Archive of Our Own

It’s late Summer in beautiful Venice, the Palazzo del Cinema is buzzing with activity – film stars, producers, distributors, models, and anyone who’s anyone in attendance milling about, networking – and Steve Harrington weaving past the harried staff in the kitchens to get to the backdoor of the venue, pushing the fire exit doors open and taking in a huge breath of relief, of finally being free from the oppressive noise and attention from the inside.

He lets the doors slam closed behind him and bends into a crouch a few feet ahead, taking in the crisp Autumn air, the faint smell of water from the canals around the Palazzo, and the various food aromas wafting out from the exhaust pipes in the kitchen.

“Steve Harrington, right?” asks a voice from behind, startling him into standing again.
Steve looks back to find a figure leaning against the brick wall next to the doors he just came through. The stranger is shrouded in darkness, standing under the awning, but Steve can spot the cherry red of his lit cigarette as he takes a drag. This interloper leans forward to stand fully, and saunters over to Steve.

“Oh,” Steve gasps quietly. This isn’t a stranger at all. Or, rather, maybe it is, since they’ve never really met before, but– “you’re Eddie Munson.”

Eddie Munson, standing before him in all his rockstar glory, smirks. His mane of dark curly hair cascades over his shoulders down to the middle of his back, the front of it held back into a messy bun, making him look disheveled, and showing off the many studs and rings dotting his ears. He looks a little mean, a little dangerous, his pale skin in stark contrast with the rest of him, faint freckles dotting the bridge of his large nose, a rosy blush dusting his cheeks, probably from having stood in the sun throughout the day. He’s mesmerizing to look at, and Steve feels a little starstruck in the presence of an actual rock legend, even though they’re the same age.

With a be-ringed hand, Eddie offers Steve a pack of cigarettes. “You look like you could use one, dude,” he says, his voice gravelly and a little sharp, not quite deep. Steve looks between Eddie’s huge, bottomless, dark brown eyes and the box in his hand, and feels tempted. He thinks about the vape in his trouser pocket, how unsatisfying it is to drag from it, the vapor of it coating the inside of his mouth with that rancid fake melon taste that makes him want to vomit sometimes. He misses actual smoke in his lungs, the burn of it coming through his nostrils, the warmth of it against his lips. He accepts the packet and looks at it.

“Gitanes?” Steve asks, one raised eyebrow. Eddie shrugs with a chuckle.

“Came here straight from Paris this morning,” he says by way of explanation. “And anyway, I’m not too fussy about it, as long as they’re not Marlboros.”

Steve snorts, picking up a cigarette and handing over the pack. Eddie then proffers a Zippo from his pocket, and flicks it, letting Steve lean in to light up his smoke. He does so, instantly intoxicated by the mixture of the scent coming off Eddie, something woodsy and musky, a little sweet and sharp, and the feel of that burn going into his throat for the first time. He nearly moans with the pleasure of it, but just about manages to keep it in for his modesty’s sake.

“You were right,” he says. “I needed that.”

Eddie laughs at that, a surprising snort giggle that’s a little high-pitched and a lot endearing. Steve feels like he’s having an out-of-body experience.

They stand in silence for a while, smoking together. Eddie is looking around them, taking in the views from the canal behind the Palazzo. Steve is looking at Eddie, taking in the striking figure he makes, the boldness of his clothes and the way he presents himself. He’s wearing what looks like a tuxedo jacket, because it’s short at the waist and tapers in, but this one is also beaded with some intricate designs and there’s some lace as well, which almost matches the tattoos that decorate the line of his chest. Which Steve can see because Eddie is bare-chested under the jacket, just two long silver chains as decoration, one of which has a skull pendant. His chest under the dark tattoos is as pale as the rest of him, hairless and firm. He seems skinny but in a lithe way, sinewy and slight, and his tiny waist is accentuated by the high-waisted trousers he’s paired the jacket with. They’re black and slim-cut, hugging his slim hips and his strong calves, ending just where his boots begin.

Eddie Munson is undeniably cool, and Steve feels underdressed next to him in his impossibly expensive Fear of God suit and Tom Ford sneakers.

“I hate these things, man,” Eddie says, breaking their silence. Steve looks back up into his eyes, startled out of staring at the little bat tattooed on one of his knuckles.

“Film festivals?” Steve asks.

“Yeah… well, I mean, this is my first film festival, so I mean more like this whole charade, you know?”

Steve nods. He definitely knows. “Yeah. It’s the worst part of the job, for sure.”

Eddie looks over at him, taking Steve in as he stares back, feeling trapped even with all the free space around them.

“So, hm,” Steve begins, nervously puffing out the last of his cigarette, putting it out under his stupid Tom Ford sneakers that pinch at the heel and are not as comfortable as his Stan Smiths, thank you very much, Robin. “This is your first festival? Were you in one of the movies, or?”

Before Steve even finishes his question, Eddie is laughing. His hair bouncing around his head as he shakes with giggles. It’s kind of adorable how his eyes sparkle with mirth.

“Seriously?” he asks, wiping the corner of one eye with a ringed finger. “Dude, I literally scored your movie.”

Deeply embarrassed, Steve feels his entire face heat up. He never watches his own films, so he doesn’t really know much about the finished product, though he admires and respects everyone that comes together to work in the pictures. It’s just– he hates watching himself on screen. It’s why he prefers theater, sometimes, honestly. But now, being met with evidence of his neglect, Steve feels shame.

But honestly, Steve didn’t even know Eddie composed scores. He knows Joyce likes to work with the same composer, this guy Murray Bauman who’s an absolute menace but churns out some beautiful music, so under the embarrassment, there’s surprise at this turn of events, that this incredibly famous rockstar is here in Venice to help promote a film he scored.

“Oh, no, I’m so–”

Eddie waves a hand. “Don’t worry, man, it’s cool. It’s my first score, and I’ve been trying to keep it on the down low, you know?”

Steve nods. “I can’t believe I didn’t know, though! My friend Robin loves your music, she would’ve lost her shit. I mean, maybe she did, I kinda ran away before the screening started. Hate watching films here,” he says with a shudder, making Eddie laugh.

“I get it. I’ve just got in this morning and I’m already overwhelmed. Too many suits for my taste.”

“Execs?” Steve offers, and Eddie nods in response, making a disgusted face as he stubs out his cigarette on the ground under his Docs.

“Turns out film execs are just as bad as the music guys. Maybe worse, who knows. Anyway, I’m probably gonna bail, actually.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, disappointed. It’s strange, this feeling of not wanting this moment to end. He feels suspended in time, like he’s in a snow globe, and the air around them is standing still, words floating away with the early evening breeze.

“You staying?”

“Oh, hm. Yeah, probably. Everyone’s staying at my hotel, so if I want to avoid the paparazzi, I should stay until later,” Steve says, further disappointed at what awaits him. He just wants to lie down, maybe take a bath. He can’t stand here all night talking to Eddie, looking at Eddie, as much as he wants to. Tomorrow afternoon, he’ll be heading back to New York to start rehearsals for a play, and just the thought of his schedule for the next week is making the panic rise within him again, the same panic that had him flying through the kitchen and out into this dock with Eddie Munson.

Eddie, who’s looking at him with a glint in his eyes, and Steve can see wheels turning under all that hair.

The door to the kitchen opens again, and one of the cooks comes out, heading to a dark corner for their own smoke break. The interruption breaks the heavy tension in the air, though Eddie is still staring at Steve, a contemplative look in his eyes. Then turns and walks back towards the building.

Steve follows him, through the kitchens and into the main building, where the sudden loudness hits him like a sack of bricks, and he needs to brace himself so he doesn’t topple over from the overstimulation of noise. It’s all a bit too much, and maybe the paparazzi in front of his hotel are an okay price to pay for the pleasure of leaving this nightmare of a situation.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie asks. Steve turns to face him, squinting against the headache forming in the middle of his forehead. “How do you feel about a nightcap?”

“A nightcap?”

“At my hotel,” he elaborates, more demure than before, when they were outside. Out there, Eddie was bold and bright, but now they’ve reached this large room filled with nonsense and pretentiousness, all that brightness has dimmed a bit, which is heartbreaking to witness. “I gotta head out before lunch tomorrow, so my hotel is close to the train station, all the way across town.”

Steve considers it. Leaving this terrible party early, getting to spend more time with Eddie Munson, maybe bunking with him if it gets too late. He can order a car to collect him in the morning, and his flight back is not until late afternoon anyway. There’s a stirring in his gut that Steve hasn’t felt before, it’s sharp and red hot, and addictive like the smoke in his lungs, and it sharpens when he looks at Eddie, with those wild eyes and big hair and sharp collar bones jutting from under the delicate lace of his jacket. Munson talks of freedom, and Steve doesn’t even hesitate before nodding furiously, his heart racing with the excitement of it.

Munson grins. “Meet me by the side exit in fifteen?”

“Yeah, yes. Fifteen.” Steve nods again, and watches as Eddie marches away, no doubt to put their dastardly escape plans into motion. A warmth settles in Steve’s chest as he watches Eddie walk away, but he’s got no time to spare, so he forces himself to snap out of it and find Robin.

***

It’s easier said than done, obviously, because there’s about two million people in this room – at least, it feels like it. But eventually Steve manages to locate Robin, grabbing her elbow to politely pull her away from what seems to be an animated discussion about one of the documentaries that premiered at Cannes back in the Spring.

“What, what?” she asks, annoyed.

“I’m leaving,” Steve says, cutting to the chase. He’s got… eight minutes until he needs to meet Eddie

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m heading out. Gonna grab a drink with a friend and turn in. I’ll meet you back at the hotel tomorrow, okay?”

“What friend, Steve?” she asks, confused. Fair enough, Steve is not known to be the most sociable of movie stars, especially at events such as these. But it’s not like he can tell her the truth, that Eddie Munson is like a siren and Steve feels compelled to see this through, to follow him into the night and see where it takes him.

“I– look. It doesn’t matter, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says. “I’ll call you in the morning and we can have brunch, yeah? Before heading for the airport?”

Robin considers him. He knows he probably looks a bit deranged with how desperate he is to leave, but he knows she understands him in his soul, and that he wouldn’t be leaving without good reason. She nods, perfunctory, but grabs his wrist.

“Call me in the morning,” she repeats, a warning. “And be safe, okay, dingus?”

Steve softens and holds her hand that is gripping his wrist, feels her warm, soft skin against his, and is overcome with love for this person who is the other half of his soul.

“Will do. No need to worry about me, Bobbin.”

She flicks him on the nose for that, which– fair enough. Then sends him on his way. Steve just about runs across the room to make their rendezvous time, and is about one minute early when he bumps into an unimpressed-looking tall, black guy in an impressive maroon velvet suit, standing by the exit door.

“Hey, Steve,” says Eddie, standing next to the Velvet Suit Guy, cheeky grin on his face, digging two adorable dimples into each of his cheeks. “This is Jeff, my long-suffering manager. He’s got a car for us.”

“Oh, hi, thanks, man,” Steve mumbles awkwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets on account of not knowing what to do with them.

“Yeah, yeah, just get out of here, asshole,” Jeff says to Eddie, sharing a look of mock-annoyance with Steve. “Don’t get into trouble!”

“Cool, cool, see ya!” Eddie is already walking out, followed by Steve, and waving Jeff’s concerns away.

It’s a big relief, getting out of the building without all the faff of a security team or photographers. Steve just follows Eddie into a nondescript car that’s awaiting them, and when he gets in, they’re greeted by a friendly-looking driver and the dulcet tones of Enya from the speakers.

“Jesus Christ, Danny, what in the fuck,” laughs Eddie, leaning over the console to grab the driver’s phone to change the music. “You can’t be trusted with the aux, dude.”

“Don’t you dare insult Enya, she is a goddess among mortals, man.”

Steve snorts at their interaction, watching as they continue to bicker while Danny the Driver pulls out of the space and back into the winding streets of Venice.

“This is Steve, by the way,” says Eddie once he’s settled back down into the seat, satisfied with whatever playlist he’s put on. Steve is pretty terrible with music, so he has no idea what’s playing now, but it’s pretty mellow and not too loud, so he doesn’t really mind. “Steve, this is Danny, my right-hand man.”

“Nice to meet you, man.” Steve waves at Danny with what he hopes is a friendly smile. As they make their way across the cobbled city streets, Steve feels exhausting settle over his bones, and he’s finding it difficult to keep his eyes open. He yawns. “Sorry, sorry, it’s been a long day.”

Danny chuckles from the driver’s seat. “No worries, dude, we get it.”

Eddie bumps his shoulder against Steve’s. “It’s over an hour until we get to the hotel, just get some sleep and I’ll wake you when we get there,” he says, gently. Steve feels lulled into slumber even before Eddie finishes speaking, his head dropping backwards against the soft cushions. He’s fast asleep in seconds.

***

When Steve comes to, he feels a hand on his shoulder gently tugging him back into consciousness. He blinks the sleep from his eyes and looks around to find Eddie pressed close to his side, eyes dancing with amusement.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, sleeping beauty,” he says. Danny the Driver chortles from his perch on the driver’s seat, and Steve swats at Eddie with one hand.

“Shut up,” he mutters, blushing.

“We’re here, princess, shall we?” Eddie asks, opening his door and jumping out of the car, Steve following behind. Once they’ve exited the vehicle, Danny drives away, but all Steve can focus on is the bounce of Eddie’s curls as he jaunts over to the hotel doors.

Eddie’s staying at an imposing villa in Santa Croce, and Steve follows him, wide-eyed, as they cross the marble entrance into the building, doors opened to them by a sharply-dressed porter who barely even glances at them on the way in, likely accustomed to all manner of famous people crossing the threshold.

“How rich are you?” Steve whispers at Eddie, who chuckles good-naturedly.

“Well, I’m a triple platinum recording artist, so you take a guess, babe,” Eddie responds as he leads them toward the elevators on the far side of the entrance. They make it to the top floor, where Eddie directs them to his suite on the far side of the corridor to the left. “Home sweet home,” he says, opening the door for Steve, and closing it behind them.

And then they’re truly completely alone for the first time. The suite is massive, a living space right at the entrance with two dark green velvet sofas, rococo paintings on the walls, and on the far end, French doors leading to a balcony. To the right of the door is the bedroom, which Steve can see from the open doors has a massive bed (by European standards, anyway), with pristine jewel toned linens and an abundance of fluffy-looking pillows. Suddenly all Steve wants is to sink into those pillows and sleep off the stress of the day.

“This place is amazing,” Steve says, walking over to the sofas to stand in the middle of the room.

Eddie smiles at him, joining him in the living room and taking a seat on one of the plush sofas. “Can I get you a drink? There’s some sparkling water in the mini bar, or I can order something from room service.”

“Are you getting anything?” asks Steve, remembering the promise of a nightcap from what feels like a lifetime ago. He sits opposite Eddie on the other sofa and moans softly at how deeply he sinks into it.

“Some tea, probably,” Eddie says. He’s looking over at Steve heavily, lidded eyes and a faint flush on his cheeks. Steve feels warm all over, and that heat at the bottom of his belly is back, but he shoves it aside.

“No nightcap?” Steve asks, instead. He knows his voice sounds tight, but tries to swallow around it.

Eddie laughs quietly and shakes his head. “Not in the traditional sense, I guess. I’m sober, so no alcohol for me, I’m afraid. Seems I invited you over under false pretenses, Steve, but the truth is I just didn’t want to let you go,” he admits, shyly, one shoulder shrugged up. Then, Eddie is bending forwards, unlacing his Docs, removing his socks, propping his feet onto the wooden, probably antique, coffee table between. His feet are long, pale like the rest of him, and finely-boned. Steve finds he can’t look away from the jutting bones of his ankle, so delicate and covered in sparse dark hair. He swallows a mouthful of saliva and forces himself to look away. Then Eddie’s words sink in.

“Oh. Well,” he says, lost for words. “I, hm. I’m glad you invited me over, anyway. Nightcap or not.”

Eddie smiles brightly, those cute dimples making another appearance. “So, tea?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Eddie hops from the sofa, bounds to the phone on a side table and goes about ordering them some room service, and in the meantime, Steve decides to divest himself of his shoes as well, and figures the jacket might as well follow. He drapes the absurdly expensive jacket over the back of the sofa and leans back, taking in the room’s decor, letting the evening wash over him like a warm blanket. He feels surrounded by the richness of his environment, by the scent of Eddie all around him, more of that musk – woodsy, a little citrusy, something sharp and undeniably masculine. It’s making Steve’s insides twist pleasantly, so he allows himself to bask in it for a little bit.

“All done,” Eddie says as he retakes his seat on the sofa. “Do you mind?” he asks Steve, gesturing at his own jacket where he’s holding it by the lapels as if to remove it. Steve shakes his head and gulps as he watches Eddie drag it over his shoulders and toss it unceremoniously across the room, where it lands with a soft thud and a chime from the beads. Now his upper body is fully exposed, and again Steve can’t look away, greedily taking in every inch of skin he can see. All the dark tattoos drawn on his skin – fantasy creates, flowers, swords, skulls, a veritable cornucopia of beauty mixed with poor decisions of youth, the supple skin of his narrow waist, the dark hair going down into the waistband of his trousers. His dusky brown nipples are pierced, a delicate hoop around each. His arms are equally tattooed, from his lithely muscular biceps down to his slim wrists. Steve looks up to find Eddie staring at him, that heated look in his eyes once more, and all at once the room feels ten degrees warmer.

They are now looking at each other wordlessly, locking eyes, and Steve feels trapped, but also he never wants to escape.

The spell is broken by a knock on the door. Steve looks away first, but it’s Eddie who gets up to open it. Steve stands as well, and watches as the room service waiter rolls in their tea. Eddie asks him to set everything up on the balcony table, and Steve just watches. The man quietly gets their order set up, seemingly unaware of the previous tension in the room. Once he’s finished, he accepts the tip from Eddie, and steps out quietly.

“After you, my liege,” Eddie says, playfully, the heat in his eyes not fully gone, but given room to amusement. He is holding one of the balcony doors open, motioning for Steve to step out into it.

“Thanks,” Steve says after regaining speech, and takes a lungful of fresh air once he steps outside, taking in the beautiful view. He can see the whole city from up here, glittering lights reflected on the canal waters, the ancient buildings and bridges, the cathedrals and historical theaters.

It’s so beautiful here, looking over at the landscape, Steve wishes he could have spent more time in the city, maybe touring all of Italy, seeing more of the history, more of these rustic buildings that carry so many stories.

He feels a poke on the side of his head and turns to find Eddie staring at him again, eyes glinting in the moonlight, half his face illuminated by the light from the room behind them. He looks ethereal out here.

“What’s going on under all that big hair?” he asks, leaning a hip against the edge of the marble balcony. It’s a little cool out here tonight, the late Summer heat of the day giving way to the early Autumn chill, but Eddie seems unbothered, though his pierced nipples are rigid against the evening air.

“Just admiring the view,” he says. Eddie hums, without looking away from Steve.

“Beautiful view, indeed,” he says.

Here’s the thing, despite what Robin says, Steve isn’t actually stupid. He knows how Eddie has been looking at him all evening, he’s heard Eddie’s music, he knows that this hasn’t been necessarily heterosexual or platonic. He knows what those heated looks mean, even if he hadn’t planned on doing anything about it. But that was then, that was back out in the Palazzo, when they were sharing cigarettes out by the canal, exchanging pleasantries. But even then, there was an inevitability to the way Eddie glanced at him, pulled him into his orbit. Steve knows now like he knew then that the moment he said yes to coming here, to follow him further into the rabbit hole, that it would come to this.

And maybe he should be panicking a bit more than he is. Maybe he should be questioning his masculinity or his sexuality, wondering what it meant that he couldn’t stop staring at Eddie’s face, his eyes, his ankles, his fingers.

But what is there to wonder about, anyway? He’s standing here under the moonlight in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, finally feeling the grip of anxiety that had been wrapped around him all day loosen, and all the wants to do is glance back, and maybe lean closer, take in more of the scent of Eddie, find out what all that skin feels like under his fingertips and against his mouth. What is there to wonder about that, when it all seems painfully obvious.

“Eddie–” Steve begins, but Eddie grabs his wrist, squeezing firmly.

“Tea?” he asks. Steve nods and they sit together on the table, looking over at the landscape, sipping on their tea and considering the night ahead. Eddie offers him a cigarette and Steve accepts, so they sit together, drinking their warm tea and letting the noises from the streets below wash over them, the only thing breaking the silence that speaks volumes.

Eventually, there is no more tea and there are no more cigarettes, and Steve feels that hand once more on his wrist. He looks over to find Eddie smiling at him, his features stark under the moonlight. The rings on his fingers are arm and heavy against Steve’s skin.

“I’m going for a shower,” Eddie says. Steve almost takes it for a dismissal, but he continues– “join me?”

Steve was never going to deny him that.

***

The bathroom is a marble masterpiece. It’s huge, with double sinks with gold-plated faucets, a separate room for the lavatory, and a massive deep moss green porcelain clawfoot bathtub opposite the sinks. The entire back of the room is the enclosed tiled shower, with far more jets than Steve would know what to do with, but honestly, he hardly notices any of it at first glance, too busy cataloging the tattoos on Eddie’s back. A simple sword spanning down his spine, the blade ending below the waistband of his trousers, the hilt disappearing into his hair. All around it, some bolder pieces, though no less beautiful. Flowers around the base, some script on his rib that Steve couldn’t make out from afar, what looks like a constellation framing his other ribs, down to his lower back. Altogether, they painted the picture of Eddie – a little dangerous but with something delicate and sweet hidden underneath.

He watches as Eddie bends forward into the shower to turn on the spray, adjusting the temperature with a little hum until he’s happy with it, then he turns his head to face Steve, smiling faintly at him, looking a little self-conscious for a second before bending down to remove his trousers, and suddenly, he is completely nude, and Steve felt all the blood rush to his face.

Eddie is… breathtaking. Confusing. Terrifying.

The utter paleness of him alone is striking. The skin looks soft, supple, Steve wants to touch him all over. The blade of that sword ends at the very base of his spine, caressing the top of his ass, and Steve’s mouth is dry looking at the expanse of him. His fingers tingle with want, the need to reach out and…

“Coming, big boy?” Eddie asks, making Steve look up from his yet-again entranced stare.

Steve takes a deep, fortifying breath and begins to undress.

He’s not ashamed of his body, obviously. Although there’s something particularly unnerving about Eddie’s hungry, penetrating gaze, Steve is confident in himself, he works out regularly, jogs every morning. He lifts weights three times a week. He follows a very particular grooming routine, and he is proud of who looks back at him in the mirror. Sure, there are scars from accidents in his youth, and maybe his knees are a little knobby, but overall, he knows what he’s working with.

All that to say– Steve doesn’t feel timid when he begins stripping outside the shower, dropping his expensive clothes careless onto the marble floors. He feels tingly with anticipation, shivering with it. The air is cold against his freshly bared skin and he feels the gooseflesh on his arms and legs, the back of his neck.

Eddie is staring at him from within the shower walls. The glass is fogged up now, but he’s wiped it away with a hand to peer through. His eyes look dark, all pupil as he takes in Steve and how slowly he undresses. Steve knows he’s putting on a show now, dragging this out to make Eddie feel as discombobulated as he does, out of sync with his own lungs.

His boxers are last to go, and when they have joined the rest of his clothes on the floor, Steve stands fully, locking eyes with Eddie through the glass, and he feels the full force of that heat hit him.

The glass door to the shower is heavy as he pulls it open, and the spray is hot inside. Glad that Eddie seems to enjoy the shower as scalding as he does, Steve steps in gingerly, careful with the wet tiles under his feet, and joins Eddie under the water. The shower head is massive, and it genuinely seems like a waterfall over their heads, flattering their hair and pinkening their skin.

Eddie looks a bit like a wet cat under all the water, his full curls losing all volume and falling down his shoulders like seaweed, plastering to the side of his head. Steve feels similarly humbled, knowing exactly how his usually marvellous mane looks when wet.

“You look ridiculous,” Steve says, smiling as he touches the tips of Eddie’s hair, letting his fingers brush against the barbells on his nipples. Eddie snorts, looking back at Steve with soft eyes and a casual grin.

“Ditto, princess,” he says. Steve chuckles back and they stand under the spray, quietly taking in each other. Steve is still touching Eddie’s hair, the tips of his fingers ghosting over Eddie’s skin, but Eddie seems content to watch for now, and to be watched. His eyes sweep across Steve’s body, that powerful gaze of his nearly knocking him sideways. The fire in his eyes is blazing in full force now that they are here, his skin is so pink and it’s making Steve hungry for more, for something he’s never let himself really want, that he’s pushed away and stuffed into a box and tried again and again to throw into the ocean. But no luck there, and that want remained, and now it’s making itself known between his legs while his fingers inch closer to Eddie’s chest, all under Eddie’s watchful stare.

The steam around them is thick, heavy, as are their joined breaths. Eddie’s skin is pink with the heat, and Steve wonders if he feels as flustered as he does, if there are butterflies wreaking havoc in his belly, sending sparks up and down his spine. Steve is the slightest bit taller, not even a whole inch probably, but he can still look down at Eddie, take in the way his lashes gather the water from the spray, looking impossibly long and lush. He’s so pretty like this, Steve continues to marvel at it.

“Soap?” Eddie asks, breaking their trance. By now, Steve is fully touching Eddie’s torso, one hand splayed across his ribcage. His hand looks massive on Eddie’s slender body, Steve thinks he can probably hold his entire, tiny waist between his two hands. The thought makes him shiver again.

“Soap, yes,” Steve stammers, feeling altogether tongue-tied.

Eddie smirks, pats the hand that Steve has on his body. It’s the first time he’s touched Steve since they’ve disrobed and got in the shower. Despite all they’ve done so far, this feels wonderfully, terrifyingly intimate. Especially as he reaches over to grab the bottle of soap and pours some on his cupped hand, rubs his hands together to work up a lather, and rather than clean himself, Eddie moves forward, increasing their intimacy by dragging his sudsed hands across Steve shoulders, who flinches momentarily before relaxing under the touch. Steve, mesmerized, lets Eddie work on cleansing him, lets his nose fill with the lavender scent, his other senses full of Eddie. Those hands move from his shoulders down to his chest, caressing the thick hair there ever-so-gently, then tugging playfully, which makes Steve yelp in surprise.

“You’re a hairy beast, big boy,” Eddie comments, the rumble of his voice echoing within the shower walls.

“Yes,” Steve says. “I was on the swim team in high school, had to shave everything, it was such a pain.”

Eddie hums. “And a loss, too. This shan’t be tamed,” he says, gravely, with a cheeky grin, cupping Steve’s pecs with both hands, running thumbs over his nipples, which makes Steve’s entire body ache with want. He can feel himself getting more aroused by the second, but there’s no sense of urgency here, no desperation yet, as they slowly get familiar under the hot shower spray, surrounded by lovely scents of the bath products and what’s probably the natural musk of two men on throes of arousal.

Eddie continues to slather Steve’s body with the soap, dragging his nails across the meatier parts of his body, across his abs, his thighs, bypassing his ass entirely, though that feels deliberate – as if he wants to save that for last. Eddie teases him mercilessly like this, mixing the gentle caress of his finger tips with the biting drag of sharp nails, and Steve already knows that in the morning he will have evidence of his looking back at him. He doesn’t mind. He welcomes it wholeheartedly, yearning for more of this touch. Now that he’s allowed himself this, he feels insatiable. But Eddie seems to want to go slow, and Steve is happy to follow his lead, to drag out this pleasure for as long as possible in this liminal space they have created for themselves in a room in Venice.

“Wash it off now, baby,” Eddie whispers into Steve’s ear, the new pet name makes him moan quietly. Steve feels the hard, hot barbell piercing against his chest as Eddie leans in, and lets out a shuddering breath, stepping forward to let the water wash off all the soap suds.

Steve looks at Eddie, eyes half-lidded as he feels already on the verge of climax despite the lack of any sexual touching. Their cocks – hard, red, leaking – stand proudly between them, but neither moves to touch further. Eddie’s cock is beautiful, thick and not too long, just right. Steve doesn’t quite know what it’s just right for, as he’s never touched another man’s appendage, but he’s seen enough to know what to look for, and he’s not hiding anymore from the thoughts in his mind and the wants in his gut. Eddie’s cock is just right for Steve, at this very moment, with its pinkness and that beautiful vein underneath, the smooth head almost furiously red. It’s cut, unlike Steve’s cock, and he wonders what that would feel like under his fingers, so used he is to playing with his foreskin when he’s pleasuring himself.

“See something you like?” asks Eddie. Steve is still looking at Eddie’s cock, unable to tear away his eyes as his mouth fills with saliva.

“I do, actually,” Steve responds, rising to the challenge, and he loves the quiet rumble of Eddie’s chuckle against his chest.

“Not yet,” he tells Steve, ghosting a hand over his side. “Have to make sure you’re nice and clean first.”

“And not you?”

“You’ll do it?”

In lieu of an answer, Steve grabs the soap bottle for himself and takes his turn in cleansing Eddie all over. Finally allowing the touch he’s been craving all these moments. He delights in the softness of Eddie’s skin, in getting to know the curves and sharp turns of his body. Unlike Eddie, Steve doesn’t shy away from his ass, instead he grabs it, two handfuls, and pulls him closer, chests pressed together, breaths mingling. Their cocks are now touching fully, and it’s almost enough pressure and friction to push him over the edge, but he pulls away at the right moment. They’re both panting now, as Steve continues to slather Eddie’s body with both soap and attention, cleans all his nooks and crannies, between his fingers, behind his neck, drawing on his skin with soap like the tattoos that cover his body.

They wash each other’s hair, then, which is even more intimate, Steve thinks, than touching cocks. The way Eddie pulls gently at the hair on his scalp makes him shudder with anticipation of what’s to come, and there’s something divine about being granted access to Eddie’s own hair. The long, long locks wrapped around his fingers as he massages Eddie’s scalp, the feel of them going down his forearms, touching his elbow. They’re fused together like this, it’s like magic.

Steve’s always loved having his hair played with, but it’s like Eddie understands him on a deeper level, with the way he touches each strand, each lock. The way he carefully massages the backs of his ears and the short strands at the base of his neck, mouth ghosting over his throat.

They’re clean, eventually, and pink all over, both of them. Time feels endless here, nothing to do but revel in Eddie’s touch and in being allowed to touch back. But by now their fingers are getting pruny and they’re both breathless from the unrelenting hot steam.

“How about we dry off and relax a bit?” Eddie asks, softly, into Steve’s ears. The sensation of those lips against his earlobes is heavenly, and Steve can’t do anything but agree with a hearty nod. Eddie switches off the shower and steps out first, grabbing a towel from the hook, and offering a hand to help Steve get out, even though that’s not strictly necessary. But in this bubble of theirs, they’re both delicate and gentle, they’re both strong and capable. They give and take in equal measure, or they will, hopefully, very soon.

No sooner has Steve stepped out of the shower than Eddie wraps him in a gigantic, fluffy towel. Steve takes the edges in his hands and begins to dry himself gently. Eddie is doing the same with yet another blanket of a towel that also looks impossibly soft.

Once mostly dry, they drop the towels along with their clothes on the floor carelessly, and Eddie takes Steve’s hand again, guiding him to the bedroom, where they stand by the massive bed, which has been neatly made and seems completely untouched, as if Eddie hadn’t even sat on it since he arrived at the hotel this afternoon. Steve touches the covers with the hand that’s not in Eddie’s, feeling the lovely thread of the duvet – it feels expensive, just like the rest of the room, and Steve shocks himself with the thought that he is looking forward to soiling it.

“And how do you suppose we relax, then?” Steve asks, still petting the covers with his free hand.

“How about you lie down and I can show you?” Eddie suggests, and Steve is not stupid enough to deny him. He first sits, testing the bounce of the mattress. It’s the right amount of firm, and he pushes himself back, loving the feel of the luxurious fabric under his legs. He’s still a bit damp, he thinks, and so is Eddie – that supple, pale skin, all dewy and beautiful under the soft light of the bedside lamp. He looked ethereal outside in the moonlight, and in here he’s just as stunning, though the shadows across his face are more striking under the artificial lighting, and looking at him is making Steve feel lightheaded.

“Comfortable?” Eddie asks once Steve has settled on the bed, resting on the mountain of plush pillows. He’s spread his arms across the top of the pile, and feels distinctly like he’s presenting himself to Eddie, and in turn, Eddie has that heated look again, pupils blown wide as he takes in Steve’s form, licking his lips as if hungry for a taste. The idea makes Steve shiver with nervous excitement. He hasn’t been this on edge since he was a teenager and exploring his body for the first time. He feels… virginal with how his body reacts to Eddie’s attention, and it’s as terrifying as it is thrilling.

In a way, Steve supposes, he is a virgin. He’s never been with a man before, and even if he had been, he’s never been with an Eddie before, and he thinks that’s probably its own magnificent beast. The way Eddie moves, his swaying hips, his dangerous eyes, his flowing hair and sharp laugh. His clever fingers that seem to operate in their own accord.

Here and now, Steve sits in anticipation as Eddie considers him, like a general planning a storm landing. Then, Eddie crawls up the bed towards Steve, settling between his parted legs. He runs hands up and down Steve’s thighs, eyes never wavering from Steve’s, not even as he feels evidence of his cock getting fully hard again, straining upwards and leaking precum.

“God, look at you,” Eddie murmurs. “You’re gorgeous, baby.”

Steve shudders at the compliment, at the pet name. He’s never been good at accepting them, though he refrains from demurring, because it seems like Eddie isn’t even speaking to him, he’s just… observing and contemplating to himself.

“You are,” Steve whispers back.

Eddie smirks as he continues to pet Steve’s legs, grabbing at the meat of his thigh and squeezing tight, rubbing his thumbs at the dark hairs that cover his thighs and calves.

“I want to eat you up, sweetheart,” Eddie says, ignoring Steve’s own compliment of him. “I can’t wait to put my mouth all over you.”

Steve moans at this, parts his legs wider as Eddie leans forward and, without breaking eye contact, presses a delicate kiss on his nipple. The gentle, simple touch sends shockwaves through Steve’s entire body. He realizes, suddenly, they haven’t even kissed yet, as Eddie continues to peck at his chest. And as soon as the thought of kissing comes to his head, Steve can’t bear another second without it.

“Kiss me,” he says, breathlessly. “Please, p-please.” Their eyes are still locked, and he watches as Eddie raises an eyebrow and unlatches himself from Steve’s nipple, licking his lips. He brings his hands up, dragging them all the way up his body, from thighs to hips, ribs, and then resting on his shoulders. Then he brings his index finger to Steve’s mouth, tracing the outline of it slowly, while Steve holds in a breath, and feels himself blush down to his chest. Eddie’s finger traces his mouth, his cheeks, then he gently cups Steve’s jaw with a hand, brushing his thumb against his earlobe.

“Anything you want,” he whispers, before leaning forward and pressing their lips together, gently, slowly. Then he applies more pressure, and Steve begins breathing again, letting out his breath through his nose, and pushing himself forward, wrapping one arm around Eddie’s tiny waist, and grabbing the back of his head with his free hand. It’s instantly intoxicating to be so surrounded by Eddie. He tastes like tea and cigarettes, and his pink lips are so pliable against his.

They open their mouths in tandem, slotting their lips together as their tongues meet in the middle, and it devolves into a sloppy kiss that has Steve so weak in the knees he’s glad to be lying in bed. He pulls Eddie closer as saliva begins to pool between their lips. It’s messy, filthy, delicious – Eddie hums and moans with abandon, grabbing at Steve’s hair and pulling roughly at the strands as if holding onto a lifeline. With his free hand, he goes back to Steve’s nipples, lavishing them with attention, rubbing and pulling at the nubs and brushing the thick hair around them. Steve is wanton beneath Eddie’s attention, letting out deep groans from the back of his throat as Eddie sucks on his tongue, bites his lower lip and holds it between his teeth. Steve opens his eyes to find Eddie staring at him, those piercing brown eyes wide as saucers, full of heat and need, and Steve’s never kissed anyone with his eyes open before – it’s revelatory, and it heightens every sensation to be able to see his own desperation reflected on Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie moves his mouth down from Steve’s lips, licking down from his cheeks to his jaw, mouthing at his skin and pressing gentle pecks on his moles. He takes Steve’s earlobe between his teeth and sucks. Done with abusing Steve’s nipples, Eddie moves his hand further down his belly, caressing his abs and scratching at the hair around his tummy, on his belly button, and teases the skin of his hips.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve moans. He can’t decide where to put his hands, every inch of Eddie so tempting and appetizing. So he runs them all over, grabs at his ass, scratches his back with blunt fingernails, wraps his hair, which is still damp and heavy, around his fingers to pull at and earn a tantalizing groan from depth within Eddie’s throat.

Eddie continues to torture him by nipping at his throat, licking and sucking in equal measure. Steve knows he’ll have to beg Robin to help him cover these hickeys tomorrow before he leaves for the airport, but he can’t even begin to care about it right now. It feels so good to be so wanted, to have someone so desperately cling to him. And the fact that it’s Eddie, who has so enchanted him in just these few hours that they’ve known each other…

“You taste perfect,” Eddie says, or rather, breathes out. He looks as wrecked as Steve feels, flushed down to his chest, cock leaking where it rests against Steve’s leg as they rut together. “Let me taste all of you? Please?” he asks eagerly. Steve keens and nods, unable to speak as he feels Eddie kiss down his chest, pressing his tongue against his nipples, which are hard and swollen, so sensitive that Steve nearly screams at the contact. The tension inside him is growing tighter and tighter, and he feels close to snapping. But he wants to hold onto this for as long as possible, this incredible pleasure under Eddie’s mouth.

“Oh, baby, look at you,” Eddie says. He’s an inch from Steve’s cock, his hot breath ghosting over his untouched skin. Steve watches as Eddie flicks out his tongue and drags it from the base of his cock right up to the tip, using one hand to cup his balls in a way that sends a spark of electricity to Steve’s belly.

“Hnng, oh God,” Steve moans as Eddie dives in, taking his cock in hand and licking the exposed skin. With his fingers, he plays with the foreskin, pulling it down and rubbing at it, all the while kissing the sensitive parts of it with an open mouth. He uses a little bit of teeth, bringing an edge of pain to the indescribable pleasure. It’s white hot and mind-bending to be so lavished with want, the way Eddie kisses him, tastes him, envelops him within the heat of his pretty pink mouth.

Eddie’s chin is now glistening with saliva and precum, but he’s not deterred, and Steve can’t even focus properly on anything, so overcome he is with all of it. He edges closer and closer to a climax, can feel it building up at that pit of his stomach, his thighs trembling with it, vision fuzzy around the edges.

“Eddie, I’m gonna– I’m–”

Eddie simply hums around his cock as he continues to bob his head up and down, sucking and pulling and licking, clever fingers still playing with his balls, a thumb ghosting the rim of him. And then Steve’s vision whites out, he lets out a deep groan from his chest as he cums down Eddie’s throat.

After what feels like a decade, Steve comes down from his climax high, his eyes unblur and he manages to come back to Earth. He feels completely spent as his cock softens while Eddie continues to lick at it, having swallowed all his cum. He looks absolutely debauched – his bangs and the hair around his face curly from the heat of their sex, mouth swollen from sucking, chin glistening even more with his own saliva mixed with Steve’s spend. He looks beautiful, majestic, cockdrunk. What a sight.

“Look at you,” Steve manages to warble out, running a hand through Eddie’s hair. Eddie hums around Steve’s softening cock, seemingly unwilling to part from it. His eyes are closed and his throat bobbles as he continues to swallow. Then he pulls off with a gentle pop, cradling Steve’s tired, red cock in his hand, just holding it gently like he’s something precious. He licks his lips, as if savoring the flavor of Steve in his tongue, and Steve’s mind starts to buzz again. No one has ever taken this much pleasure from sucking him off, from the taste of him alone.

“Look at yourself,” Eddie says, voice rough. His eyes are shining mischievously, silently communicating that he’s not yet done with Steve. “You taste like heaven, sweetheart.” Steve blushes bright red under the compliments, almost embarrassed at reacting so loudly at such simple praise. But Eddie continues, rising up again to meet Steve face-to-face. “Do you want a taste?” he offers, tongue out. Despite all his greedy slurping, there’s some evidence of Steve’s cum on his mouth, and Steve can’t wait to taste himself on Eddie, to see what they taste like together.

Eddie crashes their mouths together, tongue first. No preamble this time. He covers Steve’s body with his own, and resumes rutting against Steve, his cock still hard, still leaking. Eddie tastes bitter and salty, the tea and the cigarettes mixed with the deep musk of his own cum and altogether a cocktail that makes him heady. He hums and groans as Eddie continues to rub against him, their bodies gliding together, slick with the remaining dampness of the shower and a layer of sweat that’s making the air warm and musky. It feels amazing, Eddie above him, around him, tasting like him. But Steve wants more, he wants to chase further, wants to pin Eddie down this time, take over and get a mouthful for himself.

“Lie down,” Steve pants, leaning up, grabbing Eddie by the waist and switching places so that now he’s underneath Steve, his body splayed underneath him – he’s flushed pink, dewy and devastatingly beautiful.

“What are you gonna do to me, sweetheart?” asks Eddie, voice husky from having Steve’s cock and cum down his throat. He looks so pleased with himself, extremely smug, and Steve wants to wipe that look off his face, wants him red and desperate and whining for him. He wants so badly that picturing it is already bringing his own fire back and he can feel his tired cock start to swell with interest once more.

“I’m gonna wreck you,” Steve says, low and deep, and watches as Eddie’s eyes widen and he visibly gulps. His cock twitches, the smooth head shiny with precum, dripping onto Eddie’s pubes. The dark, curly hair surrounds his cock, carefully groomed but not overly so, much like Steve himself. It stops around his balls, though, and Steve notices that, looking down his taint and towards his ass, Eddie is hairless. Intentionally hairless.

Steve salivates at the prospect of getting his mouth on all that smooth skin, of tasting the deepest parts of Eddie. He lies down on his stomach, between Eddie’s splayed legs, and rests a cheek on his thigh, noses at his hip, breathes in the delicious scent of him. He smells like clean sweat and skin, like the lavender soap they’ve slathered on each other, and there’s something, something that’s Eddie, and it’s probably just in his head, but it feels comforting all the same.

“Wreck me, baby,” Eddie whispers, hands playing with Steve’s hair. His eyes are half-lidded and the flush is still there, pinkening his fair skin.

Steve takes his cock in hand, feels the weight of him. It feels smooth, velvety soft, much like his own. Brushes the tip with his thumb, spreading the precum around the head, before bringing it up and down, rubbing him dry. Eddie groans softly, Steve feels it on his cheek that’s still pressed against his hip. Eddie is stunning like this, all submissive for him. Steve feels powerful with Eddie under him. He squeezes his cock, earning another groan, and he should’ve figured Eddie likes a little bit of pain with his pleasure, so as he continues to stroke him with only a little bit of precum as lubrication, he works on sucking a hickey on Eddie’s hip, biting him sharply, then soothing it with his tongue, then sucking once again, until Eddie is trembling underneath him. Then, when he’s done, he inspects his work, the read bruise that will surely last for a few days, and that thought alone spurs Steve along, pushes him to grab Eddie’s waist with both hands – and he was right, he can basically wrap the entire tiny thing in his two hands – and flips him over.

“What–” Eddie begins to ask, but Steve shushes him, puts one of those plush, likely extremely expensive pillows under his hips, and dives in without preamble. He spreads Eddie’s cheeks with his hands and hungrily licks at him, from his taint all the way to the base of his spine, and Eddie groans loudly again, moaning as Steve carries on, tonguing at his rim, kissing and sucking as he would when going down on a woman. It’s not that different, mechanically speaking, and Steve’s always loved doing it. He loves the control of it, and most of all, he loves the wet, squelchy noises that he can make, how moaning against someone’s center will reverberate and have them completely wanton underneath his hands and mouth.

Eddie loses control completely as Steve works his rim. He’s moaning Steve’s name, making the most animalistic noises as Steve ravishes him with his tongue.

Feeling a tug at his hair, Steve looks up, mouth still on Eddie’s ass. “F-fingers…” Eddie breathes out. His eyes are glassy, tears on the corners, mouth even more swollen from biting at it during Steve’s attack. And like the trooper he is, Steve is very happy to oblige, bringing in his fingers to join his tongue in Eddie’s hole, pushing one digit in slowly, using his own spit as lube, which he knows isn’t ideal, but he’s enjoying this too much to leave, and besides, Eddie seems to love it, hissing out a “yes, yes, yes” as Steve pushes his index finger in whilst licking around his hole.

“This pink little hole,” Steve murmurs, giving Eddie’s ass some kitten licks while letting him get used to the one finger that’s inside. “Already so hot and swollen for me.”

“Yes, yes,” Eddie continues to whisper, moaning in-between. “For you, baby.”

“Yeah? This hole is all mine, right?” Steve pulls back his finger slightly, then pushes it back in, causing Eddie to scream, “yes, yours, all yours, baby!”

“Ready for another finger?” Steve asks, while pushing his index finger in as far in as he can and mouthing at one of Eddie’s cheeks. His ass is tiny and pert, soft and so adorably rounded, Steve can’t help but lick it and kiss it, bite at it to get some of those gorgeous noises out of Eddie.

“Yes, yes, one more, please, please I need it,” Eddie says, breathlessly, pushing his ass out and up, towards Steve as if asking for more, and Steve gives it to him, pushes two fingers in now while licking around the rim of his hole, slathering his ass in saliva. With his other hand, he presses a thumb up against Eddie’s taint, where it’ll give him the most pleasure and have him completely boneless underneath him.

“Oh, god, your mouth… those fingers, fuck. Holy shit,” Eddie moans. Steve scissors his fingers inside Eddie, then pushes in again, pressing against that special bundle of nerves that has him screaming, losing himself completely for Steve. He’s so beautiful like this, flushed with pleasure and giving all of himself away to it. He’s vulnerable and sweet, and the taste of him is mouth-watering as Steve continues to lick around his fingers. When Eddie asks for more, Steve pushes in a third finger with a promise. He can feel his own erection now, hot and hard as if he hadn’t just come in Eddie’s mouth half an hour ago, but there it is. He ignores it in favor of taking Eddie apart slowly, lavishing his hole with attention, making him pink and flushed.

“Do you have lube?” Steve asks while pushing three fingers in and pressing gently against Eddie’s sensitive prostate. Eddie moans and nods eagerly, shoving his face into the pillow under him with his mouth agape. Steve pulls back, rubs Eddie’s waist with his free hand. “Where, baby?” he asks.

“Bag, bag,” Eddie says, almost deliriously. He’s far gone with pleasure, Steve can hardly believe he hasn’t cum yet, but he’s determined to get him there, push him over the edge. He looks over at the leather carry-on bag that’s been set next to the bed – it’s open and there’s a shirt or something spilling out of it. Steve wonders if Eddie had planned on picking up someone tonight, which is why he brought lube, and possibly condoms.

Right. Condoms.

He pulls his fingers out completely, making Eddie whimper and whine under him, face still pressed against the pillow.

“Did you bring condoms?”

Eddie opens his eyes a fraction and looks over at Steve, his gaze soft and a little far away. “Hm, no. No condom, it’s fine. I’m good, clean. I’m on PrEP,” Eddie explains, his voice even more hoarse than before from all his moaning.

Steve flushes. He’s never fucked someone bare before, so this would be another first with Eddie. He knows he’s clean, got tested a couple of months ago and it’s not like he’s had a particularly lively sex life recently anyway. And the idea of fucking Eddie with nothing between them is… more than tempting. The thought exhilarates him as he grabs the tube of KY from Eddie’s bag. When he turns back, Eddie has flipped over to face him and pushed the pillow under his hips away.

“Wanna see you,” Eddie murmurs, beckoning Steve towards him. He goes without complaint, moving to kneel between Eddie’s parted legs. Takes him in – his wild, curly hair, dark and frizzy around his flushed pink face. Eyes wide with want, cheeks red with exertion, and lips glistening with spit. He’s so beautiful, Steve can’t stand it.

Steve pours some lube onto his fingers and rubs them together to warm up a bit before reaching between Eddie’s legs again and pushing in. There’s almost no resistance, Eddie is still nice and loose from their long prep, and he takes Steve in eagerly. Steve pushes in and out, working him open a bit more with the lube this time, mixing it with his spit and making him nice and slick. Then, once he’s good and ready, Steve puts a little more lube on his cock and lines himself up at Eddie’s entrance.

“Ready, baby?” Steve asks, rubbing Eddie’s hips. Eddie’s legs are around him now, pulling him closer, hands on his back. He feels surrounded in the best way as he watches Eddie nod and nod and nod.

Steve pushes in and almost cums again on the spot, embarrassingly enough. The heat of Eddie is all-encompassing. He’s slick and warm and perfect. His legs around Steve tighten, keeping him in as Eddie takes a breath, letting Steve’s cock settle inside.

“Love your big cock,” Eddie pants, which makes Steve twitch inside that delicious hole. They fit like puzzle pieces, and it’s not long before Eddie allows Steve to start moving. Slowly at first, undulating his hips leisurely, building up a steady rhythm. He’s teasing Eddie, he knows, purposefully avoiding his prostate. Eddie whines and whimpers underneath him as the pressure between them builds.

Then, Eddie holds Steve tight, stops him from moving. “Wait, wait,” he says.

Steve stops, peers down at him and his flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes.

“You okay? Need to stop?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Want to ride you,” he breathes out. Steve’s heart stutters as he envisions Eddie bouncing on his dick, and he nearly cums on the stop. Luckily he doesn’t, so he nods, panting “yes, yes, please,” as he rearranges them, somehow never breaking apart. Then, Eddie is on hip, ass flush against Steve’s hips, taking all of him in.

“You’re so hot,” he moans, looking up at Eddie, at his swollen mouth and hard pierced nipples, that tight tummy of his, the happy trail leading the way to that gorgeous hard cock that’s now freely leaking onto Steve’s abs. Eddie takes a few seconds to get used to the new angle, and then he moves, slowly rolling his hips. Steve feels the pressure on his cock, feels Eddie tense when it hits his prostate. He picks up speed, bouncing eagerly, and then hard, roughly pushing down on Steve, who grabs at his hips hard enough to bruise. “Hhhg, fuck, your ass, perfect, perfect,” Steve moans. “These fucking legs, your tiny waist. You’re fucking gorgeous, fuck, fuck.”

“Steve, baby,” Eddie groans back, head thrown back, the gorgeous column of his neck bared, and it’s so tempting Steve has to sit up and lick it. He grabs at Eddie so they’re rolling their hips together, bouncing together. “You fill me up so good,” he says. “I’m so close.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?” Steve asks.

“Hhng, yes, I want to cover you with my cum, wanna feel you inside me.”

“Gonna cum all the way inside you, baby. Can’t wait to see my cum leak out of your perfect little ass,” Steve pants.

“Yes, yes, yes.” Eddie is bouncing harder. The pressure is building, and Steve can feel Eddie on the brink of pleasure. He uses one hand to tug at his cock and the other to pull him in for a messy, filthy kiss that is mostly just them panting into each other’s mouths.

“I’m–” Eddie begins, but cuts himself off with a deep growl while his cock spurts furiously, ribbons of cum messily dripping between them over Steve’s fingers as he continues to pump his cock. Meanwhile, Steve feels himself close to the edge as well, as Eddie’s hole tightens while he’s cumming. Eddies squeezes tight and groans into Steve’s mouth again, and he’s cumming inside Eddie’s ass.

“Oh, god, god,” Steve screams, oversensitive and utterly spent, feeling himself empty completely inside this beautiful man.

They take a few moments to calm down, panting against each other, covered in sweat and spit and cum. Steve buries his nose into the crook of Eddie’s neck and feels Eddie do the same, and they wrap their arms around each other. Eddie is still sitting on his lap, still has his cock inside him, and yet this embrace feels almost innocent. They breathe in and out, let their heartbeats come back to normal.

Eddie pulls back first, grabbing Steve’s face between his hands and bringing him in for a tender kiss. It lacks the desperation from moments ago, but it’s no less warm, no less passionate. They kiss for ages, tasting each other on each other’s tongue. Maybe Steve should be a little grossed out at the idea of kissing Eddie after having his tongue in his ass, but he can’t bring himself to, not when it feels this good.

They kiss and kiss while their sweat dries and until they have goose pimples from the chilly air on their naked bodies.

“I think we might need another shower,” Steve chuckles when his teeth chatter against the cold, then looks down at the mess between them and frowns. “Definitely another shower.”

Eddie hums, eyes still a little glassy from his climax, but amused nonetheless. He doesn’t seem bothered by the mess they made of each other. He seems to delight in it, which in turn delights Steve.

“Maybe a bath? Don’t think I can stand,” he muses, and Steve chuckles. A bath is a wonderful idea.

“Let me run it,” Steve says. Eddie nods and they separate slowly, Eddie easing off Steve’s lap with a delighted whimper.

“What a mess you’ve made of me, Steve Harrington,” Eddie says with a grin, flopping onto the bed to lie on his side. Steve can’t help but stare at him, utterly captivated by the sight of his flushed, spent body. He can see a trail of his cum leaking out of Eddie’s hole, dripping onto the sheets below. Eddie makes a beautiful and filthy sight, and Steve can’t get enough. He has to force himself to look away, and stands gingerly as he walks back towards the bathroom, ignoring the mess of their clothes and towels on the wet floor, and makes a beeline for the bath. It’s a massive tub, probably just big enough for the two of them, and he begins filling it up with the perfect temperature water. There’s a selection of complimentary bath bubbles to choose from, so Steve looks over the labels and ultimately picks something honey-scented and calming to soothe their heated bodies.

He walks back into the room a few minutes later to find Eddie dozing in bed, still curled up in the same position as before. Steve sits by his side and brushes his fingers through his hair, allowing himself his moment of quiet to appreciate the man in front of him. Eddie then blinks awake with an adorable yawn, scrunching up his face until his nose goes all wrinkly, and his doe eyes look impossibly big staring up at him. “Carry me to the bath with those big arms of yours?” he asks. Steve chuckles.

“Anything for you,” he says, wrapping his arms around Eddie, on his back and under his legs, and picking him up with ease. Steve can usually bench around 200 lbs at the gym, so Eddie’s slender body is no challenge. Eddie gives out a surprised yelp, clearly not expecting Steve to so easily manhandle him.

Steve walks them over to the bathroom and gently eases Eddie onto his feet so he can step into the tub on his own, though he doesn’t let go of Eddie’s hand.

Once Eddie is settled in the tub, Steve joins him. He raises himself over the edge then sits behind Eddie with legs around his hips and cradling him against his chest. They hum contentedly as the hot water loosens their strained muscles. Eddie’s head drops to Steven’s shoulder and he looks over at him with a sated smile.

“Thank you, Steve,” he murmurs quietly, right into Steve’s ear. Steve brings his arms around Eddie and squeezes tight, pressing them close together.

They sit in the bath in silence only broken by the sounds of the water gently slapping the sides of the tub as they move arms and legs together, not willing to let a moment pass without a little bit of friction.

But because Eddie seems to be a ball of endless energy, he can’t sit in silence for too long, which Steve actually kind of appreciates. He grew up in an empty house with neglectful parents, so he’s come to enjoy spending time with people who make their presence known, who make noise and grab attention and fill up a room. And does Eddie fill up a room.

Eddie begins asking Steve questions. About his work, his life in New York, his friendship with Robin, his romantic relationships in the past. And Steve finds himself freely giving himself away piece by piece, happy to share about himself with Eddie. He talks about discovering acting in high school when he had to join the drama club for a college application extracurricular and how he fell in love it. Talks about applying to theater school and being disowned by his parents for it. About meeting Robin while working as a waiter in Chicago and falling in (platonic) love with her, and how they decided to move to New York together to pursue their dreams. He tells Eddie about how hard it was at the beginning and how he nearly quit a hundred times before he finally caught a break doing small plays off-Broadway, then bit parts on TV, and then, finally his first film role when he was 25, and how that had gotten him all his accolades, his nominations, and then how hard that was to follow up, the imposter syndrome settling like a unpleasant weight on his shoulders. He tells Eddie about Nancy, who he fell in love with in high school and who broke his heart, about all the meaningless relationships he pursued afterwards, like chasing a high he never found again. He talks about his little apartment in New York, about his Polish neighbor Mrs Nowak, who always invites him for dinner and makes him eat his weight in potatoes and sausages.

And he asks Eddie questions too, and Eddie answers, as free with his life story as Steve tried to be. Eddie talks about growing up in rural Indiana, how hard it was being a nerdy gay metalhead, how he got bullied every day and repeated senior year twice, and how his uncle supported him through everything, was his rock his entire childhood. He tells Steve about his musical dreams, how he’d always wanted to be a rockstar and write music, but mostly how he wanted to make something of himself to make his uncle proud and be able to make enough money so his uncle wouldn’t have to work every again. He talks and talks and talks about his uncle’s cabin in Virginia that Eddie bought, overlooking a river where he could finish every day and have friends over for barbecues. Steve’s heart warms hearing Eddie speak so lovingly about his uncle, his only family, though the way he talks, he seems the two of them were enough. He wraps his arms closer around Eddie as he hears stories about uncle Wayne and their cross-country trips to the mountains, to see the Rockies and hit every fishing spot on Lake Michigan, how they sneaked into the woods every winter to steal themselves a Christmas tree. Eddie also talks about music, as lovingly as he tells stories of Wayne. He speaks of his beloved guitars, of teaching himself how to read music because he couldn’t afford classes, how he started writing his own songs in middle school and through high school with his band Corroded Coffin, and how he got discovered at an open mic in Indianapolis when he was 21 and working at a record store to pay the bills.

Steve is fascinated by Eddie’s life, about his gumption, always striving to be better and do better, succeeding against all odds. He places his chin on Eddie’s shoulder and gives him a little squeeze, kissing the edge of his jaw tenderly.

“You’re amazing, man,” he says. “All you’ve accomplished, it’s… I couldn’t have done that.”

Eddie smiles but shakes his head. “Yes, you could have. You need to give yourself more credit, Steve,” he says. “Believe, I know exactly how talented you are. I had to watch that film like twenty five times while we were recording the score, and you were totally breathtaking. You have so much talent and you make it look effortless. But I can tell you care so much about your craft, you put your heart and soul into it. You’re incredible, Steve, honestly.”

Steve swallows around a lump in his throat and blinks away a few tears that threaten to fall down his cheeks. He’s used to compliments on his appearance, and he knows that he’s respected in the industry as an actor. Robin even tells him all the time how she admires his work ethic, just like admires hers, building herself from the ground up as a costume designer and stylist. But hearing it from Eddie during such a tender moment, it feels bigger and more meaningful. It feels like a beginning.

***

After they get pruney again in the bath, they rinse off together in the shower, towel off and wrap themselves in the incredibly soft robes provided by the hotel. Eddie wraps his hair up in a bun and Steve despairs at the state of his own hair in the mirror while Eddie laughs behind him.

“You couldn’t look bad if you tried, princess,” Eddie offers, walking out of the bathroom. “Smoke?” he offers while already on the way to the balcony. Steve scoffs, giving up on taming the wild bird’s nest on his head, and joins Eddie outside, wrapping the robe tightly around his middle as he does so. The marble floor of the balcony is cold under his feet, but he doesn’t mind, leans next to Eddie to watch the city under them, which is still lively with activity even though it’s almost morning now. Eddie offers Steve his lit cigarette and they share it, smoking leisurely and looking out at the canals, sparkling with the reflection of the moon.

“It’s so beautiful here,” Steve says.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods.

They share this quiet moment, passing the cigarette back and forth, and once that’s done, they putter back into the bedroom together. The bed is an unspeakable mess, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind, only strips the top cover from the bedding and pulls the rest of the covers back. He gets in and settles back on the pillow mountain and pats the spot on his side, beckoning Steve to join him.

It’s so late now, the hint of morning can be seen on the horizon, and Steve can feel the exhaustion of the day catching up to him, so he hops on the bed next to Eddie and shuffles closer until they are pressed side-by-side. Eddie smirks at him and rearranges them once more so that Steve is on his back with Eddie’s head resting on his chest, hand brushing the side of his ribs. Steve feels so happy, sated and tired, and lets the slowing of Eddie’s breathing lull him to sleep. His last thoughts before sleep takes him are how he wishes he could have this forever.

***

Steve wakes to an empty bed.

He blinks the sleep from his eyes and wipes a hand across the mattress, feeling it slightly warm still, as if Eddie had just gotten up. The shower is running in the next room, so Steve settles back and breathes deeply, thinking back to the night before, the mind-blowing sex, the deep conversations. His heart stutters in his chest and those butterflies are back. He doesn’t know what to do, how to proceed with this.

Steve’s had many one night stands before, but this… This doesn’t feel like that. There was so much shared, both emotionally and physically, and those final sleepy thoughts come back to haunt him. Would Eddie even want to see him again, properly and not just to fuck? Though the sex was incredible and Steve would love to do it again and again forever, is Eddie even interested in that?

Is Steve even interested in a relationship with another man? Sex is one thing, right? You can rationalize sex, the heat of the moment, skin on skin, the heat of another person’s mouth. It’s all the same at the end of the day. But love? Going on dates and sharing a life together? Steve doesn’t know what he is, what all of this means for himself and his own identity.

He groans at the empty room and presses the balls of his hands into his eyes, dropping into the pillows despondently.

“Chin up, buttercup! It’s a beautiful day out,” Eddie says in greeting, coming out of the bathroom with a towel slung low on his hips, wet hair dripping on the floor. His fingers are bare of their rings and somehow that makes him look even more naked than he’d been last night. “You all right?” he asks, sitting on the edge of the bed to look at Steve.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve says, feigning a smile. “When do you have to leave?”

Eddie narrows his eyes, likely debating whether to question Steve on his blatant lie, but seems to decide against it, shrugs one shoulder. “Soon, unfortunately. Flight’s at noon and we should be at the airport by eleven, which is fucking stupid. What’s the point of having all this clout if I still have to be early to the airport like a regular person?”

Steve laughs at his rant and sinks further into the pillows, suddenly overcome with sadness that their time together has come to an end. He watches as Eddie flits about the room getting dressed packing his things together. Steve’s own suit from last night has been put on a hanger by the closet door, looking a little rumpled but not too bad considering it probably spent the night on a wet bathroom floor. Eddie must have done that before heading into this shower, a thought which brings a warmth to Steve’s heart.

While Steve watches, Eddie dresses. He puts own a pair of boxers, then dresses in ripped black jeans and a worn-in, almost-faded Motorhead T-shirt that’s a little too big, so he tucks the front of it into his jeans, and that makes him look fucking amazing, obviously. He finally throws on a denim jacket covered in pins and patches over his whole ensemble, and wraps his wet hair into a messy bun at the top of his hair. “Forgot my hairdryer,” he says while doing it.

After giving himself a once-over in the mirror, Eddie turns to look at Steve on the bed, seemingly lost for words for the first time. “Hm, I’ve– I’ve left a sweatshirt on the chair there, if you don’t want to wear that jacket out,” he says.

Steve’s chest glows with warmth at the kind gesture. He wants this, he wants this so badly. He has no idea how to ask for it, so he sits up on the bed and threads his fingers on top of his lap.

“Eddie, I–”

“Steve,” Eddie interrupts.

“Yeah?”

Eddie sits on the bed again, closer to Steve this time, and places his now ringed hands on top of his, squeezes slightly.

“I don’t– well. I–”

“Eddie…”

“Last night, it was– it was amazing,” Eddie begins, looking up to meet Steve’s eyes. His face is so open and honest. For once not amused or heated or mischievous. “I want to keep you, Steve.”

All at once, Steve’s eyes fill up and he feels himself blush, the happiness bursting into his chest like fireworks. Yes, this is scary. Yes, it’s new and different, and he doesn’t know what it means, but all of that doesn’t matter. What matters is these feelings inside of him that tether him to the man holding his hands. This beautiful man with those huge, honest eyes, the wild hair, the sharp grin, the deft hands, and the tender heart. Who wants to keep Steve.

Steve wants to keep him too.

“Yes,” Steve says at last. Eddie seems surprised, but smiles widely, those dimples digging into his cheeks.

“I’m back in New York next week,” he says, leaning closer to Steve, letting go of his hands to cup his jaw instead, and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Can I take you out, Steve?”

“On a date?” Steve asks, weakly. This feels distinctly like he’s being wooed. He’s never been wooed before, but as he’s learned the night before, there are a lot of firsts when it comes to Eddie Munson.

“On a date, yes. If you’ll have me?”

Steve nods, smiling and not caring that those tears that were threatening to fall spill onto his cheeks as he dives forward to wrap his arms around Eddie, capturing his mouth in a deep kiss.

“Next week, it’s a date,” he says when he pulls back. Eddie’s smile is radiant, and if it’s possible he looks even more beautiful in the light of morning, on about three hours’ sleep. It’s probably the happiness spilling out of him. Steve feels his own overwhelming happiness leaking out of his eyes and mouth and ears, his heart hammering in his chest with anticipation.

Eddie hands him his phone, “give me your phone number. We’ll plan something, yeah?”

Steve nods, adds his number to Eddie’s phone and sends himself a text so he has Eddie’s.

“Dinner. Next week,” he says.

“I’ll pick you up and everything,” Eddie says.

“You’ll bring me flowers too?” Steve asks teasingly. Eddie gives him another peck on his lips and grins.

“Anything you want, baby,” he says, and dammit if that doesn’t flood Steve with a wave of arousal.

“Fuck you,” Steve mutters with a laugh.

Eddie stands up and shoots him a wink. “Next week, sweetheart.”

Steve barks a laugh, but whatever he was about to say next is interrupted by a loud knock on the door, which subsequently opens. It’s Jeff, asking Eddie if he’s ready to go.

Eddie groans, “yes, I’m ready, two seconds,” he yells back, then turns to Steve. “Stay as long as you want, okay? Text me when you’re back to your hotel?”

Steve nods. Eddie smiles and bends down to steal one final kiss, keeping Steve close with a hand at the back of his head.

“Can’t wait to see you again, princess.”

Steve hums, “me too.”

Eddie turns reluctantly, and with one last look and a wink at Steve, he grabs his bag and heads out the door. Once he hears the door to the hotel room slam close after Eddie and Jeff have left, Steve sinks back down into the pillows and feels himself fall back asleep with the ghost of Eddie’s lips on his and a promise of forever for next week.

Next week.