Archive of Our Own ^beta

For all that Steve liked it when Eddie wrapped a hand around his throat, Eddie had never made him feel quite so breathless. And for once, it wasn’t sexual— no, he’d laughed his oxygen away, and still couldn’t stop, gasping and giggling as Eddie tugged him by the hand out of the mini golf course.

Max, attached to his other hand, was shrieking just as loudly. Eddie, because he was a demon, was doing his best to keep them from catching their breath.

“Society has to blame something,” Eddie was declaring, loud and deliberately obnoxious. “They fear what they don’t understand. We’re just beyond comprehension, unappreciated in our time. They’ll beg for us back one day, you’ll see.”

“We were banned,” Steve pointed out, his sides in stitches. Max shrieked again, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had heard her laugh like that— had kind of assumed she was too old, now.

“We were asked to leave!” Eddie corrected. He led them to his car— Max preferred his vintage ride to her dad’s embarrassing one, and Eddie seemed to delight in his new life of chauffeuring the family of two around town. “Asked to leave isn’t banned, baby, you’re such a good— y two shoes.”

Steve snorted and nudged Eddie, having caught that. The spike of something in his throat that always struck when Eddie called him a good boy. But they didn’t play in front of Max, and Eddie hadn’t even meant it, he knew— was just being careful to keep the worlds where Steve was someone’s father and where Eddie was his daddy far apart.

Still, a piece of that dynamic had detached itself from their relationship and sunken into Steve to stay. Where even outside of the bedroom or their nights alone, he felt cared for and special, felt like someone was looking out for him, like someone had his back. Every treat that Eddie snuck into his school desk, every errand that miraculously resolved itself when Steve wasn’t looking— and this, the ease and joy of having introduced officially the two most important people in his life.

“Maybe you’re just a bad influence,” he said, but his voice was too warm, and Max rolled her eyes.

“Personally, I think we improved the game,” she put in, and Eddie laughed and opened the passenger door for her, winking as she took Steve’s spot.

“Bad influence,” Steve repeated, and Eddie shut the door behind Max so he could steal them a second, crowding in fast to kiss Steve’s temple.

“Wanna see bad influence?” he murmured, and then opened the door for Steve so Max could hear them again. “Ice cream’s on me, Harringtons.”

Max cheered, and Steve sighed, but it was impossible to hide his happiness.

Spring had come in like a reflection of his feelings: the days and weeks that unfolded in a new year of Eddie were sunny and bright, blooming with everything that emerged after a long frost. Steve had skipped over a lot of his youth, having gone from the high expectations of his parents to a brief run of college flings and fun with his best friend Robin right back into an early marriage, a masters degree, and parenthood. He didn’t regret a single decision, least of all Max, but there was an unanticipated beauty in the fun that he got to have again now. The carelessness that balanced out his long nights of grading papers and his early mornings of shithead kids too busy battling puberty to care about class.

It was a freedom he never would have known how to claim for himself, but Eddie made it easy. Eddie took away all of the decisions that were death by a thousand cuts in his day-to-day life, allowing things to be simple in a way they hadn’t been since Steve was a kid too young to understand life’s complications. He decided whatever Steve didn’t want to decide, and, as the weeks crept into months, he felt more and more assured that Eddie actually wanted to do that, for him, felt less and less like he was asking for too much or was too much entirely. It felt like something that was too good to have, allowing himself to release the anxiety that had been his constant companion because it wasn’t up to him. Eddie decided what he ate and when he came and when it was bedtime, and Eddie cared enough to make sure that he ate well, slept well, and succumbed to a sweet overabundance of pleasure at every opportunity.

Mini golf had been just another thing that felt undeserved, one of the weekly dates that combined the two people he was happiest to spend his time with these days. Eddie and Max had been fast friends from the start, getting along suspiciously well, and both of them had insisted upon dragging Steve out ahead of St. Patrick’s Day weekend.

Steve's ex in-laws were visiting Max’s mom in the city that weekend, and Eddie had been with him in the kitchen as they worked out the plan on the phone. Despite how undramatic their divorce had been in the end, communicating with her still stressed Steve out. Eddie had rubbed his back as they spoke, listening, and had gestured for Steve to put his hand over the phone mid-conversation. He had offered to drive them and turn the trip into a weekend away, suggesting that he take Steve into the city for a few nights. He’d waggled his eyebrows, throwing a dish towel over his shoulder, and Steve had felt all of his anxiety slip away. Eddie just made things easy. Eddie just made things fun. And so it was that Eddie picked up him and Max for the drive the morning after mini golf, car stocked full of road trip snacks.

Steve had been dreading the handoff at a halfway point, some gas station parking lot where he would feel distinctly as if he was creating a bad memory for Max, highlighting his failure in keeping her family together. Instead Steve smiled out at the window as Max and Eddie made up new lyrics to rock songs that hurt his ears and wondered how long life could stay like this, if it could be forever. A scary thought, forever— or at least it should have been.

It wasn’t. It was just a nice thought, passing like the fields and buildings on the side of the road, Eddie driving fast and sure, his firewood smell surrounding them in the car as warm as the spring sunshine on leather seats, as warm as Steve in his green-clover sweater.

Eddie waited in the car as Steve ran Max up to her mother‘s apartment, giving her a kiss on the forehead and the phone number for their hotel. Steve had been fortunate that his teacher's schedule made more sense for her than her mom’s life of high-powered meetings around the country, but he thought their time together made him miss her all the more in the rare weekends they were apart.

He tried to wrestle his face back into normalcy on the way back to the car— he was excited for a weekend with Eddie in the city, truly— a weekend away from the eyes of Hawkins and the way going to a bar felt a lot like going to a PTA meeting. But Eddie was leaning against the car with his arms crossed, a knowing smile on his stubbled face. He opened the door for Steve, touching the small of his back quickly and leaning in to buckle his seatbelt. “She’ll be okay, baby, I promise. Are you sure you don’t want to hang out with the old in-laws? I can come pick you up after dinner.”

Steve made a face he could hear Eddie laughing at even as he rounded the car to go back to his side. “It’s fine,” he said, once Eddie was in place again, his hand a little higher on Steve’s leg than it had been with Max in the car as they made their way further downtown. “Let her grandparents spoil her a bit, right?”

“Right,” Eddie agreed, and squeezed, his fingertips dipping a little further down on Steve’s inner thigh. “And I get to spoil you in the meantime.”

Steve laughed, but Eddie wasn’t joking— the hotel they pulled up to wasn’t the nicest one in town, nothing his in-laws or even his parents would have been caught in, but it was nicer than it had any right to be on Eddie’s teacher’s salary— trendy and new, a valet waiting outside to take their car and a concierge behind a neon-trimmed front desk happy to tell them about the rooftop restaurant.

“Eddie—” Steve murmured, as they were shown to the elevator, as the elevator went suspiciously high— “You have to let me pay you for half of this. And gas.”

“You have a preteen and a cat dependent on you,” Eddie countered. He picked up Steve’s overnight bag before he could, swinging it over the shoulder his own backpack wasn’t on. “All I have is an uncle that thinks a twelve-pack is too fancy of a Christmas gift. Come on, baby, it’s not like I didn’t come out to the city by myself every so often before you to go to the clubs.” He laughed at the expression Steve’s face— it felt sour, whatever it was.

“Taking me to your old hunting grounds, is it?” Steve huffed, mostly pretending— but he still didn’t quite understand the point in going to a gay bar when you knew who you would be hooking up with at the end of the night. All of the times he had gone with Robin in college had been for sad little one-night-stands, the taste of his brief foray into same-sex hookups as bitter on his tongue as too many cheap drinks.

“More like bringing a trophy back home again.” Eddie held the key card to the door and opened it for Steve, somehow managing to make dorky flourish even loaded down with their luggage. “Now come on and get ready, I’m taking you to dinner first and I don’t want any complaints.”

Steve rolled his eyes but smiled as he came in to unpack. It was a nice room, bigger than his first apartment— a view of the city, crisp sheets on a big bed. The bathroom, when he stepped inside to freshen up his hair, was equally nice— overall, it felt less like hanging around in the city on a whim and more like a vacation. His first vacation, with his boyfriend— dinner and a night out and then brunch with his best friend Robin, the idea of it all stretching out in front of him like a happy memory already in the making.

The night was still not quite cold as they were seated on the roof of the hotel, the sun slow to go down even as the evening landed around them. Steve had a different sort of fondness for every season— the nostalgia of school starting up in the fall, the cozy winter months, the summers he spent with Max at the lake, but there was something that especially came to life within him when springtime woke up the world. Jasmine bloomed on trellises overhead, and the waiter brought them the appetizers that Eddie ordered, and Steve felt a contentedness that could only be paralleled by warm, long days of lingering daylight. He tried to describe his thoughts to Eddie, his happiness, and wound up blushing as Eddie propped his chin up in his palm and watched him over the table, his smile as sweet and indulgent as if he were looking at a puppy.

“Of course, you like spring, you’re made of sunshine," Eddie summarized, and Steve blushed as he tried to deny it. It certainly didn’t always feel sunny in his head— he was usually a tangled-up ball of anxious feelings, stormclouds of thoughts turning too quickly to thunder. It made him wonder whether Eddie truly understood the gift that Eddie’s guidance could bring him, made him wish for the words to tell Eddie just how much of any sunshine he exuded was due to the man across the table, and the things he could do for Steve, to Steve. There was a word that he wanted to use, for the way Eddie made him feel, and for once he wasn’t afraid to say it. He held onto it anyway, a precious secret, something to look forward to like a gift to be given later.

Eddie ordered his entree for him, the special that Steve had commented on upon hearing, and something about that made every bite taste better.

“What’s next?” he asked, when Eddie smacked his hand away from the bill and offered his hand to help Steve up from the table unnecessarily. He was full and happy to while away the rest of the evening with hotel TV. “Still a little early to go out, isn’t it?”

“Let’s talk about it in the room,” Eddie murmured, as they slipped past other diners and back into the elevator.

Steve bit down a smile, certain that he was going to get to cut to the end of the evening after all. But when they returned to the room, Eddie just flicked one of the low lights on and assessed him, running a hand through Steve’s hair before he came in for a kiss. Steve melted into it, letting Eddie hold him up as he curled into the kiss, tasting the rich red wine sauce of Eddie’s dinner, the warmth of his tongue as Eddie touched it to his lip before pulling away. Steve tried to reel him back and Eddie laughed, indulging him for a moment more.

“Are you ready to play?” he asked, tugging Steve’s hips into his own, the barest suggestion of something despite their lack of physical arousal. “We can take things out tonight, if you’d like.”

“You mean— call you daddy at the club?” Steve asked, doubt and desire warring within his mind.

“If you’d like.” Eddie rubbed his thumb over Steve’s hip, the place where his sweater rode up above his belt to reveal a strip of skin. “Whatever you’re comfortable with. You tell me. I can pick your outfit, show you off in what daddy wants you to wear. I can order for you there, too, if you don’t want to think for yourself. Decide for you what to drink. Decide how much you drink. Get you as drunk, as loose and easy as I’d like you.”

“As you’d— oh.” The thought slid over Steve’s tongue, heavy like honey. Eddie deciding how drunk Steve would get: Steve trusting him to bring him through that and back home again. “Yeah,” he breathed, without overthinking how much he wanted it. He wouldn’t have to worry about being no fun if he drank too little, about being too much to take care of if he drank too much. He could get loose-limbed and unguarded, could be just as drunk as Eddie wanted to be responsible for— or perhaps, take a taste of. It was a startlingly attractive idea, one more way that Eddie’s mind worked in wonderful, generous, filthy ways.

“Yeah?” Eddie stepped back, though his eyes didn’t leave Steve, even as he sat on the bed, settling back into the tidy hotel comforter so it puffed up on either side of him, cool and inviting around the spread of his strong thighs. “What else? Do you want to come over here, sweetheart? Over my knee?”

Steve’s heart sparkled in a startled kick. Eddie had spanked him here and there, but never as its own activity. The thought of feeling the warmed, pinked feeling without any sex to surround it was unexpected, electric in its attractiveness. “Did I do anything wrong?”

Eddie made a soft sound and reached for Steve, pressing kisses to his stomach as he reeled Steve in to stand between his legs. There was an impressive tuft of hair under Steve’s belly button, and Eddie winked up at him as he licked it flat, making Steve laugh and pretend to pull away, though Eddie refused to let him go. “No, baby. I don’t want to punish you for anything, you’re too perfect. Never want to hurt you because I’m mad, okay? I just want to make you float a little, remind you that you belong to me, does that make sense? I just want to get you out of your head, honey, what do you say?”

“Oh.” Steve twitched toward him, and Eddie patted his lap. “Um. Yes, please.”

“So polite.” Eddie helped him unbutton his pants and stretch out, rolling the waistband down and down, tugging his briefs below the curve of his ass. It was somehow hotter this way, still mostly dressed, but of course Eddie knew that. “Let me make your ass a little sore now, like a promise for later you can feel all night?”

“Yeah, daddy, I wanna feel it.” Steve huffed out, hearing the change in his voice already. He could feel the start of a sink that he knew Eddie would ease him into all night: the anticipatory thrill of all that was to come, and how little it was under his own power.

The first blows were always the most distinctive: memorable, in the startle of each slap. Unlike the one-off strikes that Eddie had landed on his skin before, settling into a true spanking was a new experience. There was an endurance there that shifted into a fuzzy acceptance, going from jumping to enjoying the push forward into Eddie’s thigh. Steve’s dick was still caught in the cotton tugged underneath him, held there now by the way he was straining into it, a dampness easing each push against Eddie that was half precome and half adrenaline-fueled sweat. He knew his face would be flushed if he lifted it, but instead he pressed his cheek into the comforter, trying to mute his moans until the sensation of sharp smacks became a dull hum, Eddie pausing to rub gently at the skin that he could feel, without seeing, had gone hot and pink.

“How’s that?” Eddie checked, his voice too low to hear whether he had maintained the calm that Steve had long since abandoned. “You like that, don’t you, baby? I can feel how much. Not so bad, was it?”

“Can I have more?” Steve asked, his voice now entirely rough and unrecognizable. Strange, that he hadn’t had a drink at dinner: he felt like he was high.

Eddie chuckled and leaned over Steve for the nightstand: Steve twisted his head, but couldn’t see what he reached for until Eddie was spreading something cool over his heated ass, making him hiss as Eddie carefully soothed the skin. “We can do this regularly, okay? But let’s not overdo it: I take good care of my things.”

He bent to kiss the small of Steve’s back and tugged his pants back up, ignoring Steve’s erection as he helped Steve to stand. Steve swayed forward and held on to Eddie’s shoulders for balance, staring down at the hard line against Eddie’s thigh that he had somehow, in arching, been unable to feel. It was strange to him that Eddie had ignored both of their arousal: and yet it was reassuring, somehow, that this fuzzy feeling didn’t demand anything beyond what it was. That this could be a regular thing, as foreplay or as its own act without the attachment to an entire scene. He hadn’t known it could be like that: hadn’t known that having a daddy went beyond the dark tangle of bodies, hot words to whisper between them. But Eddie buttoned his pants carefully and smiled up at him, standing to pull him into a hug that demanded nothing, and gave only comfort.

“I brought you an outfit for the club,” Eddie murmured into his hair, and Steve didn’t bother to hide his shiver at that. “Can I dress you up?”

Steve nodded, and shifted his weight to test the way his burning skin was settling into a delicious ache, watching as Eddie went to his bag and brought back a tissue-wrapped pile of things. He had worried that Eddie would pick out something that Steve was uncomfortable in: his favorite clothing was schoolteacher-chic, his body different from what it once had been when he wore the swim team’s Speedo without any concern for the way it looked on him. But of course Eddie had chosen things that Steve would feel good in, only pushing him slightly past the knit sweaters and slacks he wore on a regular basis. He undressed Steve, ignoring his softening dick and careful of his ass, and then helped him step into a new pair of dark gray pants, soft enough not to rub too rough against him. He cuffed the bottoms and brought Steve’s boots over, tying them for him so efficiently that Steve had to hurry to pet the top of Eddie’s head, his hair falling in his face where he was bent in focus. Eddie grinned up at the gesture, tipping his cheek into Steve’s palm for a minute before he rose to kiss him again. It was a slow, sweet kiss, and Steve didn’t even care that he was shirtless still, the soft swell of his hips now uncovered by anything but Eddie’s hands.

“Did you get me a shirt, or is this the look?” he asked, smiling against Eddie’s lips.

“I was getting to that,” Eddie laughed, pinching him, and Steve was laughing with him when Eddie reached for the rest of his things.

Eddie slipped him into a silky shirt, turned him to slip a chain around his neck and fasten it underneath his hair. It was heavy, silver— clearly one of Eddie’s, and it felt solid around his neck as Eddie let its weight settle over Steve’s collarbones. Steve buttoned the shirt himself, feeling slow and stupid with the movement, as if he had forgotten how to do things for himself since Eddie had begun to dress him. Eddie inspected him when he turned around again, and then reached to slide the top buttons open again, freeing the glint of chain and the top of Steve’s chest hair before nodding.

“You look so good,” he said, and Steve actually believed him. He went to look at himself in the bathroom mirror as Eddie dressed, brushing his teeth quickly and wondering at the man who looked back: he seemed hazy and satisfied, bright-eyed despite his heavy lids. He looked happy, and that happiness was beautiful in a way he couldn’t remember seeing on his face in years.

He had expected the club to be as sad as he remembered it, but without the sadness that had lingered around him back then, everything just seemed bright and beautiful. Strange to think that the queer community had been here the whole time he was fucking up at staying married to a woman, at achieving the happiness with her that tending to Max brought him without any effort. Strange to think that he could have been here, would have been welcomed, and that it would have felt like slipping into safety the way it did now.

Eddie steered him with a hand on the back of his neck, fingers draped gently in a contradiction to the firm implication of ownership that made Steve feel like he was fizzing gently under his skin. They slipped in between darkness and the bright lights of the dance floor, Steve looking around as Eddie brought him to the bar.

He remembered, when Eddie leaned over to the bartender, what they had agreed on: Eddie’s eyes on his were intense as he held two shots up and burned darker as Steve took one and tipped it back. Eddie handed him the second shot without speaking, and Steve felt like he could get hard just from drinking it, from getting tipsy because that was how Eddie wanted him. Eddie slid his card across the bartop and pulled back with two sweating cocktails and a bottle of water, handing Steve the water with a wink.

Don’t worry, the wink said, as loudly as if he had spoken. I’ll take care of you.

He sank into it: rose into it, wiggled a little to the music as they wove their way through the crowd. Everyone was beautiful, here, ecstatic and sweating all around them. St. Patrick’s Day streamers hung from the ceiling, signs advertised a Guinness special, the dancer elevated in the corner wore a shiny green jockstrap— it was entirely un-Irish, entirely American, cheesy and campy and so much fun. Steve laughed into Eddie’s neck as the shots hit him, and Eddie tipped his bottle of water up to make him drink it like a baby with a bottle, grinning as Steve spluttered before he pulled it away. Finally he doled out their cocktails— something strong and sweet that Eddie sipped at while Steve chugged. He wanted to dance: they were near the floor, and it was good to watch, but for now he was happy to move in place a little, people watching as he drank. He could feel the effects already, that slam-rush of sensation, giddiness, the music wrapping just right around him. Eddie looked hot in his leather jacket and black tank, his silver chains matching the one that Steve wore— Steve told him how good he looked, pitching his voice low in Eddie’s ear, his lips brushing the shell of skin, and when Eddie pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek in thanks, he made a move to steal Eddie’s drink, too.

“Wait a bit, baby,” Eddie admonished him, squinting to assess Steve’s new buzz. “Let those kick in, and then I’ll decide if you need more.”

He softened the rejection by tipping the last of his glass back, handing it off to a passing barback so he could touch Steve. They were leaning against a column by the dance floor, and he tugged Steve back into the cradle of his hips, leaning in to take a taste of the sweat beading the back of Steve’s neck. It put Steve on display, with Eddie in the shadow behind him, barely visible to the crowd as he orchestrated the reveal of Steve’s throat, the backward tilt of it. He could feel people looking at him, and he liked it more than he would have expected, but even better was being shown off like this. Being something that Eddie wanted to take out and brag about and put on display. He turned, not out of shyness, but out of a need to see Eddie’s eyes on him: he straddled the lean of Eddie’s leg and tipped in, lifting his chin as Eddie wound a hand into the hair on the back of his head and checked his eyes again, the way they felt lower-lidded now after being spanked: his mind was drifting elsewhere, his body following wherever Eddie wanted it.

Eddie tapped his ass, making him jump— it was sore, still, but it felt good as the movement made him grind against Eddie’s thigh. Pain and the promise of pleasure— he did it again, making a noise as Eddie slid his hand into his back pocket and squeezed, the sore place where bruises would bloom making him feel all the sweeter as Eddie claimed a kiss.

They made out slowly, lazy but for the greed that swelled underneath it. Eddie’s mouth tasted like sugar, Steve’s like liquor, the combination as electric as another strong drink.

This was the freedom they had come here for: there was no way Steve could openly grind into his daddy’s leg in the town where they taught, no room for what felt so right between them in private to be out in public: still under the cover of darkness and pounding house remixes, but surrounded by those who understood this urgency.

Eddie bit down on Steve’s lip and moved to leave wet marks on his jaw, under his ear, whispering in a barely audible hum that Steve was a good little slut, a sweet little showoff, and it made Steve feel like a treasure the way Eddie tugged him in closer, scraping his blunt nails over denim to remind him of the sting underneath. “What do you want?” he asked, tugging so that the swell of Steve’s dick found friction. “You want me to fuck you in the bathroom? You want everyone to hear how sweet, how good you are for your daddy?”

“I want to dance,” Steve answered, and Eddie laughed— tipping his head back to show the dark shadow of his jawline, the dimples that framed his smile.

“Dance, then,” he said, indulgent, and gave Steve’s hips a push.

He wished Robin had come out with them that night— their trip had been too last-minute for her to change her plans, but he’d see her tomorrow, introduce her to Eddie. He’d have to come back to this club with her and dance the way he really wanted— stupid, joyous, carefree. But this, tonight, was different. He fell back into the crowd like a piece of it, so fully aware of being in his body that he felt like he was channeling the sound, the lights, the energy of the evening.

His eyes had slid shut without his realizing, and he opened them to find that Eddie was gone. He turned, and he was there again: eyes intent on him, a shot in his hand held tight as he wove his way through the middle of the dance floor.

Steve wound his arms around Eddie’s neck, pulling him closer. Eddie swayed with him, hips and hips and chests that pressed heartbeats together.

“Open your mouth,” Eddie said, and Steve had to read his lips to understand him, but he did it immediately: lips parted, head tilted back, swallowing instinctively as Eddie poured tequila over his tongue. Some spilled, and he licked it up, squinting at Eddie as it burned down his throat. They had to move with the people, the crowd of others, and the music shifted into something heavy and industrial, sexy and pulsing. Eddie cupped his hand over Steve’s ear. “Now open for your chaser.”

He wasn’t holding anything else. Steve stared him down and opened his mouth— Eddie caught his face in one hand, squeezing his chin as he leaned in. He covered Steve’s mouth and spat— drooled, really, pushing a weight of saliva over Steve’s tongue. He held Steve’s mouth open as he pulled back, and Steve was sure he could see his eyes dilate.

“Swallow it,” he said, or Steve thought he said, pulled under the tide of sound and arousal that roared equally loudly in his ears. “Show me your tongue. Tell me how it tastes.”

It tastes like love, Steve thought as he took it down, but he didn’t say anything. He just showed his tongue, sticking it out a little, and pulled Eddie closer. He was drunk: it had come on so suddenly, three shots and his strong cocktail working together to pull him under further than wine on weeknights had taken him in years.

“Thank you, daddy,” he mouthed, and Eddie groaned, tugging him in to kiss.

“That’s it, let’s go to bed,” Eddie said, tugging on Steve’s chain. Steve pouted, mostly to see Eddie look at his lips.

“You don’t want to fuck me in the bathroom still?”

Eddie shook his head as they left the dance floor, heading out past the bar and into the cool of the night. Steve trailed after him, stumbling a little. “God. I do, but not as much as I want to take my time. Now hold my hand as we cross the street.”

Steve leaned against Eddie’s shoulder as they made their way back to the hotel, buzzing with happiness and more than his fair share of liquor. He hadn’t worn a jacket, and he knew he ought to be cold, but that was just another indicator of how tipsy he had gotten. The lobby of the hotel was dizzying, the elevator too fast, and he held tight to Eddie to keep from spinning off the earth. Eddie had to free his arms to unlock their door, and Steve wobbled a little, shoulder going into the door jamb instead of helping to move him forward.

Eddie’s laughter was kind, and he helped Steve into the room before going to fetch him more water. “Drink this, baby. I think you might be too drunk for anything but bedtime, huh?”

“But you got me drunk.” Steve sulked as Eddie shut the door and slid the bolt, rounding on him with raised eyebrows. “You got me all tipsy, daddy, you don’t want to take advantage?”

Eddie chuckled, but when Steve pressed in to kiss him he wound an arm around the small of Steve’s back and kissed him back, smiling against his mouth. “How can I deny you, baby? I just wanna give you everything you want. You sure? You gonna swear to it later?”

“I’ll swear to it now,” Steve said. He slipped his hands into the back pocket of Eddie’s jeans and came back with his phone, waving it in front of Eddie's face. “Press record.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie grinned as he took the phone, keeping it handy as he walked Steve back toward the bed. “You gonna be my little movie star? Hands and knees, honey, let me see what daddy did to that perfect ass.”

Steve blinked slow, pleased, and took his clothes off. It was strange: Eddie had put them on him, and he was unfamiliar with the button of his pants, fumbling for reasons beyond drunkenness. Eddie helped tug the shirt from his shoulders as he turned and pulled his pants down for the second time that night, giving Steve a push in the middle of his shoulders so Steve could fall forward, adjusting his palms under his shoulders as he set his knees upon the covers. Eddie pushed his pants to his shoes, where they tangled and stayed, and whistled low under his breath as Steve tried to angle himself best, arching his back until Eddie breathed out heavily. He turned to look over his shoulder and Eddie leaned over to kiss him, the front of his jeans rubbing against Steve’s bared ass and making him hiss.

“Is it pink still?” he asked, and Eddie hummed as he looked, rubbing a hand soothingly over one cheek before he shrugged his jacket off, reaching back to the nape of his neck to yank his shirt over his head. He glanced down at the phone on his hand and thumbed at it, and Steve bit his lip on a flush as Eddie looked through the screen.

“It’s definitely going to bruise, baby,” Eddie breathed, sounding awed. He ran his fingertips down the skin a little harder, making Steve wince. “You’ll get used to it, I promise. This is the worst it will be, you’ll learn to take it.”

“I’ll learn to take it,” Steve agreed, his head a buzz and his dick hardening. He had never thought much of being on display like this, but there was something about the way Eddie seemed eager to document every inch of him, squeezing Steve’s ass and filming the way his rings spread over it, documenting his point of view for Steve to see later. It was proof of how much Eddie wanted him, of the filthy way he did, the phone in his hand just as affirming as the way Eddie murmured “Fuck, you look so good, baby,” as he thumbed over Steve’s hole and down the seam of his balls.

Steve whined back in response. He felt the way he loved to feel, with Eddie, exacerbated but not altered by the alcohol: safe in the backseat, borne along without the burden of control of his mind or body. All he had to do was what was asked of him, and he would be taken somewhere shining, a place under Eddie’s power that was made of pleasure. He felt pretty, and wanted, the combination coming out as a groan that made Eddie slap his sore ass.

“Use your words,” he warned, as Steve jumped. He set his phone on the small of Steve’s back as he reached for the bag at the foot of the bed and undid his pants. Steve tracked the movements out of the corner of his eye, afraid to move and dislodge the phone, the anticipation in his inability to move making him all too aware of his balance, his position. He was on display, vulnerable, and Eddie cooed to him as he picked the phone back up and filmed himself fingering Steve open, the sounds and the thought of the close-ups so overwhelming that Steve hid his face in his arms. The motion only stretched him out further under Eddie’s administrations, and he couldn’t see, could only feel when Eddie finally pushed forward to fuck him.

“Fuuuuuck me,” he groaned, as Eddie pressed— the pain of it blunted by booze, and he finally understood what Eddie had meant by drunk, loose, easy. His body knew the size and shape of Eddie now, but it would never stop being a stretch. The sensation was strong enough to cut through his haze, overwhelming in every sense of the word. But it felt good, to be good for Eddie. To sink into the pain until it became pleasure, to make Eddie feel good with his body.

Eddie huffed a breath in answer, smoothing a hand over Steve’s back— the free one, his other still recording. Steve didn’t know if it was the camera or the shots loosening his tongue, the alcohol still settling under his skin, but he kept talking— usually it was Eddie spilling filth from his mouth, but Steve just felt so needy now, the want in his mind pouring out as begging, as “Fuck me, fuck my ass, your cock feels so good, thank you, thank you, its so fucking big it feels so big, daddy, fuck.”

“Yeah?” Eddie’s voice sunk under his skin the way his dick did, both of them brushing against something in Steve that sang with pleasure. “Fuck, you love having daddy deep inside your tight ass, dont you? Look at me, I know you love it so much.” Steve propped his cheek up on his arm and looked back, blinking sleepily as Eddie groaned and recorded and slid in and in and in. “There you are, beautiful, you’re just my little ragdoll right now, aren’t you? Just letting me put you where I want you baby, you’re making your daddy feel so good, I'm so proud of you, taking it like such a good boy. You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Steve whimpered, pushing his face into his arms again to clear the tears that fuzzed his sight, blinking back again as Eddie reached down to cup his cheek with his free hand.

“Say it,” Eddie whispered, and let the camera drop to the bed as he pushed over Steve’s back, draping himself close enough to kiss his shoulder, his sweat-stuck hair. “Say it, baby.”

“I’m a good boy,” Steve breathed, and pressed to kiss him back, the strain on his neck making it difficult, but it was so, so necessary.

“You are, baby, you’re the best boy.” Eddie brushed his hair off his forehead and kissed it, kissed his ear, his kisses wild and uncoordinated even as his hips drove ahead in a legato beat. He was driving them into Steve’s ass, each contact pressing into the skin that was bruising, his breath hitching like Steve felt just as good to him as he did to Steve. Unthinkable, that he could be to Eddie what Eddie was to him: opposite, equal, beautifully filthy and filthily perfect. “My perfect little boy. Doing so well for me. Can you turn around, honey? Flip over, come on.”

Eddie pulled out, the lack of him more painful than the breach of him had been. Steve tried to turn, but he was sluggish, his body in overwhelm, and Eddie shushed him as he helped, settling Steve back against the pillows. He ran fingers through Steve’s hair to settle it and then kissed him, only pulling away once Steve was humming into his mouth, totally relaxed. “How’s that, love, does it hurt to lay down? I can get you a pillow.”

Steve bit his lip. Love. Eddie was too busy fretting over him, tucking a pillow under his hips now, and Steve just let Eddie manhandle him into place and settle over him again, tugging him down into a new kiss with a smile in the corner of his mouth. “I’m good. You’re taking such good care of me, daddy.”

Love. Eddie loved him, he thought— he could feel it, taste it, the way it came through in every one of his actions. He’d never been cared for like this, never been treated like something so precious. Even now, Eddie adding more lube to push back in, using his wet palm to rub over Steve’s neglected dick, circles over the head and pressure over the shaft, up and down and heavy like it was a clit instead. Steve sighed and pulled him in closer, arms around his shoulders, taking all of Eddie’s weight over him like a blanket. Eddie propped himself up on his other elbow, his forearm, close enough to rub his thumb over Steve’s mouth when Steve turned his head into the cradle of his arm. Eddie’s face pressed into his exposed neck, and Steve took his thumb between his teeth to suck, and Eddie fucked him deep and slow, saying don't worry about anything anymore, little love, shh, daddy's got you, daddy's always got you."

He shut his eyes, overwhelmed at how good it felt— fucked and loved and dizzy with both, with the thought that this might make it to the bright sunshine soon, that they could speak their love sober. He hoped he remembered it in the morning, this spark of hope and happiness, as soothing as it was to hollow his cheeks around the taste of Eddie’s skin.

“Steve,” Eddie corrected, kind but firm. “Open your eyes, let me see you.” He dragged his tongue from Steve’s teeth still wet and held his jaw, shaking slightly until Steve’s eyes opened. Eddie was propped up over him, was in him, his eyes so dark and his face shaded with stubble and his hair hanging around them like a willow tree, like a private world. He was so handsome, so capable, strong enough to make Steve feel safe and silly enough to turn every day into an adventure. He couldn’t wait for Eddie to say he loved him in the light of day. He couldn’t wait to say it back.

Steve fell into Eddie’s eyes as he came, fell up and in, sinking into the warm, rich brown of them, the beauty of them, the freckles on his nose and the lashes so long and the way his dimples were hiden unless you knew him enough to look, or see him laugh— the features of his daddy, his boyfriend, his love. Eddie had barely touched him, in the grand scheme of things, but it was enough: enough to make him convulse and tighten around Eddie, enough to make everything feel overwhelming so quickly that he was sobbing, curling up into Eddie’s chest as Eddie shifted to gather him into his arms, to hold him close, the motion tugging him loose as he came so that Steve’s thighs were a wet ruin to match his tearful face, both of them clinging tight as they embraced so close that Steve could no longer say it was just Eddie comforting him. It was both of them, locked together in a flash flood of feeling, of quick breath and slow limbs and a stickiness that made Steve laugh, suddenly, at the thought that he was grateful they hadn’t made it under the thick comforter.

“What’s so funny?” Eddie asked, laughing with him despite not knowing, and Steve pulled his face free to show Eddie his smile.

“Nothing,” he dismissed, but kissed Eddie’s nose to soften the statement. “I’m happy.”

“Yeah? You promise?” Eddie rolled them, making a show of it to make Steve squawk, laughing as Steve shoved against him without letting go. “Me too.”

“Good,” Steve declared, and bit his nose now, making Eddie tickle him in retaliation. It took a long time for them to settle, and shower, and get back in the bed, for Eddie to make Steve take Tylenol and drink water in anticipation of the morning, and longer after that for Eddie to fall asleep on top of him, their bodies a puddle of exhausted limbs.

Steve was tired from dancing and drinking, from orgasm and a long drive. But he stayed awake for as long as he could, there in the dark, resisting the lullaby made by the sounds of the city and Eddie’s even breathing. He just wanted to fix it in his memory, this moment. This happiness. Hold it tight to his heart, even if for once, he actually believed it would last.

The morning brought more happiness— brought Robin, their Saturday devoted to Steve’s best friend before picking Max up to return home on Sunday. He and Eddie showered together and were late to brunch— it was hard to go anywhere, with how his regular clothing made Eddie swear and paw at him, the hilarity of how much he Steve’s innocent teacherwear seemed to make Eddie go insane. Steve had to smack Eddie’s hands to detach and head to the restaurant that Robin had chosen, falling into her arms as soon as he saw her.

She was the only thing he missed about the city, and he missed her deeply, leaning into her at the table as she gave him a hard time for his hangover, laughing as Eddie plopped his sunglasses on Steve’s head. Both of them reached out to pat his head when he set his head on the table, and he knew it was going to be a good day. Because both of them loved him, and he loved them back, whether or not he and Eddie had said it yet. He was hungover and sore and bookended by the two most important adults in his life as they bonded over roasting him— but he was loved, by his best friend and his daddy alike, and that made his headache secondary to the happy ache in his heart.

“Let’s go out drinking tonight,” Robin suggested brightly, scooping pancakes into her mouth as Eddie pushed water toward Steve. “There’s a gay club right by your hotel, actually, what do you think?”

Steve groaned again, and Eddie laughed, and Steve wouldn’t change a thing.