf and the Balrog. 

He watched in absolute shock as Steve dipped back down, gripping the base of his cock and licking a long wet stripe up his vein once again without breaking the searing eye contact. 

Eddie choked on a gasp, thanking whatever god had finally decided to side with him as Jason let out a snort that perfectly covered up the errant sound. 

“Oh, I’m sure,” Jason nodded as he came to a stop beside the cart of half deflated basketballs at the opposite end of the gym from them, turning to face Tammy with a frown. 

Eddie’s thighs were shaking; fuck, his entire body was shaking with the pure electricity coursing through him as Steve’s mouth really set to work in earnest, his head bobbing up and down on Eddie’s dick. 

He bit back a moan as Steve gripped the waistband of his jeans and boxers, yanking them down his hips with one smooth pull. 

Hands returned to his now bare thighs, squeezing hard enough that Eddie was counting on having finger shaped bruises there later. 

More to add to the collection decorating his neck and chest. 

That mouth pulled off of him in one smooth slide, and he tried not to whine at the loss, biting harder into the back of his hand until it stung. 

His disappointment didn’t last long as Steve began to move his hand in quicker strokes, swiping a thumb across his slit to collect the precum blooming there. 

“I’ll be honest with you,” Jason started as he reached into the cart for one of the basketballs, dropping to one knee and plugging in the thin hose to begin manually pumping air into it. 

“I think Steve’s doing just fine.”

Eddie couldn’t agree more, the fingers of his free hand tangling in Steve’s famed locks once more as the other boy began to nip and suck at the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. 

He twisted his wrist in a particularly wicked way and Eddie’s back bowed off of the floor as hot tears finally slipped past the barrier of his waterline, trailing down his flushed cheeks. 

Tammy scoffed, stomping her white kitten heel against the floor with a clack like a spoiled child being denied candy. 

“You just don’t know him like I do!” she argued. 

Jason ignored her as he straightened up with his newly inflated basketball, bouncing it once to test it before turning back toward the exit. 

“Sure, Tammy.”

“I mean it! He’s sensitive and sweet, and he needs someone who’ll take care of-“

Her voice faded as the door snapped open and closed behind them once more, leaving the gym blessedly empty once again. 

Eddie’s fingers tightened in Steve’s hair, yanking the jock up to clash their lips together with a desperate groan. 

“You’re fucking crazy, Harrington,” he breathed into the other’s mouth, crying out as his thumb passed over his almost overly sensitive head once again, rocketing him ever closer towards release. 

“I thought I was fucking you,” Steve shot back with a single quirked brow, and if Eddie wasn’t about two seconds from blowing his load he would’ve laughed in utter disbelief. 

His hips moved of their own accord, snapping up to meet each stroke, and Steve allowed it with a muffled curse against Eddie’s jaw. 

Every stroke wrung another pathetic little mewl from his throat, getting louder and louder as that electric feeling returned, burning through his veins with a new kind of intensity. 

“That’s it, beautiful,” Steve crooned. 

“Cum for me.”

Every muscle in his body clenched, his back arching, head throwing back, eyes snapping shut, and mouth falling open as every nerve ending lit up in white hot ecstasy, and then he was cumming harder than he’d ever cum in his sorry life. 

Steve stroked him through his release, swallowing the throaty cries he milked out of him with a bruising kiss until Eddie’s quivering body went completely limp and boneless beneath him. 

Slowly, very slowly, the metalhead came down from the stratosphere Steve fucking Harrington had sent him into, his chest heaving as he sucked in some much needed air. 

He whimpered as Steve finally released his spent cock, wiping his hand on his polo shirt with a satisfied smirk. 

“Your shirt,” Eddie said hazily, leaning in as Steve caressed his tear streaked cheek with a gentleness that made his head swim. 

“Don’t worry, man. It was already ruined,” Steve chuckled as he motioned to the larger darker stain spanning across his stomach from Eddie’s release. 

He couldn’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed. 

“Do you still need-“ Eddie started as he reached out toward Steve’s belt. 

“No, I uh… I got there a little bit before you did,” the jock admitted, Eddie’s eyes following the line of his zipper to see that there was indeed a dark stain on the front of his jeans. 

Fuck. 

“And they call me a freak.”

The two of them laughed together, Steve’s hand resting on his still naked thigh and Eddie couldn’t help the giddy smile that stretched across his kiss-swollen lips. 

“So,” Eddie started as they finally calmed down, leaning up on his elbows as he reached into his slightly skewed jacket, pulling a new cigarette from the inner pocket and sliding it between his lips. 

“You mentioned a next time?”

Steve snorted loudly, leaning down to plant an almost chaste kiss at the edge of his smiling lips. 

“You mentioned needing a ride home?”

………

Chapter Text

Eddie felt as giddy as a goddamn schoolgirl. 

It’d been three days since his life-altering encounter under the bleachers with Steve Harrington. 

Three days since the King of Hawkins High crashed into his life, literally, and he couldn’t even look at the other boy without giggling or blushing. 

Thankfully, no one but a very suspicious Gareth had caught on, but the younger boy only rolled his eyes whenever he happened to catch Eddie glancing in the King‘S direction like a cat in one of those sad commercials that always managed to make him and Wayne tear up just a little. 

He supposed he was just used to Eddie’s hopeless pining by now. 

Eddie inhaled a puff of sweet smoke from the blunt between his fingers, humming at the pleasant tingle as he held it in his lungs until it burned. 

He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, elbows resting on the slightly dusty surface of his scenic picnic table as he released the smoke in a steady stream that swirled and slowly vanished, joining the clouds in the big blue sky up above. 

He was skipping sixth period, not quite wanting to ruin his halfway decent mood with the thrilling world of calculus. 

And what a way to skip math class. 

Rick had just supplied him with a new strain the night before, and he’d been eager to sample it all day, needing something to settle his nerves.  

He had to admit, the bastard certainly hadn’t been lying about the quality. He’d barely taken more than a few hits and he was already getting nice and floaty. 

A lightness coarsed through him, a buzz as pleasant and familiar as an old friend, and he rolled his shoulders back with a relaxed sigh. 

Despite it all, it still didn’t quite quell the hunger; the want that clawed at the cage of his ribs like a hungry tiger ready to pounce and devour. 

His fingers still itched as they had all weekend long for the feeling of Steve’s hair; the famed locks he’d dug his hands into and grounded himself with as the King kissed him breathless under the bleachers. 

Took him apart with his mouth and his hands and called him beautiful. 

Then took him home afterwards and did it all over again, doted on him until the sun set outside of his trailer, colouring the world burnt orange and blue, and then he’d walked out the door and out of Eddie’s arms, leaving him colder than he’d ever readily admit. 

That night, Eddie’s dreams had been scented with sandalwood, citrus, lavender, and mint. 

Warm fingers drifted across his sensitized skin like whispering sand across the plains of the desert, soft lips coasted across his own, down his throat, along his collar, and to his chest to press against his beating heart. 

Everything was hazel and cream, pink and red, warm and wet and so very good. 

When he’d woken, his brow and his boxers were both damp, and he was fucking hopeless. 

Because the Steve from Friday evening, the Steve from his dreams, was surely long gone. 

He’d been so certain the King would never dain to turn his hazel gaze toward him again. 

But he’d been dead wrong. 

Instead of the cold shoulder and the upturned nose he’d been expecting upon his return to school on Monday, upon his first run in with the King post-world shattering sex and equally astounding encore, Steve had flashed him a secret little smile and a wink, and Eddie was instantly flooded with the warmth of sweet sweaty memories once more. 

Now he was hopeless in a different way. 

Eddie physically shook the thoughts from his head, allowing himself a silent chuckle into the gentle breeze stirring around him and rustling the leaves. 

Loudly rustling leaves. 

Someone was coming. 

“Office hours are over for today,” Eddie called out without opening his eyes, sinking further back against the picnic table, wishing he could dissolve into it; become it. 

Picnic tables probably didn’t have hopeless little schoolgirl crushes on the thoroughly unobtainable Captain of the Basketball team. 

What a way to live.

The approaching footsteps stopped, but didn’t retreat, a detail Eddie found particularly annoying as he was currently in the process of forgetting his miserable place in the world and becoming a picnic table. 

“I’m not selling right now. Come back tomorrow at lunchtime and you might just get lucky.”

He took another toke, inhaling deeply as if he could make whoever this intruder was vanish if he could just manage to get high enough. 

“Bummer. I was sorta hoping to get lucky now.”

Eddie would mark it as one of his greatest personal achievements that he didn’t choke violently on his exhale, instead letting out a shockingly steady stream of smoke through his nose as he finally opened his eyes. 

And there he was. 

King Steve Harrington in all his suburban rich boy glory, dressed in a pale blue short sleeved polo shirt that stretched tantalizingly across his muscular chest, blue jeans worn slightly lighter at the knee and fitted beautifully around his shapely ass, and brand new bright white Nikes with a red check on the sides. 

He was certain his entire ensemble cost more than most of Eddie’s wardrobe, but damn if he didn’t look like a fucking Ken doll. 

“Harrington,” Eddie greeted with an almost painful rasp to his voice, fighting the urge to clear his throat. 

“Munson,” Steve responded easily, those eyes of his dropping down from his own to scan over him in a way that had him struggling not to squirm under the scrutiny. 

He could already feel the warmth rushing to his cheeks, and he prayed it wasn’t as visible as it felt. 

“Have a good weekend?” he asked as casually as he could manage, crossing one ankle over the other as he ashed his almost burnt out blunt, rolling it between his fingers for literally anything to do other than stare at the way the sleeves of the polo stretched over Steve’s arms. 

Shit. 

Steve snorted, one eyebrow raising in a way that was far too knowing for comfort; a way that very clearly and concisely said:

“Don’t try to pretend you didn’t spend your weekend furiously jacking off to the memory of me sucking your dick.”

“Don’t try to be cute, Eddie,” he half-growled as he prowled ever closer, looking at him like a hungry predator looking at a five course meal. 

“Can’t help it. Just comes naturally,” Eddie shrugged, bringing the roach up to his lips with lightly shaking hands. 

He tensed as familiar fingers wrapped around his wrist, guiding his hand down to snuff out the simmering remains against the dusty wood of the table.

He couldn’t even find it in himself to complain about the wasted toke as those fingers then trailed up his arm, raising goosebumps across the overly sensitive skin in their wake. 

Eddie followed their journey with his eyes as they danced across the inside crease of his elbow, up his bicep, along his shoulder over his Warlock tee shirt. His view was obstructed as they dipped across his collarbone and up the side of his neck, finally coming to a stop under his chin to gently tilt his face upward like he was some kind of fair maiden in a storybook. 

“I thought about doing this all weekend,” Steve spoke in a soft rumbling voice, sending Eddie’s insides vibrating like an amplifier after a hard riff. 

Steve guided him forward with his hand on his jaw, pulling him back into his orbit like he’d never even left. 

Warm lips pressed against his, and it wasn’t a dream, but lord did it feel like one. 

Steve kissed him like a man starved, hot mouth slanting across his own, hands burying themselves in his tangled curls, body pressing him back against the edge of the table in a way that was almost painful, but Eddie would be damned before he stopped Steve in the middle of his apparent quest to devour him whole. 

Steve’s tongue prodded at the seam of his lips, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth and nipping in a way that had Eddie’s head spinning like a goddamn dreidel, and his mouth dropped open, ripe for Steve’s plundering. 

He moaned into the kiss as it took a turn for the wet, Steve’s devilishly talented tongue playing against his teeth like a keyboard, coaxing noises out of him he didn’t even know he could make. 

And they were only kissing, but Jesus H. Christ could Steve Harrington kiss. 

“Mmh-Fuck you taste good,” Steve groaned against his lips, kissing him wetly once again before using his grip in his hair to yank his head back. 

Eddie whimpered at the stinging in his scalp, his hips stuttering forward and shit he was already hard. 

“Someone’s excited,” Steve chuckled, his words tickling across his skin as he trailed wet kisses along his jaw towards his ear, stopping to take his pierced lobe in between his teeth. 

“Fuck,” Eddie breathed, his eyes squeezing shut and his head falling further back as Steve rolled his own hips against his. 

“Not my fault you’re some kind of sex Wizard.”

Steve laughed again, one of his hands trailing down to brush Eddie’s hair over his shoulders to fully bare his throat. 

He hummed a pleased little sound and Eddie opened his eyes to see a positively sinful smirk stretch across his handsome features. 

“They’re still there,” he commented as if on the weather, his fingers trailing down to press into the fading but still very much present bruises decorating Eddie’s throat and collarbones. 

Eddie bit back the pitiful sound that threatened to spill out as Steve pushed into a particularly dark bruise, one he’d spent quite a lot of time biting and sucking into his flesh on Friday evening. 

His hips bucked up of their own volition and Steve’s smirk widened, his big dark eyes, hazel swallowed up by the endless black of his lust-blown pupils, snapping up to meet Eddie’s. 

“Yeah. Thanks for that, by the way,” Eddie huffed out with no real venom. 

“My friends have been giving me the third fucking degree trying to find out who water coloured on my throat like it was their third grade art project.”

Eddie was quickly getting addicted to the sound of Steve’s laughter, the other boy stilling in his exploration of the marks he’d left on him with a glowing smile. 

He looked almost proud.

“Well,” he said, leaning in to nudge his nose against the underside of Eddie’s jaw, pressing a sloppy kiss to the heated skin that had Eddie’s poor heart skipping a beat. 

“Why don’t we give ‘em more to talk about?”

And Steve latched onto his throat once more, biting and nipping and sucking a brand new necklace into his flushed skin like it was his favourite thing to do during sixth period on a Monday. 

Eddie’s fingers clenched around the edge of the picnic table, his knuckles bled white from the pressure as he fought to stay upright. 

His legs were already trembling, and Steve hadn’t even touched him yet. 

“Y’know,” Steve whispered into his spit slick skin with a smile he could feel.

“You can touch me if you want.”

And Eddie did want. 

He wanted real bad.

Driven by the tantalizing haze of weed and lust clouding his brain, he sought out and quickly located the prominent bulge between Steve’s legs, palming it like he’d wanted to do since the moment he’d met him. 

The gasp the action pulled from the other boy was sweet music to his ears; better than any song in his massive tape collection. 

Better than any note that’d come out of Ronnie James Dio’s golden throat, and that was fucking saying something. 

He repeated the motion with a flick of his wrist and Steve outright moaned, open-mouthed and high against his shoulder. 

Well well well. 

Before Steve could fully recover, Eddie gripped him by his trim waist and pulled, switching their positions with a spin and pushing Steve back against the picnic table with a grunt. 

Wide hazel eyes met his, tanned cheeks coloured the prettiest pink he’d ever seen, kiss-swollen lips dropped open in a shocked little ‘o’ that Eddie desperately wanted to taste. 

And oh how the tables had turned. 

“Eddie,” Steve breathed his name into the breeze, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a nervous little swallow. 

Eddie wanted to bite it. 

“Shh,” Eddie urged gently, hands drifting up his sides, lifting his pale blue polo as they went to bare tantalizing golden flesh that Eddie yearned to map out like a dungeon in a new campaign, just with his lips and tongue instead of a pencil and a protractor. 

“You’ve been taking care of me so well, Pretty Boy. Let me return the favour.”

When their lips met this time, there was a noticeable difference. 

It was Eddie now doing the tasting and the teasing. Eddie licking into Steve’s mouth, plucking sweet sounds from him like notes on his guitar. 

Steve’s hands, instead of tangling in his hair and directing him to where he wanted him, found their way to his chest, not pulling or pushing, just resting and waiting. 

Like a good boy. 

And Eddie could die happy right here and now. 

He was already high, but he felt higher than the goddamn clouds. 

He was fucking soaring as he pressed in even closer, sucking and nipping at Steve’s lips like he needed it to live; like he could exist purely off of the sweet ambrosia that was the breath from Steve’s lungs alone. 

Nectar of the fucking gods. 

His hands completed their successful journey up Steve’s toned torso, shoving his polo shirt up under his armpits to fully bare his muscular chest to the warm autumn air and to his hungry eyes. 

He separated from Steve’s lips with a wet smack that filled him with genuine glee, grinning as the other boy followed him with a needy little sound that went straight down south. 

Holy shit holy shit holy shit. 

“Easy, Stevie,” he hissed, lifting a hand to twine into Steve’s precious locks, fingers trailing up the back of his head, stopping at the crown, and gripping at the root to pull. 

He leaned in and licked a long stripe up the hollow of Steve’s throat, the other boy’s deep moan vibrating against his tongue in a way that he was sure he’d never forget for as long as he lived. 

It was better than any drug in his little black lunchbox. 

Eddie circled his thumbs into the meat of Steve’s pecs, pushing his knee into his hip to further pin him against the picnic table. 

“Be a good boy for me and I’ll give you what you want,” he promised, watching delightedly as Steve attempted to grind his hips into the air, his face pinching in frustration and desperation as he couldn’t quite get the proper friction. 

“Want you,” Steve whined, actually whined, and Eddie couldn’t hold back the enraptured laugh that bubbled up out of his throat. 

“Oh don’t you worry, Big Boy. You got me.”

And that was a goddamn promise. 

Without further ado, Eddie brought his mouth down to the tempting peak of a pink nipple, licking across the bud only to be immediately rewarded with a sigh so small and sweet it physically hurt. 

It was strawberry ice cream on a blazing hot day, coating his tongue and throat in the sickening sweetness that he craved more than anything. 

“Fuck, Princess. The noises you make,” he groaned, taking his nipple fully into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks as he sucked hard around it. 

Steve arched up into him with a cry, and Eddie immediately gripped his waist with one hand, using the other to tease at his other nipple. 

He pinched it between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it none too gently as he mimicked the motion on the other with his teeth, and he was pretty sure Steve was actually crying now. 

“God, I wanna fucking take you apart,” Eddie groaned, laving across the swollen bud before switching sides, slurping obscenely at the other in a way that had Steve trembling beneath him. 

Pay back. 

“You said you saw me watching you in Click’s class,” Eddie began to speak, planting several sloppy kisses to each nipple. 

“But I’ve been watching you everywhere, Harrington. In the lunchroom with your shitty friends that don’t deserve to kiss the ground you walk on, at swim practice in your little green speedo, in gym class, fuck-”

Eddie cut himself off with a moan, giving one final solid suck to Steve’s abused nipple before sliding downward, nosing along his sternum past the cathedral spread of his ribs, the only cathedral he would be worshipping at, dragging his tongue up and down his sweat-damp happy trail. 

Christ, of course he tasted as good as he smelled. 

“The way you look, Harrington,” he continued, nipping across his abs before soothing the stinging bites with his tongue. 

“Running around in those little shorts of yours, sweating right through your shirt, your hair all wet and floppy and your face all red and shiny. I always wondered if that’s how you’d look when you got fucked.”

He groaned low in his throat, gripping Steve’s hips as they began to rock helplessly forward and pushing them back into place. 

“Guess I don’t have to wonder anymore,” he growled, diverting his course toward Steve’s left hip, following the defined V with the tip of his nose as he whimpered helplessly above him, the table creaking warningly beneath his iron grip. 

Unbothered, Eddie licked and kissed at the skin stretched across his mouth watering Adonis belt, sinking his teeth into the swell of it at the base of his belly beneath his left flank, and Steve keened loud enough to send a flock of birds flying from their roost in a nearby tree. 

Eddie bit down until he felt Steve’s abs clenching against his forehead, his stomach twitching under his nose with each panting breath, the other boy’s upper body slumping back against the picnic table in a perfect mirror of the position Eddie had been in when all of this had started. 

When he finally pulled back, he felt a rush of smug satisfaction as he surveyed his work. 

The impression of his bite was detailed enough for dental work, the raised edges pale against Steve’s tanned skin while the defined wells blossomed into a rosy red, flushing with blood beneath the surface. 

“Fuck,” Steve gasped out, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. 

The breath Eddie had kissed from his body. Fuck, this was the best goddamn day of his life. 

Eddie traced his fingers along the marking, featherlight and reverent. 

“Fuck, if I had a needle and some ink, I would tattoo this onto you. Let everyone know who you belong to.”

Steve’s jaw dropped open at that, and Eddie wanted to lick the words right out of his mouth as he stuttered out another:

“Oh f-fuck, Eddie!”

“Mmh, not this time, baby,” he said with a smirk, finally, finally, bringing his hands down to tug at Steve’s brown leather belt, the buckle clicking as it released its hold. 

Eddie took his time unbuttoning and unzipping Steve’s jeans, revelling in the broken little sounds from above as Steve urged him on. 

“Please, Eddie please, Eddie-“ Steve chanted, his thighs shaking as Eddie opened his jeans and slowly smoothed a hand under the waistband of his briefs. 

Of course King Steve wore tighty whities. 

He wrapped his fingers around Steve’s dick and mercifully released him from the confines of his clothing, and he couldn’t quite hold back his passionate exclamation of:

“Jesus H. Christ, Harrington.”

King Steve was right.  

He was big. Like, jaw achingly big, and Eddie wasn’t ashamed to admit that his mouth watered at the mere sight of him. 

He had never wanted something in his mouth more, and he was immediately aware that Steve knew it. 

He watched in real time as some of that signature King Steve smugness came flooding back, a sly smirk stretching across that handsome face. 

“Like whatcha see, Munson?”

And oh no. 

That won’t do. 

Without breaking eye contact, Eddie leaned in and took Steve’s sizable cock straight into his mouth, engulfing the head in velvety warmth, hollowing his cheeks, and sucking. 

Steve’s eyes rolled back and he let out a wail, a positively filthy sound that Eddie wanted playing on loop in his mind for the rest of his miserable life. 

He pulled off with a loud pop that seemed to echo through the open air around them, not waiting long before moving back in with just his tongue, laving along the sides as he began to stroke a slow and steady pace with his hand at the base. 

With his free hand he gripped one of Steve’s quivering thighs, kneading at the soft flesh and hard muscle. 

He still had the bruises Steve had sucked into his own thighs, spots he’d pressed his fingers into as he jacked off in the shower that morning. 

He wondered if Steve would do the same. 

He wrapped his lips once again around the red weeping head of Steve’s cock, flattening his tongue against the bottom and sinking down, down, down. 

Steve choked on a cry above him, his hands finally releasing their death grip on the table to tangle in Eddie’s hair; to pull it back out of his face as he worked. 

How considerate. 

He bobbed in earnest then, picking up speed as he grew more confident in his ability to stave off his gag reflex. 

He reached up and tugged at Steve’s hip to encourage him to move, moaning around his length as the other boy immediately began to thrust forward. 

When he hit the back of his throat, Eddie moved both hands to his hip and held him there, relaxing and taking even more of him in until his nose was flush with his twitching lower belly. 

Steve’s breath stuttered in tandem with his hips, his spine arching artfully beneath Eddie’s fingers as Eddie did his best to swallow around him. 

He pulled off with a wet smack, panting as drool and precum dripped down his chin, disappearing into the busy design of his tee shirt. 

“God, the size of this thing,” he gasped out, giving the length in his hand a couple reverent strokes, twisting his wrist the way he liked much to Steve’s apparent and loud approval. 

“Next time, I want this in me. I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk. I wanna feel it every time I move.”

Steve let out a positively wrecked moan, his voice cracking as he ground his hips into Eddie’s hand. 

“Eddie, I’m so close,” he whispered like a prayer, and Eddie felt honored to be the recipient of such a sweet offering. 

“Are you?” he chuckled, moving in and licking up the precum gathering at his head. 

He took him in his mouth once more, sinking down about halfway and moaning, and Steve was gone. 

His entire body tensed as tightly as a bowstring, back arching, thighs quivering, mouth open, head thrown back. 

He was the most beautiful thing Eddie had ever seen. 

Steve’s fingers tightened in his hair and suddenly his already full mouth was filling further, salty cum coating his tongue and throat, drooling out of the sides of his mouth and down the bruised skin of his neck. 

He swallowed down as much as he could, making an effort to clean the rest off of Steve’s twitching cock with his tongue until he was crying and whimpering from overstimulation. 

Eddie was almost tempted to keep going; to bring him all the way back to full hardness, to tease him until his legs gave out and he was nothing more than a stuttering simpering mess, but his own knees were beginning to protest their alliance with the hard dirt beneath them and he was pretty certain he’d just heard the bell signalling the end of the period. 

He rose to his feet carefully, his legs tingling uncomfortably as blood rushed back through them. 

He swiped his bandana out of his back pocket, carefully wiping away the rest of the mess from Steve’s body before wiping his own mouth and neck where the combined drool and cum had trailed down to wet the collar of his shirt. 

And there was no way that stain wasn’t visible and super fucking suspicious. 

That combined with the fucking necklace Steve had sucked back into the skin of his throat was basically assurance that Hellfire was gonna eat him alive. 

Steve stirred finally, blinking dazedly and moving slowly as he came down from his orgasm, the sight giving a dangerous boost to Eddie’s already inflated ego. 

He’d just fucked Steve Harrington stupid. 

Eddie chuckled to himself, helping him tuck himself into his briefs and buckle up his belt when his usually deft fingers seemed to fail him. 

“You good there, Harrington?”

Steve groaned, finally meeting his gaze with half-lidded eyes. 

“Dude, don’t call me Harrington after you just sucked my brain out of my dick.”

Eddie grinned as he let himself be pulled into a kiss, this one slow, sleepy, but sweet. 

It was the kiss of a lover, a thought that sent a lightning bolt of hope through Eddie’s poor little heart. 

He let himself be held in Steve’s sculpted arms as long as the other boy allowed it, melting into him and regretting ever wishing he was anything but himself. Steve Harrington couldn’t nuzzle sweetly into the neck of a fucking picnic table. 

Picnic tables didn’t have necks. 

Steve planted one final kiss to his lips, leaning back just enough in their embrace to look at him straight on with the softest smile and the sweetest eyes.

And Eddie was pretty damn sure he was in love. 

“Do you want me to-“ Steve started as he began to reach down toward Eddie’s belt. 

Eddie nudged his hand away, leaning in and tugging at his lip with his teeth before slowly, reluctantly, pulling away completely. 

“Later, Big Boy. I have to get to English.”

And he blew a kiss, wiggled his fingers, and walked away, leaving King Steve Harrington staring after him this time; watching him disappear like he’d never been there in the first place. 

What a way to skip math class. 

………

Chapter Text

If Eddie was hopeless before, he didn’t know what he was now. 

He’d ascended to an entirely new level of fucked, and it was quite honestly embarrassing. 

The problem wasn’t that he was super far gone on the fallen King of Hawkins High, that was a forgone conclusion. He’d long gotten used to that particularly petty jab from the universe, and it was admittedly a lot easier to contend with the very unmetal feelings he harbored for the guy when he’d realized they were completely mutual. 

No, the problem was that he couldn’t keep his stupid eyes off of stupid hot Steve for more than a stupid second at a time.

Like that morning when he’d been shoving his tattered textbooks into his already jam packed locker, and Steve had swept past him, close enough to smell that addictive cologne, to feel the brush of his shoulder past his upper back in a very purposeful caress. 

And the way Steve had looked at him, all warm smile, knowing eyes, and a wink?

He’d never been shoulder checked so softly or homoerotically in his entire life. 

He’d tried to ignore it, to pretend everything was fine and normal as he half-listened to Gareth rant about… ok, he wasn’t totally certain what he was ranting about. 

Maybe someone from band?

That had to be it. Someone screwing up the rhythm in the percussion line again. 

“-cause I genuinely don’t understand how you can fuck up so bad with a fucking metronome right next to your head, and Eddie I already know you’re not listening, so you can knock it off with the ‘mm-hms’ and the fake nodding,” Gareth snapped, fixing Eddie with a singularly unimpressed eyebrow raise and a mouth scrunching frown. 

Perceptive fucker. 

“Sorry, Gare-bear,” he winced, ignoring the usual muttered protests at the nickname as he draped the back of his hand across his forehead far too theatrically for 9:00 in the morning, leaning heavily into his friend with a sigh worthy of the Globe stage. 

“My mind is elsewhere.” 

Gareth snorted, placing a hand over Eddie’s face and unceremoniously shoving him away. 

“Elsewhere is an interesting way to say laser focused on Steve Harrington’s ass,” he responded, Jeff and Grant not quite successful in their attempts to muffle their giggles as Eddie scoffed, blowing a wayward curl out of his face. 

He leaned back against the lockers, surreptitiously glancing over Sharon Godfrey’s shoulder into the mirror fixed to the inside of her open locker as he attempted to sort out the mess Gareth had made of his hair. 

“Oh ha ha ha,” he mocked, ruffling his bangs and shaking out his curls until they were once again the appropriate balance between pleasantly fluffy and purposely messy

As he spoke, Sharon turned from her own conversation with a sneer already affixed to her bubblegum pink lips, her heavily lined eyes meeting his with a look of utter distaste, as if his freakiness were somehow contagious. 

He ignored the glare with practiced ease, simply bowing shallowly in greeting before turning back to the others, paying the unimpressed scoff he received in return absolutely no mind. 

“Actually, assholes, I was working on a few finishing touches for tonight's campaign.”

The three looked between each other, and Eddie could feel another joke coming, like some sort of sixth sense. 

Jeff was unsurprisingly the one to deliver. 

“Yeah. The campaign to Steve Harrington’s ass,” he managed to choke out before another hearty peal of laughter, the three of them virtually hanging onto each other to keep from toppling over in their mirth. 

Eddie scowled at the display, making a show of leaning against a locker and staring down at his watch as he waited for their little giggle fest to die down. 

“Hi-larious, and so very original,” he drawled, looking over his nails, picking at his cuticles to further communicate to them his apathy toward their antics. “And to think I was gonna give you a bracer of flying daggers this session.”

At that, Jeff’s mouth snapped shut, eyes popping as he straightened and fixed Eddie with a look he could only describe as heartbroken. 

“Aw Eddie, man c’mon! You know Farold could totally use that for the journey to Ravenloft! Have a heart!”

Eddie shook his head and clicked his tongue three times, giving the party’s Ranger a falsely sympathetic little pout. 

“Well then Farold should’ve thought twice before antagonizing God.”

“Gareth started it!” Jeff argued, motioning toward the smirking Sophomore with a wave just this side of frantic. “So what’s his punishment, huh? What penalty does Thorvald the Watcher take?”

Gareth’s smirk only widened as he reached up to throw an arm around a glaring Jeff’s shoulders, tugging him down to his level. 

“Torvald takes no penalty, for Gareth is the DM’s ride home as his piece of shit van is still out of commission.”

“C’mon, man. That’s total bull, and you know it!”

It was Eddie’s turn to look on and laugh beside an equally amused Grant as Gareth and Jeff launched off into an argument, more so a bitching contest, the two attempting to drown each other out with mocking voices and petty insults, ignoring the prying eyes of the passing students in the semi-crowded hallway as per usual. 

“Gentlemen, gentlemen! Take a breather! You’re freaking the mundanes,” Eddie called, motioning to the onlookers who seemed particularly cowed at the name, though Eddie was one hundred percent certain they didn’t understand it. “If I’d have known we were putting on a show today, I would’ve charged admission!”

At that, Grant let out a laugh and delivered a hearty slap to Eddie’s upper back, sending him stumbling forward a few steps from the sheer heartiness of it. 

With a stagger and a snort of surprise, he whipped around to deliver what he was certain would’ve been a fantastic joke, his words hardly getting the chance to make the journey from brain to mouth as someone collided with his back, a gasp followed by a clatter as their things dropped to the floor and scattered across the tile. 

“Shit,” Eddie hissed, turning around and squatting down immediately to help gather the fallen items. “My bad. Didn’t see you there,” he continued, snatching up a still rolling tube of lip gloss and holding it out for-

“Well then maybe you should watch where you’re going, Freak,” Carol Perkins snapped oh so pleasantly, her face scrunched up in unfettered disgust as she yanked the proffered lip gloss out of his hand and shoved it into her purse.

Eddie huffed out a laugh of disbelief, charitably continuing to help her gather up her scattered items despite her scathing stare. 

“Wow. Never thought of that,” he droned, voice dripping with enough sarcasm to drown a rat as he stacked her books and pushed them across the tile towards her. “I’ll be sure to take it under very careful consideration.”

Strangely, the pinched look on her face almost seemed to relax, her eyes sweeping across first his face and then the rest of him in a way that made him feel like a moth trapped under glass, or a mannequin in a window display. 

Something studied and stared at.

The two of them stood from the floor in sync, Carol’s intense gaze never leaving him even as Gareth cleared his throat, stepping up beside Eddie like some sort of bodyguard. 

A 5’8” fluffy haired plaid wearing bodyguard. 

“You know,” she started, manicured nail tapping against her pursed lips in a parody of a thoughtful expression. 

He very much doubted Carol Perkins had the capacity for deep thought. 

“You’re kinda funny when you’re not acting like a total spaz,” she said in a way that she probably thought was kind, totally ignoring Gareth in favor of keeping Eddie trapped in her petrifying gaze like an unfortunate animal in a tar pit.

Eddie bit back his knee-jerk response of unyielding sarcasm, fighting his desire to turn tail and retreat as she very pointedly looked him up and down, but not the usual up and down of distaste and disdain.

Her gaze slid over him like sandpaper, and he took a small step back as she took one forward. 

“Well,” Eddie forced out a chuckle. “I consider my sense of humor to be one of my better qualities-“

“And you’re not too bad looking either.”

Eddie could feel the eyes of his bandmates, the three of them just as startled and distinctly uncomfortable as him, and they weren’t the ones facing straight down the barrel of Carol Perkins’ notorious bedroom eyes. 

He resisted the urge to shudder.  

He instead let out another attempt at a casual chuckle, leaning a shoulder against the lockers beside him and crossing his arms tightly as if that would somehow protect him from Carol’s claws and fangs. 

“Kinda funny? Not too bad looking?” he repeated with a wide eyed grin and a hand laid delicately over his heart, miming it beating out of his chest, cranking up the theatrics in an attempt to remind her of just who she was dealing with, ie:

Eddie the Freak; obnoxiously loud, unashamedly weird, and widely considered thoroughly undateable by the general female population of Hawkins High.

And that’s precisely how he liked it. 

“Be still my pounding heart. Such high praise from the lips of Hawkins High royalty, the likes of which a lowly Court Jester such as I have never seen.”

As he rounded off his over the top little comeback with a deep bow, Eddie prepared for the scoff and the eyeroll, for the muttered “whatever, freak” and the cold shoulder. 

What he most certainly had not anticipated was the perfume scented lean in, the hand planting on his chest insistently beside his own, and the vapid little giggle, the fakest one he’d ever heard. 

“Oh, believe me, baby. Praise isn’t the only thing my lips can do,” Carol shot back expertly and leaned in.

Like a scene from a movie, the entire world went into slow motion around Eddie, the ambient noise of the echoey hallway replaced by the blaring of klaxons in his brain, the deafening whining cry of a storm siren warning the sudden and imminent approach of Hurricane Carol. 

He watched as her glossy lips puckered, eyes slipping halfway closed as she leaned in closer and closer and closer-

Suddenly, in an act of divine intervention that very nearly had Eddie considering waltzing straight into the clutches of organized religion, his world rocked around him as a hand, one not decorated with painted pink talons, gripped him by the front of his shirt and shoved. 

He’d never been more relieved to be slammed against a locker in his life. 

“Hey!” growled an unfortunately familiar voice, the alarms in Eddie’s head dying down to a disinterested buzz as the startlingly red and heavily freckled face of Tommy Hagan came into focus. 

“You makin’ moves on my girl, Munson? She’s off limits.”

Eddie counted it as quite possibly his most impressive feat of self restraint that he didn’t scream laughing in Hagan’s face right then and there. 

“I think you may be misinterpreting something here, man,” he said simply, grunting in more surprise than pain as Hagan pulled and slammed him back against the locker once again. 

“What, you think I’m stupid or something?” Tommy growled out in a way he seemed to believe was menacing, though it reminded Eddie a bit more of a small dog snarling and yapping to defend its paltry territory.

Eddie pressed his lips together, biting them closed until it hurt. 

That fruit was so low hanging it was bruised from its impact with the cold hard ground. 

Bruised just like he would be if he didn’t exercise some admittedly rare self restraint. 

“I’d like to plead the fifth on that, if you don’t mind?”

Well, he’d never had a reputation for his high wisdom rolls. 

“You lookin’ for an ass kicking, Freak?” Tommy spat, fingers clenching tightly in the collar of Eddie’s Hellfire shirt, the fabric digging uncomfortably into the sides of his neck. 

Eddie sighed a put upon sigh, making a show of considering his words, scrunching up his nose and sticking out the tip of his tongue in fake concentration. 

“Why, yes actually. Who would you recommend? I hear you have loads of experience in that field.”

The distinct sound of muffled laughter floated over from the side, Grant, Gareth, and Jeff all making an effort to look innocent through their obvious amusement as Hagan shot a smoldering glare over his shoulder. 

“Don’t try to be cute, Munson,” he ground out through clenched teeth, Eddie’s own jaw smarting with sympathy at the sight. 

“Sorry. Force of habit,” he shrugged, immediately raising his hands in surrender as Tommy tightened his hold further with another growl. 

Any tighter and he’d be strangling him. 

“Eddie. Come on, man. It’s not worth it,” Gareth spoke up over the murmur of the crowd quickly growing around their little display. 

Tommy snorted derisively, fixing Eddie with a mocking little pout. 

“You should listen to your little fairy friend, Munson, before that mouth of yours gets you into more trouble.”

Eddie made a show of rolling his eyes, his hubris growing at the scattered chuckles from the peanut gallery as he faced Tommy with an unimpressed grimace. 

“Oh, very cool threat, Hagan. Did you get that from a porno?”

Quick as lightning, Tommy’s sneer was wiped from his face, replaced with a look that screamed:

“Challenge accepted.”

“Yeah, pretty sure your mom was in it,” he shot back with a proud little smirk as yet more giggles sounded around them. 

“Ooh, what a zinger!” Eddie exclaimed, his shoulders relaxing back against the lockers as if he were having a casual lean there instead of being pinned in place by an angry asshole jock. “How long did you practice that one in the mirror for?”

The crowd voiced their approval as Tommy’s face fell, confidence eeking out as even Carol let out a rather sharp cackle at Eddie’s words. 

He shot another glare back, this one aimed directly at Carol who did little more than raise her hands in surrender with the most unconcerned little eyeroll Eddie had ever seen. 

God, they were both the fucking worst. 

“Listen,” Eddie started almost placatingly as Tommy turned his attention back to him.

And Eddie was man enough to admit that even he was victim to the desire to perform for his peers; to garner mass approval in the form of “oooh’s” and slaps on the back after an expertly delivered one liner.

However, if his wax wings weren’t already dripping, they’d most definitely caught aflame the moment the next words had left his mouth in the form of:

“It is way too early for this, man. Don’t you have to go jack off into Billy Hargrove’s morning coffee or something?”

The shift in the air was palpable, the crowd howling uproariously in that bloodthirsty way that called lovingly back to the days of gladiatorial matches in the Colosseum. 

They were hungry for the inevitable bloodshed, the main event clearly fast approaching as Tommy Hagan’s face darkened to a dangerous tomato red, one hand leaving its place tangled in the front of Eddie’s shirt to ball up into a fist and wind back. 

“Oh, you’re dead, Freak!” he announced, as if Eddie really needed the verbal cue when he was staring that fist directly in the proverbial face; the starving lion in the bloodstained arena. 

He didn’t have time for another snappy comeback, simply flinching back against the lockers behind him and accepting his fate as that fist swung down and-

Didn’t connect. 

Didn’t even brush him, though he felt the breeze from the potential impact like a warning shot fired across the nose of a ship. 

He cracked open his eyes, chancing a peek and immediately losing all apparent control of his jaw, which dropped at the sight of none other than Steve Harrington standing just behind Tommy, his large hand engulfing Tommy’s wrist in a tight hold. 

“Hagan, take a walk.”

The command was brusque, undeniable, and Eddie, even through the numbness of his shock, couldn’t help the upward curl of his lips as Tommy almost seemed to step back in automatic obedience before remembering himself in front of their audience. 

Once a lackey, always a lackey.

He wrenched his arm from Steve’s grip, half turning over his shoulder to glare at his ex friend with tangible disdain whilst keeping Eddie firmly pinned in place. 

“Fuck off, Harrington. This is between me and the Freak,” he spat, placing his free hand on the center of Steve’s chest to shove him back.

Steve hardly budged, hand snapping up to grip tightly at Tommy’s wrist, this time hard enough to make him wince.

“Go ahead, Hagan,” he huffed out, his lips upturned almost lightheartedly, though his eyes remained dark and focused, more severe than Eddie had ever seen them. “Give me a reason to beat the shit out of you.”

At that, Tommy snorted with a hateful sort of mirth on his freckled face, turning entirely toward Steve as if he’d forgotten Eddie was there to begin with. 

Not that Eddie was complaining.

“Gimme a fuckin break, Stevie. You couldn’t beat the shit out of a fucking piñata-“

Before Eddie could do so much as blink, Tommy was wrenched away from him and slammed with a deafening bang against the lockers on the opposite wall, Steve holding him in place with a hand fisted tightly in the material of his shirt.

The rubber toes of Tommy’s shoes were just barely able to scrape the floor.

Steve leaned in close, the line of his back drawn with a quiet and controlled sort of rage, his shoulder blades tensed beneath the fine fabric of his polo like the furled wings of an avenging Angel. 

“You wanna test that theory?” he hissed, his voice carrying down the deathly silent hallway as Eddie and the ever-growing crowd of onlookers watched in nothing short of astonishment.

Tommy scoffed stubbornly, so Steve drew back his fist like a taut bowstring, ready to loose a devastating punch, and Tommy flinched back with a shout of:

“Ok! Ok! You win, just- let me down, man.“

His cheeks flamed with clear and palpable embarrassment, and a little bit of something else that had Eddie forcing back a cackle and a cry of hypocrisy.

Tommy made a rather ugly choking sound as Steve lifted him half an inch higher before unceremoniously dropping him.

The moment his shoes reconnected with the tile, he raced off through the jeering crowd without looking back, his rubber soles squeaking all the way down the hall as if to mark and mock his hasty retreat.

The moment he was gone, Eddie released the breath he’d been holding, rubbing at the back of his head as a dull ache began to spread from where it’d collided with the lockers.

He glanced over toward the rest of Hellfire, the snappy joke poised on his tongue once again unable to find its way out at the looks of sheer and utter shock on their faces, not aimed at him but rather just to the left of him.

He turned to follow the line of their gazes only to land on, of course, Steve, his big hazel eyes filled with what he could only think to call genuine concern; and they were fixed right smack dab on him despite the sea of curious onlookers surrounding them. 

“Hey,” he said softly, the gentle greeting such a stark contrast to the deep and threatening tone he’d used on Tommy mere moments ago.

“Hey,” Eddie parroted dumbly, because what the fuck else was he supposed to say, ‘thank you’?

Well.

“Uh. Th-Thanks, uh… Harrington,” he stuttered out with a nod, trying his best not to make eye contact with a single person lest he burst into flames right then and there because he was stuttering now.

Rendered stupid and speechless by Steve “The Hair” Harrington.

“Don’t mention it,” Steve waved him off casually, as if he made a habit of rescuing nerdy outcasts from the ire of his ex friends turned sitcom level antagonists.

Eddie opened his mouth to say as much, but found himself, for what had to be the hundredth time in so many minutes, at a total loss for words as calloused fingers gently grasped at his chin, turning his face this way and that as those concerned hazel eyes took him in closely.

“Are you ok? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Steve questioned, moving his hand to fully cup Eddie’s jaw in one big warm palm.

The same warm palm that’d encased his cock in such overwhelming heat, that’d smoothed along the plains of his quivering body-

And fuck, now was definitely not the time for those thoughts to be surfacing.

He willed away the redness in his cheeks, the hammering of his pulse, the burning in the pit of his belly, but if the sudden uptick at the corner of Steve’s lips was anything to go by, he hadn’t missed a thing.

“Um,” Eddie started, feeling the icy cold grip of apprehension intensifying as the crowd, still apparently captivated despite the distinct lack of witty banter or possible bloodshed, almost seemed to lean in, unable to tear their collective gaze from their rather startlingly intimate proximity.

Steve, for his part, hardly seemed to notice, his gaze fixed steadfastly on Eddie, those perfect eyebrows of his scrunched up with worry to match the almost puppy-like tilt of his head.

“Yeah,” Eddie finally managed to get out past his heart which was firmly lodged in his throat. “I mean, no! No, he didn’t… I’m alright.”

Steve sighed, the tense set of his shoulders dropping to a more relaxed slouch as that worried expression shifted to one of clear relief, all the while Eddie’s stomach seemed to be determined to twist itself into enough knots to win a Boy Scouts badge.

Whatever happened to butterflies?

“Good,” Steve breathed, his smile positively dazzling. It was like staring directly into the sun. 

And if Steve was the sun, Eddie found that he truly and completely understood the tale of Icarus; perhaps commiserated with the youthful hero, for he too would burn for the chance to fly into that bright oblivion.

Fuck.

Steve’s eyes traveled downward, and Eddie had the sudden and utterly ridiculous thought that maybe just maybe he could see his heart trying its damndest to beat right out of his chest, to fling itself at his feet like some lovelorn fool in a Shakespearean play.

“Hey, you’re all wearing your club shirts,” Steve commented lightly, breaking Eddie from his borderline paranoid musings as he motioned from the design on his chest to the rest of his group. “You have your game later, right?”

From the corner of his eye, Eddie could see Jeff’s look of befuddlement, Grant's blank-faced slow blinking stare, Gareth’s nose-wrinkling grimace.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah,” Eddie confirmed, trying his damndest not to absolutely lose his shit as Steve knocked him gently on the chest twice and sent him a wink.

What was with him and winking??

“Cool. Well,” he started, finally taking a step back out of Eddie’s personal space, though Eddie’s entire body yearned for him to come right back in like a meteor caught in the strong gravitational pull of a planet. 

A planet with frustratingly perfect hair. 

“Good luck with the dungeons and the dragons. Catch ya later?”

And then he was off, sauntering through the crowd, which parted for him like the goddamn Red Sea, and disappearing down the hallway from whence he came.

And Eddie took what felt like his first full breath since he’d fallen under the scrutiny of that hazel gaze. 

He resolutely ignored the assorted looks of bewildered confusion from his friends, from the people still crowded around them, as he took a moment to straighten himself out, brushing off imaginary dust from his clothes and straightening up his jacket and vest before cupping his hands around his mouth and barking out:

“Alright, alright! Spectacles over! Nothing more to see here!”

As if released from the hold of an enchantment, the crowd scrambled to disperse, nearly tripping over each other as if spending anymore time in close quarters with Eddie the Freak and his fellow weirdos would somehow infect their morality and good sense with the horrors of individuality and self expression.

Eddie nodded approvingly and spun on his heel, looking once toward his bandmates before starting off in the direction they’d been going before their Carol-shaped interruption.

“So I was thinking, since our Cleric fell victim to that Displacer Beast last session, I might want to introduce a new party member, because there is no way you assholes are getting to Ravenloft without a competent healer.”

………

Chapter Text

There was nothing like a friendly- read: absolutely brutal- session of DnD to clear one’s mind of any and all unpleasantness. 

Or, in Eddie’s case, delusion.

He’d be the first to admit he’d put the party through hell.

Margaret's fighter had been roasted alive in a particularly nasty fire trap during their journey through the Underdark.

Grant’s Sorcerer had been hit with a residual blast of wild magic that de-aged him by four decades. Any more and he would’ve had to exchange his staff for a rattle and a binky. 

Gareth and Jeff had made it through relatively unscathed, but at the start of the next session, they would find themselves face to face with the guardian of the caverns; a Beholder.

Never let it be said that Eddie played favorites.

By some miracle, the entire session had gone by without a single mention of the incident from that morning. Not a single joke or reference, not a question or concern, not even a sideways glance. Just dedicated gameplay and, dare he say, exemplary role play. 

And when they’d reached the end, Jeff, Grant, and Gareth had stayed behind to confirm his attendance to Thursday’s band practice, had given their usual offers to help him clean up, and had left with little to no argument when Eddie waved them off as always. 

Eddie was still wondering which deity to send his thanks to as Gareth sent him a two fingered wave and walked right out the door of the little theatre supply room without another word, leaving him blessedly alone and un-teased.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he sighed as he slumped down into his throne, pressing the heels of his hands against his closed eyes and just taking a moment to simply process the day.

Steve Harrington, the very same Steve Harrington he’d had two separate clandestine hookups with in the past week and a half, had publicly and rather impressively defended him from the jealous wrath of Tommy Hagan.

Then, with the subtlety of Elton fucking John, he’d invaded his space and caressed his cheek and checked him over with the utmost care and concern, and he simply hadn’t cared that there were people gathered around to watch like it was the highlight of their goddamn afternoon.

He hadn’t cared about the potential hit to his reputation that fraternizing with The Freak would doubtlessly cause.

He’d only cared about Eddie. 

He’d asked him about his game, for Christsake, a thought that even still made his heart clench pathetically.

What exactly was he playing at?

Was it all an elaborate prank?

Sure they’d bumped uglies, to put it bluntly, but as far as Eddie knew, blowing Steve Harrington didn’t come with the caveat of attaining him as his new personal bodyguard, so why had he put himself out like that?

Why?

He was broken from his thoughts by a quick but recognizable knock on the doorframe. 

Shave and a haircut.

“Gareth, I swear I don’t need help blowing out a few-“

The word caught in his throat as he glanced up to see, not the pasty flannel-clad drummer, but the sole occupant of his frighteningly muddled thoughts. 

“-candles.”

Steve Harrington smiled at him from his spot leant oh-so-casually against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest which was far too well pronounced in his tight fitting polo for the sake of public decency.

His hip was cocked, his ankles casually crossed as he considered Eddie with those damned eyes off his, so big and brown and downturned, like a puppy in a sad commercial that really made you want a puppy. 

His hair was wet, smoothed down and away from his unfairly handsome face. 

He’d probably come straight from his post-practice shower, and wasn’t that a thought?

Golden and godlike Steve, standing beneath the spray of a shower head, olive tan and trim muscle and water darkened hair.

He wondered if he still had Eddie’s masterpiece of a bite mark branded into his hip.

He wondered if anyone had asked him about it. 

He wondered if Steve had touched it, pressed into it whilst he tugged at his cock beneath the steaming spray, wishing Eddie was back on his knees for him just like he had been at the picnic table.

“Um, sorry. Not Gareth,” Steve answered with a smirk that quickly morphed into something a little less certain. “Hope you don’t mind? I just… well I kinda wanted to see what it was like in here, to be honest.”

Eddie blinked twice before he remembered to close his mouth, his teeth clacking loudly in the silence.

He cleared his throat in a way he was determined not to think of as awkward, pushing himself up from his throne and turning to fully face Steve.

It was easy enough to slip back into performance mode, the adrenaline from a rousing DnD session still coursing through him. He threw his arms open, motioning to the rest of the room as if it were some sort of grand chamber in a castle rather than a cluttered supply closet filled with musty old costumes and set pieces.

“Well then, welcome to my inner sanctum, your Majesty,” he said with a flourish and a deep bow.

Steve’s face scrunched up a bit in a look of mild confusion, but Eddie could see the glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he took Eddie’s invitation with an almost formal little nod of his own, stepping fully into the room and letting the door click shut behind him.

He seemed to take a moment to scan his surroundings, eyes flitting over the painted mini figures scattered across the board, the mess of papers, the mismatched dice, the many many candles for ambient lighting. 

His careful scrutiny was oddly nerve wracking, and Eddie tried his best to ignore the anxiety lurking in the back of his mind that his little makeshift club room wouldn’t meet the King’s lofty standards, but it was difficult not to want to impress him. 

Steve slowly made his way towards the table in the center, looking to Eddie as if asking for permission before reaching down and very carefully plucking up one of the mini figures; the Kenku guide.

“Would ya look at this little guy?” he laughed, holding the figure up for Eddie to see. “Did you do this yourself? The details are so small. I think I’d go insane trying to paint something like this. Then again, my eyesight isn’t the best and, honestly, neither is my artistic ability. Actually, my seventh grade art teacher told me I’d better stick to football, which is ridiculous because I didn’t even play football in-“

“Steve,” Eddie interrupted gently, Steve pausing his mini rant to glance up toward Eddie with a good natured grin.

And Christ , he was just so unfairly gorgeous it was ridiculous. 

“Sorry, I, uh… I wanted to thank you. Y’know… for earlier in the hallway.”

The corners of Steve’s mouth twitched, but that smile- one could win awards with a smile like that- never waned.

“Don’t thank me,” he insisted immediately, waving off Eddie’s concerns as he very delicately placed the painted figure back on the table. “It was basically therapeutic getting to finally put Tommy Hagan in his place.”

Those words drew an honest to god snort out of Eddie as he leant a hip against the table, crossing his arms as casually as he could manage.

“Oh, I bet. Hell, it was healing to watch.”

It was Steve’s turn to laugh, Eddie’s heart honest to god skipping a beat as Steve tucked his chin down against his own chest, squeezed his eyes shut as if he were trying to hide, his shoulders shaking with laughter at Eddie’s words like they were the funniest he’d ever heard.

The thought struck Eddie that he really could’ve just stayed there for the rest of the day, watching Steve Harrington laugh at his jokes, and compliment his mini figures, and smile that stunning smile that was somehow bigger and brighter than the goddamn sun.

So big and so bright, Eddie forced himself to avert his gaze lest he be consumed.

He shifted his attention down to his lap, nervous fingers playing and picking at the frayed edges of the holes in his jeans, pulling at the broken threads, fraying them further.

Making it worse.

Steve had stopped laughing, the room descending into almost total silence aside from the occasional rush of water through pipes or the creak of the table beneath their combined weight as they both leaned there, fully engulfed in that silence. 

“Even so,” Eddie forced himself to continue, to fill the silence as if it was some tangible thing; some eternally hungry beast pacing and growling and snapping for a meal of sound and words.

Words words words.

Eddie was good at words.

“I’m grateful for the heroics,” he said with a light nudge to Steve’s side. “You’re a real knight in shining armor, Harrington-“

“Steve,” came the instant correction from a voice that was far closer to him than he’d remembered it being; far closer than he’d ever imagined it could be before the events of the past week. 

He fought not to shiver at the sensation of breath tickling across the heated skin of his ear. 

“What?” Eddie breathed, the word too small, too softly spoken.

He wasn’t small or soft spoken.

He was The Freak. He was loud, deafeningly so, with his sharp tongue and his righteous speeches and his clinking chains and his metal music and his confident strut.

But not now.

Not leant against a table with the sun personified casting unbelievable warmth across his skin, bringing mortifying color to his cheeks with hardly even a touch. 

“Please,” that voice spoke again, words flowing golden from that mouth like sweet wine from a pitcher. 

A finger tucked itself gently beneath his chin, guiding him to turn until they were face to face, nose to nose, eye to eye.  

It was almost too much to bear, the intense focus of that soulful gaze fixed solely on Eddie; two swirling pools of sunlight that threatened to swallow him whole.

“Call me Steve,” he spoke once more, his words whispering across Eddie’s lips before his own followed suit. 

And it was spectacular.

It was fireworks bursting and flashing across the sky on a warm summers night.

It was the very last note, played to perfection, of a song he’d been learning for weeks .

It was fond and familiar, yet new and indescribable; passionate and fierce, yet gentle and sweet.

It was so similar to their previous kisses, to their very first kiss under the bleachers, yet so very different, filled with something new, something tangible and tentative and tender.

Something that was no longer searching or seeking, but knowing and understanding.

Steve touched him like he was something to be cherished, one hand caressing the side of his neck, thumb resting delicately over his throat, the other hand traveling down his heaving chest- when had he started panting like a marathon runner?- and snaking its way around him to splay across the small of his back.

Steve held him like he wouldn’t ever think to let him go, pulling him in closer and closer until they were locked together like puzzle pieces. 

Made to fit together perfectly.

Steve licked into his mouth like it was his God given purpose to do so, drinking each and every sound that poured from his lips like sweet ambrosia; godly food for a god amongst men.

And when they were finally forced by desperately aching lungs to part, to gasp for air after what seemed like a lifetime deprived of it, Steve buried his face in  the curve of Eddie’s throat and dampened his skin with his heated breaths and his featherlight kisses.

“Fuck. Sir Steve, it is,” Eddie huffed out a laugh, biting back an honest to god whine as Steve moved his hand from its place on his throat, strong calloused fingers scratching up the back of his neck and across his scalp, threading through dark and tangled curls in a sure grip that had his head spinning.

“ Sir Steve?” Steve let out in a low rumbling tone against Eddie’s fluttering pulse, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin there.

Eddie found himself nodding as much as their position allowed, his fingers scrambling across the broad expanse of Steve’s back, clutching helplessly at the fabric of his shirt.

He needed the tether, the anchor down to earth lest he float off into the stratosphere, never to be seen again.

“Mhm, Sir Steven, Protector of the Realm. Professional Knight in Shining Armor.”

He felt more than heard Steve’s huff of amusement against his chest, his forehead thumping against his collarbones, hair tickling at the underside of his chin. 

It was a beautiful sound, so soft and gentle, and Eddie felt a stark sense of accomplishment at the hand he’d had in producing it.

“Only for you,” Steve replied, pressing another kiss into the base of his throat like the sealing of a promise. 

Only for you.

Three simple words and Eddie’s stomach was doing backflips.

He was so painfully into Steve Harrington, and he was beginning to realize it was utterly mutual.

Soft kisses and sighs quickly gave way to ravenous moans and groping hands. 

Eddie gasped as Steve dragged his tongue up from the hollow of his throat to the hinge of his jaw, teeth seizing the sensitive skin over his fluttering pulse and clenching down.

He let out a shuddering breath, hands scrambling for purchase as Steve sucked soundly as if determined to mark him; to brand him for all to see.

Eddie hoped to whoever was listening that he would. 

“I’ll admit,” Steve hissed, dragging searching hands along Eddie’s abdomen to dig their way beneath his shirt, fingertips scratching through his happy trail in tantalizing circles. “I had my own selfish reasons for stepping in. Mostly jealousy. Seeing Tommy so close to you, touching you, breathing your air, had me seeing red.”

Eddie could hardly conjure a word or thought in response to Steve’s admittance as strong hands moved swiftly down and gripped him beneath his thighs, lifting him up onto the table behind him as if he weighed absolutely nothing.

It was like he was a puppet, handmade with care just to be moved and touched and brought to life by Steve.

“I needed him to know,” Steve continued lowly, lips pressing soft possessive kisses against his temple. “Needed everyone to know, not to touch what’s mine .”

A groan punched its way out of Eddie’s chest, and he could feel his cock twitch in his jeans, warmth spreading as precum soaked into the denim because of that one simple earth shattering word.

Mine mine mine.

The phrase almost seemed to echo through Eddie’s mind.

“And am I? Yours?” he managed to gasp out, the words not coming easily as Steve pressed ever closer, nose dragging down his cheek to press into the throbbing bite mark he’d left just under Eddie’s jaw.

Soft lips upturned against his flushed skin, and Steve gave his response in the form of:

“You tell me.”

Those rumbling words almost seemed to vibrate across the skin of Eddie’s throat, trailing like static right down to his gut.

It was like lightning striking sand, the sudden electric feeling in his body so stark and desperate, but also so hazy and warm as the strike molded and shaped him into something new; something beautiful and rare and Steve’s. 

He could do little more than nod and let out an affirmative little “mhm” before Steve pulled back, dark hazel eyes freezing him in place as they swept once again over his face in a way he’d only ever seen in paintings.

Such deep and urgent longing, the sort which poets could only dream of.

“All yours,” Eddie breathed, his hands fisting in the front of Steve’s shirt, his legs closing tightly around Steve’s hips.

He needed him closer.

He needed him. 

Steve’s expression crumpled, heated desire overtaken by open, near painful desperation. He answered Eddie’s promise with a heart wrenching groan, capturing his lips in another positively ravenous kiss, which Eddie returned with all that he had.

It was almost like each was attempting to stress to the other just how desperate their need was, putting all of the things they couldn’t ever think to say out loud into their kiss. They were trying to devour each other, heart and soul and lips and teeth, sucking the syrupy sweet words of affection and promises of young love from each other’s very tongues before they could even be spoken. 

Eddie wrapped his arms as tightly around Steve as he could, holding on for dear life as warm calloused fingers trailed down from Eddie’s slim hips to grip at his belt buckle, deftly unraveling the leather with a sound that sent a shiver of anticipation down Eddie’s spine.

As Steve’s tongue played across the seam of his lips, pulling his bottom lip into the overwhelming warmth of his mouth to roll between his perfect teeth, his clever fingers unbuttoned and unzipped Eddie’s jeans, dipping immediately into the waistband of his boxers.

Eddie groaned into the kiss, hands flying up to grip at Steve’s biceps, to roam over the soft plains of relaxed muscle on his perfectly sculpted chest, to clench in the smooth material of his expensive polo shirt.

Despite every other time they’d fallen together, Eddie could hardly believe this was really happening. He half expected to wake up at home in his bed, sweaty and sticky and markedly ‘Steve-less’, because what was the alternative?

That Steve Harrington, popular, gorgeous, charming, could have literally anyone he wanted, Steve Harrington actually… wanted him?

Insanity.

Absolutely unbelievable, even as Steve Harrington, who was very much there and not a manifestation of his lust-crazed subconscious, kissed him within an inch of his life, strong hands dipping further down into the back of his boxers.

Eddie gasped as Steve took two handfuls of his ass and squeezed. Arching into the insistent touch, he broke from the kiss with a shuddering groan as Steve pawed and kneaded at the sensitive flesh, fingers digging into muscle and bone hard enough to bruise.

Eddie dearly hoped they would.

Steve let out a soft sound, almost despairing as he leant in even closer, kiss-swollen lips finding a new home at the juncture of Eddie’s neck and shoulder as if they couldn’t stand being apart from him for any longer.

He licked and sucked and bit at every visible patch of skin, worshiping, marking.

Claiming.  

“Say it again,” Steve murmured into the hollow of his throat, his words little more than a growl against spit-dampened skin that had Eddie vibrating  against him.

“Say…?” Eddie started in a confused whisper, his voice cracking as Steve ran greedy fingers along the waistband of his boxers, yanking the fabric lower down his hips to bare the sharp jut of his hip bones.

Steve hummed, nosing along the line of his collar, dragging his tongue across sensitive skin stretched thin over bone.

When he reached the barrier created by the collar of his shirt, he gripped at the hem and virtually wrestled it entirely off of Eddie, tossing it onto the table amongst the papers and minis and maps.

Goosebumps broke out across Eddie’s newly bared skin, made worse when Steve pulled back completely, taking his considerable warmth with him.

Eddie shivered as those lust darkened eyes swept over him, taking in every new detail as if it were the very first time.

Eddie’s stomach was doing cartwheels as he watched those big warm hands move toward him as if pulled by invisible strings; as if it were somehow impossible for Steve to keep himself away.

Would that it were.

As those hands found their proper place low on his hips, thumbs digging into the hollows beside his hip bones, rubbing circles into the delicate skin until Eddie was certain they’d leave permanent marks, Steve breathed out a gentle but firm command of:

“Say you’re mine.”

Eddie dropped his head back and moaned, shaking hands grasping for Steve, for any part of him within reach.

He needed to touch him. He needed to be touched in return. He wasn’t sure he could survive without it at that point.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Instead of leaning back in, enveloping Eddie in the warmth he craved like air, Steve dropped down to his knees just before the slight spread of Eddie’s legs.

Something had changed in his demeanor. The desperation was gone, replaced by a single minded focus that Eddie had never seen from him before.

He smoothed his hands up and down Eddie’s body, from the bony knobs of his knees, to the dip of his waist, to the spread of his ribs, and all the way back down, the gentle touch sending tremors down Eddie’s spine.

He’d never been touched like that before; never been worshiped like he was something sacred and beautiful, but Steve was laser focused, determined to take his time in pressing soft wet kisses to every mark, every faded freckle, every silvery scar he could find.

Eddie could’ve cried as Steve mouthed along the thin line of his happy trail, pausing for a moment as if to simply breathe him in, nose pressed into the soft skin of his belly.

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie whimpered, swallowing too loudly in the overwhelming silence.

He could feel Steve’s huff of laughter, a puff of hot breath tingling across the spit damp skin of his abdomen, ruffling the hair disappearing into the waistband of his boxers like gentle winds across an open field. 

“Say it,” Steve whispered, nipping at a soft spot just below his belly button, dragging a squeak from Eddie’s throat that would’ve been embarrassing if Eddie could think about anything other than Steve’s face between his legs  

“I’m yours,” Eddie gasped out without a moment's hesitation, hands fumbling back to grip onto the edge of the table for something, anything, to hold on to. “I’m all yours, Big Boy.”

Steve hummed in satisfaction, pressing one more kiss to Eddie’s belly before resting back on his haunches.

“Mine,” he nodded, dark eyes flickering up to Eddie’s.

Before Eddie could question him, Steve reached down and took hold of one of his ankles, pulling it up until he had Eddie’s foot resting against his chest.

Eddie watched in something close to shock as Steve slowly and carefully untied his shoe, delicately removing it and setting it aside before starting on the other in a similar fashion.

Every movement, every action was so genuinely kind and conscientious, so filled with care and devotion it had Eddie’s heart hammering in his chest like a piano key against a string, trying desperately to produce a melody.

Steve removed his socks next with exactly the same level of care, and, after setting each one aside in turn, pulled Eddie’s legs up one by one to press the gentlest kiss to each of his ankles, an action that, even after everything they’d done together, had Eddie flushing a surely impressive tomato red.

“Mine,” Steve said lowly once again, releasing his hold on Eddie’s ankles with one final squeeze. 

He rose slowly up from his knees, his eyes never leaving Eddie’s, his gaze intense as he moved in close, wrapping one arm around Eddie’s back.

Eddie’s arms immediately wound around Steve’s neck, the urge to hold him close and keep him there stronger than any he could ever remember having.

He couldn’t remember much; only the feeling of Steve’s hands, Steve’s mouth. 

Steve Steve Steve

Eddie gasped, his grip tightening as Steve lifted him with one arm, just high enough to allow his free hand to tug Eddie’s jeans and boxers over the slight swell of Eddie’s ass, shoving them down until they slid right off without the hindrance of his shoes, pooling onto the floor below.

Eddie’s breath was embarrassingly heavy, forcing its way out of his chest in short but steady bursts as, after setting aside his jeans with the rest of his things, Steve plucked up his boxers from the neat pile.

He couldn’t help the whine that escaped his lips as Steve pressed the damp spot at the crotch against his own face, taking in a deep breath before stuffing them into his back pocket with a smirk.

Eddie was pretty damn certain he’d never been harder in his life than he was right then, especially as Steve lowered himself right back down to his knees and pressed himself in between Eddie’s legs, forcing them open wide and exposing Eddie completely to the blessedly empty room.

“So beautiful,” Steve sighed, hands smoothing up Eddie’s slender thighs, fingers digging into soft flesh and wiry muscle as he began to pepper kisses there.

Eddie’s jaw dropped as Steve took hold of the underside of each thigh, pushing his legs up until his knees were at his chest. His own hands flew down, rings smacking loudly against the wood of the table as he struggled to keep his balance.

“What’re you doing?” Eddie gasped, his voice barely recognizable to his own ears, high and thready like it never was.

Steve nuzzled a flushed cheek against the inside of Eddie’s thigh, breath ghosting tauntingly across his skin so close to the weeping head of his cock.

Fuck, he was soaked.

Eddie could feel his own precum dripping onto his stomach, drooling down his shaft and over his balls.

Steve seemed to notice as well, eyes rolled back in his head as he mouthed the word “fuck” before burying his face in Eddie’s thigh.

“I’m returning the favor, Angel,” Steve stated, licking at the crease where his thigh met his hip. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this since the other day at that table in the woods.”

Eddie hardly had time to answer when he felt Steve’s tongue press against the base of his cock, dragging slowly, so slowly, up along the vein toward the head.

Eddie’s jaw dropped, breath stuttering to a halt as Steve made a show of swirling his tongue around the tip before he pulled away with his tongue still out, a pearly string of precum connecting him to the head of Eddie’s dick.

“Oh fuck,” Eddie huffed, but Steve gave him only a moment to revel in the orgasmic sight before dipping back down, lower this time to lick up the pre still dripping down his balls.

It was heaven. 

It was so much like that very first time beneath the bleachers on Friday, and yet, so very different.

The way Steve touched him, held him, kissed him. The way Steve licked and sucked at his balls, fondled and stroked his dick.

It was so perfect it was almost dreamlike.

If it weren’t for the dull stab of a three sided die digging into his palm, he would almost believe he was dreaming.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it,” Steve spoke again, wrapping a warm calloused hand completely around Eddie’s cock in a firm grip and stroking steadily. “Yesterday at the picnic table. The things you did with that mouth of yours, fuck. I stripped my dick raw jacking off in the locker room, in the shower, in bed, anywhere I could to get a little relief.”

Eddie let out a low groan at his words, swaying his hips up to meet Steve’s strokes when suddenly Steve’s other hand tightened its grip on the back of Eddie’s thigh, pressing up until his knee was nearly touching his shoulder.

He winced at the restrictive stretch, gasped out a “Steve”, but Steve ignored the pitiful sound, his careful tempo never faltering.

“I thought about just driving to your trailer, maybe climbing in through your window.”

Eddie licked his lips at the thought of Steve Harrington paying him a secret visit in the middle of the night just like he did with all of his other conquests.

It sent a thrill down his spine.

“Why didn’t you?” Eddie questioned, biting at his lip as Steve twisted his wrist right at the head of his dick, milking out a genuinely embarrassing sound and even more precum.

He was already dripping with it as it was.

“Mmh, chickened out,” Steve shrugged in response, his cheeks flushing a light pink at the admittance as if he were suddenly shy.

Shy whilst expertly milking another dude to orgasm in under two minutes.

The notion was almost enough to make Eddie laugh.

“So what changed?” Eddie pressed instead, fighting not to whine in disappointment as Steve paused his strokes, those dark hazel eyes meeting his dead on.

“I told you,” Steve began, his voice taking on a darker tone, one that had the remainder of the blood in Eddie’s brain rushing straight down south like some kind of horny Pied Piper. “I needed to let everyone know not to touch what’s mine.”

The last word came out in a growl, and Eddie could only whimper in answer as both of Steve’s hands returned to his thighs, shoving him backwards until his back and elbows met the tabletop with an exaggerated smack.

His dick twitched hard at the manhandling, and Eddie brought one hand down to grasp at his weeping cock, stroking once until an iron grip closed around his wrist.

“And that means you too, Angel,” Steve hissed, moving his hand back down firmly onto the table. “No touching.”

And then that tongue was right back on him, licking up the glistening trails of precum drooling from his tip before traveling down south, further and further than before, until-

“Steve!” Eddie cried out as Steve swiped his tongue across the tight furl of Eddie’s asshole, spreading spit and precum across the velvety smooth skin.

The feeling was perfectly filthy, something he’d only dreamed about before, but never thought he’d ever get to feel. And now here he was, laid out on a table still covered in character sheets and dice, his legs spread wide open while Steve Harrington put his miraculous tongue to use and ate him out. 

Eddie let out a litany of filthy little moans, curses, prayers, as Steve pulled back and spit directly onto Eddie’s hole, watching the spit drip all the way down before swiping his tongue through it and gently pressing at Eddie’s hole.

“Want you inside me,” Eddie breathed, his hands coming down to hold his own legs up as Steve’s hands slid down from the backs of his knees to his thighs, fingers squeezing and massaging his sensitive skin the entire way down. 

Steve groaned low in his throat at Eddie’s words, the groan sending vibrations through Eddie’s body that had him shaking and moaning. 

He could feel Steve’s smile of satisfaction against him before that tongue dipped back down, prodding at Eddie’s hole. Steve’s hands came down further to pull Eddie’s cheeks apart, and a thumb quickly joined his tongue, pressing down until Steve’s tongue pushed inside with little resistance. 

“Oh god, Steve! Oh fuck,” Eddie gasped out, his head falling back as Steve began to work his tongue and fingers inside of him, gently stretching him open.

“Have you ever done this before?” Steve questioned softly, pressing his lips against the back of Eddie’s thigh as his finger worked its way inside of Eddie. 

“No,” Eddie admitted with a shake of his head, his arms tightening around his legs until he was basically hugging them to his chest. “I’ve fingered myself, but no one else has ever…” Eddie couldn’t even finish his sentence as Steve slowly pressed a second slippery finger in beside the first with shocking ease, Eddie’s mouth dropping open with a long and low moan as he heard the sound of a cap clicking shut.

Because of course Steve brought lube.

“Good. I want to be the first,” Steve whispered into Eddie’s skin, his voice low and rumbling, settling into Eddie’s very core and making a home there .

Eddie cried out as Steve’s slick fingers pushed in deeper, deeper than anything ever had, stretching with a single minded focus and care that had Eddie desperate for more.

It felt like an eternity, being lavished and worshiped by that wet tongue and those lubed up fingers, having his hole licked and stretched and coveted.

Eddie was pulled slowly out of his lust ridden haze by the feeling of wetness on his cheeks, tears of pleasure rolling down from his eyes to soak into his hair.

His bleary eyed gaze swept down to meet Steve’s wide hazel eyes, Steve slowly rising from his place knelt on the floor between Eddie’s legs to lean across Eddie’s trembling body.

“Good tears?” he asked softly, his voice so gentle and sugary sweet it made Eddie’s heart melt like strawberry ice cream in the sun.

Eddie bit his bottom lip and whimpered as fresh tears poured down his cheeks. He sniffled and nodded his head, reaching out with shaky arms to wrap around Steve’s neck, pulling him in closer to revel in his warmth.

Steve chuckled softly and pulled his fingers out of Eddie, leaving him mournfully empty. Eddie could only whine for a moment before Steve was engulfing Eddie in his strong arms, pulling Eddie in against his soft muscular chest.

Eddie sighed with a bone deep sort of content as he buried his wet face against Steve’s neck, pressing sweet kisses into Steve’s heated skin as Steve held him. He wasn’t remotely worried anymore about ruining Steve’s shirt; in fact, he hoped they would.

“Is it crazy to say that I think I love you?” Eddie breathed against the juncture of Steve’s neck and shoulder, running his nose up along the vein in Steve’s neck before pressing his lips to Steve’s pulse-point, simply feeling Steve’s fluttering heartbeat against Eddie’s mouth.

Steve made an almost pained noise at that, his arms tightening around Eddie’s body the only warning Eddie got before Steve was sweeping him up into his strong grasp like it was nothing, lifting Eddie’s body against his own.

Eddie clung to Steve with a breathless laugh as Steve walked them over to Eddie’s DM throne and lowered them into the seat, adjusting Eddie’s position on his lap so that Eddie’s legs were spread wide over the arms of the throne.

Eddie blushed as Steve’s lust darkened eyes swept over Eddie’s exposed body, Steve’s large hands wrapping around Eddie’s waist to hold him in place.

“Say it again,” Steve said, his voice suddenly unsteady where it had been smooth, uncertain where it had been solid. “Please?” Steve urged gently, his eyebrows scrunching together, his pretty downturned hazel eyes lowered and vulnerable.

Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle affectionately at the sweet sight, raising his hand to caress Steve’s cheek. Steve leaned into his touch like a puppy, pressing kisses into his palm as if begging for his affection; for his love. 

“You like that, Big Boy?” Eddie purred, rubbing his thumb across Steve’s cheekbone. “You like how desperate I am for you?”

Steve made another wounded sound, a high groan as Steve’s hands scrambled to his own belt.

“That’s right, Sweetheart,” Eddie moaned, leaning in to kiss across Steve’s cheek, his jaw, his chin, ghosting his lips just over Steve’s panting mouth, breathing him in as Steve opened his jeans with shaking hands and pulled out his cock for Eddie.

Just for Eddie.

“C’mon, Stevie,” Eddie encouraged him, his own chest heaving with heavy breaths as Steve positioned his dick against Eddie’s stretched out hole. “Show me how much you love me.”

Steve pressed forward with a stuttering groan, the thick head of his cock pushing past the tight ring of muscle with shocking ease at Eddie’s command.

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat, his jaw dropping, his eyes slipping closed as Steve gently pulled out all the way before pushing back in deeper than before. The stretch was painful, but in a grounding way; like scratching a hard to reach itch. 

Eddie let out a harsh gasp, clutching at Steve’s shoulders as Steve began to sink in deeper and deeper, carving into his insides like a proclamation of love into the bark of a tree.

E+S with a little heart around it.

“Say it again, Eddie,” Steve panted out, leaning in close and pressing open mouthed kisses to Eddie’s chest, right over his beating heart.

“Fuck,” Eddie gasped, sucking in a shaky breath as he blinked open tear blurred eyes, meeting Steve’s heavy gaze with his own. “I-I love you, Steve.”

Steve shuddered as if Eddie’s words had a physical effect on him, Steve’s hips slowly pulsing up more and more until he was finally buried to the hilt inside of Eddie, fully engulfed in his tight heat.

Eddie whined at the feeling of fullness as his ass settled into the cradle of Steve’s lap, Steve’s hands rubbing along Eddie’s waist, his back, his widespread legs still hanging over either arm of the throne.

Steve kept him still, holding him tightly against Steve’s solid warm body, kissing and suckling at the delicate skin of Eddie’s throat, refreshing faded bruises, staking his claim as Eddie’s body adjusted to Steve’s dick inside of him.

Eddie’s entire body was lit up like a live wire, twitching and clenching with need. He didn’t care if he was ready or not, he needed Steve to move. He wanted Steve to fuck him like he’d never wanted anything before. 

Eddie buried his fingers into the thick perfect honey brown hair at the crown of Steve’s head, digging down to the root and gripping tightly, pulling Steve’s head back from Eddie’s bruise mottled and spit soaked throat until their eyes met, nearly black to smoky hazel. 

“Steve, move,” Eddie pleaded, trying his best to grind his hips down into Steve’s lap. “Please, I want you to fuck me! Wanna feel you inside me for days.”

Steve’s eyes rolled back as Steve groaned deep in his throat, smashing his lips aggressively against Eddie’s as he suddenly lifted Eddie by the waist until only the head of Steve’s cock remained inside of him before driving him right back down hard. 

Eddie let out a loud moan, only muffled slightly by Steve’s mouth as Steve sucked and bit at Eddie’s swollen lips like a starved man, starting up a steady rhythm thrusting into Eddie’s tight warm body. 

Eddie was reduced to panting and moaning and whining as Steve used and maneuvered Eddie’s body like a cocksleeve, a fleshlight, a toy just for Steve’s pleasure just like Eddie wanted.

The feeling was insurmountable, addictive; Eddie knew he’d never be able to go a day without this again.

“Fuck me, Steve,” Eddie egged him on, running his fingers lovingly through Steve’s hair, caressing Steve’s face. “Tell me you love me, and fuck me like you can’t fucking stand me!”

Steve‘s grip tightened around Eddie until he was certain he’d have bruises in the shape of Steve’s fingertips for the next week. 

More to match the others. 

He wished he could get them tattooed.

As Steve’s thrusts sped up to a brutal pace, Steve’s balls slapping up against Eddie’s ass as his cock drove into Eddie’s tight little hole with filthy wet smacks, Eddie’s fingers pushed Steve’s jeans further down his hips until Eddie’s beautiful bite mark on Steve’s Adonis belt was fully visible; bruised nearly blue and pink like a painting by Monet, the impression of Eddie’s teeth still so stark and defined. 

Eddie’s fingers pressed against the bite, digging into Steve’s bruised skin to pull an ecstatic moan from Steve’s throat, Steve’s hips stuttering in their steady rhythm. 

“Fuck, Eddie,” he huffed, sweat beading his brow, dampening his perfect hair as Eddie continued to fuck into Eddie with an animalistic urgency. 

“That’s right,” Eddie breathed, moving his hips down in tandem with Steve’s thrusts, his own cock bouncing up to slap against his stomach with each movement.

“I love you, too” Steve said with a certainty that had Eddie’s thighs quivering and his pulse pounding.

Eddie tried to speak, but found himself only able to cry out Steve’s name as Steve’s cock brushed right up against Eddie’s prostate, sending a veritable lightning bolt of pleasure shooting up his spine.

“I love you so fucking much,” Steve continued through his tightly clenched jaw, his mouthwatering stomach muscles clenching hard as he continued to fuck into Eddie like it was his calling; his sole purpose in life. 

“You don’t understand how obsessed I am with you, Eddie,” Steve whispered, leaning in to groan his startlingly sweet words right into Eddie’s ear. “Even before that day under the bleachers, before everything, I’ve always thought about you. So damn pretty with those plump pink lips and big brown eyes, so loud and funny with your ridiculous lunchroom speeches and your sarcastic little quips. I’ve always wanted you, and now that I have you, I’m never letting you go.”

Eddie felt like he could shake apart with the slightest touch, using his hands to pull Steve back by the hair to once again push their lips together. They weren’t even kissing, more moaning and panting into each other's mouths as their bodies writhed and ground together in the throne in the darkened theatre supply room.

Two forms twisted together in a dance as old as time.

“Steve! I’m so close,” Eddie whined, his head falling back, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he let out a strained sound of overwhelming pleasure at the nearly nonstop stimulation to his prostate.

Steve licked a stripe up Eddie’s exposed throat, taking Eddie’s earlobe between his teeth before he whispered back:

“Good boy. C’mon, Eddie. Wanna see you fall apart on my cock.”

Good boy. 

Eddie’s entire body seized, his back going taut as a bowstring, his thighs shaking with tremors, his tear-blurred eyes widening with a look of sheer ecstasy.

With a choked out voice cracking cry, Eddie was cumming nearly untouched, painting his own chest and belly with his spend; the proof of Steve’s adoration.

Steve followed quickly after, tumbling over the edge at the mere sight of Eddie’s orgasm. 

Steve’s eyes squeezed shut, his teeth gritting, his hips stuttering, his hands clenching. He pounded into Eddie’s used hole once, twice, three more times before cumming deep inside of him, filling him up with unbelievable warmth.

The two of them slumped down into the throne together, Eddie’s head resting on Steve’s chest, Steve’s fingers running through Eddie’s sweaty curls, his other hand moving in soothing circles on Eddie’s back. 

They stayed there for an unknowable amount of time, simply sitting and breathing together, caressing smooth flushed skin, kissing salty tears away from wet cheeks, relearning how to exist as two rather than one.

When Eddie finally felt confident he could move without groaning, he pulled back to look down into Steve’s handsome face, doing his level best not to visibly swoon at the expression of genuine affection in those sleepy hazel puppy dog eyes. 

“Did you…” Steve whispered, pausing as he lowered his gaze with that same strange shyness from before. “Did you really mean it? When you said you loved me?”

Eddie couldn’t help but to chuckle softly at Steve’s insecurity, leaning down and gently kissing the tip of Steve’s perfect nose, doing it again when he watched it crinkle.

“Of course, Sweetheart. I meant every word I said,” Eddie replied, nuzzling his cheek against Steve’s, breathing in the addictive scent of Steve’s sweat and cologne. “Didn’t you?”

Steve sighed with something that sounded so painfully close to relief, and Eddie instantly felt the need to hold him; to hug this perfect man against him and never ever let go.

“Oh, I meant it,” Steve confirmed with a beautiful smile, kissing Eddie’s cheeks, suddenly leaning up and smothering him with a swarm of kisses until Eddie was giggling like a lovesick fool, shoving Steve away to pin his shoulders against the back of the chair. 

“Then say it again?” Eddie asked, eyes half lidded as he glanced down toward Steve’s smiling lips, leaning in and dragging his tongue along the seam until Steve moaned and opened his mouth for Eddie.

“I love you, Ed,” Steve groaned, holding him tighter as if it were physically possible to pull him in any closer.

Eddie grinned against Steve’s mouth, their kiss devolving once again into simply breathing and laughing softly into each other’s mouths, getting their lips messy with the others spit.

It should’ve been gross, but Eddie craved it more than air.

“Now keep saying it,” Eddie breathed, Steve responding with an enthusiastic nod.

“Always,” Steve mumbled, dragging a thumb along the line of Eddie’s jaw, looking up at him worshipfully.

The sweet intimate moment was very suddenly shattered by a loud knock on the door. 

Shave and a haircut. 

“Oh shit,” Eddie whispered, his eyes widening as he turned toward the- thankfully- closed door. 

“Eddie, dude, you still in there?” Gareth called out, his voice slightly muffled through the door. 

Eddie ran a hand nervously through his hair, looking down at himself and Steve to see if there was any way to salvage the scene as fast as possible just incase Gareth chose to walk in.

He was completely naked, sitting on top of a still mostly clothed Steve, the two of them flushed and sweaty and covered in cum, and to top it all off, Steve was still inside of Eddie, even more cum dripping out of Eddie’s ass from around Steve’s softened cock and making a total mess of the seat of the throne below.

This was unsalvageable. 

“Uh… y-yeah!” Eddie called back, trying to mask the panic in his tone. “Hold on! I’m coming!”

Gareth snorted, the sound muffled but still identifiable. 

“So I figured you forgot I was giving you a ride home. Guess I was right, huh?”

Eddie winced.

“Oh shit, Gare. I’m sorry!” Eddie called out, feeling genuine guilt at making his friend wait so long.

“It’s fine dude!” Gareth answered. Eddie could so clearly imagine him flapping his hand, a reassuring smirk on his freckled face.

Because, as much as Eddie poked fun at him and purposely annoyed him for some of his more uptight tendencies, Gareth was still as solid and reliable as a rock, as cool as a cucumber, as steady as a… his sex addled brain couldn’t come up with another analogy; Gareth was his best friend, to put it plainly. 

Eddie opened his mouth to thank him for his understanding and patience when Gareth continued with a much snarkier tone. 

“I’m sure Harrington will be more than happy to give you a ride. Well, another ride. See ya tomorrow, Angel.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped, his face superheating to what had to be a mortifying shade of red as he listened to Gareth cackle like a witch as he walked off down the hall.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna be roasted alive tomorrow at lunch,” Eddie groaned, pressing his palms over his closed eyes to relieve the sudden pressure of panic in his head. 

Steve snorted, burying his face in Eddie’s shoulder and shaking with laughter. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” Steve said in a teasing voice, running his hands down Eddie’s back to rest on his ass, squeezing gently.

“We can just have lunch under the bleachers with the other mice.”

………