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Eddie doesn't think twice before bursting into their bedroom.

He's back early from the grocery run, because it started raining like crazy and once he got into the car he couldn't be bothered to drive to Whole Foods as well as Target, so he just drove straight home and hoped that Buck wouldn't make a big deal out of not having his special oats for an extra day.

He probably should have shot Buck a text, looking back, or made more noise as he moved through the house, putting away the freezer items and neglecting the non-perishables for later, but hindsight is always 20/20. The house is weirdly quiet, but Buck is obviously still there, judging by his jacket by the front door, so Eddie just assumes he's taking a nap or something.

He's not.

The bedroom door should have been a sign, because they never close it, but Eddie never expected– this.

His eyes take a moment to adjust to the picture before him, and by the time he realizes what's up Buck is already scrambling and throwing a blanket over himself, but Eddie knows what he saw.

Buck, naked as the day he was born, spread eagle in the middle of their white sheets, one hand wrapped around his cock and the other resting on his chest. Playing with his nipple? Eddie can't be sure.

He thinks belatedly that he should probably move, leave the room and close the door behind him and pretend this never happened, or at least, like, apologize, but his feet are rooted to the floor and he's watching the spot in Buck's lap, covered by a blanket, where he knows Buck is still hard, and he doesn't know what to think of it.

"Um. I can explain," Buck says. There's a flush spreading all the way down his pale chest, and Eddie lets his eyes drag down, further, over his happy trail and the blanket and the scars on his leg.

He's wearing socks. It makes Eddie unbearably happy.

"Were you gonna wash that?" Eddie asks, because he's human before all, and that blanket is touching Buck's private parts and he really doesn't want to think about what else could be touching Buck's private parts right now.

(He. He could, probably.)

"Of course," Buck scoffs, and it brings Eddie's attention to his blushing cheeks. His hair is sweaty, curls dark and pasted to his forehead. "Everything goes in the washing machine right after I'm done."

"You do this often?" Eddie asks, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms, just to watch the blush on Buck's face darken. He's so naked, while Eddie is completely clothed, and the stark difference stirs something up in his lower belly that he hasn't felt in, oh, around a decade.

"Well. Um," Buck stutters, "I'm not exactly gonna go out for a one night stand, and a guy has needs–"

And sure, Eddie gets that. He does it in the shower, occasionally, letting his brain go blank and just going through the motions, because orgasms are healthy or something.

He waits for Buck to say anything else, and when he doesn't, Eddie quirks his chin up at him.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

He's curious, more than anything, because Buck doesn't seem uncomfortable, and they've gotten damn near fluent in each other's body language. Buck could have yelled at him, or hid behind the bed, or apologized and started getting dressed. But he didn't.

Instead, in response to Eddie's question, he lifts up a corner of the blanket covering him, raises an eyebrow, then looks back up at Eddie.


Eddie smiles at that.

"Okay. Good. Can I watch?"

He asks, fully expecting Buck to say no if he really doesn't want him to, because they're nothing if not communicative and honest with each other. But they both have the morning off, and they’re home alone, and Eddie really appreciates the hard lines of Buck's body, and he wants, morbidly, to watch him writhe in pleasure. Huh. You learn something new about yourself every day.

Buck looks back down at his lap, where he still has the blanket lifted.

"It just twitched." Eddie, honest to God, giggles. Buck looks at him again. "Are you sure?"

Eddie approaches him, cautiously, like you would approach a scared animal, but Buck doesn't look scared. He looks tentatively curious as well, and he shows no signs of wanting to flee as Eddie settles down onto the edge of the bed.

"I'm sure."

He lets his eyes drag over every inch of Buck's skin, examining it in a new light, and it's not like they haven't seen each other naked before, but this is completely different. Eddie loves him so much, wants to exist with no boundaries or limits between them. He thinks Buck would let him.

Buck nods, then, and without another word settles back against the pillows and exhales, his ribcage moving with the force of it.

He slides the blanket off slowly, letting it drag over his sensitive skin in what Eddie can only assume is a pleasurable sensation, and before it's even all the way off his cock is springing free, wiggling a little before it settles against his bellybutton, and damn.

It's good-looking, is the thing. Just like the rest of Buck. Hairy at the base, thick, and what Eddie would describe as 'uncomfortably long'. The tip of it is flushed the exact same shade of pink Buck's lips are, and the thought drives Eddie crazy. He could've gone the whole rest of his life without knowing that information. He doesn't want to.

It twitches, again, under Eddie's gaze, and the smallest bit of precome spills out onto Buck's stomach. Eddie wonders what it would feel like under his fingertips.

"Touch yourself," he commands, unthinking and unplanned, but it's out there, and Buck's hips buck off the bed and into the air, and he makes the smallest choked-off noise in the back of his throat that Eddie wants to hear again.

Buck does, in fact, touch himself, bringing his right hand back down to wrap around the base of his cock. Eddie thinks there must have been lube involved at some point, because it's unnaturally shiny and the motion of Buck's fist is unexpectedly smooth as it travels, slowly, up and down his length.

Buck's eyes are firmly on the ceiling, and Eddie thinks he prefers it that way, prefers it if Buck doesn't consider him an active participant. Just an observer.

Eddie doesn't say anything else, just watches as Buck strokes himself, varying the pace until more precome is dripping out, and he swipes a thumb over his cockhead to mix it up with the lube on the next thrust. Eddie thinks he hears a muttered 'fuck' somewhere in there.

Unable to resist anymore, Buck brings his other hand to his chest again, and yeah, he was definitely playing with his nipples earlier. He does the same thing now, twisting and pulling, and Eddie watches with fascination at the way his whole body squirms around, like he's too sensitive for his own touch, but he continues going anyway.

He spreads his legs apart wider, closing his eyes, and when he brings his left hand down as well to play with the head while the other is stroking in a steady rhythm, Eddie can't take it anymore.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks in a low tone, because anything else would feel inappropriate.

Buck's breath hitches, fingers halting for just a second before he continues. He doesn't open his eyes, but his breathing is labored, filling up the room.

"You touching me," he gasps out on an upwards stroke. "Sorry"

Eddie appreciates the apology, but it's not needed. He struggles with thinking about himself as a sexual being, struggles with other people thinking about it sometimes as well, but Buck's not other people. He can think of Eddie whatever way he wants to.

"Do you want me to?" Eddie asks with unfounded confidence, but it's all worth it when Buck's back arches off the bed again, moaning on the way down.

He slows down his movement, opening one eye to squint at Eddie. He's even sweatier now, the sheen on his temple making his birthmark stand out. Eddie wants to kiss it, even though the taste of sweat is disgusting and he knows he'd regret it immediately.

"Really?" Buck asks. "You're not just doing it because of– I don't know. A sense of obligation?"

"No," Eddie says in a low voice. "I'm not doing anything I don't want to."

"Okay. Good. Good." Buck resumes what he was doing, eyes back on the ceiling. "Right. Then you can absolutely touch me."

Eddie preens, but doesn't do anything about it immediately. First of all, he's not even sure what to do, and second, he likes watching the goosebumps rise on Buck's skin in anticipation.

He lets him squirm for a while before he decides to settle down next to him on the bed. He lies down parallel to Buck, until the lengths of their bodies are filling most of the space, but he doesn't touch him. Not yet.

Instead, he turns on his side, watching from inches away as Buck's tongue slips out to wet his lower lip, as he closes his eyes for just a bit too long when the pleasure gets too much.

Eddie shuffles closer to him, bit by bit, and watches Buck tense up for a second before fully relaxing, melting into all the points their bodies are touching. Eddie's still fully clothed, and it makes him feel better about the whole situation somehow. Safer.

He rests on the pillow right by Buck's head, in the crook of his neck, and it gives him the perfect vantage point to see Buck's cock like Buck sees it. It seems almost bigger like this, and Eddie wants to touch. Wants to make Buck feel good.

"Let me," he whispers, right before he touches Buck's hipbone, cold fingertips meeting hot skin, and Buck jerks but doesn't move his hand away.

Eddie's fingers inch closer and closer to Buck's cock, and it's the first time he'll be doing this to another person with the same parts as him, but it's Buck. He'll learn as they go.

He drags his forefinger up the length slowly, because he's not quite ready for more than that yet. He passes over Buck's knuckles where he has himself in a tight grip, up the pulsing vein and to the head of his cock. It, indeed, twitches at the attention, and Eddie risks touching the very tip, where it's warm and wet and just a bit sticky. The precome drags as he lifts his finger, a thin string of it stretching like saliva before it snaps back painlessly.

A few more drops spurt out when Eddie's hand settles fully over Buck's, until they're both enveloping his thickness in a double-fisted grip. Eddie's not flying solo, but it's enough to feel the hard muscle through the gaps in Buck's fingers.

He lets his thumb find the crease between Buck's thumb and forefinger. They're both using their left hands, as Buck's right one fell away to find its place on the neglected side of his chest.

Eddie's breath shudders on its way out, right up against Buck's ear, and he feels Buck squeeze tighter under his grip in response.

"Fuck. Eddie–" Buck says, but the thought doesn't go anywhere, because then they're moving, in tandem, and Eddie can only imagine the sheer amount of pleasure Buck is in, judging from the way his eyes are squeezed firmly shut. Eddie's not sure if it's a tear or a drop of sweat that slides from the corner of his eye down his jawline, but it’s beautiful either way. He thinks it might be the former.

Eddie gives into the urge from before, presses a firm kiss to his birthmark, sweat be damned. Buck turns to look at him, eyes shining, pupils wide blown, and it's like he's too afraid to ask for what he wants, but Eddie sees it anyway. And how could he not indulge him, when he's begging so prettily?

He leans forward just a bit, because they were already so impossibly close, and it's really no trouble at all for his lips to find Buck's.

There's only a hint of tongue, because they make out very, very rarely and Eddie's never that into it, but he's into this. Into the way Buck pants against his mouth desperately, into the way he sucks on Eddie's bottom lip, creasing his brow in concentration as the movement of his hand speeds up.

Eddie has one eye open, and it gives him the perfect view as Buck shudders once, twice, three times, and then he's coming, pulling back from Eddie to watch as well, watch as thick spurts of come wash over their tangled fingers. Ironically, through a haze, Eddie thinks the image it makes is quite romantic.

He doesn't let go of his grip, even when Buck does, because he likes to see him in extremis, likes, as expected, seeing him writhe from oversensitivity, choke out a moan as Eddie brings out that last bit of come from his spent cock.

His lips are bitten red, darkened from his teeth and Eddie's, and there's not a single thought in Eddie's brain as he brings his ruined fingers up and swipes a coat of cum over them.

Before he can feel mortified at his actions, Buck's tongue is swiping out and licking it up and swallowing.

"Fuck," it's Eddie's turn to mutter, eyes fixated on where Buck's tongue had just been.

Buck grins at him, easy and effortless, and Eddie bites at the side of his cheek softly, because he's not about to kiss him, but he has to get his mouth on him somehow. Buck seems to appreciate it either way, falling back against the sheets and melting into them, sighing contentedly.

"Holy shit," Eddie whispers, "I can't believe we just did that."

"Me neither," Buck replies, as they both watch his own come drying in a pool on his stomach. "Wait, in a good way, right?"

Eddie presses a kiss against his cheek. "In the best way."

They’ll get up and wash up, change the sheets in just a few minutes, but for now Eddie settles his forehead against Buck’s and just breathes him in. They’re together. In the best way possible.