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“I need you to relax, Harrington.”
“I’m trying. ”
Steve huffs, annoyance clear on his face as he tries to look past the bunched-up fabric of his sweater to see where Eddie is currently pressing into him so agonizingly slow. Eddie’s palms land on his stomach– an inch or two from the scars he gained during Watergate— and slide upwards, heated and greedy as they come to rest against his chest. Eddie’s thumbs slide over the boy’s nipples, applying the slightest bit of pressure until some of the tension in Steve’s body drains, hazel eyes almost black with the dilation of his pupils as he watches with a debased sense of longing.
It’s just the right amount of lax for Eddie to bury himself completely, a wicked sense of pride sprouting like vines in his chest when Steve keens, dick twitching where it lays flushed and weeping against his stomach. “You look good like this, princess,” Eddie murmurs, jaw clenching from the effort of his own restraint. Everything in his body is lit and it’s dangerously close to the base of the wick, something fiery and sharp ebbing at his subconscious.
“Too hot,” Steve pants, fingers finding the hem of his shirt and half-heartedly attempting to wrench it upwards. Eddie watches the brunette struggle for a moment, allowing him to remove his arms from the sleeves himself but stepping in when the collar gets stuck, laughing fondly under his breath. He moves his hands from Steve’s chest, one going under the boy’s neck to lift his head, the other tugging the rest of the clothing free and tossing it to the floor.
Steve hardly has time to form a ‘thank you,’ instead arching upwards when Eddie pulls back and fucks back into him in a way that punches the air from his lungs. It’s overwhelming, arms instinctively crossing over his eyes to eliminate one sense to focus on what the rest of his body was feeling. “Ah ah,” Eddie chides, ringed hand plucking the brunette’s arms away to gather his wrists and pin them upwards “can’t have you hiding those lovely eyes. Need you to watch.”
“Fuck, Munson,” Steve says his name with reverence, his own tone shocking him. They had fooled around a handful of times, sure, but this is new. This is so much better than all the times the metalhead would pump his fingers in Steve’s ass, mouth suckling at the head of his dick until he came like that, high and completely blissed out with his boxers hanging off an ankle. The thought occurs then to Steve that it could be like this more often.
And Eddie?
Eddie thinks he can live the rest of his life like this. Truly- it’s not a half-assed sentiment that will pass after he cums, no, this is real. Of course, he can’t say it out loud when he’s hips-to-ass with Steve, who is writhing beneath him and trying his damndest to wiggle his wrists out of Eddie’s hold. It’s a bit comical the more he thinks about it, how Steve had shown up on his doorstep asking to smoke only to end up taking it like the pretty whore he is in Eddie’s bed.
His thoughts are brushed aside by Steve rolling his hips, choking out a moan when Eddie’s cock strokes against his prostate, skin tingling and part of him wonders if this is what Heaven feels like- if there is one. After all that they’ve seen, he’s starting to think there’s not. “Oh, baby, you’re just so needy for me, aren’t you?” Eddie coos, pressing Steve’s hands further into the pillow they’re resting on. The brunette’s eyes start to roll as an act of exasperation, but end up rolling into the back of his head in bliss when Eddie’s hand wraps around his cock, pumping in time with the rock of his hips.
“Jesus, fuck - you’re so cocky, Munson,” Steve grunts out, tapering off into a whimper when the other boy’s thumb presses lightly to the head of his dick. “I think I have a right to be, Harrington,” Eddie chuckles, bucking into the brunette once more “after all, I’m the one making you cry because of how good I feel inside you.” Steve scrambles to find a snarky remark to bite back with but fails to grasp onto a sentence, instead gasping, one hand finally escaping the hold and flying out to grab Eddie’s side with an aching grip. There’s sure to be fingerprint-shaped bruises later with crescent moon accents, and the idea of walking around with proof of their escapade has Eddie moaning low in his throat.
Steve’s mind is racing, there’s so many questions lingering in the back of his head but they’re all overtaken by Eddie- the way his hand is wrapped around Steve’s dick, the way he’s rocking into him at a steady pace, how his fingers are moving from his wrist to graze along his palm before eventually intertwining with his own.
“Let me hear you, Harrington,” Eddie mumbles, a fierceness that he didn’t know he contained bubbling through the surface of his emotions “too many thoughts in that pretty little head of yours. Don’t think, just feel it. Feel me .” Sweat beads along Steve’s forehead, hair damp and splayed out against the white pillow beneath his head. “Shit— I feel you,” Steve breathes between moans, all sarcasm and need to taunt draining from his body. He holds onto Eddie’s hand tighter, lifting his head in a desperate attempt to feel the boy's lips on his own, to learn his taste and memorize how his tongue presses against his.
Luckily Eddie catches on and meets him halfway, grinning into the kiss as their teeth clash unceremoniously, soaking up the moan that passes Steve’s lips and settles between their shared air. Pulling back to breathe, Steve takes the time to truly look at him, eyes flitting across his features because he wants to remember this . The curls framing Eddie’s face stick in some places, bangs matting to his forehead and Steve can’t help but unclench his grip on the boy’s side, instead opting to cradle Eddie’s face. Tracing the shape of his lips and dragging his index finger up the curve of his nose before he pushes some of the dark curls out of his eyes.
“You’re so good, Eddie. Gonna cum soon,” Steve slurs, grin dimpling his face and he wonders if he’s always been this sultry or if it’s simply just the fading buzz of weed in his system.
Eddie’s rhythm falters at the gesture, a choked whimper giving away just how close he is. Steve whines when the friction on his cock stops and the all-consuming pumping of Eddie’s dick inside of him slows, but then he’s being pulled up with the boy as he shifts. The brunette resists the urge to wipe the sweat on his palms off onto Eddie as he’s tugged into his lap, instead overtaken with just how fucking deep the change in position has left Eddie’s cock nestled inside his ass.
“Get yourself off, Steve. I know you want to,” Eddie smiles, hands wrapping around to his backside.
He’s right, he does want to get off. The warmth between the two of them is enough to make his dick jump, hips rocking forward as he raises himself up only to drop back down. Eddie’s face finds solace in the crook of Steve’s neck, groans muffled through the process of sucking purple marks into the brunette’s skin.
Eddie pulls Steve forward with every bounce, listening to the distinct sounds of panting morphing into whines that catch in his throat. "Come on, Harrington, doing so well," Eddie praises, lips pressing to his jaw. One, then two more shifts of his hips pushes Steve over the edge, eyes pinched shut at the overstimulation from his cock being trapped between their sweat-slicked bodies. Eddie can feel the rumbling from the brunette's groans against himself, teeth biting down onto the junction of his neck as he follows suit, spilling into the condom.
He allows himself a few more thrusts before he finally stills, continuing to hold Steve as close as he would let him, leaning back to search his face for any signs of discomfort. What he finds makes him snort out a laugh, the checked-out daze in Steve’s eyes matching the way he breathes heavily through his mouth, usually stylized hair now a mess of sweat and tangles.
Eddie reaches up to smooth some of it out, the corner of his mouth quirking once more “What were you saying about me being cocky?”
Steve shakes his head, clouded eyes focusing on Eddie’s warm gaze, lips twitching to mirror his “Shut up, Munson.”