American Metal: The History of Corroded Coffin 1986-1992
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“I’m gross, dude,” Steve grimaces, tugging his collar open to duck his nose under and sniff. “I sweated through my shirt like, two songs in. It was 200 degrees in there.”
“My darling, that isn’t the deterrent you’re describing it as.” Eddie gets his belt apart and his fly open, then shoves his jeans down over his hips. “I gotta go back soon and I’m not gonna do it ‘til you got some of me in you.”
“You should have said that to the girl who showed you her boobs,” Steve suggests, blithe in his delivery. Eddie laughs and reaches up, yanks Steve down by the sweaty collar until he’s bent over at the waist and they’re kissing. He pulls back an inch to add, “Maybe next time you can find someone to show you their balls.”
It’s stupid but Eddie genuinely laughs, nose snorting against Steve’s cheek.
Steve always gets all gooey and sweet when they kiss, and Eddie fucking loves it. Steve rests his thumb against the divot of Eddie’s chin like a cute little button who isn’t about to take dick in the back of a metalhead’s van.
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Eddie goes on tour with Corroded Coffin, and Steve tags along to sell merch.
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“I heard some girls talking earlier,” Steve says, dropping to his knees on the bed. He looks down at Eddie and raises his eyebrows. “They were big fans.”
Eddie’s hand goes up to Steve’s bare waist as Steve strips the W.A.S.P. shirt up over his head and tosses it into their pile of dirty laundry.
“Big fans, huh…” he trails off, hand skimming under Steve’s belly. Eddie’s fingers go right down to the front of Steve’s underwear, and he tugs on them, pulling the waistband away from his abdomen and the fabric away from his semi. “Did they say anything memorable?”
Steve shuffles closer, looking down at Eddie as Eddie pulls on the elastic.
“It started off like, super normal.” Steve runs a hand through his hair, knocks it forward, all over his forehead. “Talking about music. They really liked the new song -- totally average girls.” Eddie raises his eyebrows and keeps going, tugging, showing himself the stubbly hair under Steve’s belly button that goes all the way down to his balls. “Then they started talking about you and one of them goes, ‘I want him to rearrange my guts.’”
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Eddie goes on tour with Corroded Coffin, and Steve tags along to sell merch.
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“Think this is the kind of place that would get mad at me for putting holes in the walls?” Steve greets, thunking a box full of t-shirts down on the stage. He makes a face. “Not like the friggin queen’s coming anytime soon.”
In Muncie, Steve got in trouble for using thumbtacks. It ended with Eddie yelling FASCIST PIGS and then getting his polaroid put up on the banned wall.
“Dude, don’t ask me.” Gareth scratches his back with a drumstick as he thinks. “You could probably ask that guy,” he settles on, pointing over to where Eddie and Gene are still chatting away, now cracking jokes and smoking cigarettes by the guitar rack.
Steve looks over at Eddie, back at Gareth, and then back at Eddie.
“I’ll get Eddie to ask him for me,” he finally settles on. Gareth shrugs and watches as Steve drags the box back off the stage and turns around, looking for somewhere to set up his table.
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Gareth goes on tour with Corroded Coffin, and Steve Harrington tags along to sell merch.
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“The promoter wants you to hang out after the show tonight,” Steve tells Eddie from his spot at the edge of the bed. They’re in one room together, Gareth and Jeff are in another, and Freak’s on the foldout in the basement. “He said you can have all the beer and tits you want.”
Eddie grins over from where he’s elbow deep in his bag. “Harrington, you know I already have all the beer and tits I want.”
“Yeah well, you can’t sign these behind the bar at Kitty’s,” Steve tells him.
Eddie looks at Steve sitting there with his legs crossed at the end of the bed, grey slacks and a t-shirt, apple of his eye, light of his life, best rack in the midwest, and laughs. “Steve Harrington,” he sighs, tilting his chin up, grin still on his face. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
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Eddie goes on tour with Corroded Coffin, and Steve tags along to sell merch.
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******************************************
R.U. THE GUITARIST WE R LOOKING FOR?
U.R: Dedicated, creative, loud, quiet, fast, slow.
WE R: Influenced by Slayer, Maiden, Metallica.
CALL EDDIE 317-804-2929
******************************************He spends the morning wondering if he should, then calls the number as soon as he gets home from work.
“Thank you for calling Family Video, where every new release comes with a share-size bag of M&Ms,” a monotone voice states. “This is Keith. How may I help you today?”
Ian squints down at the classified ad, making sure he got the right number. “Uh, hi. I was hoping to speak with Eddie?”
“You and half the National Guard,” Keith snorts, sounding unimpressed. “What’d he do this time?”
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Eddie goes on tour with Corroded Coffin, and Steve tags along to sell merch.
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The Decline of Western Civilization: Indianapolis Thrash Metal by sidnihoudini
Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
15 Sep 2025
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“I miss you, Munson,” he says simply. “Probably more than what’s normal.”
Eddie cackles. “Normal? Ohhhhh Steve. There is noooothing normal about what’s going on in this head of mine when it comes to you.”
“Yeah, well, likewise,” Steve says back. “You touch your dick yet?”
Eddie busts out laughing, sounding genuinely surprised and flabbergasted. “Yeah, I jerked out a quick one after I sat down with my coffee.”
Steve starts laughing too. “You better not.”
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Eddie goes on tour with Corroded Coffin, and Steve tags along to sell merch.
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